Dennis cuts his eyes at me, but I offer nothing. “You wanna explain that statement?”
When Kaiser doesn’t answer, I say, “Our junior G-man thinks he’s working the JFK assassination.”
Dennis’s eyes narrow. After squinting at Kaiser for fifteen seconds, he says, “Why not the Lindbergh baby?”
Kaiser angrily shakes his head. “What you guys don’t know . . . Jesus.”
“Do you see what’s going on in this parish?” Walker asks, waving his hand to take in his casualties and their families. “I’ve got good men down, and one dead. Bastards who murdered people forty years ago still killing people today. And they’ve got their kids helping them. When I saw you draining the Jericho Hole yesterday, I figured we were on the same side. But it’s starting to look to me like you’re just in the way.”
“That’s because you’ve got blinders on,” Kaiser says, not the slightest bit intimidated. “Penn, could I speak to you alone?”
“I don’t think so. We’re in Sheriff Dennis’s jurisdiction. I’m just the mayor of Natchez, as you reminded me last night. And I’m not really interested in the Kennedy assassination right now.”
“No?” Kaiser lowers his voice again. “What if I told you that one of the rifles we took out of the ruins of Brody Royal’s house was a 6.58-millimeter Mannlicher-Carcano, just like the rifle Oswald fired from the Texas Book Depository? It’s the exact variant, 40.5 inches long.”
I think about this for a few seconds. “I’d say you found yourself a replica that Brody bought to add to his little collection. Like a model of the starship Enterprise.”
“That Carcano’s no replica. It’s a genuine Italian surplus war rifle that was probably made within a few months of the one Oswald bought through the mail in 1962.”
“Does it have a serial number?”
“It does. It also has fingerprints on it.”
“How is that possible? The fire would have—”
“This rifle wasn’t in Royal’s basement.” Kaiser’s eyes shine with triumph. “We found it in a gun safe in the old man’s study, on the main floor of the house. Everything in that safe was in pristine condition. Agents from our Legat in Rome have contacted the Italian government to trace the records. The odds are that Royal’s rifle was shipped to the U.S. for retail sale, like most of the other Carcano surplus in the fifties.”
“Great. But I’m not interested.”
“Penn, how sure are you about the type of rifles you saw in that special display case?”
To my surprise, Sheriff Dennis seems to be listening closely.
“I know neither was a Mannlicher-Carcano,” I tell Kaiser. “Any Texas prosecutor has talked to enough JFK conspiracy nuts to know what Oswald’s rifle looked like. The Carcano has an extended trigger housing and a forestock that nearly reaches the end of the barrel. It’s basically a crappy weapon. The rifles I saw in that display case were expensive hunting rifles with quality scopes. Surely you’ve identified them by now?”
“We think so. But let’s double-check.” Kaiser pulls a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and shoves it at me. “Have a look and see if you can ID the two rifles you saw in that case.”
While Dennis stares with knitted brows, I take the inkjet-printed sheet. It shows a column of eight rifles in full color and good resolution. At first they look very similar, but the closer I study them, the more differences I see.
“I’m pretty sure this is the one that had the MLK date under it,” I say, pointing to a lever-action hunting rifle. “What is it?”
“Winchester Model 70,” says Kaiser. “Classic sniper rifle. What about the one dated November twenty-second?”
After narrowing the remaining weapons down to two, I point at the one that looks most like the image from my memory. “This one.”
Kaiser gives a half smile. “Right both times. That’s a Remington Model 700. A hot load in that rifle drives a bullet close to four thousand feet per second, depending on the caliber. Perfect for the Kennedy head shot. And that’s one of the rifles we found. Minus the incinerated wooden parts, of course.”
“Then why the hell are you making such a fuss about the Mannlicher-Carcano from Royal’s study?”
“Because it raises so many questions. And if I’m right, it’s going to connect the Royal-Knox-Marcello group directly to Oswald and Dallas. I’ll bet you any amount of money that the final shipping destination of that rifle was Louisiana, Mississippi, or Texas.”
“I told you, John. Not interested.”
“Hold up a second,” says Sheriff Dennis, his eyes on Kaiser. “Are you saying Brody Royal had something to do with the assassination of President Kennedy?”
“I am. But that’s confidential case information, Sheriff. And not just Brody Royal.”
“Who else? The Knoxes?”
Kaiser shakes his head. “I shouldn’t say more at this time.”
“He thinks the Knoxes and Carlos Marcello had a hand in it,” I say. “Crime of the century.”
Kaiser glares at me, but Sheriff Dennis is studying the FBI agent intently. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Do I look like a joker to you, Sheriff?”
“No, sir, you don’t. And I know a little bit about the Marcello clan. If you really believe you can solve the Kennedy case, I can respect that. But you’ve got to grant me the same courtesy. You probably don’t know it, but I lost a cousin to these bastards in a drug buy gone bad a couple of years back. A dirty cop killed him. And Forrest Knox covered for that bastard. I mean to make those Knoxes pay, you hear? We’ve put up with their crap for too long in this parish. I drew the line this morning, and there’s no going back. So, I wish you well with your work. If there’s any way I can help you with your case, I will. But I won’t stop my own work on the Double Eagles. And you’d do well not to try to interfere. Okay?”
Sheriff Dennis doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns and walks back through the door to the treatment room, where one of the deputy’s sons is crying.