Special Agent Page 14

  Diondro tried to call his mother, but the phone went unanswered.

  “Huh! I wonder where she is. My moms is usually home at this time of day. I’ll call her back in a few minutes,” Diondro said.

  Tony and I made eye contact.

  “We need to get on the road. You can use my cell phone to call her on the way there,” Tony said.

  We piled into Tony’s unmarked Crown Victoria and worked our way through the lunch time crowds, on the streets of Tyler.

  When we reached the junction of Loop 323 and the Henderson Highway, Diondro tried to call his mother again. He tried, but there was no still answer.

  “Is there an answering machine?” I asked.

  “No sir, she has caller ID and if she misses a call, she figures anybody who knows her will just call back later.”

  The house where Diondro’s mother lived was a modest frame house, on about a quarter acre lot, maybe a half mile south of the highway. There were shade trees in the yard and flower beds, at the front of the house.

  Her car was in the carport as we pulled up to the curb.

  We all got out of the Crown Victoria and walked up the walk, toward the house.

  The front door was ajar.

  Diondro started to rush forward, but Tony and I stopped him, as we pulled our guns.

  “You stand over by the car until we tell you it’s safe. If there is any trouble, call it in. Help will be on the way.” Tony instructed him.

  Diondro didn’t like it, but he knew better than to try going past us.

  Tony and I took up positions, one on each side of the front door. We could feel the cooler air from inside the house, being quickly heated and humidified, as it spilled out through the partially open door.

  “Mrs. Taylor? Are you at home? Hello, is anybody there?” Tony called into the house.

  There was no response.

  “Mrs. Taylor, this is the police. We are coming in. Can you hear me?”

  We looked at each other, and Tony pointed his finger at himself and then upwards into the house. I pointed back at myself, and then downwards into the house, indicating Tony would lead, going high and I would follow, going low. He nodded in response.

  Tony reached out and pushed the door open, all the way. We paused for a second and then ducked into the house. Tony swerved a bit to the right, slamming the door against an end table, and I stepped to the left.

  The living room was small, but tidy and tastefully furnished.

  There was no one in the room.

  My phone rang. I had forgotten to turn off the ringer.

  Tony scowled at me, keeping his gun pointed in the general direction of the hallway and the kitchen doorway.

  I glanced at the caller ID, as I cut off the call. It was an unidentified, local number.

  Just then, we heard Diondro shout something, outside.

  As we rushed from the house with our guns in hand, we saw Diondro approaching a heavy black woman, as she was getting out of the back seat of a Lincoln Town Car, which had pulled into the carport, and was parked behind Mrs. Taylor’s car.

  When the big woman saw us, her eyes got huge, and she had something to say.

  “Get down, Diondro!” she screamed.

  Tony and I were putting our guns away, but we had not been fast enough.

  The woman was digging through her purse, and as we approached, she produced a can of mace.

  “No Momma, wait,” Diondro said, as he tried to pull her arm down.

  He was no match for the sheer strength of the woman, who thought she was protecting her child. Of course she did out-weigh him, by about two to one.

  Tony and I were back-peddling, as fast as we could.

  The woman, whom we now assumed was Mrs. Taylor, wore a fierce countenance, a blonde wig, a pink straw hat with flowers on it, and a dress with a floral print.

  She started toward us, basically dragging Diondro with her.

  “What you doin’ in my house?” she enquired, menacingly.

  The driver of the Lincoln jumped out, looking worried and confused.

  He was a middle aged, black man, dressed in a suit and tie.

  “Now, Sister Taylor, calm down. Let’s just ask these gentlemen to explain themselves…” He started.

  “Momma, take it easy.” Diondro added.

  “Oh, no I won’t! Nobody comes into my house and threatens my son. I’ll tell you one thing.”

  “Mrs. Taylor, I’m Detective Escalante. You know me. We’ve talked on the telephone,” Tony stated.

  Mrs. Taylor looked at Diondro, who nodded his affirmative. She seemed to realize for the first time, Diondro was clinging to her wrist.

  “Oh, my baby!” She cried, wrapping Diondro in her embrace.

  For a moment he was lost to sight.

  When Diondro emerged from her embrace, he looked none the worse, for his near death by suffocation.

  Mrs. Taylor turned back on us.

  “I axed you, what you doin’ in my house?”

  “Mrs. Taylor, we were worried. When we got to the front door, we found it open. Your car is in the carport, but there was no sign of you,” Tony replied.

  I was keeping my distance.

  Another lady appeared, stepping out from the passenger seat of the Lincoln. She was of a similar age to Mrs. Taylor and similarly dressed. Her wig was grayish brown, with silver highlights and she had no hat.

  “Is everything alright, Sister Taylor?” She enquired.

  “I expect it is, Reverend Jefferson. I believe these are the police, who been takin’ care of my boy.”

  “Yes ma’am, that’s correct. I’m Lieutenant Escalante with the City of Tyler Police Department, and this is my friend John Wesley Tucker,” Tony said by way of introduction.

  “Well, praise the Lord. I’m Reverend Jefferson of the Glory to God Church of Heavenly Holiness. This is my husband, Brother Ed.”

  “Momma, where were you, and why was the front door open?”

  “I was at the church house, gettin’ my baptism on. I must’ve forgotten to lock up, when I left.”

  Diondro’s mouth dropped open.

  “Momma, you’ve never been religious.”

  “Could we go inside, Mrs. Taylor? There is something we need to talk to you about and it’s getting pretty hot out here,” Tony suggested.

  “Umm hmmm. Now that’s what I’m talking about. You can come into my house, when I invite you.”

  “Momma!” Diondro interjected.

  “Hush yo’ self. I’m fixin to invite um.”

  Twenty-Eight

  We were all crowded into Mrs. Taylor’s living room. Because the front door had been open for so long and there were so many warm bodies, it was uncomfortably warm and humid in the room, but it was still better than standing outside.

  The Reverend Mrs. Jefferson was seated on the couch beside her husband Ed. Mrs. Taylor was seated in one of the two easy chairs and Tony was seated in the other. Diondro and I stood.

  I was standing where I could see out through the lace curtains, watching for approaching cars.

  Mrs. Taylor was fanning herself with her hat.

  I caught Tony’s eye, and tapped my watch, to remind him of the need to be moving on down the road.

  “Mrs. Taylor, I wish you would reconsider our offer. We think it would be best if you came on with us. The trial is just a few days away, and I’m concerned you will not be safe here.” Tony tried again.

  The Reverend Mrs. Jefferson, spoke up next.

  “That won’t be necessary, Bless God. The church will keep her safe, Amen. She is a member of my flock now, and I won’t let nobody mess with her, Hallelujah!

  “I know that’s right. Now don’t you worry, Sister Taylor, you in the family of God now. I’ll get some men together and we’ll watch out for you, right round the clock.” Ed Jefferson added.

  “You need to understand something. These are common street thugs. You won’t be able to reason with them. They may just drive up and shoot anybody in sight.”
Tony indicated.

  “Umm hmmm, and we have a couple of local police in our congregation, Praise the Lord. I’ll call on them to step up, into the service of the Lord, Bless God.”

  It was my turn to speak up.

  “Actually, it’s an excellent idea, Mrs. Taylor. These folks here want to help you. They may not have the skills we have, but they love you and they want to keep you safe. I think they can do it, for just the few days until the trial. After the trial, I believe the threat will have ended.”

  Tony looked surprised at my comment.

  “How about you, Diondro, do you want to stay here with your mom, or would you rather come with us?”

  “You stay with us, son, we’ll look after you too, in Jesus’ name, Hallelujah!” Reverend Jefferson suggested.

  Mrs. Taylor looked at Diondro, hopefully.

  I could see Diondro struggling with the choice. He wanted to be sure his mother stayed safe, but he was also clearly put off by the Reverend Mrs. Jefferson.

  Tony saved the day.

  “I’ll tell you what, Diondro. Why don’t you stay here with your mom, while J.W. and I go take our meeting with Sheriff Andrews? It will give you some time to figure out what you want to do. We’ll stop by on our way back to Tyler. By then you’ll have a better understanding of what you want.”

  “Yes sir, thank you.”

  “Amen, Bless the Lord!” Reverend Jefferson pronounced.

  She was giving me a long, appraising look.

  I smiled back at her.

  “That was weird.” Tony stated, as we drove away.

  “Not exactly what we’re used to is it?”

  “Not by a long shot.”

  “It’s better.”

  “Better than what?”

  “Tony that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “People taking care of each other. Mrs. Taylor has become a member of a church family. Those folks didn’t hesitate, even though it involves possible danger and personal sacrifice, maybe even legal complications. She’s a member of their church and they are there for her.”

  “Yeah, I guess I can see that. But the preacher lady is weird, J.W.”

  “I’m former military, and you’ve been a cop, for a long time. The people we usually deal with every day tend to pepper their speech with vulgarities and foul language. Unfortunately it’s what we as a society are used to. It has become virtually a cultural norm. That lady chooses to salt her speech with language which doesn’t use the name of the Lord in vain, and we call her ‘weird’.”

  “I see your point, but still…”

  “… Yeah, completely different from what we’re used to.”

  “Amen, brother. Hallelujah.”

  I laughed at his attempt.

  “I guess I’m just uncomfortable around people who don’t talk and act the way I think is normal.” Tony admitted.

  I nodded.

  “It reminds me of the way people tend to think about God. We want God to be more like us. We’re made in His image, so in some ways we are kind of like Him, in the same way a photo is kind of like us, but it is not even close to actually being us. We’re sort of like Him, made in His image, but He is not like us. He is holy, and utterly beyond our limited comprehension of what the term means. He’s completely different from what we’re used to. People tend to struggle with the concept. We want God to fit into our preconceived notions of what we think He should be like. We want him to be all loving and forgiving. We want to forget He is also just and righteous. That part scares us. We want him to give us what we want. He wants us to give Him what He deserves, but we definitely don’t want Him to give us what we deserve.”

  Tony nodded in agreement.

  “Right, we want mercy and forgiveness, not justice. We get hung up on the idea life should be fair. We want to be the ones who decide what fair is, and make God do things our way.”

  “We are no more capable of understanding the mind of God, than Christine’s cat is able to understand how this car’s engine works.” I suggested.

  “Sure, but Christine’s cat is content, without thinking about how the car’s engine works.”

  “That’s only one of several ways in which we are different from the animals.”

  We drove along in silence for a while, thinking our own thoughts.

  Twenty-Nine

  “… We also have what was left of the clothing we found at the scene. The forensics people in Dallas sent all of it back to us. Maybe someone will be able to identify the clothing. It’s in terrible shape, all slashed and faded by exposure, but still recognizable.” Rusk County Sheriff, Tom Dempsey, concluded.

  “Did you find a ball cap?” I asked

  “We did, yes. The hair in it matched that of the victim. How did you know?”

  “It was just a guess. The ball cap is kind of standard with men who work outside. They are easy to come by and easy to replace.”

  “We have the work boots and his slashed gloves as well. What will they tell you?”

  I shrugged.

  “… After being out in the weather for weeks, probably nothing. The ball cap does tell me something though.”

  “You haven’t even seen it,” Tony pointed out.

  “If you killed someone and then had to haul the body off to dump it somewhere, would you bother to carry the ball cap along?”

  “It’s hard to say, too many variables.”

  “Sheriff Dempsey has indicated they found everything the man had on him when he was killed, except one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Sheriff Dempsey asked.

  “His knife, I believe Eduardo Ruiz was probably killed with his own knife. You didn’t find it at the scene, even though you found everything else the corpse had on him, even the cash and change in his pants pocket, but not the knife.”

  “The murder weapon, sure, it could be. It’s one of the reasons we aren’t sure where the killing took place. We found no weapon. The remains were scattered. Time and the weather had washed away any blood or other indicators.”

  “You found everything but the knife and the killer.” I said.

  “It’s our turn now, Tom. Let me tell you what we know, so far.” Tony said.

  He laid out everything I’d told him. Tony even told Sheriff Dempsey about Watkins membership in the Righteous Army of God, hate group

  “Well, you boys have some pretty compelling information. I suggest we conduct a joint investigation. It’s entirely possible, perhaps even probable; the victim was killed here in Rusk County. Evidently the victim lived in Tyler, and you have a possible suspect who lives in the city of Tyler, in Smith County. We don’t have any confirmation the victim really was Eduardo Ruiz. So, we can’t definitively tie your guy to the victim, but we have some pretty useful things to work with,” Sheriff Dempsey said.

  Tony nodded.

  “Agreed, we’ll work on gathering evidence and information on our suspect from our end. Has the body been disposed of?”

  “It was buried. No one came forward to claim it, so it was buried by the county, in Potter’s Field. The forensics people in Dallas have preserved some evidence and they took a lot of very detailed photos, especially of the blade marks on the bones.”

  “They might not be good enough to stand up in court. If we find a weapon which might be the murder weapon, we may need to have the body exhumed.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “OK. We’ll stay in touch.”

  “Tony, can I speak to you privately for a moment?” Sheriff Dempsey asked.

  Tony looked at me.

  I took it as my cue to stand up.

  “I’ll meet you out in the hall, Tony. Sheriff Dempsey, it was a pleasure to meet you,” I said, as we shook hands.

  “No offense, son. It’s just a law enforcement matter.”

  “None taken, I understand. I hope we’ll have occasion to talk again some time.”

  “I’ll look forward to it, and I appreciate your h
elp with this investigation.”

  I usually have to finagle information out of Tony. He is a stickler for P.P.P., or proper police procedure. He doesn’t like to deviate from the tried and true training, of which he’s a product.

  That was not the case this time. When he walked out of the sheriff’s office, I could see he had something on his mind. The minute Tony got the car started; he began telling me what he and Sheriff Dempsey had discussed.

  “You won’t believe this; Sheriff Dempsey told me the FBI has its eye on the RAGs. Apparently they have reason to believe the RAGs are getting more militant and may pose a threat to some local government officials, and others. This is very much under the radar, because the feds don’t know who to trust. Sheriff Dempsey says the FBI didn’t even contact him until they had investigated him thoroughly. This is an incredibly bad situation. Apparently there are members of the RAGs in positions of authority in several parts of East Texas and the feds believe law enforcement in this area is seriously compromised.”

  “Why would he trust you with this information?”

  Tony looked startled.

  “You got to that very quickly. It’s a very good question, and I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

  “You probably should’ve asked him.”

  “It crossed my mind. I was so fascinated by what he was telling me, I let it go.”

  “It might be a test.”

  “It might be, but what kind of a test?”

  “I suspect the relationship between the Tyler PD and the FBI is not very cordial. I’m pretty sure there is no love lost between the two.”

  “Of course, even though the Federal building is only a few blocks from my office, I hardly ever see any of those people. We have a love hate relationship. Whenever the feds get involved in one of our cases, they pretty much just take over and freeze us out. Federal charges trump local charges, most of the time. We hate that. On the other hand, they have data bases and other resources which are pretty vital to us. We love that.”

  “I’ll bet if the FBI investigated Sheriff Dempsey before they trusted him with any intel on the RAGs investigation, then they’re probably doing the same thing with Smith County and the Tyler PD.”