Death at the Black Bull (23 page)

“Like I said, they really don't need much of anything. Unless a tire peels or an axle goes, they don't have much more than a sweep-out. That box that Buddy pulled is probably just sitting in that lot.”

*   *   *

Hours later, after the kids were in bed and the noise level had dropped considerably, Virgil made his way toward his vehicle. His grandfather had insisted on walking out with him. There was a light rain falling. There was no moon visible and the night was as dark as it could be. If it weren't for the spotlight, a walk outside in this kind of dark, even for just thirty feet, could end in an emergency room visit at the reservation clinic.

“Thanks again for this,” Virgil said.

The old man just waved his hand.

“And thank Billy for that.” Virgil pointed to the top of the ridge, high over the trailer where he knew there was a man with a rifle that he could no longer see.

“Take care, Virgil. Don't worry about this. If you're getting closer to the end, remember to keep your own rifle handy.”

Virgil drove off the mesa, feeling good about where he had placed Carlos and his family. It had been a long day and he was feeling it, but he wanted to make one more stop. He wanted to get a look at that trailer, but he didn't want to do it alone. He picked up the receiver and put a call in to Jimmy.

“You feel like joining me to make a late-night call down to Redbud and Hayward Trucking?” He explained to Jimmy what he wanted to do.

“Maybe we don't have to go to Redbud,” Jimmy said. “I'm just making my rounds and I saw one of those box trailers in Wade's place. Maybe it's the one you're looking for.”

“We'll see, Jimmy.”

Virgil hung up the receiver. “Wouldn't that be nice,” he said to the empty car.

Jimmy's cruiser was in the parking lot in back of the office by the time Virgil got there. Jimmy and Dif were sitting over some coffee and doughnuts.

“Well, if that don't fit the stereotype,” he said as he walked through the door. “Those things will kill you.”

Dif wiped some cream-filled doughnut off his lower lip.

“Something's gotta, Virgil. It might as well be this. I sure miss those days when it was just booze that'd do you in. Then it became smoke, then for a while it became coffee and butter. Just about everything in my past life that I enjoyed was trying to kill me and I never knowed it. And you know what, I made it this far. So now, creeping up on seventy, I kinda feel like if I'm so close to the edge that this here doughnut is going to push me over, then I'm ready to go. Hell, I'll jump if I'm that close.”

Virgil couldn't help smiling. “You know, that's a different way of looking at it. What do you think, Jimmy?”

“I don't know, Sheriff. But if everything you like is bad for you, what's the point? And them doughnuts sure are tasty. I don't want to feel guilty every time I eat one. Besides, I read somewheres that stress is a real killer and if you're always feeling guilty after enjoying something you like then all that stress from that guilt sure ain't doing you any good.”

“Well, you've convinced me.” Virgil sat down at his desk after pouring himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip from the steaming cup. “Dif, pass me that box of doughnuts.”

For the next twenty minutes, they sat around Virgil's desk, drinking coffee, eating doughnuts, and telling lies. Virgil swallowed the last of his second cup, put it down, and looked at the wall clock. It was almost one.

“Okay, Jimmy. Let's get 'er done and make some rounds.”

When they left the building, the night air was still heavy with the day's rain and a damp fog was rising like steam off the paved surfaces. Jimmy started heading for Virgil's car.

“No, Jimmy. Let's take yours. It'll look more normal. You just making your regular nightly tour.”

Virgil got in the backseat while Jimmy slipped behind the wheel. Virgil stretched across the seat, his head barely visible in the rearview mirror. “Just you alone in the car on patrol, like usual. Follow your usual route.”

It took close to a half hour before they came in sight of Wade's place.

“He opened the new car dealership last week,” Jimmy said.

“Wade seems to be really coming up in the world. Not bad for a kid they almost had to burn the school down for so he could graduate. Did you have much to do with him, Jimmy?”

“Nah, Wade and Buddy were older than me.”

“But you knew Buddy. And you liked him.”

“Yeah, Buddy always treated me nice. One time when some kids were getting after me, Buddy stepped in. He'd give me a wave whenever he saw me. One time, when I was down by the river with my little sister, he even stopped and threw us a Frisbee to play with. I heard some things about Wade that made me wonder why Buddy hung out with him. But Buddy always treated me nice. Here we are, Sheriff.”

Jimmy had driven around to the back of Wade's dealership, which was enclosed by an eight-foot chain-link fence. Virgil could see a trailer sitting in one far corner by itself.

“Now we get to see how lucky we are, and whether or not we're driving down to Redbud tonight.”

Jimmy sprayed the yard with light from the spot mounted on the side of the car, just as he always did when he made his rounds. The shadows held no secrets and the only movement came from a feral cat that was out looking for a late-night snack. The light came at last to rest on the container.

“How are we going to know if this is the right one?”

Virgil explained about the number identification and Jimmy worked the light until it played on the left front of the container and they could see the panel with the identifying information.

“I can't make those numbers out, Sheriff. Not from here anyway.”

“Well, if you can't with those twenty-five-year-old eyes, I've got no shot. We've got to get in there.”

“No sense in us both going. It might not be the right box.”

“Okay, Jimmy, you're elected.”

Virgil got out while Jimmy pulled the car into the fence. He got out, climbed onto the front bumper, then scaled the fence as Virgil looked on, envious at how easy he made it seem. Once on the other side, he quickly made it to the container and after a moment he waved to Virgil to join him. Virgil tried to duplicate Jimmy's agility, but quickly realized that a little more caution would get him on the ground in one piece. When he was at Jimmy's side, Jimmy played the light on the identifying numbers.

“Now all we gotta do is find out what's so special about this container.”

For the next few minutes, Jimmy and Virgil checked out the external condition of the box on wheels. Virgil double-checked the ID numbers while Jimmy crawled under the trailer to see if there was any kind of anomaly, but came up empty. Then they both went to the rear.

“It's got to be something inside,” Virgil said as he swung open the rear door. Jimmy hopped up, then turned and offered Virgil his hand. They played their flashlights across the interior. Not only was the inside completely empty, there wasn't so much as a trace of its last cargo. Not a pecan or even a shell. Nothing. The box was whistle clean.

“I don't know, Sheriff. There ain't a thing here. Not even dust. I don't see nothing special about this here trailer at all. Looks just like every other one I check out on the road. Newer than that one on the other side of the yard that Wade stores tires in, but nothing special.”

“There's got to be. We're just not seeing it.”

Virgil continued to play his light on the walls, the floor, over every inch until he finally came to a reluctant agreement with Jimmy. Finally, they both jumped back down onto the blacktop. Jimmy started heading toward the fence. When he glanced back, he saw that Virgil hadn't moved, so he walked back.

“Staring at it ain't going to make it happen. There's nothing there, Sheriff.”

“There's got to be. There's got to be.” Virgil had crouched down, shining his light on the undercarriage.

“I checked under there, went over every axle, even checked the wheel wells. Nothing. Nada. There's nothing different between this one and that old trailer over yonder.”

Virgil stood up, put his finger to his upper lip in a reflective pose Jimmy had seen before.

“Whatcha thinking, Sheriff?”

“Jimmy, you got a tape measure in your vehicle?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Do you mind getting it for me?”

Jimmy's answer was to turn and sprint to the chain-link fence. Virgil watched as he scaled the fence easily and just as easily on the way back, the square green casing of the tape measure visible in his hand. He handed it to Virgil. Virgil walked to the rear of the trailer, then with Jimmy's help measured the length, height, and width of the trailer. Then Jimmy followed as they walked away from the trailer they had been inspecting and headed to the old trailer on the other side of the yard. There they repeated the process and took the same measurements. Each trailer was exactly the same length, width, and height.

“They're exactly the same,” Virgil said.

“Did you expect them to be different?”

Virgil didn't answer, but instead climbed up into the empty box, gesturing Jimmy to follow him. Once inside, again with Jimmy's help, he measured the interior dimensions.

“Okay, let's go.”

He climbed down instead of jumping down like he first had. Jimmy jumped. Then they walked back over to the other trailer.

“Goddamn, it's locked,” Virgil said as he shined his light on the trailer's rear door.

“No it isn't,” Jimmy said. “It just looks that way. The lock isn't closed. Wade or whoever handles the tires probably doesn't want to be locking and unlocking, so he just closes it over so it looks like it's locked. Besides, he knows the yard is fenced and locked and Wade told me they're going to install security cameras next week.”

“He better put in cameras. That fence didn't keep you from going over it with ease. Pretty careless of Wade.”

Jimmy nodded.

“Let's check it out.”

The trailer was half loaded, so Jimmy took the end of the tape and climbed to the back, over a few rings of stacked tires. They measured the interior length and width twice before Virgil waved to Jimmy to come back. When Jimmy jumped off the end of the box, he could sense that Virgil was struck by the results.

“It must be there. C'mon.”

They returned to the other trailer. Virgil actually ran across the yard and sprang into the trailer with an ease that Jimmy hadn't seen before. He was at the front of the trailer when Jimmy climbed in, the tape stretched out on the floor in front of him.

“I want to be sure,” Virgil said.

They measured three times. “Yes!” Virgil said, his voice echoing in the empty chamber of the trailer. “This box is one foot shorter than the other one.”

“What do you mean? We measured them. They're the exact same size.”

“On the outside, Jimmy. On the outside. Inside, this one's a foot shorter.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that wall back there is false. There's maybe eight to ten inches of space from floor to roof and across which can be used to hide anything that's put in there. Visually, inside and out, this container looks just like any other one on the road. But it's not. It carries hidden cargo. Wade knows it, Buddy knew it. Or at least found out about it. My guess is that, when he did find out, he didn't like it. And that's what got him killed.”

*   *   *

There was still a soft mist rising from the pavement when Jimmy pulled the cruiser into the lot in back of the jail.

“Are you coming in, Sheriff?”

“No, Jimmy. It's late and I'm beat.”

“What are you going to do next? I mean, about the semi?”

“I've been thinking about it since we left the yard. We know what's different about the trailer, but we're still pretty much in the dark about its cargo.”

“What about drugs? It can't be . . . can't be illegals. There's not enough room.”

“We can speculate all we want, but that's all it is, speculation. Unless we find out what that cargo was, we'll never know why three people died. And who's responsible for their deaths.”

“But how are you going to find that out?”

“I think I might have an idea, but I want to think a little more on it. See you tomorrow, Jimmy. Keep Hayward safe.”

He got out of the cruiser and walked to his car.

Jimmy watched as the fog in the filtered light from the solitary lamp pole in the parking lot swallowed Virgil until he was nothing more than a dark figure blurred and indistinct. It was a strange moment and left him with a funny feeling.

T
he sky was leaden, with no hint of sun. There weren't more than fifty people, Micah guessed, a small gathering for someone who had loomed so large. He was struck by the irony, but these had been his mother's wishes. For practically all her life in this town, she'd been the visible center. Now she was slipping away almost unnoticed.

He glanced around at the bowed heads as the minister intoned the familiar liturgy. A sob came from Virginia and he saw his son, Caleb, wrap a comforting arm around her. These two, he thought, were the best thing to come out of this family in a long time. Bright, eager, and smart. A new generation, a new hope for the future, one he had worked hard to secure and one that now was at great risk.

He watched as the minister stepped back at the conclusion of his words and the pallbearers came forward to fulfill their duty. Twenty minutes later at the cemetery, he watched again as they picked up the straps that overlapped the grave and drew them taut. Then in a well-choreographed movement, they stepped to the edge of the waiting hole and slowly loosened their grip. Micah watched as the last trace of his mother disappeared from view. He couldn't help but think it was the quietest exit she had ever made.

The undertaker passed among the group and handed each mourner a rose. In unison, most of the group looked at Micah, and he hesitantly assumed his new role as head of the family. While they looked on, he stepped forward and dropped his rose. He watched as it fluttered down and came to rest on top of the metallic coffin. There was no sound. Then the undertaker handed him a clod of dirt from the loose pile next to the hole. He looked at it in his hand, then wadded it into a clump and dropped it as he had done with the rose. It hit the same area on the coffin as the rose, but with such a loud thud that it startled him. A sudden surge of emotion gripped him as if he heard again one of the thousand rebukes from his mother. He turned quickly and went back to his place, hoping no one had noticed the glisten that had come into his eyes. The tears, he knew, were not so much for her as they were for himself. All those years of feeling like second best had caught up with him in this moment. Looking away from the group, now copying the ritual he had performed, he glanced toward a distant rise where he saw a solitary figure, hat in hand, standing silently. He knew who it was and why he was here and why the future of the Hayward family truly rested in his hands.

*   *   *

Virgil had turned away shortly after Micah saw him. He was on the road long before the family had left the burial ground. Going to Audrey's burial had been an impulsive act. He hadn't planned on stopping, but somehow as he was driving after leaving the service, he felt impelled to stop. He couldn't say why. But as he stood on the knoll next to his mother and father's resting place, he realized that he had come not as a bystander, but as a family member. In a way, what Audrey had told him in that final conversation had become an invitation to this day. The Haywards had always been part of his past, but now as he looked down at them, as they put Audrey into the ground, he knew they would also always be part of his future. Virgil did not feel Micah's eyes staring up at him. His focus had been completely on the slight figure standing at some distance to his left, head down, softly sobbing, her auburn hair stirred occasionally by a breeze.

Audrey Hayward was many things to many people, but to the daughter of Virgil and Rusty she was a beloved grandmother. Virgil could see that now, and he ached for her and that is why he had come.

*   *   *

There was still no trace of sun. Clouds hung so low that when Virgil was on the dirt road climbing the butte to his grandfather's, he could not see the top of the mesa. It bothered him to think it was the same thing in reverse for any rifleman who might be standing guard up there. Carlos and his oldest were throwing a Frisbee in the yard area outside the trailer when he pulled in alongside. The young boy waved to Virgil, then clutching the Frisbee, ran to the front door. Virgil saw his grandfather, who had obviously been watching them standing in the front doorway. He waved to Virgil.

“Any news, Sheriff?”

Virgil waited by the car until Carlos walked over to him. He wanted this to be a private conversation.

He told Carlos about Audrey Hayward's funeral. Carlos responded by asking about his brother and sister-in-law's.

“Their bodies are being sent to Taxco, and I'm in the process of arranging transport for your family to follow them. It'll probably be another day or two. On another point, I remember you saying that the last shipment to Juárez was after the two-week company shutdown.”

“That's right. Everyone goes back to work next Monday and the first thing to do is ship the last of this year's inventory. Loading and shipping is necessary to make way for the new harvest. Before the new harvest comes in, the plant is given a thorough makeover and once the last shipment is processed down in Juárez, the same thing happens down there.”

“Do you have any idea which trailers will be used to take down the last of the inventory?”

“Not really.”

“We found the box that Buddy pulled at Wade's. My deputy Jimmy and I saw it there. The numbers you gave me helped us to identify it.”

“If it's there after this week, it's probably not going to be used. Maybe there's some problem with it and that's why Wade has it there.”

“I hope that's not the case,” Virgil said.

*   *   *

Within an hour, Virgil was on his way back to the office. He went out of his way to pass by Wade's. He circled the dealership and the service yards twice. The trailer was not there. He was sure of it. Because it was a Saturday, it was pretty quiet, but the size of the operation and the new car dealership was impressive. Wade had come a long way from a five-year high school student to where he was now.

Virgil got to the office a little after two. He was surprised to see Rosie's car in the lot.

“What are you doing here on a Saturday afternoon?”

“Helping out the law. You know crime never takes a day off, don't you?”

“Sounds like the title of a movie.”

“Yeah, well that's for my next reincarnation. I'm going to be a movie star.”

“Movie stars seem to have a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, but they spend a lot of time on their backs and I've got a bad back.”

“But maybe in your next life . . .”

“Speaking of backs is why I'm here today. Dif fell off a ladder and hurt his, so I got a call.”

“Well, what the hell was he doing up on a ladder? He's got an artificial knee and he's more than a little past his prime.”

Rosie started laughing.

“What's so funny?”

“Men,” she said. “I have never met one man who felt he was past his prime. Look at you, Virgil. You're past forty and showing no signs that you'll admit to. Hell, I saw you one night at the Black Bull with that pretty girl. You still think that you're that young stud romping in the pasture. You better wake up and throw a rope over her or some other one soon so you'll have a nurse for your old age.”

“I never saw you at the Black Bull.”

“That's 'cause your eyes were strictly on the prize. Hell, even that ole Mex, that more than half raised you, is still randy. He's been visiting one of Margie's waitresses for years. So don't you raise your eyebrow at Dif. Someday it'll be your turn to fall off a ladder. I just hope there's somebody there to catch you when it happens. Men.”

She said it a little louder this time, a note of dismissal in her voice. Virgil had no comeback.

A minute or so passed. Finally, he told her he'd stay in the office and that she should go home.

“I might as well,” she said. “I've done my life coaching for the day. Besides, I'd have more luck talking to a rock.”

Virgil shrugged.

“Why don't you give that girl a call, Virgil? Ain't you tired of being alone? There's more to life than just being sheriff.”

She walked out the door. Virgil sat for a minute, then picked up the phone. While it was ringing, he was thinking of Carlos and his boy playing with the Frisbee at his grandfather's. On the fifth ring he heard a familiar voice.

“I haven't heard from you in a while. Thought maybe you'd taken up a new hobby.”

“Been busy,” Virgil said.

“What doing?” she asked.

He paused a moment before answering. “Having a philosophical moment with Rosie.”

“I didn't know you had another woman in your life.”

There was a moment of silence before he answered. “Oh, I do. I surely do.”