Murder Takes to the Hills (20 page)

Cindy began helping Tommy. I had nothing to do, so I went in the house and made coffee. The others soon came in, with the exception of Tommy. We had just sat down when Clay arrived, the sheriff right behind him.

They pulled up chairs while Cindy poured them coffee and then started another
 
pot. Clay introduced her and me to Sheriff Johnson.

“Ah, yes, ladies. The Willingham guests, aren’t you?”

Cindy started to reply, but Sara interrupted. “Excuse me, but I have to get back to Frank.” She picked up her mug and began to rise.

Gale gently took the mug and set it down. “No, Sara, have your coffee and some toast or something. Frank is fine. I gave him a shot to make him a little sleepy so he won’t shake that ear a lot.”

Tommy came in and seemed to report to Gale. “I mucked out Frank’s stall and put him in with plenty of fresh straw in case he wants to lie down. I sifted the old straw real careful; there was nothing in it. But I piled it up separate in the lot in case you want to check it, Sheriff.”

Gale said, “Good idea, Tommy, and when the other horses finish eating, turn them out so Frank will have a nice quiet morning. A little rain won’t hurt them. Put them in the near pasture, where you can keep an eye on them, and please excuse me, I have a busy day. Call me if it starts bleeding again. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she added as an afterthought. Clay nodded his approval.

Finally the sheriff got a word in. “Before you leave…any idea what could have made the cut, Gale?”

“I’m pretty sure it was a straight razor. Maybe a scalpel. I think not a knife—that would have chewed the skin up more. It’s almost a surgical cut. See you later.” She was gone.

“Sara.” The sheriff’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “Can you tell me when you knew Frank was hurt?”

“Sort of. Frank or one of the others woke me up, kicking his stall. I figured it was him acting up a bit, like maybe one of the mares is coming in season. I just yelled out the window and told him to stop that, and he did.”

She unthinkingly picked up a piece of the buttered toast Tommy had put in front of her. I smiled at him. He was quite a kid. He looked at me gratefully as if he was afraid I was angry he hadn’t told me sooner about the phone call.

Sara took a bite and went on. “Then, I dozed…I’m not sure how long. It started again with all the horses raising Cain. I figured probably a bear was trying to get in the garbage and I grabbed some clothes and went out beating my big pot with an iron spoon to scare him off.” She sipped her coffee.
 

“I didn’t see any bear, or anything else, and went to check the stable. That’s when I found him.” Her voice broke on the last three words.

“Then what did you do? And what time was it?” Johnson asked.

“It was going on five o’clock. I grabbed a clean towel and tried to stop the blood. I screamed for Tommy and he came running. I told him to call the vet and you. Next thing I know he’s in the stable telling me the wires are cut and the phone is dead and he’s going to your place.” She pointed at us. “That was about it.”

“Did either of you touch the phone box?” Johnson asked.

Tommy and Sara looked at each other. Sara simply shook her head. Tommy explained, “I tried both phones in the house and they were dead. I was going to try the one in the stable, but when I came out of the house I saw the phone box open with all the wires yanked out and cut. So I said I’d go down to Alex and Cindy’s—I mean Mr. Willingham’s. And I didn’t touch the box.”

“Good. We won’t get any prints in the stable, half the county’s been in there. But maybe the phone box…if I was out
cuttin
’ wires and a mad woman come along
bangin
’ on a big bass drum, I might touch something I hadn’t meant to. Too bad it wasn’t a thousand watts.”

He grinned at his own humor, and I joined him. Nobody else did, and Clay could remain silent no longer.

“
Dammit
,
Jeffie
, we
know
who did it! Arrest the bastard before he gets out of here Monday morning and just walks away from his dirty work without paying—in any way—for all the grief he has caused.”

“He’s
leavin
’ Monday?”

“Yes, real early Monday. Branch got a firecracker from the brass at Advantage Construction after they received Peter Minot’s letter. They said for him to have McCurry in their office no later than nine Monday morning. I think Advantage is going to say they aren’t responsible for anything he did since he was technically under the supervision—and presumably under the control—of Branch. And that’s about like saying I’m in control of Iran.”

“Lord,” Cindy murmured, “half the livestock in
Beulaland
could be hurt or dead by Monday.”

The sheriff favored her with a nod. “If he sticks to livestock.”

Well, well, I thought. The sheriff is not a total dolt after all.

“Jesus,
Jeffie
, don’t even go there.” Clay pounded his fist on the table. “Just
arrest
the son-of-a-bitch. Get him for jaywalking if you have to! I know Branch isn’t clean in the deal, but he hasn’t hurt anything or anyone, and I don’t want him blamed for Mickey’s malicious mischief!”

“Mickey’s malicious mischief,” Johnson repeated with a hearty laugh. “That’s a good one, Clay, I’ll have to remember that one!”

“For God’s sake, Johnson! There’s nothing funny about any of this! Are you waiting for a murder before you make a move?”

“For God’s sake yourself,
Rodman!
I got no grounds to arrest him. Hell, I can’t even get a warrant to search that room of his at the No-
tel
Mo-tel. Now when I get the information on that casing of the shot that killed the sheep—we never did find the damn bullet—if Mickey has registered a gun like it, at least I’ll get a warrant. However, if he owns a gun, you want to bet it isn’t registered, anyway?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clay surrendered. “Well, can you at least keep an eye on him so nothing else happens?”

“I can try. Lately he seems to be pretty well glued to a barstool at the Dew Drop.”

I thought of that nice Deputy Spitz. “Tell your people to be careful, Sheriff. The only thing I can think of meaner than McCurry sober is McCurry drunk.”

He gave me a smile that had little warmth. “Yes, I understand you ladies discovered that at Gertrude’s yesterday. It’s
kinda
hard to believe…y’all seem so nice and
po-lite
…it’s hard to believe you got him in a choke hold and then had him on the floor threatening on
killin
’ him.”

I returned his smile in kind. “I’m sure my so-called choke hold barely caused him to lose a breath, and kicking the feet out from under somebody not expecting it hardly requires a Navy Seal.
 
As for threatening to kill him, he probably hears that promise at least twice a day. Now if Gertrude had crowned him with that skillet, we might have had something to celebrate.”

I turned to Sara. “We’re going to let you and Tommy relax and get some rest. Obviously Frank Allen is under excellent care between Gale and Tommy.”

He squared his shoulders and looked proud.

“Yes,” Cindy added. “We are so terribly sorry it happened. It’s worse than a crime, it’s an evil act, but Frank is still your boy, and he’ll be fine. If there is anything at all you need—you have but to holler! We’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, I’ll be going, too,” Johnson put in. “I don’t know how to make a pretty speech, but I’ll have a man out here to check that phone box.”

I wondered why he didn’t just do it himself. Then I thought perhaps he didn’t know how.

He set his car on my tail all the way down from Blackstone Farm to Ken’s place, and then gunned it with squealing tires and a burp of his siren as he hit the paved road. Yippee
Ky
Yo
!

We were at loose ends. We flopped in the living room and Cindy lit the fire.

The rain maintained a dismal half-hearted drizzle. Fargo stared morosely onto the soggy deck. A heavy fog was moving in, or was it a low-lying cloud? For lack of a better idea we had more coffee. It tasted lousy.

We had thought of driving down to Gatlinburg today. Sonny had been there last year with the girlfriend du jour. He said it was touristy, but also had some wonderful craft shops and a couple of interesting small museums. Obviously it was not the day for that trip.

Then Cindy brought up what had I had been thinking of, but hadn’t quite had the nerve to mention.

“Darling, are you familiar with the old saying: a lady always knows when to leave the party?”

I laughed. “No, I don’t think I ever did hear it, but it’s apt, isn’t it?
 
What were you thinking, my lady? Today? Tomorrow?”

She set her coffee mug on the cocktail table and made a face. “Ghastly stuff. Anyway, I think tomorrow. We’re meeting Gale and Lou tonight, which will probably be fun. Anyway, I’d hate to cancel—we’d have to tell them why. And I’m sure most everyone we’ve met will be there, and we can make our farewells casually. Then early tomorrow morning we can fold our tents and steal away. We can either push along home in two days like we did coming down, or take it a day slower and visit some of the sights on the way home.”

“I think you’re right.” All of a sudden, I wanted to go home, right that minute.
 
“For one thing, I feel that we’re getting too involved down here for people who don’t belong. It would be different if we owned this place. Of course, I guess the problem with McCurry will end Monday—if Branch can drag him away.
Personally I think he’s a psychopath who’s loving every moment of it.”

“He may well be.” Cindy looked thoughtful. “And I hope he doesn’t work up to a
grand finale
before he leaves. But I don’t regret any of the little things we’ve done. If good people don’t pitch in, the bad stuff just goes on.”

“Quite true,
m’dear
.” I got up and pushed a loose log to the rear. “There have been a couple of emergencies where we have done the good neighbor bit. But we have to remember we are not neighbors, we are visitors. And Peter Minot is involved now, and the problem with Advantage won’t end with McCurry’s departure. There will be legal twists and turns for the next hundred years unless Advantage backs down. And we have no part in that. Let’s go home. We’ve got a
Master Suite
to furnish.”

Suddenly we were energized. We had things to do. I phoned Mrs.
Fouts
and luckily found her in. I told her we were leaving tomorrow and finally got the figure we owed her for the original groceries. I sat down and wrote her a check for the food plus a tip before I forgot.

That inspired me to go down to Gertrude’s and stock up on several of Sara’s jellies and preserves to take home, and a few pastries…just to get us through the efforts of packing and loading the car.
 
Then I hit the small “super” market for some Georgia peaches, cookies, doggie treats and sodas plus that flavored water Cindy likes. That took care of snacks for the road.

I returned home to find Cindy on a cleaning spree. I explained to her that Mrs.
Fouts
was coming as soon as we left to put things in order for the next occupants.

“But we shouldn’t leave her a mess,” Cindy insisted.

“Angel, we will not toss the chicken bones over our shoulders, nor will we throw half-empty beer cans in the fireplace or carve our initials in the dining room table. We will depart with dishes washed and bed stripped and Venetian blinds all at the same height. But if you don’t leave Mrs.
Fouts
just a little something to do, she’s that terribly honest type who will tell Frances they don’t owe her anything for the day, because we did it all ourselves.”

“Oh, all right.” She looked a little bereft. “I feel all charged up. Now I can’t think what I should do?”

“Make us a drink and bring in a log while I set up the Scrabble board I found in the laundry room. Penny a point?”