Officer Jones

Chapter 74

Cape Hatteras, North Carolina

October 6-present

The minute Gwen’s phone went dead I made a beeline to North Carolina. No flights were landing in the area, so I had to fly to Norfolk, Virginia and drive. The irony didn’t escape me that it was the same city I landed in on my return from Germany, convinced that my life was about to take a turn for the better, or at least would be calmer.

My calls to the authorities went nowhere-the local police in the Outer Banks were too busy with hurricane evacuation, while the FBI has a standing policy against taking my calls. I did get in touch with the state police, but they hung up on me after I started talking crazy stuff about stolen identities, kidnapped wrestlers, and vigilante killers.

I rented an SUV with four-wheel drive that seemed like my best bet with the looming hurricane. But what I really needed was my Humvee, which was still docked at the Ocracoke Air Field as a security deposit on my last trip home. At least I hoped it was still there.

The hurricane evacuation had turned the road heading out of town into a virtual parking lot. But working in my favor was that I was the only moron heading toward the storm, so traffic was clear my way. I took US-158 and then crossed over the Wright Memorial Bridge into Kitty Hawk. I wound through the center of Roanoke Island until I reached Whalebone Junction in Nags Head.

When I reached Hatteras, I received some bad news-no more ferries were traveling to the island. I was left to face the reality that the only way to reach the island was a twenty-mile swim. I actually thought about it for a moment, before realizing I couldn’t even walk five miles in perfect weather in my condition. I retreated to Sloopy Joe’s in need of a new plan … and a drink.

The only person present was Joe himself, and since I was his lone customer, I received the VIP service. Joe was a slim older man with a matter of fact style that was softened by his gentlemanly, southern charm. As I nursed a Killian’s Red, the past few months suddenly rose up like a tidal wave. Gwen and Carter were likely captured by Benson, my brother was dead, and another loyal friend was paralyzed. And I was no closer to stopping Benson. I’d never felt so helpless in my life.

Probably feeling sorry for me, Joe brought another beer for his only customer, on the house. My only other request was if he would change the Weather Channel to the news. I was hoping to hear some good news on the Gwen and Carter front, but the reality was that they hadn’t even been reported missing and nobody was actively searching for them. But I clung to my delusion.

Joe obliged, clicking the remote until he landed on GNZ. Close enough.

Lauren Bowden appeared on the screen and I instantly regretted my request. I was about to ask Joe to change to some other form of newsertainment when Lauren announced, “GNZ was the first to report to you earlier this morning that there has been a break in the murder case of Senator Craig Kingsbury.”

This was news to me. And seemed to grab Joe’s attention also because he raised the volume.

“Ron Culver, a member of the North Carolina State Police, committed suicide last night in his Raleigh apartment, leaving behind a note in which he confessed to the murder of Senator Kingsbury. Culver was originally ruled out as a suspect, but the speculation now is that the Kingsbury family had provided an alibi for Culver. According to GNZ sources, they created the alibi to avoid potentially embarrassing facts coming out about the relationship between Culver and Senator Kingsbury, which might have hurt him in the upcoming election. The suicide note cited the romantic relationship between the two, and how Culver’s jealousy drove him to the crime.”

Lauren continued on, “As many of you know, Lamar Thompson has been an exclusive guest of GNZ many times during this fascinating investigation … and Mr. Thompson joins us again.”

Lamar appeared on a split screen from his current residence in Kitty Hawk. He looked very much like the man I remembered from twenty years ago, but his face was scarred with the lines of a hard life. The ones I could spot when I looked into the mirror.

“Lady, can we hurry this up-I got to get back to my job.”

Lauren faked a smile. “We at GNZ are thrilled to hear you are now employed and making a useful contribution to society. Can you tell our audience what you now do for a living, Mr. Thompson?”

I took a swig of my beer, unable to decide if she was more condescending or patronizing.

“I’m a tour guide at the Wright Brother Museum here in Kitty Hawk. But I ain’t gonna have no job for long if I don’t get back to it! Can we get on with this?”

Lauren smiled again. She would’ve had the same reaction if he said he was the head of an international terrorist organization. “Mr. Thompson, with the admission by Ron Culver that he murdered Senator Kingsbury, do you feel vindicated?”

Lamar’s face creased with anger. “Vindicated for what? The reason I came on here in the first place was to set the record straight that Craig Kingsbury was the one driving the car that night when we hit Mrs. Lacey.”

“But it must be a relief not to be a suspect anymore?”

“I was never a suspect.”

“Maybe not in a court of law, but I think in the all-important court of public opinion you were,” Lauren retorted, followed by another dimwitted smile.

His already short patience had run out. “We’ve already been over this-I had an alibi that day. Nobody in their right mind thought I was a suspect. And as for this court of public opinion, nobody sees me nothin’ more than a washed-up druggie who never lived up to his potential. Way I see it, I got nowhere to go but up.”

“So you’re sticking to your story that Senator Kingsbury was the unidentified juvenile in the car that night?”

“For the last time-Kingsbury wasn’t listed in the police report! They kept him out of it. Brad was dead, so they used the juvie kid to testify against me. It was my word against his.”

“I am not that easily fooled, Mr. Thompson. GNZ has secured the police report you speak of, and the unidentified person in the car was referred to as ‘Weasel Suit’ to protect his identity. I know that the Secret Service gives code names to presidents, and candidates for the office. For example, Ronald Reagan was codenamed Rawhide, while Bill Clinton was Eagle. So the fact that the unidentified passenger was being protected by a similar code leads me to believe it was indeed Senator Kingsbury.”

Lamar shook his head, exasperated. “He wasn’t a candidate twenty years ago. Weasel Suit was just a stupid nickname we used for the kid-Brad Lynch was a big wrestling fan, so he gave us all names based on his favorite wrestlers. Brad was the Mouth of the South because he never shut up, and I was Andre the Giant, since I was so tall.”

“If that’s the case, what was Weasel Suit’s real name?”

“The lawyers told me I couldn’t bring up his name or they’d sue my ass. I don’t got much, but I don’t wanna lose what I got.”

“That’s very convenient, Mr. Thompson.”

“Believe whatever you want, lady … I need to get back to work!”

Lauren then used her savvy interview skills to segue to the next topic. “As reported first by GNZ, sources tell us the murder of Senator Kingsbury may have been motivated by a homosexual love triangle that included the accused, Ron Culver. Would you still vote for Senator Kingsbury if he was found to be gay?”

Lamar looked around like he was trying to see if he was on Candid Camera. “First of all, I can’t vote because thanks to the lies of Kingsbury family, I’m a convicted felon. But the biggest reason I wouldn’t vote for him … is he’s dead!”

Lauren regained her look of superiority. “I hate to disagree, Mr. Thompson, but our latest GNZ Internet poll contradicts you. 72 % of those polled said they would still vote for Senator Kingsbury even if he were gay.”

Lamar ripped his microphone off and stormed off camera. I really liked this guy. The camera panned back to Lauren who didn’t seem affected by the early departure.

Joe shook his head. “She sure ain’t the brightest bulb in the bunch. I’m sure there’s a guy out there somewhere she’s making miserable.”

Not anymore, I thought, before turning my attention back to the television.

“If you are just joining us…” Lauren flashed her most serious look into the camera. “There has been a thrilling conclusion this morning in the murder of former North Carolina Senator, Craig Kingsbury. His alleged lover, Ron Culver, admitted to the crime in a guilt-filled suicide note. Sources within the state police have confirmed that Culver was in charge of an undercover security escort for the Kingsburys that night. The case has taken many twist and turns, but has remained unsolved since it occurred on July 4 of this year.”

For once I was focused on something Lauren said.

Fourth of July.