I wrote a series of stories featuring Culhane Callandret. One of those was about the Poe River bank robber. He robbed a bank in Frederickburg, Virginia. Fredericksburg is not too far off from where Miss Mirabelle had her fine home. It's also pretty close to where the bank robber ran when he got out of the bank. He had the total of the tills in a brief case. He ran to a beatup car parked in the alley behind the bank. He drove off into the steaming suburbs of Fredericksburg, thinking he would hole up on the Poe River. He got out on 55, the interstate that runs almost in a straight line up to Alexandria. He turned off at the exit he knew would take him out to the little back road that was to be his hiding spot. He drove the car into a swampy place that even in the hot summer day was still mud and clay. Cicadas were making their rattling raspy sound from t he trees along the river bank. The bank robber pulled the car into a spot that covered it with brush. He got out and walked along the river's edge, listening to the water moccasins sliding into the slow moving brown water.
After getting a mile or so down river, the robber decided to sit down in the shade to count his take. He clicked open the brief case, staring at the green bills laid out inside. As he sat there with the sweat dripping off his brow, a shiny snake slithered up behind him. It bit him in the back of the neck. He fell over dead on top of the money.
Culhane came into this story because Miss Mirabelle phone him the afternoon the robbery took place.
"Can't have common thieves taking over our commonwealth," she sternly said to Culhane.
"That's right, Miss Mirabelle, we certainly can't have the Commonwealth of Virginia sullied in such a fashion." Culhane was adroit with his mother. He knew just how to steer her boat and keep her happy.
Culhane was a forensics detective with the FBI. He hung around Quantico teaching new recruits the ropes, looking for ones with an apptitude for forensics, sometimes hitting the jackpot with recruits like the young man he was bringing with him down to Fredericksburg, Jason Franks. Jason was from Ohio, his father a policeman in his hometown. Jason was smart and a quick learner. Culhane was enjoying following the trail of the robbery with such an eager student.
"Well, we'd better get a look at the surveillance cameras at the bank first off, don't you think?" culhane asked Jason.
"Yes, sir."
They walked into the Commonwealth Bank, his mother's place of business when she was banking. The tellers were still shaken by the robbery. The local police had been in with crime scene kits and there was residue of fingerprint dust on all the counters.
"Just wanna look at t he surveillance tapes for that time," said Culhane to one of the tellers. The teller got the manager and the manager played the surveillance for them.
"Looks like little Petey Jamison from up yonder, ya think?" asked culhane of the manager, who was a family friend.
"I'd say that be him, but for that crookedy hand he's got there, looks like he scraped it up a bit, mangled it somehow. Don't recollect Petey having a hand like that but if someone was going to rob a bank around here, Petey'd be the one I'd be prone to point a finger at."
Culhane played the tape a time or two to be sure, he had his man. then he put in a call back to the office asking for a run sheet on Petey Jamison. It came back quickly and as he screened the information it contained, he became certain the robbery had been comitted by Petey.
"Reckon we'll be taking a little ride out by the Poe, see if Petey's holed up at the old moonshine shack they used to have out that way. See if we can come up with anything useful."
Culhane had never been one to swim the Poe, at least not along the country lane where the Jamison farm had stood. It was never kept up very well, Petey had gone barefoot summers to save on shoes, there were chickens running everywhere, paint peeling, roof sagging, driveway a rutted blotch full of puddles and mud come winter. Culhand steered the bureau sedan down the bumpy lane and parked near the old place. It had been abandoned years before, the roof still held but barely. The porch was gone and the front door stood wide open.
"Fine place for a meth lab," said Jason.
"Wouldn't be suprised if it was," said Culhane. "Ba
After getting a mile or so down river, the robber decided to sit down in the shade to count his take. He clicked open the brief case, staring at the green bills laid out inside. As he sat there with the sweat dripping off his brow, a shiny snake slithered up behind him. It bit him in the back of the neck. He fell over dead on top of the money.
Culhane came into this story because Miss Mirabelle phone him the afternoon the robbery took place.
"Can't have common thieves taking over our commonwealth," she sternly said to Culhane.
"That's right, Miss Mirabelle, we certainly can't have the Commonwealth of Virginia sullied in such a fashion." Culhane was adroit with his mother. He knew just how to steer her boat and keep her happy.
Culhane was a forensics detective with the FBI. He hung around Quantico teaching new recruits the ropes, looking for ones with an apptitude for forensics, sometimes hitting the jackpot with recruits like the young man he was bringing with him down to Fredericksburg, Jason Franks. Jason was from Ohio, his father a policeman in his hometown. Jason was smart and a quick learner. Culhane was enjoying following the trail of the robbery with such an eager student.
"Well, we'd better get a look at the surveillance cameras at the bank first off, don't you think?" culhane asked Jason.
"Yes, sir."
They walked into the Commonwealth Bank, his mother's place of business when she was banking. The tellers were still shaken by the robbery. The local police had been in with crime scene kits and there was residue of fingerprint dust on all the counters.
"Just wanna look at t he surveillance tapes for that time," said Culhane to one of the tellers. The teller got the manager and the manager played the surveillance for them.
"Looks like little Petey Jamison from up yonder, ya think?" asked culhane of the manager, who was a family friend.
"I'd say that be him, but for that crookedy hand he's got there, looks like he scraped it up a bit, mangled it somehow. Don't recollect Petey having a hand like that but if someone was going to rob a bank around here, Petey'd be the one I'd be prone to point a finger at."
Culhane played the tape a time or two to be sure, he had his man. then he put in a call back to the office asking for a run sheet on Petey Jamison. It came back quickly and as he screened the information it contained, he became certain the robbery had been comitted by Petey.
"Reckon we'll be taking a little ride out by the Poe, see if Petey's holed up at the old moonshine shack they used to have out that way. See if we can come up with anything useful."
Culhane had never been one to swim the Poe, at least not along the country lane where the Jamison farm had stood. It was never kept up very well, Petey had gone barefoot summers to save on shoes, there were chickens running everywhere, paint peeling, roof sagging, driveway a rutted blotch full of puddles and mud come winter. Culhand steered the bureau sedan down the bumpy lane and parked near the old place. It had been abandoned years before, the roof still held but barely. The porch was gone and the front door stood wide open.
"Fine place for a meth lab," said Jason.
"Wouldn't be suprised if it was," said Culhane. "Ba
No comments:
Post a Comment