Chapter 44
Who is John Dougherty?
On a Saturday morning, after thanking Uncle Alvin and saying good-bye to Pirate Jack, no longer a caravan, we headed out to visit Skip’s sister in Virginia, a three -day journey, first up the coast on I-95 to Savannah and then inland towards the middle of Virginia. Skip still wasn’t talking much but he told us his sister’s name was Jancis, and that she and her husband, Pete, had a place called “The Herbery,” a way-side herb farm. They also did gardening and landscape architecture for the rich folks with second homes a few hours from Washington, D.C.
At the end of the first day out, we stopped for dinner in Savannah, Georgia, at Mrs. Z’s Family Style Dining. While dining, Huck got a lesson in southern manners. We were all at a long table sharing a meal with several others we didn’t know. After being asked a second time, “Would you like more peas?” by a diner at the other end of the table, Steve whispered to Huck – “He’s politely asking you to pass the peas down.”
To Steve, this appeared to be a perfect opportunity to tell the newcomers at the other end of the table about our travels, our blog, our Rumpkin organizing, but everybody seemed subdued. When Skip and Rocky went out for a smoke after eating, Steve followed along, saying, “What’s up you guys? You seem preoccupied about something.”
Rocky made up a fib, “Skip’s sister isn’t doing too good and he’s worried a visit by all of us will be too much for her.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I think all of us are ready to get back to Minnesota. Skip, you’ve found a second life in politics – that’s what you were looking for leaving Minnesota, right? And with Sally finding what she was looking for as well; Patty having plenty of good footage for her movie; and Huck already having the time of his life; maybe this trip is ready for its denouement. You know, I’ve been thinking I’m missing Jodie . . . maybe one more good fishing weekend for Max?
“No,” Skip replied. “We’re sticking to our list. Huck and I both have folks expecting us in New York. And you too, somebody in Philadelphia, right?”
We spent the night camped at the Stoney Crest Plantation Campground just outside Hilton Head, S.C.
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Meanwhile, things were fast developing in Boulder, Montana. Super-sleuth Susie had gotten herself asked out on a date by the new guy in town. He was having lunch at the Chat & Chew and Susie had accidentally on purpose dropped his check on the floor. While bending over to retrieve it, she’d provided the guy a glimpse down her blouse. At the cash register, paying his bill, he asked her what time she got off work, and “Would you care to join me for a drink at the Red Eye down the street after you get off?”
“Sure,” Susie had said, “but I’ll want to change out of this waitress uniform first – into something a little more . . . attractive. Make it five o’clock?”
Walking home after work, Susie’s mind raced ahead. How fast should I ask for his name? I have to tell him my real name – he probably already knows it. When do I ask how he happens to know Charlie Furbush – without sounding suspicious? What if he tries to kiss me? Should I just play the dumb blonde all night? Promise yourself a two-drink limit, she decided, and then say you have to go home to make supper.
When she arrived at the Red Eye a little after five, he was sitting at a table near the back, looking, she thought, every bit the gangster type who always faces the door. In truth, he was dressed pretty normally, a western shirt, jeans, cowboy boots. She had put on her tightest jeans and a sweater that fit snugly revealing two points way up high.
“Not sure we properly met,” Susie said with a smile, approaching his table. “My name’s Susie Cole.”
“The name’s John Dougherty, Miss Cole. Can I call you Susie?”
“Please. John . . . such a common name. You must have picked up a nickname or two along the way?”
“Not really. Sometimes they call me the ‘Dough-Boy’ because I always seem to have the dough when it’s needed.”
“What do you do for a living?” she asked.
“Gotta cattle ranch up in Alberta, but I’m looking to move back to the States, sell the ranch, and retire somewhere where there’s plenty of good hunting and fishing – and maybe meet a new lady to take up with.”
Susie’s mind was racing again. That was way too forward on his part. Is it too early to tell him I’m available? Or the perfect opportunity to warm him up some more?
“Oh, slow down now. We barely know each other. Do you have any friends around here?”
“Yeah, I gotta couple pals in the hunting business – you know, hunting parties for those rich types who like to come up from the big cities for Elk season. That kind of thing.”
“I noticed you were in the Chat & Chew with Charlie Furbush the other day. He’s pretty famous in these parts, you know.”
“Yeah, Charlie’s one of my buddies. Sure glad he got cleared on that murder rap. A bum rap it was. Somebody steals your rifle and you get blamed for a murder. Glad the jury was able to sort it out.”
“How ‘bout a game of pool? You shoot pool?” she asked him.
“You bet,” he said. “Last pocket, for a dollar?”
After he took her for a dollar, she said she had to head home to prepare supper. “But Dough-Boy, John, I mean, I’m gonna win that dollar back next time.”
That night she called her son Joey in Vancouver to see if he knew “Dough-Boy.”
“Mom! That’s one of the names Furbush gave me!” Joey said way too loud. “Not Dough-Boy, it’s Dougherty, John Dougherty! All these guys are super-dangerous! Dougherty and Furbush are full-fledged Proud Boys, part of the sex-trafficking ring. They don’t stop at killing when it comes to keeping their enterprise afloat. Go catch up with the Rumpkins again, wherever they are! Not sure why Abdul was killed, but probably because he knew too much. Stay away from Dougherty! Get out while you can.”
Susie couldn’t wait to tell Skip about the Dougherty-Furbush-Vancouver connection, but all she got was his voice mail. It was close to midnight on the east coast. Skip wasn’t sleeping, right away he checked his voice mail, and called Susie back. Excitedly, she told Skip the details of her date with Dougherty and her call to Joey.
“Wow! Impressive!,” Skip told her. “Great job, detective! It’s the lead we need!”
Although it warmed her heart hearing how glowing Skip was of her sleuthing, she ended up saying, “But what the heck do I do now?”
Skip was worried for her, “Geez, what are you going to do? How well have you gotten to know Dougherty?”
“Well, I think he’s totally a jerk frankly, but I told him I wanted to see him again, and I’m determined to help you get to the bottom of things,” Susie replied.
“Well, if you go on a second date with him, I wouldn’t pump him for any more information. Just let him do all the talking and try to keep your flirting in check. You’ve done great work getting the name. There are some leads on this end I can check. If Dougherty’s the guy I think he is, you don’t want to go on any more dates with him.”
Although it was late back at the Stoney Crest Campground, Skip quickly rounded up Rocky and Max. “I’m pretty sure I know who Gordy’s cellmate was and he’s in Boulder, Montana as we speak. We gotta get hold of Ken right away. If Gordy’s cellmate was the name Susie told me, John Dougherty, then this guy is one – a sex trafficker; two – a terrorist; and three – dating Susie!”
Rocky said, “Somebody out there, somebody we’re close to learning about, knows the connection between the ballpark bombing and Abdul’s murder. Max, you should call your ex-Lisa and confront her with Ken being part of a sex trafficking operation. The way you talk about Lisa, she’d never stand for anybody doing that kind of shit, especially her own brother, and either turn-up the heat on him, or turn him in.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Max said. “We don’t have any evidence Ken is involved with sex trafficking or murder. Skip, might be better if you call Ken.”
“Good,” Skip said. “I’ll threaten Ken with telling his sister . . . little girls from Thailand, being sold as sex slaves . . . and his sister is going to hear all about it unless he tells who this John Doe Something-or-Rather’s really is.”