Blood Appeal Page 11

  Duke provided a superficial tour of the classroom to include pointing out each picture and article that contained his name or face on the walls. I sat on the corner of the desk with one leg hanging off the edge, and the other foot firmly planted on the floor. Duke handed me a Missouri Alliance pamphlet and recited a rehearsed section from the brochure.

  Gibberish. What was he waiting for?

  Duke forced eye contact and had the vernacular to sound authentic, yet duplicitous. Duke’s piercing gaze intensified as he drew out his sales pitch for the survivalist’s way of life. He no longer had my attention with his boring pretense. The question that burned in my mind was whether or not to crank the party up a notch.

  “Duke, how’s the Vigilance Committee figure in with the survivalist group?”

  “It don’t. The committee works with local law enforcement to maintain the security and safety of this here community.”

  Another canned answer.

  Duke had been every bit as deceitful with me as I’d been with him. I had to give him credit for that. He hadn’t disclosed his agenda with his usual boisterous display of ego. He’d exposed his fraudulent desire to befriend me. I was wise to him, and he knew it.

  “Y’all been playin’ me, Stud. I don’t know if Joyce be in on it too, but you, you been in on it from the start, ain’t ya?”

  “Just like a fiddle.”

  Duke laughed, “Yer act’s like you don’t knowed how to shoot, but you be a lyin’ for sure.”

  “I never said I didn’t know how to shoot. What I said was, I didn’t like to punch holes in paper targets.”

  Duke’s coal-black eyebrows knit together into one elongated furrow. After a few long seconds of mulling over what I’d said, he replied, “You be a mystery, Stud. I don’t like it none when a city slicker shows up out of nowhere and gets involved in my business.”

  “Old territory, Ace.” I paused. I didn’t owe him an explanation, and he wasn’t going to get one. “I’m a mystery alright. If you’re smart, you’ll let it go.”

  Duke wasn’t smart. His deep set eyes tightened. “I asked Joyce ‘bout you.”

  “She filled you in, did she?”

  “She don’t know nothin’ ‘bout you.”

  I smirked at him. “I can’t tell you how surprised I am to hear that.”

  “Yeah, smart boy, I had one of my boys run your name through a database. Want to know what they found?”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “He come up with nothin’ neither.” Duke paused as a smile crept across his face. “You ain’t who you say’s you is buddy-boy. Y’all be tryin’ to pull the wool over our eyes ‘round here. You be either a con man or a lawman?”

  “Neither one, but you’d be better off if I were a lawman.” I let that sink in for a minute. “But who I am, isn’t what’s eating at you, Duke? What bugs you is that I know who you are.”

  “Be doubtin’ that.”

  “You weren’t hard to figure out. Dirty—stinking—wife abusers rarely are.”

  Duke stepped forward unleashing a fiery outburst of vulgar obscenities. I rose to the occasion, and to my feet—toe to toe.

  Of all the things I should’ve been focused on, what came to mind was how much I had missed the feeling of confrontation. I craved engagement with perpetrators of crimes. Violent criminals were my life and righting the wrongs my mission. Any other existence was meaningless.

  “I already done told you, it ain’t none of your business what I do with my wife,” Duke shouted. “She be mine—my property—I own her. If I want’s to beat her, I’ll do ‘er, and you ain’t got nothin’ to say ‘bout it!”

  “See, Duke, right there, that’s your problem. You believe you’re better than another person. You think you have the right to own Minnie and control her with beatings. Obedience or there will be pain, and that’s not the worst of it, you loaded her down with guilt. You made her feel as if your violence and bad behavior were her fault. You’re to blame. I see it in your eyes, you’re scared. You know it’s time to pay up for what you’ve done.” I waited for Duke to comment, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe I was getting through to him. “I’ve seen your type before, and it never ends well for them.”

  “You’re gonna wish you’d never come to Shell Knob before the nights be done. I promise you that much.”

  I looked into his dark, deep-set eyes and realized the struggle between the two personalities, Doctor Jekyll, and Mister Hyde, was over. Only the evil Hyde remained. In a way, I understood how scary it was for Minnie to watch his transformation when Hyde prevailed.

  I smiled. It was the kind of smile that had provocation written all over it. Duke had better sense than to try and intimidate me with threats and his ugly looks. He’d tried before and failed. He was a big frog in a little pond. All his croaking had worked for him in the past, and he had the corner on ugliness, but in reality he wasn’t a badass and couldn’t back his play.

  For a moment, I suspected Duke was mimicking me with his smile, but it wasn’t a smile at all. It was a snarl without a growl. He’d become too tongue-tied to speak or too furious to think. Maybe both.

  It wasn’t my plan, this was his, but it worked for me as well. We were on our way to having our issues on the table and ironed out. I’d impugned his character and insulted his beliefs. He’d acted froggy but didn’t jump. We should’ve been past the awkward moment when you’ve asked somebody to dance, and they’ve agreed, but nobody was rockin’-and-rollin’. He’d left it to me to lead.

  I’d questioned whether the compound was the right place to sort out our issues. As it turned out, the classroom was apropos for the lesson. I needed no further incentive to polish the floor with this dirtbag, but I wanted him to have a taste of his behavior. When he was sufficiently humiliated, disrespected, intimidated, and beaten to a pulp, then I’d consider summing up my lesson.

  Suddenly, Duke lost interest in what I’d said and broke eye contact. The unmistakable sound of a door creaked in the distance.

  My heart sunk for a moment as I feared Minnie had arrived, and I didn’t want her to witness what was going down. Duke turned to his left and looked over his shoulder as the mysterious door situated at the back corner of the room opened.

  We weren’t alone anymore, but it wasn’t Minnie who’d entered the room. Three men quietly filed in, decked out in paramilitary garb, with their tiger-striped jungle pants bloused over black combat boots. It was all very stylish and impressive if you were part of the Aryan scene. Each man wore matching black T-shirts that read like a billboard advertisement, Alaska Arctic Alliance Survival Training. It went well with their black A-Team ball caps.

  The visitors didn’t say a word. They stood motionless against the north wall as if they were spectators waiting for a gladiatorial match to begin. Maybe they were. I didn’t like the intrusion, but I wasn’t going to let them interrupt the lesson. Duke turned back in my direction wearing a new smile, confident and cocky.

  I assumed the worst—I’d underestimated my adversary. Duke was smarter than I’d given him credit. I’d let my disdain for him trump my usual cautionary approach. I’d been overconfident to think I was holding all the cards when it was Duke who had stacked the deck. I’d play the hand that was dealt and see who ended up with the chips—I had no choice.

  “Pals of yours?” I asked. The question was intended to be rhetorical, but Duke wasn’t the brightest candle in the camp.

  “Close friends, you might say.”

  “What’s the A stand for on the hat?” I asked. With these guys, there were a lot of possibilities for defining A. Right off the top of my head I only thought of one that fit.

  Duke held all the cards in his hand but one—guts. His odds were favorable, but he didn’t make his play. It was a sign. With all his advantages, he lacked what it took to make a move. Duke was a tough guy to his wife because he smacked her around enough, but that didn’t take courage. His life experiences had taught him he could run his mouth without paying the co
nsequences. People were intimidated and backed down because of his size, but it didn’t take bravery to talk loud and ugly. What he truly lacked was nerve.

  Starting early in life, big guys rarely had to fight. If they did, they rarely tangled with other big guys. They picked on guys half their size. On the other hand, smaller guys grew tougher and didn’t let an adversary’s size influence them. I was one of the little guys growing up.

  Up until now, Duke’s mouth and atrocious actions hadn’t cost him much pain. He’d briefly tasted my swift response when I shut him down in front of Joyce. I wouldn’t let him talk foul to her or let him intimidate me with his finger pointing.

  Now, face to face with me again, he found himself in a predicament. If we danced, his buddies would see him get beat down. In the process, they’d also hear why.

  “I think you be a scared little man,” Duke said.

  “You’ve thought wrong then. I’ve never been afraid of anything. Being scared doesn’t serve a useful purpose. I’m not like you Duke—I’m no coward.”

  He winced. Evidently, truth does hurt.

  Chapter 7

  “The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”

  —Henry David Thoreau

  With their backs to the wall, the A-team moved slowly in my direction.

  “You here to watch?” I asked. The lockstep Nazi looking bunch didn’t respond with words, but from the look on their faces I surmised they were more than spectators. As the Alaskans drew closer, I thought about something that I should’ve thought about before—alliances. Landers had questioned out loud, how could the murdered girl have gotten from Alaska to Shell Knob? I figured I’d stumbled upon the “how.” If I pegged them right, I’d stumbled into a hornet’s nest too.

  I tossed out a word that started with “A” that would match their ball caps logo. I made sure they heard me, so I said it again and made it sound nastier than it had the first time. The lesson I had for Duke would have to be shelved for a newer idea that had come to mind. If I was wrong about the Alaskan crew being the connection, then I could revisit the education process with Duke at a more appropriate time and setting.

  A prompt from my spirit told me to disrupt the showdown that had begun to take shape on their terms. I figured I’d sling a little mud around and see where it stuck. If my suspicions were correct, the A-Team would respond. If they’d killed the girl, they’d likely die before they let me leave the room. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I whispered to Duke, “Why’d you kill the girl?” He went stiff as a board and rapidly blinked. His behavior screamed of guilt. I repeated what I’d said to Duke, only louder for everyone to hear. The A-team stopped in their tracks. My accusation had caught them off guard. In shock and disbelief, their eyes widened, and mouths hung open. Guilt had taken up residence in their demeanor.

  Shaken to the core, they lost their focus. It wasn’t the way innocent men reacted. Their subtle communications through an exchange of glances had caught my attention. All eyes levelled on Duke.

  But Duke was a natural born liar and quickly recovered. He shook his head ever so slightly providing a momentary degree of assurance for the Alliance, but their security was fleeting. The cat was out of the bag, and their situation quickly turned grim. Without a weapon, my only recourse was to exploit their guilt to my advantage.

  “Duke, did you hear what I asked?”

  Duke took a step back. His deep-set eyes narrowed. “You don’t knowed near as much as you think you do.”

  “Wanna bet.”

  The fact was; I did know more about the case than had been released to the public. If I impressed the Alliance with my knowledge, I would have to deal with the consequences.

  After the initial shock, a snarly look replaced Duke’s cocky smile. He stood up big and tall, but his cowardice still showed. The way I had it figured, he’d get the Alliance to do the dirty work. To some degree, I’d helped Duke out with his plan. I’d scared the bejesus out of the Alliance with my spot-on accusation. If Duke’s intention was to get them riled, I’d provided the catalyst to make it happen.

  Up until this point, what I’d learned about the Alaskan Alliance was neatly inscribed on a tri-fold brochure. Now that I’d hit a chord over the dead girl I was in a position to gain first-hand knowledge of how they operated. So far, I wasn’t impressed with what I saw. They were disorganized and without any clear-cut leadership calling the shots. I, on the other hand, was a strategist and tactician. When they moved closer, I played my hand.

  The Alaskans lined up in a staggered row at Duke’s left side. I looked at a fat pudgy guy and addressed him. “You look like smart guys. If so, you’d be interested in knowing where I picked up my information.” I said it fast but spoke precisely. A slow expression of thoughts won’t unnerve criminal types. You come off as unsure of your position. I wanted to impress on them that I was confident with my allegations.

  I considered the possibility of the Alliance’s loyalties becoming conflicted. But, I understood camaraderie. Whether they were right or wrong, in the end they’d likely stick together. Conscience might get a grip on one of them, but I couldn’t count on it, and it wouldn’t happen while they were grouped together. These were guys that had prepared to have each other’s backs to survive. How would this situation be any different for them? Regardless of the question I asked myself, the conclusion came up the same. I was a threat to their survival. They had to eliminate the threat.

  What the scenario had boiled down to was one of time and timing. I was buying time to sow seeds of fear, discord, and mistrust. I wanted their level of concern to inhibit their allegiance with one another, as much as possible. I wanted them in a state of confusion. The more time they gave me, the more I could create. I wasn’t above lying to them either. In the end, it wasn’t going to be a fight to win or lose; it would be combat—live or die.

  The A-Team looked restless, so I threw them another bone to chew. “What I know came straight from the cops. I’d think that would be disconcerting—if I were the guilty party.” They didn’t move a muscle. Hardened criminals would’ve blown it off without concern. These guys were petrified. Guilt coupled with the idea of a felony rap weighed heavily on their minds and sent a chill to their core. For the moment, they were frozen in place.

  “He’s bluffing!” Duke’s big mouth bellowed.

  It was time to play another round. I was willing to show my hand, but the money on the table had to be right. I looked to the A-Team and said, “Sure, listen to your good buddy Duke. He’ll steer you in the right direction.” Then I laughed. “I’m sure he’s been real helpful so far.” I looked back at Duke and laughed again, louder.

  If my hunch proved true, the Alaskan Alliance had the most to lose. I continued to play, “I know one or all of you are aware of everything that happened. Whichever of you that I’m talking to, you know the whole story of the dead girl.”

  “You is just talkin’ in riddles,” Duke said.

  “The reason I know is because one of you is a snitch.”

  All eyes were drawn to Duke. I let my bet ride. I didn’t mention it was a female caller. Why should I? I was running a bluff, and the Alliance was hanging on my every word.

  “That’s right—you’ve got a rat in your midst, and I know it was only one person that made the call.” Duke’s response to the crew was short and sweet. He only shook his head and said, “He’s lying.”

  I was amazed that only Duke spoke up to refute my claim. “Deny it all you want Duke. I don’t know who phoned it in or why. That’s not my gig. I’m a reporter. I write the news and write it the way I see it.”

  “You’re a joke,” Duke said.

  I looked over the crowd; no one was laughing. “One of you in this room reported the murder of the kidnapped girl from Palmer, Alaska. How’s that for a lucky guess?” I let it take hold in their mindset. I’d levelled with them. I looked at Duke, “Who’s the joker now?”

  Duke stepped back, one step, t
hen another. The A-Team’s glances at Duke became piercing glares. He didn’t have an answer this time. I was winning the battle without firing a shot. The Alaskans huddled together into a semi-circle and whispered amongst each other. It was the first sign of organization I’d seen amongst the Alliance. It wasn’t a good sign either. I’d been operating fine in the chaos.

  Eyebrows wrinkled as they looked in my direction and talked amongst themselves. One guy with a ponytail put his finger to his mouth and started gnawing on his fingernail. Next to Ponytail stood a stocky built guy with an old-fashioned flattop who had mumbled a few threatening cuss words toward me. The short, pudgy man, who could have passed for a fat pug dog on two legs, turned to me and cleared his throat a couple times. He looked as if he wanted to talk, but just stood there gurgling on his saliva.

  What I’d been privy to was taking top billing with these guys. My guesswork had paid off. I’d gained the upper hand.

  My attention focused on a game of death. I considered ways to play another round. I reached behind my back and acted as if I adjusted something at my waistline. It was enough to throw the room into a panic.

  “What’s he got there,” Flattop yelled. Members scattered looking for cover and concealment.

  “A gun—he’s got a gun!” Ponytail shouted.

  Duke barked, “He ain’t got no gun.” He measured me with his eyes. “He ain’t man enough for that.”

  “Tough talk for a woman beater,” I scoffed. “How are you with men?”

  Fifteen minutes earlier, the only beef the Alaskans had with me was support for their pal, Duke. Now, I’d revealed myself as presumably dangerous to them. Duke motioned for the others to step forward. The A-Team regrouped but hadn’t moved close enough to bum-rush me. Their hesitance empowered me.