This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's Living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely Coincidental.
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Mark Stevens
I would like to welcome my previous as well as hopefully new readers back to enjoy this story. However, should you have not read any of the Porterville books before, you should do so
- Porterville 2. Murder in Porterville 3. Silver Candlesticks 4. No Regrets
All the stories are stand alone, however, a lot of the same characters from the first book return for more adventures.
To my old readers: Welcome back. To my new ones, welcome aboard.
Please feel free to write me with any thought you might have. Please keep comments positive. I already have an editor that keeps me walking the line. Ha ha. You can email me at:
jetdesk2@yahoo.com
Chapter Eleven
Once inside the small building that contained the police department, Britt spoke to a young officer sitting behind the counter. He explained who they were and the reason for their visit.
"I'll get the Chief," the young man said getting up from the desk.
He returned with an older man and said, "This is Chief Carter."
The Chief, a stout man looking to be in his sixties, greeted the visitors and invited them to follow him. He led the way across the room and stopped before a closed door.
"Mrs. Allen is waiting for you in here." He opened the door and allowed the three to enter the room. After shutting the door behind him, Carter introduced the lady to the three men.
Britt looked at the woman sitting in one of the chairs that was behind a long narrow table. He quickly concluded that the woman had not had a very easy life. Her clothes, while clean, were shabby and worn. There was no makeup on her face, and her gray hair was long and straight as it fell to her neck.
While eating lunch, Jerry and Cory had both insisted that Britt do the talking. Jerry had brought up the fact that Britt was the only one of the three to actually be employed with Porterville Police department. Cory had quickly agreed, so now, it was Britt who introduced them to Virginia Allen.
"I understand that you may have some information that could help us with a crime that has been committed in our town."
Britt had also taken a seat, and Chief Carter and the others followed suit.
The old woman was silent, and it was a moment before she spoke. She eyed each of the new comers, as if trying to decide if she would share anything with them.
Sitting directly in front of her, Britt forced himself to breathe calmly and keep a blank look on his face. Being a good judge of character, Britt could tell that the old woman was fighting a battle with herself. She had to know that whatever she told them, it might not turn out well for her.
"Slade is a good son," she finally said.
When no one commented on her statement, Mrs. Allen said, "Slade didn't have it easy growing up. His father was never around. He drank all the time. He provided no type of support to us, so it was up to me to see that we had clothes on our backs and food in the house."
"That must have really been difficult," Britt said softly.
"It was, but we managed. I managed! It was rough, but my boy never went hungry."
"I think you are a very good mother, Mrs. Allen," Britt assured the woman.
Silence floated around the table until Britt finally asked, "So, tell me Mrs. Allen, why you think you might have some information that would help us."
The old woman's body shuddered, and Britt realized she was afraid that her son would be in trouble, a trouble brought on by her words.
"Slade had been away for years, when he suddenly returned about two years ago. He was broke, had no job, and he needed a place to live. He moved back into his old bedroom. He couldn't seem to find anything but odd part time jobs. Lawn work mostly and once in a while somebody in town would need a little work around their house.
"This went on for over a year, him living at home and doing these jobs. I have a small pension each month, and the little he brought in was enough for us to get by. Then one day I took some clean clothes into his room. When I opened his sock drawer, I saw a letter addressed to someone called Jack Warner. The envelope was opened. I pulled a note out and read it."
When she became silent, Britt asked, "What did the note say, Mrs. Allen?
The woman had been looking down at the table. She looked up and said, "'Here's the money. Thanks.' It was signed `W."
A puzzled look appeared on Britt's face. "W"?
The woman nodded. "That's right."
"What happened next?"
"When Slade came home I asked him what the letter meant and who W was. He told me it was from a man he had met in a truck stop. The two had begun visiting as they drank coffee. Evidently Slade had mentioned to this man that he did odd jobs, and the man said he was in need of someone doing a job for him. Slade told me he agreed to work for this man, and the man had paid him by mailing money."
Again she paused, so Britt asked, "Mrs. Allen, who is Jake Warner?"
"Slade told me he had hitched a ride with a man named Jake Warner. There was an accident and Warner had been killed. Slade had gotten into some trouble in Arkansas, and when he realized the man was dead, he quickly exchanged identity, and from then on called himself Jake Warner. To everyone but me," she added.
"You had no idea he had switched names?" Britt asked.
The woman shook her head. "None what so ever. Oh, I knew about the accident. In fact, a police officer had come to the house and told me that Slade had been involved in an accident. He told me my son had died."
Britt looked at the police chief and asked, "Someone on your staff, Chief?"
Chief Carter gave a nod with his head. "Yes, but he is no longer working here. In fact, he doesn't' live in town any longer."
Britt told the woman to continue.
"About a week after his visit, maybe longer, Slade suddenly turned up. To say I was shocked would be right. For a moment I was really scared. Then I was suddenly filled with such relief. I hugged my son so long that he finally had to push me away. He told me to just be glad he was alive and be happy.
"I told Slade about the officer's visit, and he told me it had just been a mistake and that he was very much alive."
The woman became silent once more, and finally Britt asked, "Is there anything else you want to tell us?"
The woman didn't speak for a time. Finally she shook her head and said, "No." Her purse was on the table in front of her. She opened it and pulled something out. Handing it to Britt, she said, "Here is a picture of my son."
Taking it from her, Britt asked, "You don't know where he is?"
"When I asked him about the letter, he told me he thought it best if he left for a time. He said it would be better if I didn't know where he was."
"When did he leave?" Jerry Poteet asked.
"Yesterday," Mrs. Allen answered. "Is he going to be in trouble?"
It was Britt who answered her question. "I really can't say, Mrs. Allen. We need to speak with him and see what he can tell us. I'm sorry, I wish I could answer your question, but at the moment, I have nothing to tell you."
"Just remember he is a good man. His intentions are honorable."
Britt wasn't sure that he agreed with the woman, but he kept his comments to himself. He gave the police chief a look and said, "I think we're through here." Then turning his attention to the woman sitting across from him, he smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Allen. You've been a great help."
The woman pushed her chair back and stood to her feet. She was bit wobbly as she walked around the table. "I just hope I haven't made trouble for Slade."
Chief Carter met the woman at the door. He pushed it opened and said, "Have a seat over there, Virginia." He pointed to an empty chair next to the wall. "Let me visit a bit with these gentlemen, and then I will drive you home."
The Chief closed the door once more and said, "Well, what do you think?"
Jerry Poteet was the first to speak. "I don't know for sure if this man is our murderer, but he must be involved some way. After all, his finger prints were found in your home, Britt."
"I would have to agree," Cory said.
Britt said, "I think so, too. I think our first step is try and locate Slade Allen. I definitely think the man might have the answers we need. At least some of them," he added.
"Well, you have my name and telephone number, so if there is anything I can do for you guys, give me a call. I'll help in any way that I can," Chief Carter assured them.
They thanked the man, and with Britt behind the wheel, began their return trip back to Porterville. As the miles ticked away, they discussed what Virginia Allen had told them. All three of them felt the woman had been honest with them as she talked about her son.
"I've had something running through my head," Cory said. "Do you guys think the `W' on the letter she found could be for Wilson? As in Boyd Wilson?"
"I had the same thought," both Britt and Jerry said.
"I think we should give Boyd a visit when we get back into town," Britt remarked thoughtfully.
"I think it would be a very good idea," Cory replied.
When Jerry also agreed, Britt said, "Alright, Councilman Wilson, we're coming to see you."
They arrived in Porterville a few minutes before five o'clock. Hoping to find Wilson at City Hall, Britt drove them there. They hurried into the building where they did indeed discover the councilman sitting behind his desk.
"Gentlemen," Wilson greeted. "What can I do for you?"
Britt smiled at the man. "Hello, Boyd. We're sorry to bother you. I'm sure you are ready to call it a day, and I apologize. However, if it is alright with you, could I ask you a couple of questions?"
The councilman smiled warmly and invited them to take a seat. He leaned forward and allowed his elbows to rest on the desk top.
Britt pulled the picture of Slade Allen from his shirt pocket. "Boyd, we're looking for this man. Have you seen him around town?" He slid the picture over to the man.
Boyd picked up the photograph and looked at it. Then shaking his head he said, "He doesn't look familiar to me. Does he live around here?"
"No, he lives in Webbers Falls. He goes by the name Jake Warner."
"Name doesn't ring a bell either. Should I know this man?" Wilson slid the photograph back to Britt.
"I just thought you might recognize his picture." Britt grinned. "Hell, Boyd, you know everybody around here. I just thought you could help us out."
"Sorry, but I can't. Wish I could. Why are you interested in this person?"
Britt glanced at Jerry and Cory, and then turning his attention back to the councilman, he said, "We've been looking into the murder of Sandra Collins, and this man's name was brought to our attention. It's probably a false lead."
Britt returned the picture to his pocket. He stood to his feet and said, "We've taken up enough of your time, Boyd. Thank you."
The councilman also stood. "I'm just sorry I couldn't help. If I can do anything at all, please let me know."
"We will," Cory said as they left the councilman's office.
Back in Britt's car once more, Cory asked, "What's your take on this, guys?"
"I think he recognized the man's picture," Britt replied.
"I do, too," Jerry agreed.
"I guess now the thing to do is think of a way to prove he knows something," Cory decided.
Jerry said they definitely needed to search for Slade Allen and find out what he might know.
"I would say let's drop by to see Brian, but I imagine he's already left for the day. It's close to six o'clock, and we're supposed to be at his and Alice's for dinner at seven o'clock. We can fill him in later."
Britt dropped Jerry off at his son's house, and he and Cory went home to change clothes and get ready for their evening. Britt pulled up next to Devon's car. He was anxious to fill him in on what they had learned from their trip to Webbers Falls. Britt sighed. He really hoped the information they had gained from their trip would put them on the right path, perhaps leading them to Sandra Collins' murderer.