A Friend to Die For

By F. Terry Tome

The Saga of Jeff Blade is a story of one man's experiences fighting crime while attempting to help others find meaning, friendship, and Jesus as his own faith evolves in his quest to be a disciple of Jesus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886852509

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A Friend to Die For

F. Terry Tome

ISBN 979-8-88685-249-3 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88685-250-9 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by F. Terry Tome

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

About the Author

Chapter 1

My name is Jeff Blade. I'm kind of a self-described jack-of-all-trades and, in my opinion, master of probably none; but who knows, I keep trying. I am single, love the outdoors, and always wanted a dog; but I'm not home enough to make it a good home. I'm pretty independent and have a one-on-one relationship with Jesus.

It had been ten years since my discharge from the Marine Corps and almost eight years since I joined the police force in Buffalo, New York. For the last eight months, as a result of a gunshot wound that threatened to put me out of commission completely, I have been driving myself and anyone close to me crazy. My recovery has been slow, in my eyes but, according to the doctors, a miracle that I'm still here. Shortly after my injury, when I was recovering, I got a call from my old friend from the corps days, Jon Wade. When Jon left the corps, he had taken over his dad's private investigation business in a little town in southwestern New York State.

Jon had heard of the shooting that took me down, and he called to check on me and wish me rapid recovery, but in addition, he had been trying to get me into his business for the past couple of years and felt this might be an ideal time to try again. After a lengthy visit on the phone, we hung up with the understanding that I would consider his offer.

I had been involved with undercover work, and though dangerous, I enjoyed the excitement. My thought about PI employment was it would be just the opposite—boring with little, if any, excitement and just plain boring. The thought of small-town life was exciting and Jamestown New York where Jon hailed from was a stone's throw from the New York and Pennsylvania hills and woods where I had grown up and loved so dearly. I really didn't give it much more thought at the time; and then today, several months later, as I was leaving the precinct, after begging to get back on active duty but given that old cliché You need more time before we can release you crap, I got a call from Gayle, Jon's wife.

She said Jon had been a victim of what appeared to be an intentional hit-and-run, and the police seemed to have no leads. Gayle said Jon was hanging on to life but the prognosis was not clear, at this time, and it was a wait-and-see period filled with prayer. She asked how I was doing and if I would eventually be back on the force. I said I felt I was doing great, but the department seems to be dragging their feet on giving me clearance to return to duty. She then asked if I was well enough to travel, and I said I was.

She went on then to say that Jon had yelled out my name before he lost consciousness. The hit-and-run had taken place outside his office and a man walking by was able to call 911 and be with Jon until the ambulance arrived. There was not much the man could do. Jon was pretty banged up, but it appeared he was looking right at the car windshield as the car was coming at him and might have recognized something because he kept saying your name and the word homogenize. Does that mean anything to you?

I thought for some period of time and finally answered, I don't think so.

Gayle then said between sobs, Would you be willing to come down for a few days and help me get a handle on this as well as take a look at his cases? Everything will need to be put on hold or turned over to other investigators. I said I would get my things in order and drive down as soon as I could, probably within a day or two. She said between sobs, Thank you. God bless you, and hung up.

If there was anything in my memory having to do with the word Jon kept repeating, it was obviously not surging to the front, but maybe, in time, my subconscious would bring it forth.

*****

If I was to head out for Jamestown, I needed to think through what I needed to do here before I left. My home, so to speak, was a condo on the outskirts of Buffalo, New York. Though I worked in the big city and enjoyed its availability sometimes, I much preferred the small town, rural environment and chose it for what I would call home about twenty miles out of the city.

The condo had two nice bedrooms plus an office and two bathrooms. What more could one person ask? It was only two years old when I purchased it and in excellent condition. I keep it that way, but sometimes, I have gotten a little lax on my housework since my injury, but nothing serious. Since I'm single and have no pets, it seemed a simple matter of asking my neighbor to check my apartment on occasion and pick up my mail.

Frank, my neighbor, is an older fellow, retired, and always around. I called, and he said he would handle it. Told me to keep in touch and call if I needed anything else. He is also a retired policeman, so I didn't tell him my reason for leaving, or I would have lost hours of valuable time just explaining in detail what had happened, when I didn't yet know myself. I thought about what I would need in the way of clothes and for my investigation. Where I was going was only a couple of hours away, so I packed what I felt was important and loaded it into my truck.

Ah yes, my truck. It was my baby. I purchased it a couple of years ago. I had owned trucks for years, and then a few years back, when I joined the police force, I figured I would not need a truck anymore, and I sold it. I purchased a nice little Honda V6, and it was very nice. It was great on gas and very nice to drive, but notice I've described it twice as nice. It was, but it was not a truck, and I really liked to drive a truck.

I have a friend who had this Ram 1500 4×4 with a Hemi engine and side pockets. It is white with chrome wheel covers and a light-gray trimming on the lower panels. We made a deal. I bought his at cost, and I sold him mine a little below cost, so he could resell it and make a buck—140,000 miles and running like new.

As I pulled out of my driveway heading for Jamestown there were a thousand things going through my head. First, I was praying for Jon that God would give him the strength to pull through this. Then there was concern for Gayle and their two girls. From there, my thoughts wandered to Jamestown, a city where I had spent a lot of my time while in my teens. How well I knew the city back then and how it had changed in the years since.

Then back to Jon and how we had met one night at the Bull Frog bar in Falconer, just east of Jamestown. We were both in high school and only a few months from graduation. Both too young to be drinking in a bar, but it seemed that was what all kids our age did. A lot of not-too-nice things went on at these places, but it was either come along or stay home, which I never seemed to want to do. The guys I had come with were all wandering around the bar looking for girls or some other less lawful things to do.

The music was so loud we couldn't hear at the bar; so after we had introduced ourselves and talked for a bit, we found a table a ways away from the bar where we could talk, drink, and wait for my friends to find their way back. Jon actually was by himself. He was on his way home from work and stopped in to see if any of his buddies were in. They weren't, so he was actually getting ready to leave when I came up to the bar.

Anyway, as we talked about what we were doing and what we planned to do after graduation, I said I was planning to join the Marine Corps. He thought for a bit and then said, I should do something like that. My current job is a no-brainer, and I don't see things getting better. That is really not a bad idea. As the story goes, we continued to discuss this over the coming weeks, and a week or so after our graduations, we were on our way to Parris Island.

Our friendship had grown, and I was his best man when he and Gayle were married. Jon and Gayle were both good Catholics and spent much of their time in church activities and other civic activities helping the poor and down and out people.

I had kind of lost track of their lives as my life became more focused after joining the police force. We still kept in touch on birthdays and holidays but had not been together in several years. I had missed the girls' births and their baptisms, but I received pictures often as well as updates on their activities, so now at six and four, it seemed I knew them. I struggled with the thought that they might lose their dad.

I wondered what Jon had been working on and whether it had any bearing on what happened. I also wondered how Gayle fit into the business if she did and whether she would be able to carry on should Jon not make it. I traveled on.

Chapter 2

To me while growing up, Jamestown was a big city. Don't know what the population was then and have no idea what it is today, but at my current age of thirty-five, it no longer seemed too large. It has all of the problems of larger cities as it did when I was growing up but certainly not to the extent of larger cities. Don't get me wrong. One could die in Jamestown in pretty much the same way they could die in larger cities if caught playing with fire.

There were always rumors years ago that the mafia moved into the smaller cities like Jamestown and Olean from Buffalo, causing the little towns to have similar problems to the larger cities just on a smaller scale. I have no idea if there was any truth to the rumors. I was trying to remember what I knew about getting around in Jamestown but not much was coming to the surface.

It had been years since visiting the area, so I drove down 219 through Ellicottville. I used to ski in this area when I was younger and thought I could reminisce, though I don't know why, as it was dark and difficult to see the hills in the dark. Besides, I had more important thoughts in my mind. First and foremost Jon's condition and whether he could survive. Second, it sounded as if Gayle thought it may have been on purpose. A chilling thought, what might Jon be mixed up in?

I pulled into downtown, got a motel room, and called Gayle. I told her I was in town and asked how Jon was doing. She said no change, he was still in a coma, and the next few days will be critical. I asked for the address of Jon's office, and we agreed on a time to meet there in the morning. I was a little wound up from all that was going on with Jon and my reinstatement, so I decided to take a ride over to the scene of the crime.

I had called my buddy Ralph, after Gayle had called earlier, and asked if he would get me a copy of the police report on Jon's hit and run plus any other information that might be out there for discussion. Ralph had been my partner when we worked patrol and we had become good friends. He was now a detective working homicide. He got back to me during my drive, and the report had nothing new, but the thinking by some seemed to suggest it could be the works of the underground.

I tried to keep an open mind on all this until I had a better understanding of what Jon might have been working on. I know Jon had always been a man of action and willing to push to and maybe a little beyond safe limits when following a lead. Which, in part, always made me wonder why he had become a private eye. My perception of a private eye's life was just not what I had always known to be his cup of tea.

As I drove toward Jon's office, I was seeing a new side of Jamestown and possibly a new side of Jon. The area was relatively new and very modern. The buildings were not huge but of reasonable size and the decor of the buildings, and the area was pure money. I think I was a bit surprised when I pulled up to his office building. It appeared that Jon had been doing very well. Although his office was on the end of this building and did not appear to be large, the real estate in his area spoke for itself.

I sat in my truck and was just trying to take it all in. The picture I was seeing did not mesh with the picture of Jon that I thought I knew. As those thoughts were going through my head, I noticed the police cones and tape marking off the crime scene. I got out of my truck and walked over toward the taped-off area.

The buildings were set up in a quad formation with a nice well-lit park in the center and parking all around the outside. It seemed confusing, but it appears the vehicle that ran over Jon was parked somewhere in this area between the buildings and waited for Jon to arrive at the office. How could this be? A vehicle parked in the middle of a walk-only area would be so out of place that everyone would notice. And yet it seemed no one was alarmed until it came alive and started for Jon. There were no tire marks, and the only marks on the ground in the taped area were what appeared to be dried blood.

I walked over to the office entrance. It was only about fifty feet from where Jon was hit. I wondered if Jon had any time to react once he saw the vehicle coming. There were a couple of trees close by that may have saved him, but if he had been preoccupied in any way, he was a sitting duck.

I shook my head. Who could be so angry that they would go to this extreme to kill or at least put Jon out of commission? I walked over toward the office. The windows were the newer type that won't let you see in. I then walked around the side of the building to see if there were other entrances. There was a back entrance, but it appeared to be farther from parking, so it probably was not the normal entrance. I returned to the truck and drove back to the motel.

After breakfast and coffee the next morning, I made my way back to the office to meet Gayle. I parked as close as I could and walked toward the office. As I walked, I tried to imagine Jon doing the same yesterday morning. The place was alive with activity. People were hurrying in all directions. Because of the parking being on the outside of this quad configuration, all the foot traffic was one way but kind of mixed, I guess, based on where people parked and the line walking to their building.

If someone was to drive through here right now, they would hit a whole bunch of people. Jon was here at 6:30 a.m. when, with the exception of the person who saw it happen and called 911, almost no one was present.

I walked into Jon's office, and there at the reception desk was Gayle. Gayle is a very successful person in her own right, having graduated near the top of her class from Princeton University where she majored in engineering. Almost immediately upon obtaining her master's in engineering, she was hired by one of the largest construction companies in southern New York State. It just happened to be owned by her father.

We hugged and shared the usual Good to see you. Sorry, it has been so long and then sat down to address the problems at hand. I asked if there had been any change in Jon's condition, and she said no. How are the girls handling things?

She replied, So far, pretty well, but if he doesn't begin to improve, I'm not sure.

Gayle is about five feet seven and possibly 140 pounds. She is not unattractive but certainly not a beauty. My perception of Gayle has always been that of an outdoor person, very competent, personable, and a good mom and wife.

So what is going on, Gayle?

She got a concerned look in her eyes, and then said, I honestly don't know. Jon has not appeared to be overly stressed, and I can't put my finger on anything he has said that might run up a red flag. He appears to be relaxed most evenings, and though his workload continues to grow, it has never hit me to be concerned. You know as well as I that his business is always fluctuating, so you kind of learn to flex with it. For the last several weeks, though, he has been going in anywhere from 5:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. He said his client was committed to being in other places throughout the day, so they agreed to meet at various times in the morning to discuss progress and plans. I thought nothing of it.

Chapter 3

S o what would you like from me? I asked.

"Jeff, you know Jon would trust you with his life. In fact, he already has. What I would ask of you, if you're willing, is the look through all of Jon's files and see what he has been doing in the past and what he has been doing currently. Check out who we have to answer to and if there are projects we can put on hold for some period of time or maybe turn over to other