Note: I am so appreciative for those of you following and reviewing the story. Thanks so much to the following people for the reviews since the last chapter: Tinee Dancer, Orions Belte, Tin Dog, DrumBoy100, Red Hardy, Paulina Ann, max2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, sm2003495 (there is a tiny holiday story in the works!), BMSH, ErinJordan, and BeeBee18.
Civil Skirmishes
Chapter 28
"What do you mean, Frank's hurt?" Joe asked, panicked. He grabbed Biff's arm and dragged him back into Vanessa's room.
Biff spent the next few minutes relating the events of the day, before unsteadily walking to a chair and sitting.
Seeing how pale Biff was, Joe squeezed his shoulder compassionately. "Where's Frank now? Are you okay? You look like hell."
"Frank's in the emergency room. I guess the doctor will be out soon. I'm okay. The EMT dude said that it was a tranquilizer used on large, hard to control wild animals."
Joe fought a laugh.
"Shut up, jerk!" Biff replied, glaring at him. "I'll tell you this, though. Callie should be glad to be alive. No shit. If she got hit with the same thing, and she probably did, I don't even know how she's functioning. I'm well over a foot taller and at least 120 pounds heavier than she is, and it knocked me on my ass."
Joe became more serious. Biff was absolutely right. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked, more gently this time. "Thanks for helping my brother, man. How did he seem? Was he conscious at all?"
Biff shook his head. "No. Out like a light. Someone must have hit him really hard right after they got me. Know what the worst part of all of this is?" he asked.
"What?" Joe asked.
"That the dude thought I was Frank's brother. How anyone could confuse me for an ugly ingrate like you, I'll never know."
Joe laughed and pat Biff's back. "Stay here. Rest. I'm going to see where my brother is, okay?"
"Yeah," Biff mumbled. "Find out before you tell Callie. She looked shocked. Morton's with her."
"I saw," Joe replied. "Thanks, bro. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Much to his shock, as soon as he got to the emergency room, he was directed right away to one of the beds in the back, where his brother was lying down with an arm over his eyes. Before he could speak to him, a doctor came out.
"Frank's brother?" the doctor, a young Asian woman asked. "I'm Dr. Cho. Your brother's friend was brought in with him and explained what happened. He said that you'd probably be here soon."
Grateful for Biff, Joe nodded. "I'm Joe. Yes. Is he okay?"
"He has a concussion," Dr. Cho stated. "He was hit very hard on the back of his head. I'm concerned primarily because, according to what your friend said, this is the second major blow to the head that he's received this week. Is that true?"
"Yes," Joe answered quietly.
"You have to keep a close eye on him," she said, after a few minutes. "He's already refused to stay here for observation, which is against my advice. He was unconscious when he was brought in and confused when he woke up. You need to be on the lookout for any memory issues, and especially for signs of drowsiness, dizziness, blurred vision, and vomiting. His balance is going to be off, and he will be very sensitive to light."
Joe sighed before speaking. "Unfortunately, I'm aware of all this. Both my brother and I have had several concussions over the years."
"Football players?" she asked.
Joe smiled. "Yeah. Other things, too."
"He needs rest at night and he needs to take it easy during the day," she went on. "Drugs and alcohol and almost all other medications will be out while he heals. I would also tell him to avoid driving and doing anything that is too physically or mentally demanding. He can take extra strength Tylenol as needed; please call me if he needs something stronger. And an ice pack in interims of 10-20 minutes to avoid the swelling isn't a bad idea. Three words above all: rest, rest, rest." She smiled at him. "Got it?"
"Yes. Thank you. Can I take him home?" Joe asked.
"As soon as the paperwork is completed, of course," she said.
A half hour later, Joe drove Frank and Biff in the car on the way back to the Smytheville Inn. He kept taking glances at them, as Frank barely spoke and kept his hands over his eyes and even Biff was quiet for once.
Arriving back at the Inn, Joe wrapped an arm around Frank's waist and led him into his room with Biff slowly making his way behind them. He helped Frank lie down and turned to Biff.
"You both are staying here for now. You rest on the couch and let Frank sleep. I'm going to get him plenty of ice and there's water in the fridge if you need it. If you feel faint, or if Frank starts throwing up, call me immediately. Chet and Callie should be back soon. I'm going to check on Vanessa again and then take Chet with me to follow up on the threat you just got, and I'll have Callie watch over the two of you," Joe ordered.
"Could you get Ellen to come over in a sexy nurse costume?" Biff mumbled, half asleep already. Frank was already out.
"I don't know," Joe answered him with a small smile, throwing him a blanket. He made sure that Biff had some water and a pillow as well. "Based on your injury, don't you need a zookeeper or something?"
Biff raised his eyes to glare at him and Joe pat his hand. "I'll be back soon, bros!" he called out, and quietly shut the door behind him.
As soon as he stepped out of the building, he took a deep breath, fighting the fury in his veins. Callie, Biff, Frank, and his precious Vanessa had all been hurt, and for what? And why? It was time to make these puzzle pieces click.
Maybe, armed with all this knowledge and Chet's help, they could solve this case- these cases- soon. Enough was enough. Too many skirmishes and not enough victories. The tide of battle had to change now.
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Two hours later, Joe and Chet arrived back at the police station. Although Joe had reported what had happened to Chief Cruz, he knew it was no avail. The cases were connected or they weren't; it really didn't matter. What did matter was ensuring that no one else would get hurt. Joe had asked Chief Cruz to have Dave Evans called in for questioning, and he wasn't playing around now.
"What do you want me to do?" Chet asked Joe, completely serious. "This has gone far enough."
"Damned straight it has," Joe agreed. "Keep reviewing the records of the people at the Inn the night that the tea was poisoned and that the scaffolding fell down. You can wait inside. I'm going to question Evans directly. Okay?"
"You got it," Chet replied evenly, and he grabbed the papers.
Once inside, Chief Cruz indicated for Joe to go back to the very same room in which he had earlier interviewed Adam Halperin. He was angry and trying to control his temper.
"Professor Evans," Joe said directly to him as he sat across from him at a table. "We meet again."
"Joe," he replied, annoyed. "I would like to know exactly why I was hauled into this office. I had absolutely nothing to do with the attack on your brother and friend. I was in the middle of a meeting and it was mortifying to be escorted out by the police based on a request from a kid no older than one of my college students."
"Who you obviously hold in high esteem," Joe replied sarcastically. "When I saw you the first time with my friend, it was to discuss with you the purchase of an early edition of The Killer Angels. You explained to me that you were interested in the piece because of its literary significance and historical subject matter, and you also said at the time that nothing suspicious happened at Peter Stobak's shop while you were there that day. Is that the story you're sticking with?"
"Yes," Evans replied, leaning forward. "Because it's the truth. And while I'm at it, I'm not going to be so nice now. You're bordering on harassment here. Quite frankly, you had no right to track me down over a personal purchase that I made on my own accord independent of my job at the university."
Joe leaned forward and crossed his hands. "Mr. Evans…"
"Dr. Evans," he corrected.
Joe fought the urge to roll his eyes. "DOCTOR Evans," he corrected, "I know that my brother spoke with you today about an entirely separate matter and I find it highly suspect that you are involved… or, shall we say, that your name has been involved… in two separate, very serious cases. My friend told me what happened today and said that you were very forthcoming regarding their questioning about the Inn, so I hope that you'll continue to be."
"Or what?" Evans retorted. "I have nothing to hide! Nonetheless, I certainly don't see why I should be doing any favors for you."
"Or what?" Joe parroted. "Let's start with obstruction if my theory holds up. So let's be clear: if you don't answer my questions honestly, Chief Cruz will be happy to extend your stay."
Evans sighed, nonplussed. "Go ahead."
"What is your role at the Historical Holdings and Developments Firm?"
"I was brought on as an adviser for my expertise of the area," Evans replied.
"That's it?" Joe asked.
"That's it," he replied.
"Then certainly, as an adviser, you'd be privy to secret meetings, wouldn't you be?" Joe went on. "Don't worry. None of that information will be used against you unless you're complicit in something illegal."
Evans stared at him for a moment. "Yes, I am privy to inside information."
"What can you tell me about the Smytheville Inn?" Joe pressed. "I understand that your company initially bid very high on that property- to the tune of one million above competitor's offers. And even though the bid amounts have gone down, they're still significantly above the current going price. So, to start, let me point out the obvious fact that it is to your benefit that 'accidents' would be occurring there, as pressure to sell from the Williams means more to your bottom line, and, second, why would your company bid so high on a property like that? It doesn't seem to make good business sense. Please… do explain." He sat back in his chair.
"I have had nothing to do with the goings-on at the Inn," Evans explained quickly, but his body language conveyed something else altogether. Then, he sat back himself and looked at Joe seriously. "But I CAN tell you about the Inn's historic significance. I had started speaking of it last year in my local history course, and one of my students, Nancy Emerson, asked me about it. She was very interested because apparently her friend's uncles are the Inn's proprietors. I explained to her that I was researching the Inn for a chapter of a journal as part of my post doc work, and she suggested that I get in touch with the Realty property to discuss my theories."
Joe's mind was spinning. "Okay," he said slowly. "What did she find so fascinating? Why would she care? What exactly were you teaching your class?"
For once, Evans' face lit up with excitement, and Joe could tell that he was genuinely interested in what he was saying. "Well," he began, slightly flushed, "I'm considered an expert in literature of the Civil War period, and one thing that has always fascinated me has been secrets hidden in history that literature might reveal. It would take me a long time to explain my theory and how I arrived at it- you're welcome to audit my class next semester if you're really interested- but I have come to believe that, somewhere in the Inn, a truly gigantic secret awaits."
"Yes?" Joe asked, seeing how Evans was trying to make this a huge reveal.
"I believe," he went on, leaning forward and speaking more quietly, "that the Inn is home to a huge pile of gold that the Confederate soldiers hid there during the battle. I've spent years working on this theory. If it's true, it could be worth millions."
"So that would explain why a company would be willing to take that risk to bid over market value if the potential payoff could double their profit," Joe concluded.
"Exactly," Evans concurred.
"Let's say I believe you," Joe replied after a few minutes. "And when you shared this information- not QUITE a secret, but not common knowledge, with your group- it's probable that some business people may have seen an even bigger potential for profit if the Inn was less desirable, right?"
Evans nodded. "It's possible," he replied carefully, "but I swear to you that I had nothing to do with it."
Joe met his eyes. "But you might know who DID, correct?"
Evan said nothing.
"I'm going to level with you," Joe stated directly. "My brother, girlfriend, and friends were all hurt badly at that Inn. I want to know why. Tell me what you know, or you'll be charged as an accessory to a crime."
"I don't have an answer for you!" Evans replied, emphatically.
"Then who DOES know? Who in the Williams family even knows about this legend? Shall I assume they know that they're sitting on a potential literal gold mine?" Joe pressed.
Evans sighed before speaking. "Joe, I don't know. I assume that Nancy told Sarah, and that Sarah probably told her uncles and her mother, but I don't know."
"What DO you know?" Joe asked. "No bullshit. What do you know?" he repeated.
"I know nothing," Evans insisted. "But I do have a theory. Nothing to back it up, of course…"
"Go ahead," Joe cut in. "Be direct, and you won't get in trouble."
"I have suspected collusion for some time," Evans admitted. "It seemed a bit… odd… to me that just when I was brought on as an adviser, and right after that poor woman died at the Inn, things started happening. Gettysburg is an old town. The bigwigs in the realty company know a lot of people: I could see them knowing people in the ghost tour circles who could get the Inn on the route. But as far as anything else that I've heard- poison tea, darts, accidents with scaffolding, shooting, stabbing, chills in the air, screams of ghosts in mid afternoon- I have no idea about how any of that could have happened. Unless…" he hesitated.
It took Joe a moment. "Unless there's an insider working on it," he said after a moment, and then, all at once, the pieces started to click.
"Dr. Evans," he said after a few moments of contemplation, "in your experience, have you seen or heard of people getting a reward for valuable information when it comes to real estate?"
Evans flushed a bit. "It's not unheard of."
Joe leaned forward again, things getting more and more clear. "You've been very helpful, Dr. Evans. I'll ask Chief Cruz to release you- no harm, no foul- as long as you agree to keep your mouth shut about this with your colleagues, to write down the names of anyone who you might deem as unsavory, so I can check it out, and that you promise to report to your accountant any additional bonus that you may have received above and beyond your 'consulting' fee… in the interest of the country and paying your fair share of the taxes, naturally." Joe smiled tightly as he slid a piece of paper and pen to him.
"Of course," Evans said in a low voice. He wrote two names on a piece of paper and slid it back to Joe.
"Thank you, Professor. Have a good day," Joe said as he got up and left the room. Stopping briefly to see Chief Cruz, he reported what he'd found out and slipped him the names, asking him to do a little digging and assuring him that he'd be back soon.
Seeing Chet, he motioned for him to follow.
"Find out anything?" Chet asked, and Joe smiled.
"You've no idea," he told him, "but we need to get back to the INN A.S.A.P, pal. I have a few things to figure out, but I think we just blew a huge hole right through the Smytheville case. I'll fill you in along the way."
"Awesome!" Chet exclaimed. "I don't want to see anyone else get hurt… or die." His voice changed tone suddenly before it faded off.
As Joe sat in the car for a moment, he knew that he had to think hard about the loopholes in his theory and gather some more information. For the first time since he could remember, he was pretty much on his own to solve a case, at least for as long as Frank was hurt. The thought was scary, but empowering, as he was starting to believe that he really could investigate as well as his brother, and, though their styles were different, they could be equally as effective. The least he could do for Frank was to finish was Frank had started and with which he had gotten very far. Frank would have taken the extra burden for him if the situation were reversed.
But he also looked at Chet's face. Chet, who had been so good to Callie and Frank. Chet, who he could count on to always help, in his own way. Chet, who had embraced Vanessa without resentment. Chet, the brother of his first love.
"Have a few minutes to talk?" he asked quietly, much to Chet's surprise… and his own. "We could stop at the Pennsylvania State Monument? It's the largest one in Gettysburg.* And it's peaceful."
"Sure," Chet replied. "Okay."
He knew that he could spare just a little time before going back to the Inn.
For Chet.
*This monument is the largest in Gettysburg.
