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WEDNESDAY MORNING, A TALL GEORGIA State Patrolman walked into the post office, looked at Jim and asked: “Is Mr. Barkley here?”
“Yes, sir, in the back. I’ll get him.” Jim hurried to the back room. “Mr. Barkley! A policeman wants to see you.”
Barkley came into the lobby and, seeing the patrolman, grabbed the tall man’s hand and shook it with the enthusiasm of a long, lost friend. “Sam! What are you doing here! Mother! Mother! Come see who’s here!”
As soon as Mrs. Barkley walked through the door and saw the man her eyes filled with tears. She put her arms around him, hugging him like only a mother can. She was crying when she asked him if he could stay for a while. Embarrassed by the tears in his own eyes the patrolman replied: “I’m not sure. I have a job to do.”
“What kind of job?”
The trooper then remembered he wasn’t alone and introduced the gentleman with him as Walter Rodgers from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation.
“What’s the GBI doing in Blue Ridge”— asked Mr. Barkley.
“Haven’t you heard Billy Bob Foster is missing? Walter was assigned the case and when I heard he was being given a trooper to assist, I volunteered for the job.”
“No kidding? How’s the investigation going?”
“It’s not yet. We just arrived. You wouldn’t know anyone that might know his whereabouts?”
“Mr. Bob or Craig would be my first guess.”
“They were the ones who reported him missing — the patrolman said — claiming they have no clue where he is.”
Jim interrupted with: “I bet Nick would have an idea.”
The trooper, looking at Jim, said: “Who’s this Nick fellow?”
Mr. Barkley would barge in in: “Nick Turner, he’s the bartender at the club.”
“Nick Turner that was the county sheriff?”
“That’s him.”
“Michael told me a lot about him. I would love to meet him. Mr. Barkley, could you introduce Walter and I to Nick?”
“I can’t leave the post office just now but if you’ll wait until three o’clock I’ll be happy to do just that.”
Walter Rodgers said: “I’d like to get this investigation started. Do you know anyone else we could talk to?”
Jim asked: “Mike, would it be okay if I took them to see Nick?”
“Yeah! That’s a great idea. I’m sorry, Sam, I forgot to introduce you to Jim Cole. Jim has been helping mother and me for the last few months. Jim, this is Sam Wright. He was Michael’s platoon leader in Vietnam.”
Jim’s mind flew back to the letter written by Michael.
“Sir, it’s an honor to meet you.”
“Same here. Do you know Nick?”
“Yes, sir. He was my first new friend after the Barkleys. Billy Bob is always dropping by to see Nick.”
“Would he just drop by to see Nick or get a beer?”
Smiling, Jim said: “I’m not sure.”
“Well, Mike, if you don’t mind loaning me Jim for a couple of hours, we’ll go meet Nick Turner.”
“Go with my blessings.”
“Jim, you can hop in the back seat.”
As he got in he remembered the first time he rode in a state patrol car. He tried the handles and, as expected, the doors wouldn’t open. He almost panicked but got a grip and began talking to the trooper about anything and everything to calm his nerves. Relieved beyond words when the back door of the car opened in the parking lot of the club, Jim noticed the building was locked up but saw Nick’s car out front.
“Do you think he’s here?”
“Yes, sir, that’s his car.”
Walter banged on the door with his fist. In a few minutes Nick came to the door.
“Jim, what’s goin’ on? Are you in trouble?”
“No, sir. Billy Bob is missing and these two men are looking for him.”
“What have I got to do with this?”
“I told them you might know where he hangs out.”
“Oh, okay. Well, come on it. Would you like a Coke or tea? I know you’re on duty.”
“No, sir! I’m Sam Wright. Michael Barkley told me a lot about you.”
“Nice to meet you, Sam. Michael wrote me a lot about you also. He said you were his boss and that you planned to return to your job as a state trooper when the ‘Nam tour was over. He had a lot of good things to say about you. He also said that you were going to help him settle a score and he might need my help as sheriff. Did you help him settle that score?”
“No. He was killed before I could find out anything about the real problem.”
“That’s sad.”
“Yes, sir, it is. Michael was a good man.”
“The best.”
“Let’s talk about Billy Bob.”
“Where have you checked?”
“Nowhere. We just arrived two hours ago.”
“Where does Mr. Bob think he is?”
“He has no clue.”
“How long has he been missing, or should I say ‘away from home’?”
“Since Saturday.”
“Has anyone checked the farms he hunts on? Saturday was the first day of deer season.”
“No, sir. Do you know the location of these farms?”
“Not exactly. Billy Bob talked about Sugar Creek passing through them. That would mean they are located west of here.”
“Can we call Mr. Bob and find out their location?”
“Sure enough. I’ll call him now.”
Nick returned from the phone then said: “Mr. Bob told me he would meet us where Boardtown Road joins Main Street.” Nick volunteered to lead them there.
“Jim, would you like to ride with me?”
Walter interjected: “That’ll be good as we will need help to cover that farm.”
As the convoy arrived at the meeting place Jim saw Mr. Bob and Craig waiting in a black Cadillac. As they drove up Mr. Bob waved for them to follow him. In less than twenty minutes Mr. Bob pulled down the grassy road Billy Bob had traveled on Saturday. Billy Bob’s parked car stood out like a white flag. Mr. Bob stopped five feet from the patrol car. Walter Rodgers got out quickly and took control: “Don’t walk around the area. I want to treat this as a crime scene until we prove differently.”
Sam walked up to the car and observed it was locked. He and Walter walked around the car looking for tracks. Because of the area being covered with grass this was very difficult. Then Nick suggested they look for a path that he could take to his deer stand. As they looked around there was one path where the grass appeared to have been disturbed in the last week. It led to the creek.
As they followed the trail, Walter cautioned not to pick up or disturb anything they might find.
They eventually came to the stand where Jim was given to hunt. When they saw the first stand the progress stopped. Sam and Walter began to look around for Billy Bob. Sam found a boot track. It looks like he walked around here. Jim pointed out a track to Nick on the trail that led to Billy Bob. Nick called to Sam that it appeared Billy Bob had gone this way.
As they followed the trail they flushed two buzzards. Sam commented: “That’s not a good sign.”
Then the wind, changing directions, gusted in their faces. Mr. Bob asked: “What in the world is that smell?”
Grimly, Sam responded: “Only one thing smells like that, a dead body. I carried too many in ‘Nam not to recognize it.”
Craig was the first to see the body.
“Oh, my God! Look at him hanging up there.”
Walter stopped them all with: “No one passes here. It looks like we will need a coroner. Who is that in Fannin County, Nick?”
“That would be...ah...Dr. Burns.”
“Could you go get him?”
“Yes, sir. Jim do you want to ride with me?”
“Yeah. The smell is making me sick.”
Dr. Burns was in his office and luckily had a light load. When he arrived at the scene he asked the trooper: “What do we have?”
“Looks like a hunting accident. The only tracks are his. It appears a small limb caught in his trigger and as he pulled the rifle up it went off. My only question is why would his safety be off?”
Nick chimed in: “I told him that would get him killed.”
“What do you mean?”
“He never put his weapons on safety. He thought the safety would slow him down.”
“What a fool!”
Dr. Burns had them lower the body to the ground. Sam pulled out Billy Bob’s pistol and said: “Look at this. He even had the safety off on his pistol.”
Dr. Burns took some notes and pronounced Billy Bob as an accidental death. Promising to do the autopsy that evening, he suggested to Sam and Walter that the inquest be held at noon on Friday. They agreed. Mr. Bob asked when they could bury him. Burns said the body could be released on Friday, so Saturday would be good. Needing to get back to work, Nick asked: “Is there anything I can do?”
“Can you drop Jim off and call an ambulance to pick up the body?” — Sam said.
“Sure, anything else?”
“Yeah. Jim, tell Mike I would like to treat everyone to supper.”
“Yes, sir. I will. I’ll do that.”
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