Exposing Truths: A Sam Mason Mystery Book 3 Page 7

  Billie put four beers on the bar, pushed them toward Jesse, and slid Sam’s money into the front pocket of her ketchup-smudged apron.

  “You must have to deal with some of the people who sell the drugs, right?” Jo asked.

  “Well, sure. I’ve dealt with a few. Most of the ones in this area probably,” Jesse said.

  “Would you recognize them?”

  “Hey, man, if you want me to pick someone out of a lineup or rat on someone, I’m not going to do that.” Jesse sneered. He gathered the beers together, the glass clinking as he picked them up off the bar and turned to leave. “That could be dangerous to my health.”

  “We don’t want you to do anything like that. In fact, it’s in our best interest to keep you safe. But could you tell us if one of them has spiked hair with orange tips?” Sam asked.

  Jesse laughed. “Are you kidding me? There’s no one around here with spiked hair with orange tips.”

  “You sure?” Jo asked.

  “Positive. You guys have a good night now.” Jesse turned and made his way back to his table.

  “That wasn’t super helpful,” Jo said.

  “No, but Jesse does have a point. Once this whole owl thing blows over, the environmentalists will go off to the next cause-of-the-day. So if Thorne’s business has anything to do with the river, he just needs to wait them out, and he can pick up business again.”

  “True. And if the guy with the orange-tipped hair isn’t one of Thorne’s guys, then who in the world is he? And why was Ray meeting with him?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kevin watched his contact disappear through the gap in the fence behind the Dumpster.

  Well, that was an odd meeting.

  He made his way down the alley toward the street. Looking both ways, he stepped onto the sidewalk.

  Crap!

  Sam and Jo were just emerging from Holy Spirits. Kevin shrank back into the alley, hoping they hadn’t seen him. He chanced a peek around the corner. All clear — neither of them were looking in his direction.

  Jo had already caught Kevin coming out from behind the restaurant earlier in the summer, and when she’d asked him about it, he’d panicked and flubbed the answer. He thought he’d covered his tracks by saying he’d been visiting his cousin who worked at the restaurant, but he could tell that Jo was still suspicious. Better not to let her see him coming out of the alley again.

  He leaned his back against the wall, the bricks still warm from the sun, and thought about the request from his contact. He wanted Kevin to pass along what he knew about the murder of that environmentalist. What did that have to do with Tyler’s case?

  Kevin had been under the impression that the FBI — or whoever was paying him for information — was interested in Tyler because Tyler had been up to something shady. But Tyler had been dead for two months, so how could he have been involved in this latest murder?

  Was his contact really interested in Sam and Jo? Or were the inquiries about something else entirely?

  Kevin’s father had always taught him to look out for himself. He’d said you had to pick and choose who you trusted very carefully. And though Kevin longed to trust Sam and Jo, he had to wonder why they were obviously keeping certain pieces of information to themselves. Why did they never include him in the important parts of the cases? Was it just because he was a part-timer, or was it because they were involved in something they didn’t want him to know about?

  Deep down he wanted to believe that Sam and Jo were good cops, but he feared that might just be wishful thinking. If they were good cops, wouldn’t they enlist his aid instead of shutting him out?

  And why had his contact warned — more like threatened — him that he might end up being taken down with Sam and Jo if he didn’t pass along all the information? He’d gotten the impression that the contact thought Kevin might be holding back information. He’d have to play it very carefully from here on out.

  Kevin peeked back around the corner. Sam was coming out of the police station with Lucy. Jo’s car was already gone. He waited for Sam to drive off and then exited the alley.

  He didn’t want to throw Sam and Jo under the bus, and he didn’t want to feed the FBI information about them that could be misconstrued. Kevin wasn’t sure what was going on, so he had no idea what to pass on to his contact.

  There was one thing he was sure of. He was in control of the flow of information, and he could use that to his advantage, because there could only be two things going on. Either Sam and Jo were up to something shady or his contact was. Kevin had no intention of getting caught in the middle and becoming the fall guy.

  He walked across the street, his car beeping as he clicked the fob to unlock it. He’d get the information his contact wanted, but he’d choose what pieces he would feed him. The money he was getting was nothing to sneeze at, and he’d be able to maintain control of the situation. He could pick the parts that he wanted to pass along. The rest of it he’d keep as a little insurance policy, just like that flash drive he’d taken from Tyler’s belongings. That way, no matter who the bad guys were, Kevin would come out on top.

  * * *

  After leaving Holy Spirits, Sam collected Lucy and drove home, the stress draining out of him the closer he got to the cabin he’d inherited from his grandfather. The cabin had been his grandparents’ hunting camp and held many fond childhood memories.

  It was a manly place, made of cedar logs, with a few feminine touches from his grandmother. The overstuffed furniture, taxidermy fish and deer mounts, and rustic accents reminded him of the outdoors. Sam hadn’t updated it much since his grandfather had died. He liked it the way it was. It was a place not many women would feel comfortable living in, which suited Sam just fine. After two failed marriages he had no intention of moving a woman in.

  He fed Lucy, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and then went out onto the front porch to wait out the 40 minutes before Mick was due to arrive. The porch was his favorite part of the cabin, because it overlooked the property that he owned on the other side of the street. The landscape swooped downward to show a small pond where deer often came to feed at dusk, and it was just about dusk right now. Though the sun was setting, the heat of the day hadn’t dissipated. Sam held the cold beer to his forehead while Lucy settled in beside him, resting her chin on her front paws.

  The cabin was Sam’s heaven on Earth, and not just because of fond childhood memories. It sat in the middle of twenty acres of pristine northern New Hampshire forest, lush with pines, oaks, maples and birches. Birds of all types flitted about the trees. Fox, raccoons, coyotes and even bears made their home in these woods. Sam loved all of it. For a second the image of a strip mall across the street flashed through his mind. If Thorne had his way that’s what would happen. The twenty acres that Sam owned was prime real estate, and he knew Thorne was salivating to get his hands on it. He’d get it over Sam’s dead body.

  Sam took another swig of beer. A puff of dust further down the dirt road caught his attention. Someone was coming. Couldn’t be Mick; he wasn’t due for another half hour. In the thirty years Sam had known Mick, he’d never once been early. As the car came into view, Sam recognized it as the navy-blue Buick that belonged to Harley Dupont.

  Why in the world was Dupont coming here? Did this have something to do with the visit he’d made to the police station earlier? It was highly unusual that Dupont would seek him out at home after work, but maybe what the man wanted wasn’t official police business.

  Dupont pulled up, and Lucy — the traitor — rushed down the steps before the man could even get out of the car. She wagged and wiggled around him, demanding his attention. He bent to pat her, and Sam felt his attitude softening a bit at the obvious affection the man had for the dog. If Dupont loved Lucy that much, he couldn’t be too bad, could he?

  Dupont straightened and made his way to the porch. Sam noticed he wasn’t wearing the usual suit. It somehow made him look vulnerable. The chinos and pink Izod shirt looked ridiculous
. Lucy didn’t seem to mind, though, as she trotted along beside him.

  Sam didn’t get up to greet him. So what if Dupont was kind to dogs, he still didn’t deserve that much respect. “Harley. Can I get you a beer?” Sam tilted his bottle toward Dupont.

  “No thanks. I can’t stay long.” Dupont looked around as if to make sure no one could see him slumming down here at Sam’s cabin.

  “What can’t wait until tomorrow?” Sam asked.

  “This is more personal.”

  Dupont came up onto the porch and sat in the chair beside Sam. He leaned over, his arms on his thighs, his keys jangling between his knees as he fiddled with them. Sam patiently waited for him to get to the point.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about what Harry said in the station the other day. He’s right. You’ve been right too. I have been catering to Thorne. I guess I got my priorities a little screwed up.”

  “Yup.” Sam agreed, but he didn’t see what that had to do with him.

  “I know you don’t like Thorne.”

  Sam snorted. “What’s to like? He’s ruining our town, and it’s not just the construction I’m talking about.”

  Dupont nodded, his eyes drifting over the field. “You know the only thing I wanted was to do good for this town. When I was younger it seemed so simple. So easy. But as I got older I found things aren’t always as easy as they seem.” Dupont shrugged and jangled the keys again. “Well, I think I lost sight of my initial goal.”

  “Yeah. I think you said that already. So what is it that you want from me?” Sam asked.

  Dupont leaned closer to Sam, his chair squeaking. “What if I could help you get rid of Thorne?”

  That caught Sam’s attention. He put his beer down and looked at Dupont. “What do you mean ‘get rid of’ him?”

  “What if I told you I had certain information. Proof that he was behind the drugs that have come into town. Would you be able to arrest him and put him away forever?”

  “Do you actually have such proof?” Sam asked. “Because if you do, you’d better give it to me right now. Otherwise you’re an accomplice and I can arrest you for obstructing justice.”

  Dupont’s eyes flittered around nervously. He licked his lips. “I didn’t say I had proof. I said what if. What if I did? Would he go away forever?”

  Sam picked up his beer and took a swig. What was Dupont saying? Did he have proof about Thorne? And how could Sam get that proof? “Yeah, I guess he would probably go away forever, especially if he’s the head of the drug ring up here. But I’m not gonna make a deal with you, if that’s what you think. If you know something, tell me now or you’re going down with him.”

  Dupont looked hard at Sam, his mouth turning into a grim line, the friendliness going out of him. “Is that so? What if I sweeten the pot by telling you I know something about what happened to Tyler Richardson?”

  Sam snapped forward in his chair. “What do you mean you know something about what happened to Tyler?”

  Dupont’s face turned smug. “That’s right. I might know a little something about your star deputy. You thought his death was an accident, didn’t you? I happen to know there was more to it than you think, and if you get rid of Thorne I’ll tell you everything.”

  Sam blinked in disbelief. Was Dupont pulling his leg? Did he really know something? Sam’s fist tightened around his beer as he focused on the cold bottle to hold back from punching Dupont in the face and beating the information out of him. He knew that wouldn’t work in his favor. And he could tell by the look on the mayor’s face that he wasn’t going to give up. Sam would have to make a deal.

  “So that’s it. You give me information on Thorne. I make sure he gets arrested, and you tell me what happened to Tyler. Is that the deal?” Sam asked.

  “Not quite. I want you to keep my name out of it. I don’t want to be tied to Thorne in any way. And I don’t want any of what happens to him to fall on me. I want to come out of this squeaky clean, and I want you to support me for mayor.”

  Bile burned Sam’s throat. Support Dupont for mayor? But duty to his colleague overruled his personal feelings about Dupont. Tyler had worked for him, and his death was Sam’s responsibility. He owed it to Tyler’s family to find out what had really happened on that road that night. Getting evidence to put Thorne away would stop the drug trade and the construction. Supporting Dupont for mayor was a small price to pay, no matter how much the thought rankled him. Sam studied Dupont for a few seconds. The smaller man’s gaze was unwavering. He wouldn’t back down. “Okay. Deal.”

  “Good.” Dupont stood. “It’s gonna take me a while to get this information together. Thorne’s drug business is suffering a slowdown, and he needs an influx of cash. He’s putting together a special delivery, and I’ll be able to get the specifics. I’ll contact you as to where and when it’s going to be as soon as I know.”

  “Okay.” Sam stood. “One more thing, though.” He was a little taller than Dupont, and now he looked down on the mayor. Sam figured he was the only one who could help Dupont, and he wanted to leverage that for as much as he could. He knew Dupont had given Thorne the bloody knife that Thorne had threatened Sam with in the bar. He also knew Dupont had some knowledge of his cousin Gracie’s rape twenty years ago.

  Sam couldn’t let this opportunity pass. While he was the only one who could help Dupont now, he was going to wring him for all the information he could get. “There’s one more thing I want. About a month ago Thorne showed me something. Something that I think you had a role in supplying to him.”

  Dupont’s eyes flickered with recognition, and he gave a slight nod. “Yeah. I know what you’re talking about. Thorne pressured me to get something on you to keep you under control. All the more reason for you to work with me and put him away.”

  Sam nodded slowly. “I understand that. But what I want to know is how you got it and what your involvement with Gracie was twenty years ago.”

  Dupont’s eyes softened. “It’s not what you think. I had nothing to do with what happened to Gracie. I might have strayed a little bit in my role as mayor, but I’m no rapist. Certain information fell into my lap. But that’s a discussion for another day, and if you come through with arresting Thorne, maybe we’ll have that discussion.”

  Dupont turned and marched off the porch to his car. He drove off without a backward glance.

  Sam watched Dupont drive off when Mick approached from the other direction. He got out of his car, the black T-shirt stretched tight over his bulky frame, and came up the steps toward Sam. His light-blue eyes were trained on the cloud of dirt behind Dupont’s receding car.

  Mick shook Sam’s hand. “Visitor?”

  “Grab me another beer from the fridge, will you? You’re not going to believe this.” Sam waited for Mick to return with their beers and then told him about Dupont’s visit.

  “So you think he’s the one that gave the knife to Thorne? But how did Dupont get it in the first place?” The knife had been Mick’s. Sam had no idea how it had fallen into Dupont’s lap, but the fact that Thorne had it now was bad. Very bad.

  The last thing either of them needed was for that knife — or the story of what they did the night they tried to make things right for Gracie — to get out. It would be disastrous for both of them. That’s why Sam couldn’t tell Jo what Thorne had said to him that night in Holy Spirits. It wasn’t his story to tell. He had Mick to consider. Except now he was going to need Jo’s help to take Thorne down.

  “I’m gonna need Jo to be in on all this. Maybe Kevin too.”

  Mick leaned back in the chair and sucked on his beer. “Of course. No, wait. You’re not gonna tell her about the knife and what we did for Gracie?”

  “I think I have to. That’s part of the deal with Dupont. I want him to tell me everything.”

  “But Jo doesn’t need to know about the knife. You can tell her everything about the information Dupont gives you about Thorne and the drug deal. In the end, when Dupont tells you about Gracie’s cas
e, Jo doesn’t need to know the specifics. That was a long time ago.” Mick leaned forward, his eyes drilling into Sam’s. “If anyone finds out what really happened, we could be in deep shit. This is for Jo’s protection as well as ours. I say we keep the information about the knife mum unless we absolutely have to tell her.”

  Sam pressed his lips together. He wanted to tell Jo because he felt it was causing a rift between them. When she brought it up earlier at Holy Spirits, he’d almost told her, but he knew he had to get Mick’s permission first. Maybe what Mick had suggested could work. He didn’t necessarily have to tell Jo about the knife ahead of time. The main focus was finding out about Thorne’s drug delivery. The part about Gracie and the knife was just an added bonus. “Okay, I guess that could work. But if I feel like I need to make a snap decision and fill Jo in on everything, can I tell her?”

  Mick thought for a minute and then nodded. “Only if it’s absolutely necessary. So what are you going to do about Thorne?”

  Sam shrugged. “I guess I’m just going to wait for Dupont to bring me this information.”

  Mick shook his head. “I don’t know about this. Dupont is sleazy. Do you really trust him?”

  “Not really, but I guess it can’t hurt to wait around. If he doesn’t hold up his end of the deal, it’s no skin off of my back. Thorne has him in deep, and now he’s running scared. He stuck his neck out too far for Thorne, and now he needs to get this fixed. He’s afraid for his job, so I think he’ll come through with the information. He wants Thorne out of the way now as much as I do. The only thing I can do is sit back and wait.” Sam leaned back in his chair. “How did things go down in Mass? Anything new in Tyler’s case?”

  Mick rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I followed a few leads, but they ended up dead ends. Nothing’s popping, but I’ve got a sneaky suspicion that pretty soon something’s going to break.”

  * * *

  Jo hadn’t intended on staying in White Rock so long, but somewhere along the line it had become home. She loved the small cottage in the woods that she rented. It was secluded, but cheery. Nestled in a forest of pine trees, it was somewhat remote, the only sounds twittering birds, the hollow echo of woodpeckers, the rustle of chipmunks and the babble of the brook at the edge of the property to keep her company. Jo was a loner, and that suited her just fine.