THE MEANEST MAN IN TOWN

THE MEANEST MAN IN TOWN

1.

When Doug retired the last thing he wanted in his life now was the drama, suspense or danger he had seen and sometimes faced as a Bureau investigator. Assuming his ideal retirement home should be in a small town close to, but not too close to, a bigger city he wanted to move to he ended up selecting a small town in North Texas. It was forty miles from the city he was born and raised in and seemed to be an ideal choice. A major part of his reasoning for doing this was he understood the regional culture and knew it would be easier naturally to blend in with the local residents. And with a lifetime of savings from his fairly well paying job he intended to buy the house outright to never have to worry about a mortgage. A two-bedroom brick home was enough for him as long as it had upgraded plumbing and electrical wiring, a two-car garage and a large lot with plenty of mature trees. And this is what he found, viewed in person first, and bought. And he had the power, telephone lines, cable and internet services activated before he moved. 

When moving into his new home it didn’t take long for his new neighbors to notice and many watched from their front yards or the sidewalk, but were respectful not to interfere with the moving van people doing most of the work in the process. It wasn’t until the van pulled away Friday evening for eight of his new neighbors to pay him a visit in the next hour and introduce themselves. Some brought welcoming gifts such as home-made pies to several six-packs of beer and two bottles of wine. The last visitor was an older woman, one who used a cane to walk, and she brought him a box of candy.

Being tired, Doug went to be early, then spent Saturday and Sunday morning and afternoon setting up the personal touches, like his computers and programming the wide screen televisions, the  placement of the files in the filing cabinets and books on the bookshelves: tasks made easier because he paid the two younger men who worked for the moving van company a well deserved large tip for the patience they displayed in following his specific instructions on the placement of everything else, including where each framed art and photograph was to be hung. And everything was accomplished without any stress or drama.

2.

Late Sunday night, however, Doug sat in his desk chair in his study thinking about the unusual  conversation he had with the last welcoming neighbor, an older woman who lingered long after the other neighbors had left his front porch. He accepted the fact there was likely going to be gossip in the small town he made his new home, but the conversation he had with Mrs. Minnie Murphy was different from the expected gossip when she started telling, actually warning him in a not so subtle way, about a man she called the meanest man in town, a man who lived four houses down from Doug on the same side of the street. According to Mrs. Murphy this man rarely talked to anyone and when he did he seldom spoke more than a few words, an act she considered rude. She also informed Doug he never seemed to leave his house except to buy groceries and get gas for his old truck, and even then he rarely spoke to anyone and this bothered many people. 

And no one, not even the young gardener he hired, was allowed inside his house. No one she knew his first or last name and they agree with her about him being the meanest, or a least the most standoffish, man in town and many folks she knows think he’s a criminal hiding out in their town.

As he sat at his desk he admitted to himself he was intrigued. However, Doug had no intention of becoming involved in small town drama and gossip. But he was going to find out whatever he could about this man out of curiosity And to aid his research he was going to call an old friend in the morning, a friend who still worked for the Bureau, to ask him to call the town’s city offices and pretend he is a realtor interested in buying several homes in the area, including the one at the address of the meanest man in town. If it worked out, the man bought the house and the title would be in his name, assuming he used his real name on the bill of sale. 

After making the call on Monday it took his friend less than two hours to call Doug back.

“I don’t know if he actually lives there or just rents the house out, but I’ve got the name of the owner and you’ll fine this interesting if you remember his murder trial,” his friend told him and provided the owner’s name, then added, “It was over ten years ago, but do you remember that murder trial?”

“I still remember and, though it was not in our jurisdiction, I followed the trial closely because, at the time, I lived about forty miles from where it happened,” Doug informed Harry. “And from the skimpy evidence never believed he was guilty of murder.”

“I was hoping you would remember and I agree about him not being guilty, and you still own me big time.”

“I owe you? Seriously? After I saved your worthless a*s at least a dozen times? Starting when you were still a rookie,” Doug chided Harry playfully. “But I’m asking another favor because I need you to obtain for me the trial transcripts, including the pre-trial motions to submit evidence by both the prosecutor and defense attorney and e-mail me the files as soon as possible. And don’t ask me to do it myself because I’m retired and you’re not. Because you still work for the Bureau you can get this information without coaxing or veiled threats.”

“I’ll do this for you, you retired, lazy punk, as soon as possible and then we’ll be even, okay?”

“Of course!”

“Well, put it in writing, sign it and e-mail a copy to me,” Harry responded quickly.

Doug heard his old friend laugh, then hang up on him.

3.

After the phone call with his old friend, Doug decided to visit his adopted town. He would visit the city park and many of the shops on main street and chose to drive his old, late 1960s Ford pickup truck instead of his newer SUV.

The city park was small, but well maintained by the city. The shops he stopped by to visit were a hardware store, book store, barber shop, sporting goods store and the local grocery store. He avoided the chain stores because the local stores were likely family owned and he wanted them to have his business. When he introduced himself and someone asked what he did for a living Doug was evasive, but not really lying, when he told them he was a retired government employee. 

At the sporting goods store the owner, who introduced himself as Billy, asked if Doug was the man who bought the house on Red Oak Drive and Doug said yes,

“Well, that man who lives on your street some claim is the meanest man in town? I haven’t seen or talked to him, but from what people say about him I don’t care if I ever do,” Billy informed Doug, then asked “Have you seen or talked to him.” 

“No, not yet, though Mrs. Murphy gave me a lot of details to watch out for.”

“Of course she did, that nosey old woman, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure your windows and doors are locked at night.”

After Doug paid for the Soccer Shoes, two Soccer Balls and a large practice net, he thanked Billy for his advice. On the short drive to the grocery store parking lot Doug understood how quickly word got around in this small town. After buying his groceries and pushing his cart through the parking lot, he was approached by a woman in her 30s pushing two full shopping carts towards her Jeep.

“Are you Mr. Graham, the man who bought the house on Red Oak?” 

“Yes, and word gets around quickly here.”

“Considering we’ve got 1.200 residents living here it’s expected. A lot of the younger people move away, but we get a lot of retirees moving here. And with not a lot of excitement locally people share current news, but I heard it from my neighbor Sally, the realtor. By the way, I’m Joy Allison,” she informed him as they shook hands.

“I’m Doug, and you’ve got a young child at home. Congratulations, if you’re a mother,” Doug replied after noticing one of her carts was almost full of items needed for raising a younger child.

“Yeah, my sweet little April. She’s nine months old now and George, my dear husband and her Daddy, is baby sitting at home while I shop,” she replied with pride. “But I was wondering if anyone mentioned to you about that man who lives on your street that no one knows anything about?”

“Six people so far, including that nice Mrs. Murphy and Ed, who owns the gas station.”

“Our town is small, diverse somewhat in it’s religious and political beliefs, but still the kind that feels like one large family who watches out for each other. And I try not to pre-judge anything. As too that man it’s sort of like a Schrödinger's cat thing with me. He either is or he isn’t what they say he is. I mean, if you’re familiar with my lame reference.”

“I grew up in a small town much like this town. And were you a Psychology major, by chance?”

“Oh, no,” Joy laughed gently, “I took some elective class, I’m actually an English major and teach it here. I’m on baby leave this year, but I teach English. Being on baby leave I get bored and sometimes namedrop esoteric musings by accident. And you, Mr. Graham? You knew what I meant which means a lot about your knowledge.” 

“A retired federal investigator with a degree in Criminal Science, but I do have varied interests.  And I agree with you about pre-judging anyone or anything. He could be keeping to himself because he’s still grieving over the loss of a loved one or some personal, lingering bitterness or an illness. Perhaps terminal? Who knows?”

While at the park or stopping by the stores or the short conversations the case of Kevin Hart was on his mind, the same man who was charged with murder and spent eleven years in prison only to be released with suppressed evidence was discovered. He could justifiably credit his training, job duties of natural abilities to multi-task, but the poor man was on his mind because that man should never have spent a day in prison. Doug very much wanted to talk to him personally, but couldn’t figure out how to do so. 

As he went to bed he decided to give those thoughts a rest. However, around one in the morning he was awaken by a dream in which he was in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Although he really didn’t believe in omens he got dressed, grabbed the rest of the iced tea from the refrigerator and headed to his study because a good night’s sleep was out of the question now.

4.

Because Harry had kept his word when Doug turned on his computers the files were there, including the motion to submit evidence, and the retired investigator opened the films and made a backup copy that was saved to a Flash Drive. Knowing he would likely still be sitting at his desk at sunrise, Doug intended to read closely all of the dialogue, including motions granted or rejected. Doing so meant he would likely still be sitting at his desk at sunrise.

 As he neared the end of reading the transcripts the most glaring oddity was that every motion to submit evidence made by the city prosecutor was accepted and of twenty two motions to submit evidence made by the defense team only two were accepted. Reading this, he knew he needed to talk to Mr. Hart in person, the only question being how to set it up, but first he wanted to study Mr. Hart’s personal life and find out whatever he could with another search, this time focusing on newspaper clippings before Mr. Hart was charged with murder.

Lucky for him The Daily Messenger, the local newspaper where Mr. Hart had lived, had an on-line web site and for a small fee, which Doug paid instantly, he could access the library of older issues of the paper. He started with the issues a month before Kevin Hart was arrested and what the local D.A. considered the motive for him killing a fellow teacher. Three weeks before he was arrested Kevin’s wife and young son died when a hit and run driver ran into, actually ran over, them at a crosswalk as they were returning from visiting a neighbor at night. There were no witnesses but the car was registered to Aaron Harrison, the Science teacher, who claimed it was stolen, the same man who was shot in the back three times. There were also no witnesses to Harrison’s murder, but this was enough for the local D.A., a man who was up for re-election, to order Mr. Hart arrested.

And a puzzling aspect about the stolen car was Doug found no mention in the police report if the car was recovered or who had stolen it or even if the police checked strange fingerprints inside the car. But even more curious, in regards to the police report, was he found no mention of who the weapon was registered to, if they checked for fingerprints on the gun or even what happened to the handgun used. Also of great interest to the retired Bureau investigator was that Aaron’s wife, Annie, was from a very prominent family who’s influence was felt throughout the state, both in business and politics. 

With this unexpected information Doug figured out a personal reason to contact Mr. Hart because he felt a deep symphony for Kevin. His own wife and young daughter were killed in a car crash when the other driver ran a red light while distracted when using her cell phone. The only thing left to decide was how to contact a man who purposely shut out the world around him.

With the morning Sun shining through the study’s window Doug needed to un-fog his foggy mind from lack of sleep and took a cold water shower, then changed into fresh clothes. Next, he wanted to walk around the block. However, by the time he opened the front door he had figured out how to contact Mr. Hart and headed back to his study. With his computer on again Doug started to type an honest letter to him, print it out and insert the letter in the mail slot of Mr. Hart’s old wooden front door, but suddenly stopped typing.

He decided  first he wanted to talk to an old acquaintance at Bureau, a Forensics expert named Joyce, Doug knew she would return his call even though their relationship was rocky at times. Doing so would have to wait several hours until after he had a few hours sleep first.

After two hours of sleep he called Joyce’s unlisted number, a number logged into his memory banks.

“Is that really you, Mr. Douglas Graham?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“The answer is no to whatever you want from me,” she replied curtly.

“At least tell me if you still live close to the little town of Spencer Springs.”

“What’s in it for me, Doug?”

“That’s my cynic sweetheart always looking for an edge,” he teased her, then offered, “How about four days and three nights, all expenses paid, in quaint Spencer Springs? And I’ll add a sub-contractor bonus for you.”

“Sounds good, but you better sweeten the pot. So what’s in it for us.”

“I still can’t tell when you’re serious or not, but if you still have an itch to scratch, how about spending several nights together during the trip like we once did?”

“Happy to know everything still works on you, and we’ve got a deal. But no fees paid.”

“Okay,” Doug assured her and then gave her the details of what he hoped to accomplish there..

5.

She met him at the airport the next morning while driving her own car because, like Doug, Joyce was retired. During the twenty minute drive to Spencer Springs she smiled and patted him on the leg.

“You know, my friend, we really don’t have to sleep together.”

“Are you standing me up again?” Doug laughed, then reassured her, “What we did at one time is nothing to be assahamed of and we should cherish the time we spent together.”

“I suppose you’re right because we were both on the rebound. Me from an ill-conceived, broken marriage and messy divorce, you from ... from ...”

“The pain of losing loved ones never really goes away, but over time we learn to move on,” Doug replied sincerely, the added, “It was nice of Harry to set everything up for us.”

“He can be a real jerk sometimes, but down deep inside he can be almost human at times. And the police in Spencer Springs will be too intimidated to say no to a Bureau Investigator” she laughed softly.

When they arrived at the police station the Chief Of Police seemed more than willing to co-operate with them. After introducing himself as Chief Bob Goodman he wanted to clarify who he was talking to..

“You must be Ms. Joyce Connors, the Forensics expert, right?” After she nodded yes he turned his attention to Doug, asking, “And you must be the famous Bureau Investigator Mr, Douglas Graham, right?” When he nodded yes the Chief motioned for them to take the chairs in front of his desk.

“Now, tell me exactly what information the two of you need.”

Doug offered the information he was willing to give to the Chief and he and Joyce waited for the reply as they watched him consider his response. 

“You know, I remember the Hart trial well, though it was years ago and I was a rookie on the force,” he told them, then continued wording what he said carefully. “But here’s the thing about the stolen car and the gun used to kill Aaron Harrison: the D.A. we had at the time had the evidence classified and sealed so no one, not even our Chief of Police back then, could legally access it.”

‘Does this mean we can’t access the requested information?” Joyce wondered aloud while concealing her frustration.

“Of course not. I was just telling you what the situation was like back then. Our current D.A. ran for office on a reform platform and had all classified films declassified. The only exceptions were the few that might be considered of national government interest.”

The Chief showed them where the files were kept and instructed his second-in-command to open the evidence storage vault. As they were leaving the Chief stopped them for a moment.

“Yes, that’s the murder weapon that killed Aaron Harrison that was still in the vault, and I ordered  ballistics done. The odd thing was there were two sets of fingerprints on the gun, but neither set belonged to Kevin Hart or Aaron Harrison and this was why Hart was released from prison.

6.

On the way back to the motel room they shared Joyce gave Doug a wide grin and again patted him on the leg.

“So the .45 that killed Aaron Harrison in registered in his wife’s name?” And you knew this already, you Skunk?”

“I did my own research first and was pretty sure. But seven years after Aaron’s murder she drove her SUV off a bridge and it was estimated the SUV was going 60 mph. Likely a suicide, but it was ruled an accident, and the Chief never mentioned this.  I also knew his car wasn’t stolen.

“And what’s that crap about the famous investigator?”

“Just Harry trying to impress the Chief because he still owes me.”

“Alot of people covered his a*s when he was a rookie and, by the way, Doug, I would like to come visit you for awhile. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is, but I’m only got one bed.”

“Well, dud!” 

“Okay, it’s a deal, but there’s one condition you have to agree to first.”

“I thought we were beyond that foolishness now.”

“Sweety, I don’t consider it foolish to want to introduce you to my neighbors and people in town as my fiancé.”

She traveled with Doug on the flight back to his home, but only brought with her a laptop, backup Flash Drives and a carry-on. This didn’t bother Joyce because she could buy extra clothes in town.

After surveying his home and sitting in a lawn chair in his wide, deep yard she knew she had to discuss remodeling with Doug and found him sitting on his desk chair with the computer on. Without saying a word she pulled an armchair close to his chair.

“You know, sweetheart, I’m so tired of living where the winters are so brutal and was thinking, actually hoping, I could move in with you.”

“I’ve already figured that out and was going to ask you and it’s perfectly fine with me but, of course, we’ll have to remodel because I’m not sharing my office and we’ll need a second bathroom. That won’t be a problem because of the large back yard we have,” he assured her.

“Thank you,” Joyce replied sincerely. :But I insist on sharing the cost and want lots of windows and, if possible, skylights. And you’ve only got a two car garage so I want to add a two car carport.” 

“No problem at all, but first I want to talk to Kevin Hart in person.”

“And you’ve already figured out how to do this?” she asked and he nodded yes.

Without Joyce watching him Doug finished his letter to Kevin Hart. Being as honest as he felt he could be under the circumstances, in the letter Doug mentioned what he had done for a living before retiring and, to show Mr. Hart he was gone through his own personal loss, he wrote about losing his own wife and young daughter. Then he mentioned how he closely followed the trial and, based on the flawed and biased evidence, never believed Mr. Hart was guilty of murder. He also told the him about the research he did, about having copies of the transcripts and believing he’s uncovered some evidence suppressed by the both the judge and the local D.A.

Doug also wrote he really didn’t expect a reply back and understood why Mr. Hart chose to shut himself off from as much personal contact in the town as he could, in effect becoming a rural  hermit.

After printing out the letter, Doug signed his full name in handwriting and typed in his cell phone number in case Mr. Hart was willing to talk to him on the phone. He folded the one-page letter and enclosed it in an un-sealed envelope he slipped into Mr. Hart’s door mail slot.

7.

Within a half hour after he got back to the house, entered his study and turned on the computer, Kevin Hart called him.

“Yes, I’ll talked to you in person, but I’m wondering if your house is bugged?” were the first words Mr. Hart spoke.

“Of course not,” he was assured.

“Well, my house is and this includes video cameras and conversation recorders, so we’ll talk at my house as long as you agree to a simple demand.”

“Which is?”

“Simple enough demand. If you lie to me or even sound like you’re lying the conversation stops.”

“I promise I won’t lie, so when do we talk?”

“Right now,” Mr. Hart said and then hung up.

When Doug entered Mr. Hart’s house he was surprised how similar it was to his own. There was a collection of artwork hanging in the livingroom and when he followed Mr. Hart to his study it seemed there were wall-to wall bookcases filled with books. And like Doug, his desk faced the window and his back yard was a deep and wide as his own. One difference was the study had two arm chairs and Mr. Hart motioned for him to use one of them while he took the other.

“How did you know who I am and what I did for a living,” Doug asked.

“Easy enough when you do the right research. The title deed of your house is in your name and I did a search of everyone who had the exact same name as Douglas Graham. After you left your letter in my mail slot it took me under ten minutes to make the connection. So now, what is this proof you uncovered?”

“The car was never stolen and the Colt .45 was registered in his wife’s name”

“I was released because the new D.A. unsealed the files and the new Chief Of Police had the weapon checked for fingerprints and mine weren’t on the gun, but didn’t know who the Colt .45 was registered to.”

“Is this helpful to you?”

“Yes and no,” Mr. Hart replied honestly. “Even though I was released from prison and my name was cleared and I received compensation for my time in prison some people will never believe I  didn’t murder him. But it’s fairly obvious his wife killed him. Or hired someone to do it”

“Quite possible, but how sure are you?”

“95% sure because of what my loving wife told me happened two days she and our son were killed in that hit and run. But telling you this will take a few minutes. Have you got the time?”

“Plenty because my girlfriend has moved in with me and she’s rearranging a lot of things to suit her taste.”

“I called Janie, my wife, to tell her I would be late because I’m going over and grading term papers and she brought me dinner she got from a fast food place. So anyway, our four year old son Jason was with her and needed to go to the bathroom, but was nervous to go to the boy’s bathroom at the high school where I taught. Janie when with him and when they opened the door they saw Aaron Harrison having sex with another teacher in the bathroom..”

“Wow!”

“My wife was pretty upset, first because our son saw them and second, because it was with a fellow teacher, his first grade teacher. Personally, she didn’t care what two consenting adults, no matter what gender they were. But this was different and felt she should at least tell his wife. I strongly advised her against contacting Annie. But she did anyway when I wasn’t home because Annie Harrison left an angry message on our answering machine. Two nights later, my wife and son were killed, And three nights after that Aaron Harrison was found on a country road dead. A half mile from the murder scene they found the car he drove and the police found the murder weapon sitting in the rider’s seat. Anyway, about Mrs. Harriman, I doubt if Aaron’s fondness for boys was the motive itself, but her trying to protect her family from scandal.” 

“Something you’ll find interesting is seven years later, when you were still in prison, she drove her SUV off a bridge going 50mph. It was ruled an accident, but I didn’t believe that because, I felt the guilt was too much for her to overcome and she took her own life that night going off the bridge. But, besides that, I’m thinking, Kevin, that you really don’t have to shut out all your neighbors or people in town. With the right explanation they will understand and accept you.”

“Such as?”

“You lie a little and it will be okay to lie because it’s a justified type of lie. We’ll tell everyone you shut them off because you’re still grieving over the loss of your wife and young son.”

“That may work, but what does saying we’ll mean exactly mean?” Mr. Hart asked me. 

“I’ll tell everyone I met exactly what I did for a living before I retired. Trust me, because a retired Bureau Investigator will gain respect form the people we meet and talk to. And to make the transition easier I’ll ask Joyce, my soon to be wife, to join us. But first I want to mention what I did for a living to the neighbors and folks in town and let them spread the word to everyone.”

“Okay, I’ll take this chance. And if they don’t accept there are other towns to move to.”

“And would moving again to another town change things if you’re still worried about the past?”

“Probably be no better or worse.”

“Just something I should add, playing the odds, is I’m betting very few people here will be snooping on the internet and even if they did there are a zillion people named Kevin Hart and a friend still working at the Bureau can create a back story of your life where you’re a retired teacher, but from a different town in a different state.”

“You drink beer?” Kevin asked after thinking about this.

“If it’s an ice cold draft beer, yes!”

As they sat in lawn chairs, drinking beer and watching sunset, Doug turned to who he hoped would become a friend, as well as a good neighbor.

“My soon to be wife, Joyce, who you’ll met soon, wants to finally get a dog, something she never felt right about having because she was rarely at home.”

“What breed?” Kevin asked.

“A Golden Retriever puppy.”

“Good choice. They’re friendly, loving and never scare anyone. And because I’ve decided to keep my house and live here, I’m going to get one, too. But I want a pound puppy.”

“I suppose, at least metaphorically, the three of us could be called mutts, so how about the three of us going to the closest animal shelter together?”

Kevin looked a him, nodded his head and smiled.