Chapter 23
Jeff pulled into the country convenience store at the end of the lane near his house and ordered a coffee. He figured he better make it a large since he didn’t have much of a stomach for the upcoming meeting and needed a lot of caffeine to get him through it. He put four packets of sugar into the plastic cup, then went outside and got into his pickup. The 15-minute drive south was just enough time for his anxiety to reach its peak.
“What the hell is that shithead oat cooking up now?” he mumbled.
“I have had all I can take by screwing around with them wild assholes. Guess it serves me right for confiding in that idiot Oats. Now I got myself into a bigger mess by joining his stupid Cobb Club. What would Lizzy say if she were here? Guess I can’t think about that now and he continued to talk to himself as he sipped the sweet hot coffee.
When he pulled up to the clubhouse Oats and Tee were sitting in the swing on the front porch. It was only 10:00 AM and both men were already drinking a Budweiser “long-necker.”
“Come on up here Jeff,” said Oats.
“Mornin,” said Jeff.
“Mornin. Me and Tee were just sitting here discussing our friend Al. They took him up there to Columbia and put him in that crazy house they call a mental hospital, you know,” said Oats.
“Yea I heard all about it. Mor’d I wanted to, as a matter of fact. Every time I go into your place that’s all anybody’s talking bout.”
“Jeff, you and me and Tee here’s got a lot to lose, if they ever get Al so’s he can think straight again.”
“What’d ya mean?”
Oats decided to embellish the story of the shooting by making Jeff believe that Al had done the shooting and trying to place the blame on him.
“I guess you know the first thing he told ‘em when they arrested him was that I was the one that shot that special agent. That’s something I am worried about. I think we need to do something about the situation or we all gonna land in jail. Al is the one who shot Vandi when was snooping around the clubhouse. Then he called me and Tee to help him do away with what we both thought was the dead body. Looks like that damn Geechee has nine lives.”
Tee listened to Oats’ fabrication of the shooting and went along with it by adding his own “two-cents,” “Yea, he is crazy, and there is no telling what else he will come up with under questioning by the law.”
“What I’m concerned about now, is that as much as Al knows about what’s going on in the club if he keeps running off at the mouth he can cause a lot of trouble for a lot of people. The three of us have the most to lose. We gotta get rid of the bastard that’s all there is to it,” said Oats.
“I agree, and I got an idea how to do it too,” said Tee.
“Waz zat Tee?” said Oats.
“You all know Harry Smoke. The judge put him up there where they’re holding Al, for killing his wife and son several years ago. I visited Harry last year, and he’s getting along pretty good. Harry was a Cobb member, and I think I know how to get him to help us. I can set up a visit with him and proposition him to help us out. What’d you think?
“Well do you think he’ll go along with it?” said Oats.
“If he agrees to help us, we will need to pay him. Oats, you think we can come up with say, $10,000 to give him?” said Tee.
“Not a problem on that. I know Harry pretty well. If I tell him we will pay him the money, I know he will believe me. But we will have just to see if he is willing to carry out the deal.”
During the meeting, Jeff didn’t add much to the conversation. He continued to be disappointed at his impulsive decision to help Oats dispose of the bodies of Cyndi and her boyfriend, Daryl. He was even more depressed that he had joined the Cobb Club, but at this point, all he could do was just go along and be sucked deeper and deeper into the evil and violence of his cohorts.
Tee, on the other hand, enjoyed an opportunity to plan the fatal demise of Al. He was sick of Big Al’s bluster, even though they had been friends for a long time. Tee was usually quiet and friendly, but in every other respect, he was as devious as any other club member. He always did feel that Al was nothing but a loudmouth buffoon. Even before he came to the meeting, Tee was thinking about a way to harm Al. By the time Oats suggested it, he had what he had thought was a fool-proof way to get the job done. All he needed to do was to convince Harry to help him. In Harry’s predicament, he didn’t think that would be difficult.
South Carolina had a central mental facility at Columbia to house and treat patients referred by jails and criminal courts from throughout the state. Harry Smoke, who had gone on a psychotic killing spree, had been committed to the facility by a judge for the murder of his wife and 11-year-old son. The case hit the headlines throughout the state and was even mentioned on the National news media.
What happened was after a weeklong binge on marijuana mixed with moonshine Harry went berserk. He had been diagnosed with a paranoid schizophrenic condition since he was in high school. When he took medication for the condition, he was able to function normally. From time to time, however, he would stop taking his medication, which would result in harmless but strange behavior. With the help of his wife and emphatic friends, he had always been able to avoid major consequences. This time though the combination of illegal drugs and alcohol totally removed Harry from reality. He envisioned his wife and son as evil demons when they tried to reason with him. In his unstable state, at one point he had a vision of them as skeletons with devil-like horns and a pitchfork hovering over him. The only way he could fend off the evil force was with his hunting knife. First, he sliced his wife’s throat as he held her by her hair. Then his defenseless son came under the wrath of his ruthless hand. Harry’s eight-year-old daughter was probably only spared because she was visiting her grandparents at the time. The result of the chaotic rampage was to be committed to the state mental facility with the proviso of appearing before the court for sentencing after an assumed long period of treatment and rehabilitation. Harry and everyone else knew that this was essentially a life sentence for Harry.
At the mental facility, Harry was under supervised conditions and never missed his medications. In a structured program, it wasn’t long before Harry’s thinking, and reasoning was as healthy as the next person. Except that now, he had to deal with the psychological impact of his actions as well as to suffer the legal consequences of the murder of two members of his family who he loved when he was thinking straight
In the end, Oats decided that he himself would make the visit to Harry.
“How you doing Harry,” Oats asked as they sat in the surroundings of the comfortable visitor's lounge.
“Doing great, how’s things in the Salketcher?”
The conversation continued for a while and finally got around to the fact that the visit was not just social.
“You know that Big Al has been committed to the hospital here don’t you?” said Oats.
“Yes, I know. I was able to visit with him a couple of times. He is totally out of his mind. He doesn’t even know who I am. All he can talk about is a white-headed old man named Fuzz trying to harm him. He says he sees Fuzz all the time and he seems to talk to him just like you and I are talking now. I know what he is going through ‘cuz I had a breakdown myself before.”
“Yes, I was afraid of that. But more important we are all scared shitless of what else he might start talking about. He already told the authorities that I am the one that shot that special agent Vandi.”
“Yea, I heard. Are you saying you didn’t do it?”
Oats didn’t think it would hurt to let Harry believe that he was innocent of the crime, so he played it out hoping to get Harry’s sympathy.
“Hell no, I didn’t. Not that I probably wouldn’t have done it if I had the chance. But Al is the one who done it and then he talked me into helping him dump the body. So you can see why I am worried.”
“I unders
tand what you mean.”
“Harry we want you to help us get rid of Al, and we’ll make it worth your while.”
“I’m always willing to help you boys down there if I can. What do you have in mind?”
“I figured you may be able to get close enough to Al, to do away with him permanently. We will make it worth your effort.”
“Well Oats, you know what I did to my wife and son, and that haunts me every minute of every day, but I never consciously killed anyone.”
“I know, but here is a way for you to help pay back what you have taken away from the rest of your family, especially your daughter. If you agree to help us, I am willing to set up a College Trust Fund in the name of your little girl with the initial amount of $2,000. When you complete your part of the deal, I will add another $8,000 to it. The fund will be established in the name of the Cobb Club. No one would ask questions since could be expected for us help the family of a former member. The fund will be legitimate, and the law can’t touch it if things go wrong.”
“It sure would help me give me something to my daughter other than the misery I’ve given her. I guess I could expect to be caught and I wouldn’t ever get out of here. I don’t think I have much chance of getting out of here anyway.”
“I knew it would be hard for you to say no, so I came prepared with a plan on how you can do it. I believe you know about that old mundunugu who calls herself Sister Leonie down at White Hall. The rumor has always gone around that she knows how to place a hex on people that could kill them in 24 hours. I visited with her because I know she helps her voodoo powers along with a strange pill she concocts. I gave her a little incentive in the form of a hundred dollar bill, to give me one of the pills. I know she makes them up out of swamp mushrooms she calls the death caps. I done some reading and found out that they are deadly. They say that if you take even a single bite of one you’re a goner. I also brought you a half pint of Seagram 7. You will have to smuggle it into Al. Tell him its compliments of the club. Make sure he takes the pill, which you can tell him contains a special compressed dose of marijuana. He’s a pushover for the stuff. If any of his minds is left, he’ll be happy to get the pill. If he takes the bait, he will die like a catfish in the July sun before they ever realize what’s happening to him. I doubt very much they’ll be able to prove that you helped the grim reaper visit our friend.”
Because of Harry’s improved condition and his minimum supervision, it was easy for Oats to slip him the bottle of whiskey and the capsule. The two men stood up and engaged in an affectionate departing hug. Simultaneously the exchange of the weapons of death took place, as Oats gently poked the bottle with the capsule taped to its back into Harry’s shirt.
As he drove back to the Lowcountry, Oats congratulated himself for the plan he had put into place for eliminating a threat to the club members. Goodbye Big Al you fat bastard. I hope you enjoy your last drink and tasty appetizer compliments of Sister Leonie.”