BURLY PETE CALLS IT A DAY
Tom Funk
I was only 20 minutes from the end of my second to last shift when I heard our dispatcher blurt out the phrase that every cop dreads: “10-33, Code 30 Officer down! All units proceed to 448 Northampton, repeat, all available units proceed to 448 Northhampton stat.”
My heart jumped straight into my throat. I switched on my flashing lights and hit the siren. I coulda probably driven to 448 Northampton blindfolded, having spent half of the hours after quittin’ time there for the past 23 years. It was the address of The Probable Cause, the unofficial watering hole of the Gillette County Sheriff’s Office since I had signed on.
“Two subjects reported inside, shots fired, repeat, Code 30, proceed with caution,” the dispatcher droned on as I sped down El Dorado, fingerin’ my pistol holster and poppin’ the clasp, makin’ sure my handgun was ready and available.
I noticed I was breathin’ hard and my face was flushed. “Gettin’ too old for this stuff,” I thought for the upteenth time, wonderin’ why whatever was happenin’ couldn't have waited two more days.
But that was all for not, no time for that stuff now, I rounded the last turn and squinted ahead toward the parking lot. To my surprise, it seemed to be full of people, most who looked familiar, some of whom were young children, many of whom were holding balloons. As I approached they started to clap, bearin’ big smiles and chantin’ my name- “Burly Pete!, Blury Pete!”
My heart rate declined and my grip on the steering wheel loosened up. I was drivin’ into a surprise retirement party, not an active shooter situation. That dispatcher was approaching my squad, laughin’ as she pointed at me. “Gottcha,'' she yelled as she approached. Indeed, she had. “‘Y’all are liable to give an old man a heart attack,” I laughed as I exited to her hug.
My kids were next to put the squeeze on me. My brother and his wife too. All 23 members of the staff showed up. All of them but Philip Johnbone a course, wild horses couldn't have dragged him there. It was nice to see all of of ‘em show up, shake my hand and share a beer.
I was all smiles ‘til I got to the parkin’ lot. There stood Johnbone, arms crossed, head cocked to one side, wearin’ that smartass smirk he always did when he thought he had one up on me.
“Congratulations, Deputy Parson, happy to see your dumbass retire. Makes me smile knowin’ how much time I’ll save now that I won’t have to clean up all the messes you leave for my shift.’
I took the toothpick outta my mouth and let out a sigh. “Johnbone...what brings you out to my party, thought you’d be slummin’ over at that biker joint on the Eastside with the rest of your meth head buddies.
“Well, Burly, believe me, there ain’t no partyin’ goin’ on over that side of town tonight. They’s all in mournin’,seeing’s how their favorite screwup cop is callin’ it quits. Now they might have to wonder if somebody that knows what they're doin’ will be lookin’ in on their comin’ and goin’.”
“Very funny, Deputy, but seriously, what kinda crisis forced you into this parkin’ lot, Lord knows my retirement party is the last place on God’s green earth you’d wanna be?”
“‘There’s been a break in the Kettleman homicide, Burly. .. a big’un. So big I’m afraid I’m finally gonna expose you for the incompetent rent-a-cop that you still are. “
Case you been livin’ under a rock, or ain’t from ‘round here, let me summarize the Kettleman “homicide” for ya. Melinda Kettleman is the black sheep daughter of the chairman of our county board. Five years back now she was out doin’ what she usually did every Friday night, which is to say tyin’ one on at the Lame Horse Inn out there on Route 29. She and her best girlfriend Shelly Benedict decided they’d head into town just before one since the city lets its bars stay open an hour later than the county.
Neither one of ‘em shoulda been behind the wheel and nobody but Phillip Johnbone is really sure who was when they crossed over the centerline and plowed head on into the front of Willie Plantier’s F-150.
The force of that crash threw both of ‘em into the backseat of Melinda’s 2004 Grand Prix. Neither one was wearin’ a seatbelt. Shelly’s neck got broke and she died at the scene. Melinda broke an arm and most of her ribs but somehow survived. Both of ‘em was over the limit for alcohol and had cocaine and weed in their system too. Willie blew a .24 on the breath test and couldn’t tell us much about who was drivin’.
I was the first one on the scene. Melinda got life flighted to the hospital, but as they was loadin’ her into the ‘copter I asked her what happened? She mumbled “I shouldn’t been drivin’” through her tears. Course the D.A. let me know they couldn’t use that seein’s how I didn’t Mirandize her and all. “Pete,” he said, “you know yerself any lawyer that got past his first year of law school would crucify you if I tried to get that in at trial.” Now of course he didn’t get around to tellin’ me that ‘til two months after I’d advised her she was under arrest for Reckless Homicide and Aggravated DUI. Takes them lawyer types ‘bout that long to figure out the legal angle of decisions we gotta make in about 10 seconds.
Anyways, Johnbone wasn’t anywhere near that investigation on the night of the crash. He was still workin’ security at some Naval Armory out west at the time. He wants to call me a “‘rent-a-cop,” but he ain’t never wore a badge til he got hired on at county 4 years ago. That don’t stop him from thinkin’ he knows it all. He knew the chairman wanted the charges dropped against Melinda, thinkin’ if he could find a way to get that done, that was his ticket to an endorsement for Sheriff when my current boss was ready to hang it up.
So while the case has been windin’ its way through the courts, he’s been lookin’ for some way to convince my boss that Melinda wasn’t behind the wheel when that crash occurred. ‘Bout a year ago he thought he had it. See more than one witness told me that when the girls arrived at the bar that night they didn’t come in alone. Pauly Lincoln was with ‘em. Pauly is best known as Gillette County’s biggest Meth dealer back in the heyday of that poison’s run. But after he did a double digit stint in the D.O.C. up north, we haven’t had much trouble from him.
Seems one of Johnbone’s snitches from his vice work told ‘em Pauly was back in the bar at the Lame Horse a week or two after the crash, cryin’ in his beer while he got hammered and talkin’ about how he had killed the only woman he ever loved- Shelly Benedict. And that same snitch said Pauly had his shirt undone just about down to his navel, and she could see a big ole bruise cuttin’ across his chest sorta in the shape of a half moon, just what you’d think a steerin’ wheel would do if you smacked into into it with a lotta force.
Now a course it didn’t take Einstein ta see there were holes big enough to drive a truck through in the idear that Pauly Lincoln was drivin’ that Grand Prix. Where did Pauly go after the crash? Was we ‘spoda believe he just walked away from a head on collision that killed one person and put another in the hospital and that nobody saw him walking away? No thanks Deputy Johnbone, I wasn’t buyin’, and thank the Good Lord neither was the D.A.
But that didn’t stop the boy genius from tryin’ to find more proof that his wack theory was the God’s truth. And now I guess he thought he had it.
“Well, Deputy,” I says to Johnbone, “ if you got a big break in the Kettleman case, then don’t keep me in suspense, do tell, whatdaya got?”
Johnbone commences to pull his smartphone outta his jacket pocket. “One’a my snitches has been Pauly Lincoln’s main squeeze for the past six months or so, emphasis bein’ on the “has been” part ‘cause she broke up with him last week. Turn’s out she and Pauly were sharin’ a room at the Lame Horse, I guess on that end of it the county hadn’t got around to condemnin’ yet. Pauly left his old cell in her place when he moved out. She got ta goin’ through it and finds this little gem. Johnbone, hit a button on his phone and we was hearin’ the voice of the late departed Shelly Benedict - “Hey, Babe, its me, I’m hangin’ with Mindy Kettleman and we’re about to drive out ta the Lame Horse for a while; but Mindy’s suspended and I’m a little too lit up to drive, so if ya ain’t doin’ nothin’ why don’t you swing by Mindy’s and go with us. She’ll let ya drive her car..”
“So there ya be, Deputy Parson,” Johnbone sneered at me,” when ya put that together with the crescent moon bruise and the confession he made at the Lame Horse, that pretty well proves what I tryin’ to get through your thick noggin for the past four years- Pauly Lincoln was drivin’ that car!”
I just kinda looked back at Johnbone wonderin’ how many stupid pills ya gotta take before you let that kinda nonsense escape from your lips. After I let out a long sigh I softly said, “Phil, did it occur to you that perhaps that voicemail was made a night long before the night in question, and Pauly’s new ex was pissed at him and erased the datestamp so as to get him inta hot water?”
He just kinda chuckled to himself and replied, “matter of fact it did, which is why I confronted him with it and asked him if he got that message the night that his Shelly died.”
Johnbone reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a typed document. “Which he not only told me it was from that night, but he then commenced to give me a full confession signed and notarized, admitting he was driving and stating how he crawled outta that Grand Prix and talked a friend of Willie’s that showed up inta givin’ him a ride home before you showed up.” Plus I got a statement from the desk clerk at the Lame Horse sayin’ Pauly was payin’ for a room out there the night of the crash.”
I quickly read through the doc and saw that it did indeed have Pauly Lincoln’s John Henry affixed to the end of it. But knowin’ Pauly like I did, I could tell right off that there weren’t no way in hell he had composed the text of it. Pauly never made it past his freshman year of high school and his English wasn’t exactly the Queens. It was written in standard English with punctuation and all that, so I was pretty sure Johnbone wrote it up and just stuck it under Pauly’s nose and had ‘em sign it. What I was wonderin’ was why he’d do that?
Johnbone looked at me cockeyed and barked, “You gonna bring ‘em in?”
I stuck my toothpick back in place and shook my head. “Gotta see what the boss wants Phillip, you know well as I do he wants us to keep him in the loop on this one.”
“Suit yerself,” he grumbled, “but they ain’t no way Mindy oughta halfta stand trial, when we got the goods on Pauly.”
I had no inclination to bother my boss this late with this. My gut was tellin’ me I ought to head over to the Lame Horse and see if Pauly Lincoln might be at his usual perch, so that’s what I did.
Sure enough, there he sat, last seat at the bar as I looked down the row from the entrance. Pauly had a crowd of 4-5 dudes gathered lookin’over his shoulder, all of ‘em with big smiles on their faces. “”Burly Pete Parson!,” he yelled when his eyes met mine. “Hope, you ain’t workin’ ‘cause your first one’s on me tonight, I’m buyin’ a round for the house!”
That got my curiosity up. Pauly's been doin’ roofin’ since he got out the joint, and he never had much cash. It weren’t like the old days for him, when the Meth kept him rollin’ in it. He’d pretty much lost everything when he got sent away, so I was intrigued about how he suddenly was flush enough to buy a round.
“Deputy, come take a gander at this!” he hollered at me, motionin’ me over with his hand.
He was holdin’ up a gold coin that had Lady Liberty on one side and a flyin’ eagle on the other. It said it was a twenty dollar piece from 1921. “”Y’all know ah took up usin’ the metal detector since I got outta the joint? So last weekend they had that big coin show over ta Springfield at the ‘Merican Legion Hall. So I was thinkin’ maybe one them ole boys at the show mighta dropped somethin’ on the way out to they’s car, so I decided to run my detector over the ground ‘round the parkin’ lot. Well, lookie what showed up! I looked it up on the E-bay and if its in mint condition, E-bay sez you can fetch upwards of a million bucks fer one of these. They calls it it a “Roman Proof Saint-Gaudens $20 Double Eagle,” and ain’t nobody claimed it. Dude down at the Legion says them coin show boys is kinda shady sometimes, mobbed up or somethin’ so he ain’t expectin’ they gonna come back. Looks like I’m holdin’ my retirement plan here, Burly. Make sure you getcha a beer on me, ya’here?”
I took the coin and eyeballed for a minute. It was heavy enough alright, but when I looked at the side of it, it wasn’t showing gold all the way across, the middle of it was gray as any quarter or nickel. Somethin’ smelled pretty fishy about this whole deal.
‘Pauly, you mind if I was ta have a word with you out to the parkin’ lot?”, I whispered into his ear when I gave ‘em the coin back.
Out in the lot, I got right down ta bizness. “Pauly,’since when you been metal detecting?, Ya know we keep a purdy close eye on you and I ain’t never seen ya probin’ the ground with one them thangs ‘round here?”
“Pete, I promise you, I been doin’ it since I got outta Joliet, cum’over ta my truck, I’ll show ya my detector.” He jogged over to his old beater Ford and opened the door, pullin’ out a six foot metal detector. He jogged back to me and handed it to me.
First thing I seen on it was the price tag still stickin’ off the shaft of the shiny brand new pole. Second thing I noticed was the housing had a battery compartment icon that slid open, which I did. Not to my surprise, I found it was empty.
“Pauly,” I sez, “how’d you figure out how to make this thing run without no batteries?”
Pauly got all flush in the face and his eyes kinda bugged out. “Uh…well, its gotta a plug in too, guess I left that back in the truck, let me see if’n I kin find it.”
As he turned I grabbed his shoulder. “Nah, Pauly, don’t waste no more time with that fairy tale, what’d Johnbone tell you ta get ya to sign that confession? He tell ya that coin was fer real and make up that metal detector story for ya?”
Pauly just hung his head and jammed his hands back into his pockets, pullin’ out the coin. “Pete,” he mumbled through the tears wellin’ up, “ I got no way to save a damn dime and I’m gonna be 55 next November. You know yerself me and Shelly’s had two girls to take care of and now them girl’s moma is gone. I ain’t done much of anything right but I wanta do right by them. This here is gonna let me leave somethin’ for them when I go…. And besides, I did more or less put her in the grave…leavin’ her with two youngin’ to raise by herself while I did that stint up north. Why shouldn’t I do some time for that?”
“Pauly, ya cain’t think that way ‘bout it, you know you wasn’t drivin’ that car, so why would you sign a paper that sez ya did? Hell, don’t bother answerin’ that, I know Johnbone put ya up to signin’ that, and he give ya that gold coin too, didn’t he?”
Pauly turned his tear stained face away from me. “Pete, a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do, I signed that thing cause I killed my Shelly! That’s the God’s truth! He put his hands together and stretched them out toward me. “Just put the cuffs on Pete! Take me away now, I‘m good to go!”
I just shook my head. “Pauly, you ain’t goin’ nowhere. Go back and talk to your friends, take a deep breath, but tomorrow you need to get that coin looked at by a dealer, I don’t think it's genuine.
****
When I shut the alarm off the next mornin’ I had a big smile on my face. It was my last day at work, I was feelin’ pretty good. But then I looked at my phone and saw a text that wiped the smile clean offa me. It was from my boss: “Pete, Pauly Lincoln hung himself in his bathroom out at the Lame Horse last night, left a note you need to see.”
I threw on my uni and got into the station fast as I could. The Sheriff handed me the note. “Pete,” it read, “You don’t know what its like loving someone so hard and not being able to help them when they need it the most. I wrote the girls a note and mailed it to them so they knowed about this coin but I need to know a lawman’s gonna make sure it goes to them, so I’m leaving it with you. I done what I done cause I love them and its the only way I’m gonna provide for them. But thinking about what you said and going back up north, I think this is just the best way out. I got no will but the girls deserve that coin, don’t let nobody else get their hands on it.”
The Sheriff opened an evidence envelope and dropped the gold coin on his desk. “This belong to Pauly?” he asked me.
“Yessir,” was my short reply.
****
Quittin’ time was 4:00 p.m. and I asked the Sheriff to have Johnbone meet me at his office at 3:15. I got there ‘bout 3:00, my laptop in one hand and my badge in the other. I sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the bosses’ desk and put both items on his desktop.
“Ok, Pete,” the boss smirked, “gotta confess you got me totally baffled with what the hell is goin’ on here. Why in the world would you want Johnbone present when you turn in your gun and badge?”
“Sheriff, you have always impressed me as somebody that liked a surprise, so jest be patient a little bit and you shall see!”
“Alright, Pete, you’re the one that’s goin’ out, so I’ll just indulge ya,” the boss replied.
We sat and shot the bull fer about ten minutes and then the boy wonder darkened the bosses door. “What’s goin’ on here?” was his first words, lookin’ like he just ate somethin’ that was givin’ him heartburn.
“Deputy Parson told me he wanted you here when he turned in his gun and badge, and, since its his last day, I figured I could indulge his last wish,” said the Sheriff.
“Thanks for comin’ Phillip, I just figured as long as I was gonna turn my tools over today, I shouldn’t be so selfish and have all the fun…thought maybe I’d give you a chance to do that too!”
Johnbone looked straight at the Sheriff without missin’ a beat. “Boss, you ain’t gonna make me sit through this crap are ya? I got things I could be doin.’’”
Before the Sheriff could respond I leaned forward and flipped open my laptop. “Now Philliip I know you got important things to do, but believe me, I think you're gonna wanna see this. Member that confession you took from Pauly Lincoln in the Shelly Benedict reckless homicide ? Well it seems Pauly mighta had some incentive to sign that thing, maybe somebody mighta give him a gold coin and told ‘em it was worth a million bucks, said sign that paper and when you do your time up at Joliet, theys gonna be a nice retirement benefit waitin’ for ya! Know anythin’ about that,Deputy?”
Johnbone’s face got flush and once again he didn’t look at me but spoke right to the Sheriff. “Boss, I guess we’re lucky ole Burly here is callin’ it a day, ‘cause obviously the job stress has got to ‘em.”
I just laughed and continued. “Thanks fer yer concern, but Pauly told me yesterday he’d found that gold coin with a metal detector and even showed it to me. And I got to thinkin’ where does a fella buy one of them things ‘round here? And he’d mentioned he found the coin up in Springfield. And you know Pauly wasn’t always the best liar ‘bout his business dealin’ and this time wasn't no different ‘cause he left the price tag on that detector and it said it come from a Farm and Fleet. So I sez to myself, “I believe they got one of them up in Springfield. And what better way fer me to spend my last day on the job drivin’ up there and payin’ them folks a visit. Well, wouldn’t you know, not only do they sell em, but they keep a security camera on the checkout counters that captures all sales.”
“So them folks up there is real cooperative and they give me a flashdrive of the sale of the very metal detector ole Pauly showed me yesterday, what say we give us a look?”
With that, I went to hit the play button on my laptop. Before I could, Johnbone reached over and closed the computer. “You don’t need to do that, Pete, “ he mumbled, his voice trembling. He turned back to the Sheriff, “Boss I been thinkin’ I need a career change, what’d if I was to just call it a day right now?”
Tom Funk is a retired judge, having served in the state courts of Illinois for 14 years. Now he's back to his first love, litigating cases as a volunteer pro bono lawyer with Land of Lincoln Legal Aid, where there's a story prompt delivered free of charge about every other day. Tom started writing short stories about ten years ago and most recently has been published in Mystery Tribune, Jerry Jazz Musician and Heart of Flesh Literary Journal.
Tom Funk
I was only 20 minutes from the end of my second to last shift when I heard our dispatcher blurt out the phrase that every cop dreads: “10-33, Code 30 Officer down! All units proceed to 448 Northampton, repeat, all available units proceed to 448 Northhampton stat.”
My heart jumped straight into my throat. I switched on my flashing lights and hit the siren. I coulda probably driven to 448 Northampton blindfolded, having spent half of the hours after quittin’ time there for the past 23 years. It was the address of The Probable Cause, the unofficial watering hole of the Gillette County Sheriff’s Office since I had signed on.
“Two subjects reported inside, shots fired, repeat, Code 30, proceed with caution,” the dispatcher droned on as I sped down El Dorado, fingerin’ my pistol holster and poppin’ the clasp, makin’ sure my handgun was ready and available.
I noticed I was breathin’ hard and my face was flushed. “Gettin’ too old for this stuff,” I thought for the upteenth time, wonderin’ why whatever was happenin’ couldn't have waited two more days.
But that was all for not, no time for that stuff now, I rounded the last turn and squinted ahead toward the parking lot. To my surprise, it seemed to be full of people, most who looked familiar, some of whom were young children, many of whom were holding balloons. As I approached they started to clap, bearin’ big smiles and chantin’ my name- “Burly Pete!, Blury Pete!”
My heart rate declined and my grip on the steering wheel loosened up. I was drivin’ into a surprise retirement party, not an active shooter situation. That dispatcher was approaching my squad, laughin’ as she pointed at me. “Gottcha,'' she yelled as she approached. Indeed, she had. “‘Y’all are liable to give an old man a heart attack,” I laughed as I exited to her hug.
My kids were next to put the squeeze on me. My brother and his wife too. All 23 members of the staff showed up. All of them but Philip Johnbone a course, wild horses couldn't have dragged him there. It was nice to see all of of ‘em show up, shake my hand and share a beer.
I was all smiles ‘til I got to the parkin’ lot. There stood Johnbone, arms crossed, head cocked to one side, wearin’ that smartass smirk he always did when he thought he had one up on me.
“Congratulations, Deputy Parson, happy to see your dumbass retire. Makes me smile knowin’ how much time I’ll save now that I won’t have to clean up all the messes you leave for my shift.’
I took the toothpick outta my mouth and let out a sigh. “Johnbone...what brings you out to my party, thought you’d be slummin’ over at that biker joint on the Eastside with the rest of your meth head buddies.
“Well, Burly, believe me, there ain’t no partyin’ goin’ on over that side of town tonight. They’s all in mournin’,seeing’s how their favorite screwup cop is callin’ it quits. Now they might have to wonder if somebody that knows what they're doin’ will be lookin’ in on their comin’ and goin’.”
“Very funny, Deputy, but seriously, what kinda crisis forced you into this parkin’ lot, Lord knows my retirement party is the last place on God’s green earth you’d wanna be?”
“‘There’s been a break in the Kettleman homicide, Burly. .. a big’un. So big I’m afraid I’m finally gonna expose you for the incompetent rent-a-cop that you still are. “
Case you been livin’ under a rock, or ain’t from ‘round here, let me summarize the Kettleman “homicide” for ya. Melinda Kettleman is the black sheep daughter of the chairman of our county board. Five years back now she was out doin’ what she usually did every Friday night, which is to say tyin’ one on at the Lame Horse Inn out there on Route 29. She and her best girlfriend Shelly Benedict decided they’d head into town just before one since the city lets its bars stay open an hour later than the county.
Neither one of ‘em shoulda been behind the wheel and nobody but Phillip Johnbone is really sure who was when they crossed over the centerline and plowed head on into the front of Willie Plantier’s F-150.
The force of that crash threw both of ‘em into the backseat of Melinda’s 2004 Grand Prix. Neither one was wearin’ a seatbelt. Shelly’s neck got broke and she died at the scene. Melinda broke an arm and most of her ribs but somehow survived. Both of ‘em was over the limit for alcohol and had cocaine and weed in their system too. Willie blew a .24 on the breath test and couldn’t tell us much about who was drivin’.
I was the first one on the scene. Melinda got life flighted to the hospital, but as they was loadin’ her into the ‘copter I asked her what happened? She mumbled “I shouldn’t been drivin’” through her tears. Course the D.A. let me know they couldn’t use that seein’s how I didn’t Mirandize her and all. “Pete,” he said, “you know yerself any lawyer that got past his first year of law school would crucify you if I tried to get that in at trial.” Now of course he didn’t get around to tellin’ me that ‘til two months after I’d advised her she was under arrest for Reckless Homicide and Aggravated DUI. Takes them lawyer types ‘bout that long to figure out the legal angle of decisions we gotta make in about 10 seconds.
Anyways, Johnbone wasn’t anywhere near that investigation on the night of the crash. He was still workin’ security at some Naval Armory out west at the time. He wants to call me a “‘rent-a-cop,” but he ain’t never wore a badge til he got hired on at county 4 years ago. That don’t stop him from thinkin’ he knows it all. He knew the chairman wanted the charges dropped against Melinda, thinkin’ if he could find a way to get that done, that was his ticket to an endorsement for Sheriff when my current boss was ready to hang it up.
So while the case has been windin’ its way through the courts, he’s been lookin’ for some way to convince my boss that Melinda wasn’t behind the wheel when that crash occurred. ‘Bout a year ago he thought he had it. See more than one witness told me that when the girls arrived at the bar that night they didn’t come in alone. Pauly Lincoln was with ‘em. Pauly is best known as Gillette County’s biggest Meth dealer back in the heyday of that poison’s run. But after he did a double digit stint in the D.O.C. up north, we haven’t had much trouble from him.
Seems one of Johnbone’s snitches from his vice work told ‘em Pauly was back in the bar at the Lame Horse a week or two after the crash, cryin’ in his beer while he got hammered and talkin’ about how he had killed the only woman he ever loved- Shelly Benedict. And that same snitch said Pauly had his shirt undone just about down to his navel, and she could see a big ole bruise cuttin’ across his chest sorta in the shape of a half moon, just what you’d think a steerin’ wheel would do if you smacked into into it with a lotta force.
Now a course it didn’t take Einstein ta see there were holes big enough to drive a truck through in the idear that Pauly Lincoln was drivin’ that Grand Prix. Where did Pauly go after the crash? Was we ‘spoda believe he just walked away from a head on collision that killed one person and put another in the hospital and that nobody saw him walking away? No thanks Deputy Johnbone, I wasn’t buyin’, and thank the Good Lord neither was the D.A.
But that didn’t stop the boy genius from tryin’ to find more proof that his wack theory was the God’s truth. And now I guess he thought he had it.
“Well, Deputy,” I says to Johnbone, “ if you got a big break in the Kettleman case, then don’t keep me in suspense, do tell, whatdaya got?”
Johnbone commences to pull his smartphone outta his jacket pocket. “One’a my snitches has been Pauly Lincoln’s main squeeze for the past six months or so, emphasis bein’ on the “has been” part ‘cause she broke up with him last week. Turn’s out she and Pauly were sharin’ a room at the Lame Horse, I guess on that end of it the county hadn’t got around to condemnin’ yet. Pauly left his old cell in her place when he moved out. She got ta goin’ through it and finds this little gem. Johnbone, hit a button on his phone and we was hearin’ the voice of the late departed Shelly Benedict - “Hey, Babe, its me, I’m hangin’ with Mindy Kettleman and we’re about to drive out ta the Lame Horse for a while; but Mindy’s suspended and I’m a little too lit up to drive, so if ya ain’t doin’ nothin’ why don’t you swing by Mindy’s and go with us. She’ll let ya drive her car..”
“So there ya be, Deputy Parson,” Johnbone sneered at me,” when ya put that together with the crescent moon bruise and the confession he made at the Lame Horse, that pretty well proves what I tryin’ to get through your thick noggin for the past four years- Pauly Lincoln was drivin’ that car!”
I just kinda looked back at Johnbone wonderin’ how many stupid pills ya gotta take before you let that kinda nonsense escape from your lips. After I let out a long sigh I softly said, “Phil, did it occur to you that perhaps that voicemail was made a night long before the night in question, and Pauly’s new ex was pissed at him and erased the datestamp so as to get him inta hot water?”
He just kinda chuckled to himself and replied, “matter of fact it did, which is why I confronted him with it and asked him if he got that message the night that his Shelly died.”
Johnbone reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a typed document. “Which he not only told me it was from that night, but he then commenced to give me a full confession signed and notarized, admitting he was driving and stating how he crawled outta that Grand Prix and talked a friend of Willie’s that showed up inta givin’ him a ride home before you showed up.” Plus I got a statement from the desk clerk at the Lame Horse sayin’ Pauly was payin’ for a room out there the night of the crash.”
I quickly read through the doc and saw that it did indeed have Pauly Lincoln’s John Henry affixed to the end of it. But knowin’ Pauly like I did, I could tell right off that there weren’t no way in hell he had composed the text of it. Pauly never made it past his freshman year of high school and his English wasn’t exactly the Queens. It was written in standard English with punctuation and all that, so I was pretty sure Johnbone wrote it up and just stuck it under Pauly’s nose and had ‘em sign it. What I was wonderin’ was why he’d do that?
Johnbone looked at me cockeyed and barked, “You gonna bring ‘em in?”
I stuck my toothpick back in place and shook my head. “Gotta see what the boss wants Phillip, you know well as I do he wants us to keep him in the loop on this one.”
“Suit yerself,” he grumbled, “but they ain’t no way Mindy oughta halfta stand trial, when we got the goods on Pauly.”
I had no inclination to bother my boss this late with this. My gut was tellin’ me I ought to head over to the Lame Horse and see if Pauly Lincoln might be at his usual perch, so that’s what I did.
Sure enough, there he sat, last seat at the bar as I looked down the row from the entrance. Pauly had a crowd of 4-5 dudes gathered lookin’over his shoulder, all of ‘em with big smiles on their faces. “”Burly Pete Parson!,” he yelled when his eyes met mine. “Hope, you ain’t workin’ ‘cause your first one’s on me tonight, I’m buyin’ a round for the house!”
That got my curiosity up. Pauly's been doin’ roofin’ since he got out the joint, and he never had much cash. It weren’t like the old days for him, when the Meth kept him rollin’ in it. He’d pretty much lost everything when he got sent away, so I was intrigued about how he suddenly was flush enough to buy a round.
“Deputy, come take a gander at this!” he hollered at me, motionin’ me over with his hand.
He was holdin’ up a gold coin that had Lady Liberty on one side and a flyin’ eagle on the other. It said it was a twenty dollar piece from 1921. “”Y’all know ah took up usin’ the metal detector since I got outta the joint? So last weekend they had that big coin show over ta Springfield at the ‘Merican Legion Hall. So I was thinkin’ maybe one them ole boys at the show mighta dropped somethin’ on the way out to they’s car, so I decided to run my detector over the ground ‘round the parkin’ lot. Well, lookie what showed up! I looked it up on the E-bay and if its in mint condition, E-bay sez you can fetch upwards of a million bucks fer one of these. They calls it it a “Roman Proof Saint-Gaudens $20 Double Eagle,” and ain’t nobody claimed it. Dude down at the Legion says them coin show boys is kinda shady sometimes, mobbed up or somethin’ so he ain’t expectin’ they gonna come back. Looks like I’m holdin’ my retirement plan here, Burly. Make sure you getcha a beer on me, ya’here?”
I took the coin and eyeballed for a minute. It was heavy enough alright, but when I looked at the side of it, it wasn’t showing gold all the way across, the middle of it was gray as any quarter or nickel. Somethin’ smelled pretty fishy about this whole deal.
‘Pauly, you mind if I was ta have a word with you out to the parkin’ lot?”, I whispered into his ear when I gave ‘em the coin back.
Out in the lot, I got right down ta bizness. “Pauly,’since when you been metal detecting?, Ya know we keep a purdy close eye on you and I ain’t never seen ya probin’ the ground with one them thangs ‘round here?”
“Pete, I promise you, I been doin’ it since I got outta Joliet, cum’over ta my truck, I’ll show ya my detector.” He jogged over to his old beater Ford and opened the door, pullin’ out a six foot metal detector. He jogged back to me and handed it to me.
First thing I seen on it was the price tag still stickin’ off the shaft of the shiny brand new pole. Second thing I noticed was the housing had a battery compartment icon that slid open, which I did. Not to my surprise, I found it was empty.
“Pauly,” I sez, “how’d you figure out how to make this thing run without no batteries?”
Pauly got all flush in the face and his eyes kinda bugged out. “Uh…well, its gotta a plug in too, guess I left that back in the truck, let me see if’n I kin find it.”
As he turned I grabbed his shoulder. “Nah, Pauly, don’t waste no more time with that fairy tale, what’d Johnbone tell you ta get ya to sign that confession? He tell ya that coin was fer real and make up that metal detector story for ya?”
Pauly just hung his head and jammed his hands back into his pockets, pullin’ out the coin. “Pete,” he mumbled through the tears wellin’ up, “ I got no way to save a damn dime and I’m gonna be 55 next November. You know yerself me and Shelly’s had two girls to take care of and now them girl’s moma is gone. I ain’t done much of anything right but I wanta do right by them. This here is gonna let me leave somethin’ for them when I go…. And besides, I did more or less put her in the grave…leavin’ her with two youngin’ to raise by herself while I did that stint up north. Why shouldn’t I do some time for that?”
“Pauly, ya cain’t think that way ‘bout it, you know you wasn’t drivin’ that car, so why would you sign a paper that sez ya did? Hell, don’t bother answerin’ that, I know Johnbone put ya up to signin’ that, and he give ya that gold coin too, didn’t he?”
Pauly turned his tear stained face away from me. “Pete, a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do, I signed that thing cause I killed my Shelly! That’s the God’s truth! He put his hands together and stretched them out toward me. “Just put the cuffs on Pete! Take me away now, I‘m good to go!”
I just shook my head. “Pauly, you ain’t goin’ nowhere. Go back and talk to your friends, take a deep breath, but tomorrow you need to get that coin looked at by a dealer, I don’t think it's genuine.
****
When I shut the alarm off the next mornin’ I had a big smile on my face. It was my last day at work, I was feelin’ pretty good. But then I looked at my phone and saw a text that wiped the smile clean offa me. It was from my boss: “Pete, Pauly Lincoln hung himself in his bathroom out at the Lame Horse last night, left a note you need to see.”
I threw on my uni and got into the station fast as I could. The Sheriff handed me the note. “Pete,” it read, “You don’t know what its like loving someone so hard and not being able to help them when they need it the most. I wrote the girls a note and mailed it to them so they knowed about this coin but I need to know a lawman’s gonna make sure it goes to them, so I’m leaving it with you. I done what I done cause I love them and its the only way I’m gonna provide for them. But thinking about what you said and going back up north, I think this is just the best way out. I got no will but the girls deserve that coin, don’t let nobody else get their hands on it.”
The Sheriff opened an evidence envelope and dropped the gold coin on his desk. “This belong to Pauly?” he asked me.
“Yessir,” was my short reply.
****
Quittin’ time was 4:00 p.m. and I asked the Sheriff to have Johnbone meet me at his office at 3:15. I got there ‘bout 3:00, my laptop in one hand and my badge in the other. I sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the bosses’ desk and put both items on his desktop.
“Ok, Pete,” the boss smirked, “gotta confess you got me totally baffled with what the hell is goin’ on here. Why in the world would you want Johnbone present when you turn in your gun and badge?”
“Sheriff, you have always impressed me as somebody that liked a surprise, so jest be patient a little bit and you shall see!”
“Alright, Pete, you’re the one that’s goin’ out, so I’ll just indulge ya,” the boss replied.
We sat and shot the bull fer about ten minutes and then the boy wonder darkened the bosses door. “What’s goin’ on here?” was his first words, lookin’ like he just ate somethin’ that was givin’ him heartburn.
“Deputy Parson told me he wanted you here when he turned in his gun and badge, and, since its his last day, I figured I could indulge his last wish,” said the Sheriff.
“Thanks for comin’ Phillip, I just figured as long as I was gonna turn my tools over today, I shouldn’t be so selfish and have all the fun…thought maybe I’d give you a chance to do that too!”
Johnbone looked straight at the Sheriff without missin’ a beat. “Boss, you ain’t gonna make me sit through this crap are ya? I got things I could be doin.’’”
Before the Sheriff could respond I leaned forward and flipped open my laptop. “Now Philliip I know you got important things to do, but believe me, I think you're gonna wanna see this. Member that confession you took from Pauly Lincoln in the Shelly Benedict reckless homicide ? Well it seems Pauly mighta had some incentive to sign that thing, maybe somebody mighta give him a gold coin and told ‘em it was worth a million bucks, said sign that paper and when you do your time up at Joliet, theys gonna be a nice retirement benefit waitin’ for ya! Know anythin’ about that,Deputy?”
Johnbone’s face got flush and once again he didn’t look at me but spoke right to the Sheriff. “Boss, I guess we’re lucky ole Burly here is callin’ it a day, ‘cause obviously the job stress has got to ‘em.”
I just laughed and continued. “Thanks fer yer concern, but Pauly told me yesterday he’d found that gold coin with a metal detector and even showed it to me. And I got to thinkin’ where does a fella buy one of them things ‘round here? And he’d mentioned he found the coin up in Springfield. And you know Pauly wasn’t always the best liar ‘bout his business dealin’ and this time wasn't no different ‘cause he left the price tag on that detector and it said it come from a Farm and Fleet. So I sez to myself, “I believe they got one of them up in Springfield. And what better way fer me to spend my last day on the job drivin’ up there and payin’ them folks a visit. Well, wouldn’t you know, not only do they sell em, but they keep a security camera on the checkout counters that captures all sales.”
“So them folks up there is real cooperative and they give me a flashdrive of the sale of the very metal detector ole Pauly showed me yesterday, what say we give us a look?”
With that, I went to hit the play button on my laptop. Before I could, Johnbone reached over and closed the computer. “You don’t need to do that, Pete, “ he mumbled, his voice trembling. He turned back to the Sheriff, “Boss I been thinkin’ I need a career change, what’d if I was to just call it a day right now?”
Tom Funk is a retired judge, having served in the state courts of Illinois for 14 years. Now he's back to his first love, litigating cases as a volunteer pro bono lawyer with Land of Lincoln Legal Aid, where there's a story prompt delivered free of charge about every other day. Tom started writing short stories about ten years ago and most recently has been published in Mystery Tribune, Jerry Jazz Musician and Heart of Flesh Literary Journal.