A Dismal Thing To Do (22 page)

“He never said.”

“Then how do you know he’s got any?”

“They been comin’ an’ goin’.”

“Whereabouts?”

“His house.”

“How do you know?”

“I seen ’em.”

“When?”

“Now an’ again.”

“Let’s speed this up a little,” Madoc intervened. “Were you in company with these men, or were you spying on them from outside?”

“I got a right to know what’s goin’ on around my own land, ain’t I?”

“Did Badger catch you sneaking around his yard? Is that how he roped you in on whatever he’s been up to? Or did he find out the sort of reputation you have around town, and approach you directly?”

“I guess he seen me an’ asked around,” Bain admitted. “Anyways, he come up to the house one day an’ wanted to know if I’d be willin’ to do a few odd jobs for ’im. I says what sort o’ jobs? He says just storin’ some stuff o’ his in my yard an’ maybe doin’ a little light truckin’ now an’ then. I seen no harm in that so I says what about the money? He gimme a pretty good figger.”

“How good?” Madoc prompted.

“I don’t have to tell you my private business.”

“Yes you do.”

“Hundred a week for the storin’,” Bain muttered, “an’ fifty extra for each trip.”

“Good Lord! What were you storing?”

“He says I better not ask.”

“But you took the job on anyway.”

“The money was good. Paid reg’lar, too.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since the fifteenth of October.”

“And how many trips have you made?”

“Last night was my twenty-first.”

“So you’ve made six hundred on the storage so far, and a thousand on the haulage.”

“Thousand an’ fifty.”

“Thank you for correcting my arithmetic. And in return for this, you’ve now lost everything you owned except for that old truck, which might fetch you five or ten dollars if anybody was fool enough to make an offer. It seems to me a man of your vaunted business acumen might have figured out what sort of characters you were working for. Didn’t you even snoop into the materials he was parking in your junkyard?”

“I couldn’t. It was hid in them seventeen portable privies. Mr. Badger put new padlocks on ’em an’ kept the keys hisself. Leastways I s’pose he did, I never got to see ’em. Never tried to force the locks, either, if that’s what you’re wonderin’. He says if he ever seen any sign I’d been messin’ around with ’em, the deal was off.”

“How did the stuff get into the privies?”

“I dunno. I think it mostly happened while I was off haulin’.”

“And what about this trucking you did? You wouldn’t be able to load and unload the cargo yourself, surely?”

“They’d come in the night an’ load up.”

“Who would?”

“Don’t ask me. I’d be asleep.”

“All twenty-one times?”

“I sleep pretty sound when I’m paid to.” The old sly grin sneaked across his unlovely face, then vanished. “Say, Inspector, you think I stand any chance o’ gettin’ damages out o’ Mr. Badger?”

“I think you could be in more trouble if you try that than you’re already in. Mr. Bain, hasn’t it yet occurred to you that for the past six months you’ve been an active accomplice in whatever illegal operation Mr. Badger’s been running in and out of your junkyard?”

“I don’t know it was illegal, do I? I never seen what he was runnin’.”

“Do you really think any jury could ever be persuaded into believing that kind of nonsense? Where did you take your loads?”

“Place over toward Oromocto.”

“Whereabouts in Oromocto?”

“I never said ’twas in Oromocto. I said it was around there someplace. Just an old house out on a back road all by itself ’cept for a barn down below it a ways. My orders was to leave the truck by the barn an’ walk up an’ go inside the house an’ stay there.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as it took. Sometimes fifteen, twenty minutes, sometimes as much as a couple of hours. Somebody’d come along an’ unload my truck, then they’d honk their horn a few times an’ drive off. I’d stay in the house till I heard ’em honkin’, then I’d walk back an’ get in my truck an’ drive back home. Them was the arrangements. I didn’t make ’em. I just carried ’em out, prompt an’ faithful.”

“Who lived in the house?”

“Nobody, from the look of it, nor hadn’t for some time. Warn’t much in it but a rusty ol’ parlor stove an’ a busted-down chesterfield an’ chair. An’ a bottle o’ booze in the kitchen.”

“Was it always the same bottle?”

“Not hardly. I figgered the men must o’ kept puttin’ one there for when they come by.”

“That would mean they used the house for other purposes than keeping you out of the way.”

“Oh yeah. I seen fresh footprints, an’ sometimes there’d be a fire in the stove that’d been burnin’ a good while.”

“Did you ever drink from the bottle?”

Bain shrugged. “I ain’t much for drinkin’. ’Course the bottle was just settin’ there an’ I’d be cold from all that drivin.’ Badger never told me not to.”

“Did you ever ask him?”

“Hell no. Why should I?”

“Was it good liquor?”

“It was free.”

“These men who unloaded the truck, they never came in and had a drink with you?”

“Nope. Never laid eyes on ’em. Might o’ been women, for all I know. They was always too far away to get a look at. I couldn’t see into the barn ’cause the house was up on top of a rise an’ set ’way back from the road. The barn was down underneath the hill a ways an’ opened right up to the road. They never showed up till I was inside the house, an’ like I said, I wasn’t s’posed to set foot outside the door till they’d druv off.”

“Weren’t you curious as to who they were?”

“Not for that kind o’ money I wasn’t.”

“You’re a beauty, Mr. Bain,” said Madoc. “Now what about this last trip you made on Saturday night? Did it go off just like the others?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“The house wasn’t there.”

“What happened to it?”

“Burnt right down to the ground. An’ the barn was all busted in. I didn’t know what to do. Drivin’ all that way—”

“So what did you do?” Madoc prompted.

“Set an’ cussed, if you want to know. Then a van come up.”

“What kind of van?”

“How the hell do I know? It was pitch dark. So anyways, the van stopped a little ways in front o’ me, an’ somebody come out with a flashlight an’ opened up the back. Then he waved the light like he was motionin’ me inside, so I went.”

“Did you get a look at this man?”

“Nope. He had one o’ them knitted masks over ’is face, like they wear snowmobilin’. Anyways, he shined the light right in my eyes so I was dazzled, like. Then he slammed the door on me.”

“Were you frightened?”

“Hell no. I was tired. I laid myself down on the floor an’ went to sleep. After a while, they opened the door an’ honked the horn, so I got up an’ walked back to my truck. By the time I got there, the van was gone. So I come home an’ found I didn’t have no home to come to, an’ then you come along an’ arrested me. An’ just as I was gettin’ myself halfway comfortable back there, you come threatenin’ me an’ roustin’ me out. Though I s’pose once they’ve carted Badger off, I might’s well move back in an’ take my punishment. At least till after breakfast.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” said Fred Olson. “If you think I’m turnin’ my lockup into a goddamn hotel, you can think again. You want this ol’ coot any longer, eh, Inspector?”

“You’re in charge here, Marshal, not I,” Madoc reminded him. “We know from his own statement that Mr. Bain is guilty of having aided and abetted a known criminal. We deduce that since the drop Badger had been using was destroyed by fire, he’d decided to work out a different method of moving his goods. That meant he didn’t want Bain in the picture any more, so he sent him on one last trip to get rid of whatever cargo was left in the privies. Then he blew up the house and yard to destroy any evidence of what had been going on, and to give Bain a broad hint as to what would happen if he talked. Naturally Badger wasn’t expecting to be caught. Even as it was, we saw how mortally afraid Bain was to be put in a position where Badger could get at him. You’d hardly have been so forthcoming just now if there hadn’t been all those good, strong iron bars between you and Badger, would you, Mr. Bain?”

The old man growled something they couldn’t make out, which was probably just as well.

“However,” Madoc went on, “the fact remains that Bain has made a full confession, most of which is probably true, and that he’s already had a pretty severe punishment dealt to him. He’ll have to testify against Badger sooner or later, I suppose, but in the meantime I don’t see why you and your wife should be put to the bother of looking after him, Marshal.”

“Me neither,” said Fred. “All right, Jase, git.”

“At this hour?” yowled Bain. “Where’m I s’posed to go?”

“That’s no skin off my nose.”

“But you can’t just shove an old man out in the cold an’ dark. That’s police brutality. I’ll complain to the authorities.”

“What authorities, for instance? I tell you what, Jase, why don’t you hike yourself on over to Maw Fewter’s? She’s got a spare room I daresay she’d be willin’ to put you up in now that Dot’s gone.”

“Goddamn hogpen. Besides, she’d want me to pay board.”

“Look here, Jase Bain,” Fred exploded, “if you’re hangin’ around here tryin’ to get pinched again for loiterin’, you better forget it. Next time I arrest you, you’ll go straight into that cell with Badger an’ if you’re still alive when the wagon gets here, you’ll be sent along to the county jail as an accomplice. Now you make up your mind which you’re goin’ to do, an’ you make it up fast.”

Bain said something quite spectacularly obscene, picked up the filthy old bearskin coat he’d brought with him from the lockup, and vanished into what was left of the night. A few seconds later one of Fred’s sons, a beefy lad of nineteen or so, charged into the garage with a down jacket tossed over flannel pajamas and his feet thrust into unlaced hiking boots.

“Hey Dad, what’s going on? I just met Old Man Bain stomping out of here, cussing his head off. What’d you release him at this hour for?”

“We brought in another customer an’ Jase begun makin’ a pest of himself. Inspector, you know my son George?”

Madoc shook hands with the good-looking youngster. “I believe we met at the Wadman’s party last month. My sister-in-law tells me you’re in line for a hockey scholarship.”

“An’ I tell him he can play if he wants to, but his studyin’ comes first,” said Fred. “None o’ this not bein’ able to read the diploma when he graduates.”

“Aw, Pop, I can already read three-letter words if the print’s big enough.” George grinned and put an affectionate armlock on his father. “No kidding, did you really bag somebody?”

“Yep. That man Badger who bought the old Fewter place.”

“Badger the hockey stick salesman? What for?”

“Just about everything, accordin’ to the inspector.”

Madoc nodded. “He’s on a number of most-wanted lists. The latest is for a jail break in Alberta, where he was serving life for arson and murder.”

“Him? That’s unreal. The kids call him Doughface. How’d you ever get on to Badger, Inspector?”

“Actually, it was your father who put us on the trail. It was also your father who put the collar on him, you’ll be proud to know.”

“Aw hell, Inspector,” Fred protested. “All I done was knock the bugger down an’ sit on him till Sam found the rope to hobble his feet.”

“You sat on a murderer?” Fred’s son groped for words, and finally came up with “Awesome! My old man’s a hero.”

“Hero be damned,” Fred snorted. “I’m too tired to be a hero.”

“Then why don’t you go grab some sleep? Hey, Inspector, I’ll be glad to stay with you and guard the prisoner.”

“Sam Neddick has that situation under control, thank you. Come to think of it, though, you might be able to help. I don’t know that I’ve had a chance to tell you, Marshal, but Janet’s fingered Jellicoe Grouse as one of the men she heard talking before they set fire to the house Bain had been using as his waiting room. Sam thinks he’ll keep till after the funeral, but I’m not so sure. Once the news of Badger’s arrest gets around, as it’s bound to do once Mrs. Fewter finds Bain on her doorstep, Grouse may be over the hills and far away. Besides, if we take him now, it will save the wagon an extra trip. George, could you ride out to Bigears with me and point out where Grouse is most apt to be staying? Or wouldn’t you know?”

“Sure I know. He’s shacking up with Nella McLumber.”

“What kind o’ talk is that?” his father rebuked. “Couldn’t you of said he’s her roomer?”

“Okay, Pop. He rents the room Nella sleeps in. That make you feel any better? Would you mind waiting a second till I get my pants on, Inspector? Come on, Pop, I’ll carry you upstairs.”

“H
OW WELL DID YOU
know Buddy McLumber, George?”

Madoc and the marshal’s son were riding in Fred’s tow truck to create the illusion they were on an errand of mercy in case Mrs. Fewter happened to be peeking from behind her curtains. George was at the wheel. Madoc was slouched in the seat beside him, trying to look like Fred and possibly succeeding, as dawn had not yet broken.

“Buddy?” George shrugged. “Oh, you know how it is, eh. In a place like Pitcherville, everybody knows everybody more or less. He was about seven years older than I, you know. We never hung out together or anything, but he’d offer me a lift if he saw me walking home from hockey practice, stuff like that. Bud was always out driving around.”

“In his own car?”

“In whatever came handy. That was the one big thing about Bud. I doubt if he knew one end of a crankshaft from the other, but he could drive anything that had a motor in it better than anybody I ever saw. That’s what he used to do, mostly. He’d drive a snowplow in the winter, tractors in the summer, delivery trucks, bulldozers, you name it. They were always temporary jobs, though. Bud couldn’t stick to any one thing for long, and I guess people would get sick of having him around. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was one of those know-it-alls, and he’d never shut up long enough to let you get a word in edgewise. But he’d always get hired because they knew he was good.”