Final Justice (7 page)

The phone rang again, and Hardy irritably wondered who had been calling every few minutes for the past hour but still he did not answer. If it was business, whoever it was had no choice but to call back since his was the only funeral home in town. It was probably one of Lucy's gabby friends, but she had gone to Birmingham for the day.

He reached for a tube of airplane glue as he said to Jubal, "I'm charging for eye caps, but that's not what you're getting. You're not worth it." Dripping the glue over the dry eyeballs, he pulled the lids shut, satisfied there was no tell-tale oozing of the sticky solution around the lashes. The family would never know they had paid an extra ten dollars for nothing. Thinking about it made him remember Luke's warning, but Hardy had to take a chance this time. It was the principle involved—the principle and the fact he hated Jubal and wanted to screw his estate as much as possible. Besides, Luke would never find out about it.

There was a sudden pounding on the back door. "I'm busy," he yelled irritably. "Come back later." He figured he had another half hour to work on Jubal before time for Jake Petrie's funeral.

"Mr. Moon, it's me—Ozzie. And it's real important."

"Why aren't you at the cemetery getting ready for the Petrie funeral?"

"I was out there, and that's when I found Sheriff Ballard in Jake's grave, and..."

Hardy nearly tripped in his haste to open the door and yank Ozzie inside. After listening, heart pounding, to his story, Hardy sent him back to the cemetery, then called Buddy, who had already heard.

"Get over here," Buddy said brusquely.

"How'd you find out?"

"Nancy Curry phoned in to spread the news. She lives near the cemetery and heard the commotion."

"What about Burch? Have you talked to him?"

"He's on his way. Now hurry up."

Hardy hung up and pinched Jubal's arm. It felt firm like it was supposed to, as though rigor mortis had returned, caused by the saturation of the muscle with the embalming solution. Aspiration of the thoracic area was next, but that would have to wait. Carelessly, he tossed a dirty sheet over Jubal's body and hurried on his way, ignoring the phone, which was ringing again. He paused only long enough to leave a note pinned to the door saying where he had gone and that he would be back shortly.

* * *

Buddy looked from Burch to Hardy, then bammed a fist on his desk. "All right, which one of you is responsible?"

Hardy shook his head. "Not me."

"Me, either," said Burch.

"Okay," Buddy allowed, "Nobody wants to own up to it, but I just hope the person paid to do it keeps their mouth shut."

Burch dared suggest, "And what about you? We've talked about this, you know—how it looks like maybe Luke's got a vendetta going. First it was Junior Kearney, and we know Luke probably had something to do with that. Then he went after Hardy"...he darted a glance at Hardy...and don't try to deny something happened to make you let Lucy take over. He had to be behind it.

"And," he added chokily, face crimson with a sudden rush of anger, "I told you it was him that set me up. So you were next on his list." He pointed a shaking finger at Buddy.

"Yeah, that's right," Hardy chimed in with a firm nod. "Only maybe you're too ashamed to admit it."

Resisting the impulse to squirm in his chair, Buddy managed an amused chuckle. "That's crazy. The whole thing is crazy."

"Is it?" Burch leaned across the desk, eyes wide with fear. "Think about it."

"That's ridiculous," Buddy said. "He's just an asshole, that's all, and I only want to make sure you two cover your tracks if you were involved in any way with what happened."

"Does anybody know how bad he's hurt?" Burch asked.

Hardy related Ozzie's story about how the rescue squad said his pulse was weak and things didn't look good.

"Well, maybe he won't make it," Buddy said hopefully. "I'm going to call his office and see what I can find out."

Burch was quick to protest, "Maybe we shouldn't act concerned. It might look suspicious."

"Don't be an idiot," Buddy scoffed. "I'm the richest and most prominent man in the whole damn county. It's only natural I'd inquire when the sheriff's been shot."

He reached for the phone just as the intercom buzzer sounded, followed by Murline saying, "Wilma from the sheriff's office is on the phone, Mr. Hampton. She says it's important."

"This may be it," Buddy said, excited. "It's only natural I'd be notified if he's dead." He punched a button to take the call. "Cleve Hampton here, Wilma. What can I do for you?"

He listened, brow creasing, eyes falling on Hardy as he confirmed, "Yes, he's here. Just a minute. But let me ask you—is it true what I've heard about Sheriff Ballard?" He grimaced with disappointment to hear Luke was still alive but managed to sound properly concerned. "I am so sorry to hear this, and I want you to keep me informed and let me know if there's anything I can do."

Covering the mouthpiece with his hand, he quickly whispered to Burch, "They've been trying to reach you. They finally went to the funeral home and saw the note you left on the door. Now be calm and act natural."

Hardy took the phone. "Yeah, Wilma, what's going on?" His eyes went wide. "Well, I'll be damned. Sure. Sure. I'll get over there right now. I just need to call the preacher and tell him he'll have to do the Petrie funeral alone."

He hung up with a grin. "I've got a body to pick up, all right—Rudy Veazey. Looks like his old lady killed him."

He started for the door but turned to ask Buddy, "What did Wilma say about Luke?"

"That he's in critical condition, and they're moving him to Birmingham."

Burch, for the moment, wasn't thinking about Luke. "They're saying Emma Jean did it?"

"Yeah. But I don't know any of the details."

Burch leaped to his feet. "I'll go with you. She's going to need a lawyer." Even if she couldn't afford one, he knew he would represent her anyway. He had nothing to lose except time and sure as hell had plenty of that lately, thanks to Luke. God, he hoped the bastard died before they could get him to Birmingham.

Buddy stared after them.

So far, Luke had only put his plans to ruin him in motion, but it hadn't actually happened. And if he didn't make it, then it never would.

"Die," Buddy whispered, tears stinging his eyes. "Please, you bastard, die."

* * *

News spreads fast in a small town, and Hampton was no exception. By the time Matt and Alma arrived at the hospital, the waiting room was crowded with people anxious to hear details of what had happened to their sheriff. So far, no one else knew about Rudy Veazey's murder. Wilma had called Kirby and got him to take over for Matt so he could get Alma to the hospital. Everyone assumed he had gone to her house to pick her up.

Matt watched as members of Alma's church flocked around her. The minister, Daniel Conley—everyone called him "Preacher Dan"—was praying out loud, beseeching God to forgive Luke's sins and not send him to roast in hell. Since he wasn't bothering to ask that Luke survive, it appeared to be a foregone conclusion—to Preacher Dan anyway—that Luke was a goner.

Matt swallowed against the lump in his throat. He had known Luke his whole life, and while most people thought Luke was cold-hearted and didn't give a damn about anybody or anything, Matt knew differently. Sure, Luke had been a hellraiser back in high school, but he'd been treated like dirt for being born a bastard. It was only natural he'd fight back. Maybe he did have a chip on his shoulder since he'd come back from the war, and maybe he had made a few people eat shit. So what? Matt figured they must have had it coming.

All in all, Luke was a good man and had done a fine job of cleaning up the town since he got elected sheriff and if he did die, Matt would never rest until he found out who was responsible and saw to it that they paid. Maybe he wouldn't even bother going by the law. Maybe he would just take the murdering skunk out on some back road, put a bullet in his head, then tie a sack of rocks around his ankles, and toss him in the Coosa River to feed the catfish.

The doors to the ambulance bay swung open and Sue Watson, Alma's neighbor, rushed in with Tammy. Tammy, face white as a sheet, spotted Alma and ran to throw herself in her arms. Some of the folks down on their knees started to get up to make room for her, but a scathing look from Preacher Dan kept them where they were as he continued to intone, "Cleanse his soul, Lord, and spare him from the fires of hell. Don't let his Christian loved ones suffer to know he'll spend eternity in Satan's furnace."

Alma was worn out with Preacher Dan and turned her attention to Tammy. "We don't know anything, yet, honey."

Tammy was feeling guilty to think how she'd dreaded going to Birmingham with her daddy that morning. They had never been close, and she really hadn't thought much about him until she realized she didn't want him to die. "Miss Sue said somebody shot him. Do they know who it was?"

Matt thought how he could name half a dozen people who could have pulled the trigger. Maybe more. He wished he had gone to the crime scene but wanted to be at the hospital to get first-hand information about Luke. At least he had thought to radio back to Wilma and have her get hold of Wendell Wheat, a part-time deputy, to help Kirby out at the Veazey place. Emma Jean was acting downright spooky, and the ambulance hadn't left yet to go get her. It was still parked outside. Matt knew that the doctors did not know yet if it would be needed to transfer Luke to Birmingham.

God, he wished he knew what had happened. He just couldn't picture Emma Jean going loco and killing Rudy. He remembered the time he and Luke had gone out there when Rudy had beat her. She hadn't said a word, just cowered in a corner with her hands over her face, refusing to sign a warrant. So it was hard to imagine her slashing him to death, much less getting mad enough to take a bite out of his dick.

He was thinking about calling Wilma to see if she'd heard anymore from Kirby when all of a sudden a ripple of gasps went through the room like a shower of pebbles thrown in water. Kirby and Wendell were walking in with Emma Jean. A blanket was wrapped around her, and they were having to hold her up.

Alma shot a look at Matt. She had followed his orders to keep quiet about Rudy, but now she worried what people were going to think with Emma Jean being brought in looking like she did.

Then it happened. Myrtle Letchworth, thinking that maybe Emma Jean had shown up out of concern for Luke shrieked, "You trashy hussy. How dare you embarrass Luke's family this way? Have you no shame?"

Preacher Dan was quick to admonish, "Judge not lest ye be judged, sister. You can tell she's sick. Look at her." He was staring at Emma Jean's bloody feet and legs. "She's hurt."

Myrtle screamed, "No, she ain't. She ain't hurt a'tall. Maybe that's Luke's blood. Maybe she's the one who shot him."

Preacher Dan had heard the gossip about Luke and Emma Jean's adulterous affair and quickly realized things were about to get out of hand. He tried to restrain Myrtle, who was trying to get closer to Emma Jean, but she was beyond control.

"She's the one. She did it because he wouldn't leave Alma for her. Whore of Babylon. We ought to stone her."

Alma was suddenly goaded by the realization that Myrtle's theory matched her own. Emma Jean, she figured, had gone crazy after she realized what she'd done and rushed home, only to find Rudy waiting. Naturally, when he discovered she wasn't there in the middle of the night, he figured she was off somewhere with Luke. They got into a fight, and Emma Jean had killed him.

Alma pushed Tammy from her arms and started through the crowd toward Emma Jean. "You murdering bitch. You shot my husband and then killed yours."

Matt quickly moved to grab her as Emma Jean, still supported by Kirby and Wendell, raised her head long enough to look at Alma blankly, then lowered it again, still in shock.

"What did you say?" someone shouted. "Did you say she killed Rudy? Rudy's dead?"

Alma screamed back, "She stabbed him. I saw her with the bloody knife in her hand, only Matt told me not to say anything. We just came from there, and I know what I'm talking about. She shot Luke because he wouldn't leave me for a whore like her."

Kirby yelled, "Matt, get her out of here now."

Matt gave her a shake. "Alma, shut up."

Wrenching from Matt's hold, Alma managed to rake her nails down Emma Jean's face, then grabbed her by her neck and started choking her. Emma Jean, in her stupor, made no effort to defend herself. Alma was quickly pulled away, but, by then, bedlam had erupted as everyone in the waiting room began to surge forward, yelling and screaming all at once.

Matt jerked Alma's arms behind her back at the same time Tammy came running to kick him in his shins and tell him to get his hands off her mother. Preacher Dan tried to help and got clobbered in the eye with Myrtle Letchworth's handbag and turned away in a yelp of pain.

Matt shouted to Kirby, "Get Emma Jean out of here."

Preacher Dan, one hand covering his rapidly swelling eye, urged, "Take her on back in the emergency room. I think Myrtle has gone to tell the Veazey family about Rudy, and there's no telling what will happen when they get here." Then he turned to Alma, who was struggling against Matt, who had grabbed hold of her again. "You need to calm down, sister. Your child needs you."