“Yeah, one thing puzzled me,” Jack says. “The story I got is he came home from church and never went inside the house. He gets out of the car and heads out to the barn, saying he’ll be right in and is trying to find his pocket knifethinks it might be in his tackle box and he forgot to take it out when he came home from fishing the other day. He never comes back to the house. In other words, he never ate Sunday dinner. But this little guy had a full stomach.”
“Could you tell what he might have eaten?” I ask.
“Yeah. Popcorn, for one thing. And looks like he ate hot-dogs. So I call his house and talk to his stepdad. I ask if Benny might have eaten anything at church and am told no. His step-dad’s got no idea where the food came from,” Jack replies.
“That’s very odd,” I comment. “So he comes home from church and goes out to hang himself, but stops off someplace to eat popcorn and hotdogs first?” I get up from the counter. “Something’s wrong with that picture.”
“If it wasn’t for the gastric contents, I’d say it’s a straightforward suicide.” Jack remains seated, looking up at me. “I could kill Stanfield for cutting through the knot. The fuck-head.”
“Maybe we should take a look at where Benny was hanged,” I decide. “Go to the scene.”
“They live on a farm in James City County,” Jack says. “Right on the river, and apparently the woods where he was hanged are at the edge of the field, not even a mile from the house.”
“Let’s go,” I tell him. “Maybe Lucy can give us a ride.”
IT IS A TWO-HOUR FLIGHT FROM THE HANGAR IN
New York to HeloAir in Richmond, and Lucy was more than happy to show off her new company vehicle. The plan is simple. She will pick up Jack and me and land us at the farm, then the three of us will check out where Benny White allegedly killed himself. I also want to see his bedroom. Afterwards, we will drop Jack off in Richmond and I will return to New York with Lucy, where I will stay until the special grand jury hear- ing. This is all planned for tomorrow morning, and Detective Stanfield has no interest in meeting us at the scene.
“What for?” are the first words out of his mouth. “What you need to go there for?”
I almost mention the gastric contents that don’t make sense. I come close to inquiring as to whether there was anything Stanfield observed that made him suspicious. But I catch myself. Something stops me. “If you can just give me directions to their place,” I tell him.
He describes where Benny White’s family lives, just off Route 5, I can’t miss it because there is a small country store at the intersection, and I need to turn left at that store. He gives me landmarks that will not be helpful from the air. I finally get it out of him that the farm is less than a mile from the ferry near Jamestown, and that’s when I realize for the first time that Benny White’s farm is very close to The Fort James Motel and Camp Ground.
“Oh yeah,” Stanfield says when I ask him about this. “He was right there in the same area as the other ones. That’s what had him so upset, according to his mom.”
“How far is the farm from the motel?” I ask.
“Right across the creek from it. It’s not much of a farm.”
“Detective Stanfield, is there any possibility Benny knew Bev Kiffin’s children, her two boys? I understand Benny liked to fish.” I envision the fishing pole leaning against the upstairs window in Mitch Barbosa’s townhouse.
“Now, I know the story about him supposedly getting his pocket knife out of his tackle box, but I don’t think that’s what he did. I think he just wanted an excuse to get away from everybody,” Stanfield replies.
“Do we know where he got the rope?” I push aside his annoying assumptions.
“His stepdaddy says there’s all kinds of rope in the barn,” Stanfield replies. “Well, they call it a barn but it’s where they just keep junk. I asked him what was in there, and he said just junk. You know, I got a hunch Benny might have run into Bar-bosa out there, you know, fishing, and we know Barbosa was nice to kids. That sure would help explain it. And his mama did say the boy had been having nightmares and was mighty upset by the killings. Was scared to death, is the way she put it. Now what you’re gonna want to do is go straight to the creek. You’ll see the barn at the edge of the field, and then the woods right off to the left. There’s an overgrown footpath and where he hung himself is maybe fifty feet down that path where a deer stand is. You can’t miss it. I didn’t climb up it, up the deer stand, to cut down the rope, only cut off the end that was around his neck. So it should still be right where it was. The rope should be right there where it was.”