Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 04 - Vicksburg (8 page)

“Nope. Drew a blank,” I replied, deliberately not mentioning my date with Diane. “Figured I’d hit the ground running this morning. First, I’d like to prowl through your
father’s records”

“Sure. No problem. What are you looking for?”

“The reason someone wants to run me off.”

At that moment, the phone rang. Jack answered, then
handed it to me.

“Mr. Boudreaux. This is Dr. John Samson. Detective
Garrett of the Vicksburg Police Department said you wanted
to talk to me about the autopsy of John Wesley Edney.” The
caution in his tone was unmistakable.

Long ago, I learned when interviewing never to blame
anyone except myself for mistakes. The technique is a
sneaky, but effective method to elicit aid and information. “I
probably read the report wrong, Doctor, but I was curious.
The injury was on the left temple. I interpreted the report to
indicate the wound was caused when Mr. Edney fell, but the
report also states he was found lying on his right side. If
that’s the case, how could a blow from falling on the right
side cause an injury on the left? Or am I confused?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m looking at the report now,” he
finally said, his words tentative. “Oh, yes. Indications were
that Mr. Edney turned around to escape the fire, putting the
table at his back, then stumbled and fell to his left, causing
the trauma. The blow stunned him. He never regained consciousness. He was asphyxiated by the fumes, then consumed by the fire.”

“But, how did he get on his right side?”

With a trace of disdain in his tone, he replied, “Obviously,
he turned over as a result of his struggles during the throes
of asphyxiation. Conjecture of course, but given lack of further evidence, our final conclusion.”

If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought I was listening to an old Three Stooges dialogue. “Facing the work
bench?”

“Correct” He paused. I could hear the anxiety in his
voice. “Was that all you needed?”

A wry grin curled my lips. Any further information I
elicited from this one wouldn’t be worth the time. “Yeah,
Doc. That’s it. Thanks for making it perfectly clear to me”

“Anytime”

I replaced the receiver and leaned back in the wingback
chair. I looked at Jack. “Medical examiner.”

Jack paused in stroking his feather. “Find out anything?”

Pursing my lips, I studied him. “Nothing, other than that
gentleman had better never go into private practice. He’ll
end up neck deep in malpractice suits. Now, where did your
father keep his records?”

A frown creased Jack’s forehead. “You think the medical
examiner is involved?”

“No” I laughed. “I think he’s merely an incompetent who
got the job either because his brother is the mayor, or somebody had something on someone”

For the next two hours and two pots of coffee, all I discovered about John Wesley Edney was that he was a well-organized man. Unfortunately, there was no smoking gun-at
least not one I could see. I frowned when I ran across a puzzling sheath of letters to various individuals and businesses
confirming previous commitments. Then I discovered a map
of the thousand and ten acres south of Vicksburg. I decided
to take a look at the property when I finished going through
his files.

Over the years, Edney had loaned both WR and Stewart
money on several occasions. The loans were the sort parents
make to offspring knowing full well they’ll never be paid
back.

The amounts loaned out varied. Both WR and Stewart
were into their father for a few hundred thousand. As I would
have expected, neither Annebelle nor Jack had received a
nickel.

Any time I worked a case, I tried to come up with an arbitrary suspect. If it appeared the perpetrator was a professional, then I would turn to the records of those professionals possessing that particular modus operandi, and establish
their current whereabouts so I could determine if any of
them had the opportunity.

If it did not appear to be a professional job, then I figured
it was the result of passion, one carried out because the
opportunity presented itself. That being the case, then I
looked for motives such as anger, profit, revenge, and any
other of a number of reasons.

I already had three suspects. Now, it was just a matter of
legwork and digging deep into everyone’s business.

Jack rushed in just before lunch, a look of panic on his face.
“Tony, you got to help me” He paused with only half a
feather in his hand.

“What’s going on?”

He pointed the broken feather at his cast. “It broke. The
stinking feather broke inside the cast, and I can’t get it out.
All those little feathers in there are driving me crazy.”

I burst out laughing.

“It isn’t funny. I can’t stand it, I tell you. It feels like a
bunch of cockroaches crawling over my -skin.”-

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I shook my head. “Sorry,
Jack. I can’t help it. It’s just..” Another burst of laughter
cut off my words.

“You got to call a doctor or emergency room or something, Tony. Maybe they can blow something up there.”

Suppressing my laughter, I managed to stammer out, “All
right, all right. In the meantime, find some talcum powder
and sprinkle it down the cast. Maybe that’ll help.”

He nodded emphatically. “That might work. You know,
that might just work,” he muttered between clenched teeth as
he hurried from the room.

A couple of minutes later, the phone rang. I answered. It was Doc Raines. He wanted to talk to Jack or one of the kids.
“Jack’ll be right back. The others aren’t here. Can I help?”

“I just wanted to let them know I have a couple guys interested in some of JW’s cars.”

“I’ll pass that along, Doc. By the way, when we first
talked, you said Stewart ordered the naphtha”

“That’s right.”

“How do you know it was him?”

Doc chuckled. “That high-pitched voice? No way it
wasn’t. I could pick him out of a thousand voices.”

“I see. Changing the subject, I’ve been thinking about that
Model T Runabout. I’d have to find somewhere to store it,
but I might be real interested in it. You think fifteen thousand
is a fair price?”

“Fair enough. Like I said, there’s gas tank problems.
You’d have to repair it or put a new one in. And when I got
to thinking about it after you left, JW also had a problem
with the wiper arm”

At that moment, Jack came back into the room. I blinked.
His face and chest were covered with talcum powder. He
looked like a circus clown in white face, his cast at half-mast.

He mouthed “Who?”

Pointing to the receiver, I mouthed “Doc.”

Jack grinned and nodded at the receiver. “The Doc?”

I nodded. “All right, Doc,” I said. “I have a pencil and
paper. Tell me how to go about taking care of it.”

Jack grinned and pointed to his cast. “About the cast?”

Too preoccupied with the details of the gas tank, I nodded
and waved him off, having not the slightest idea that at that
moment he believed I was talking about him.

“You’re not thinking about doing it yourself, are you?”
Skepticism laced Doc’s question.

I forgot about Jack for the moment. “Sure, Doc. I can do
it myself. Shouldn’t be a problem. The arm too. Now, shoot.”

Jack nodded, pointing to himself and then to me. A grimace screwed up his face, and he beat on his cast. “Hurry up,” he gasped. “This is killing me. This talcum powder
doesn’t work. I had to lay on my back and pour it down the
cast. That’s how I got it all over me”

Quickly I jotted down the steps in replacing the gas tank
and wiper arm. “I got it, Doc. And thanks” I winked at Jack.
“I’m sure Jack appreciates your help. What’s that? Oh, the
arm. Yeah, I understand. We’ll see” I replaced the receiver.

Jack nodded to the slip of paper in my hand. “What did
the Doc say? What did he say?”

For a moment, I wondered why Jack was so interested in
replacing a gas tank on the Runabout, but I dismissed the
thought.

“Doc said the problem was caused by trash inside. It
needs to come out. He said by now the trash probably looks
like a bunch of rotted leaves.”

“Rotted leaves?” Jack curled his lips in distaste and gave
his cast a puzzled look. He rubbed at the cast. “That’s what’s
causing the problem?”

“Well, part of it.”

“So, what’s the rest?”

I frowned at him, baffled over his preoccupation with the
gas tank. With a shrug, I read from the notes in my hand to
humor him. “There are two or three options. First, we can go
down to his place and get some stuff to slush around inside.
That might stop it”

Jack shot a horrified look at his cast. “Slush around
inside? But, won’t it melt?”

“Melt? Of course not”

He frowned at his cast. “I don’t like the idea of pouring
something inside and slushing it around. You said he had a
couple options. What’s the other?”

“Well, it’s drastic, but I could cut it in two lengthwise.
That way I can get to it without a problem.”

Jack’s face paled. He took a hasty step backward and
placed his right arm over his cast protectively. “No way. No
cutting. Absolutely not.”

I was truly puzzled now. I had no idea he had become attached so quickly to his father’s restorations. With a sigh,
I shook my head. “Those are the cheap ways to go. The best
costs more”

“I don’t know about you, old friend,” he said, sarcasm
oozing from his words as he glanced at his cast, “but I’d pay
whatever is necessary to keep it.”

“Yeah, but it’s extreme, although it’s probably the best
way.”

“So? What is it? It has to be better than either of those first
two remedies.”

“Well, the best solution is simply to yank it off the body
and replace it with a new one”

Jack gaped at me. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

I just stared at him. “No.”

His voice filled with disbelief, he stammered. “Th-the
arm?”

He had me confused now. “Yeah. The arm. He said the
new ones made out of plastic would last a lifetime.”

Eyes wide, Jack backed away. “You’re not cutting off my
arm or slushing anything around in the cast. No way.”

I had the feeling I’d just stepped into the old “Twilight
Zone” Then it hit me. “You mean-” I pointed to the receiver. “You thought that-” I couldn’t finish my question
because -I was laughing so hard.

Poor Jack, he just stood there with a puzzled and confused
expression on his face. When I managed to catch my breath,
I explained that I was not talking to a medical doctor, but to
Doc Raines about the gas tank and wiper arm on the Model
T Runabout.

“And not my arm?”

“No, Jack. Not your arm”

With an embarrassed grin, he sighed, then grimaced. “I
gotta find something to stop this blasted itching.” He turned
on his heel. “I’ll be right back.”

Jack returned moments later with a fly swatter sticking out
of his cast. “It’s better than nothing,” he said, busily sliding
it in and out.

Nodding to a nearby chair, I said, “We need to talk.”

He plopped down. “Make it fast. My arm’s driving me
nuts.”

Despite the complaining I’ve done about him, Jack was a
good friend, and I was reluctant to upset him, but if I was to
continue my investigation, I had to be honest with him.
“Jack. I’ve something to tell you. After you hear what I have
to say, you decide if you want me to continue the investigation or not.”

He frowned, puzzled. “I don’t follow you.”

I took a deep breath. “It could very well be that one,
maybe all of your brothers and your sister are responsible
for the death of your father.”

He grimaced as if I’d kicked him in the stomach. “Are-are
you sure?”

“No. I’m not sure of anything, but it appears that’s the
direction we’re heading.”

“Did you find anything in John’s files that makes you
think that?” He gestured to the file cabinet.

“Not much other than he loaned WR and Stewart a lot of
money they never paid back.”

Jack chuckled. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” He
paused. “Do you think you can find any evidence that will
tell you who killed John?”

“There’s always evidence. The trick is not only finding it,
but then also interpreting it correctly.” I nodded. “It’s there.
It’ll just take time to uncover it. I’m telling you all of this
because it’s time your family knows what I’m doing.”

“They’ll be mad knowing you suspect them”

“They can take it up with the police chief. He gave me his
blessing to investigate your father’s death” I paused.
“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do I go on? It’s up to you, Jack. If you want to drop it
now, just say so” I had mixed feelings. I hated to see deliberate injury against another go unpunished, yet if my suspi cions proved true, Jack would be hurt. Conscience or friendship. Heck of a choice. I knew what I would do, but I left the
final decision up to Jack.

He chewed on his bottom lip, then nodded firmly. “If
someone killed John, I want to know who it was. But I can’t
believe it was one of us”