Murder Takes to the Hills (31 page)

Sara was obviously no stranger to the cabin. “Ken, I think I am a prime candidate for a snifter of that lovely brandy you hide in the highboy. We’ve had dinner, thanks.”

As the older pair walked into the dining room, I turned to Tommy. At my invitation he looked in the refrigerator and chose a Mountain Dew…I thought it apt. He looked toward his mother, as if he would join her and Ken, but there was something I wanted to know from him before we got all bogged down on who was alive and when.

“Say, Tommy, what on earth were you doing running around soaking wet in a rainstorm Saturday night? You trying to catch pneumonia so we’ll all come and bring you cookies?” I smiled, casually, I hoped.

He grinned back. “It was some rain wasn’t it? You see, when we left the Bromfield Inn, Mom dropped
Cissy
and me off at her folks’ house. We had some coffee and cake, and talked awhile. Then
Cissy
was going to run me home in her dad’s car. But when we got just above your—
Ken’s
place and the road wasn’t gravel anymore, it was just awful.

“I knew Mom would have been okay in the Hummer, but I was afraid
Cissy’s
little Hyundai would never make it through all the mud and might even skid off into the creek. So I had her pull into your parking area. We sat in the car for a while…uh, you know. After a bit, she went home and I started walking.”

He laughed and took a swig of his soda. “Usually it’s an easy little hike, but that night man, it was wet! The mud was really deep and I was super glad
Cissy
hadn’t tried to drive in it.”

 
Well, that took care of my question.

Deputy Spitz slid into a seat at the kitchen table and patted a chair near him. “
Hiya
, Tommy, have a seat.”

 
I took one, too. Why not? This was definitely a communal affair.

“Now, Tommy,” Dave asked quietly, “when did you first run into Mickey McCurry? On Saturday night after you started walking home.”

“Not sure, Dave, maybe twelve or after. He was up where the trail and the creek take a left bend. He was kind of trying to get up, resting on one knee and
hangin
’ on to a tree. When he saw me, he asked me to help him up and get him back to his car. He was talking funny, like he was drunk, and I didn’t want to make him mad, especially when he said Jake had sold him bad hooch and he had a mother of a headache. He might have really got mean, you know?”

“You bet. So what did you do?” I prompted.

“I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to get home—I knew Mom would be getting worried and might even come looking. And, then too, I didn’t think Mickey
oughta
drive. But he started muttering and kind of growling and I was scared not to help him. I got his arm around my shoulder and pulled him up and noticed blood. Then I saw his head and it made me kind of sick. I thought maybe when we got to his car he would let me drive him to the clinic…he looked awful bad, Dave.”

“I’ll bet he did. But he managed to walk—with your help?”

Dave smiled and nodded toward Cindy, who had put mugs of coffee in front of us. I patted the one remaining chair and she sank tiredly into it. I wanted her out of here and far away as soon as we could possibly manage it. She’d been playing kitchen maid long enough.

Tommy continued. “Yeah. He took a step or two and tripped on a rock. We both looked down and saw this bloody river rock. Mickey started
cussin
’ and saying somebody hit him with it and he’d get them yet, and
somethin
’ about somebody named Mildred and I don’t know what all. I just wanted him down that hill and in his car. In the hospital, really, so I could leave him and not feel guilty.”

Why anyone would feel guilty leaving Mickey any place at any time in any shape was beyond me.
 
I’d have left him dangling over the Grand Canyon on a clothesline without a murmur.

Tommy finished his soda, flipped the can into the garbage and took a deep breath.

“We made it almost to the foot of the trail. At least the rain had quit, although everything was still dripping. All of a sudden Mickey groaned and kind of collapsed. He pulled me off balance, and the two of us fell into this soaking wet shrub. He wouldn’t answer me and I couldn’t get him to sit up. I felt his neck like they do on TV and didn’t feel anything. I sat for a minute. I figured he was maybe dead, and I didn’t want to touch him. But I couldn’t leave him sprawled in that bush. He was heavy but I managed to get him over my shoulder and carried him on down to the little clearing and laid him down. At least it had been downhill!
 
I put his head near the creek in case he woke up and was thirsty—Lord knows I was—but I did not drown him! Why would I after I had gone to all that trouble?”

“Right you are, Tommy, why would you, indeed? I’m sure you had simply—and very bravely—just tried to help him.” Ken agreed. He and Sara had been standing in the dining room doorway, watching Tommy and listening carefully to his every word.

“Satisfied?” Sara asked Dave. “You have a Good Samaritan here, not a killer.”

“We were pretty sure of that all along, ma’am,” Dave replied. “Just two quick questions, Tommy and we’re finished. What did you do with the rock you tripped over?”

“Oh, I wasn’t sure what to do. But I finally decided: if somebody
had
hit him with it, the police should see it. And then I thought, but they shouldn’t see my fingerprints on it, since I didn’t do it. So I went back up the trail, took my scaling glove out and carried the rock back to where he was.”

“I see,” Dave looked serious. “What were you doing with a scaling glove at a dance, Tommy. We found it alongside the trail, near Mickey’s body.”

“If the rain had stopped earlier,
Cissy
and I were going to try a little night fishing to see if we could nab a couple of catfish for her old man. He likes ’em, who knows why? I had the glove in my jacket pocket and my knife folded up in my pants pocket. I guess the glove fell out when I thought I put it back.” For the first time, he looked guilty as he looked at his mother.

“Where
is
that jacket, Tommy, come to think of it?” Sara was aiming stern irritated-mother looks at her son.

“Well, uh, well, it had a couple of tears from when we fell in the bush, and it had some blood on the shoulder and it was awful muddy and wet—you could
wring
it out. So I…I didn’t know what to do with it, and I hid it under an old rotten pine on the way home. I’m sorry, Mom.”

She sighed and then flashed a radiant smile and rumpled his hair. “I suppose if a blazer is the only casualty this family suffers from this chaos we should thank our blessings. I take it Tommy is clear?”

“Absolutely.” Dave grinned. “Go in peace. Tommy, you are a good man.” Tommy blushed a vivid red.

Sara turned to Ken. “If there is anything we can do for Branch, please let us know. He’s family, and I’ve always had a soft spot for him. And thank you, my dear, for your generosity and support and especially the brandy…it works wonders, doesn’t it?” She gave me a sly wink, and I matched Tommy’s color scheme.

By the time I thought of a reply, they had gone.

Apparently things were calming down in the living room. There was a low murmur of voices, but no more yelling. Sonny came in the kitchen bearing a mug and asking where the tea was kept. “My stomach is revolting at the thought of coffee.”

I pointed at a cabinet. He studied the selection kept there. “Can you have English Breakfast tea at eight p.m.?”

“Yes. And you can tell us how Mickey drowned while you make it.” I reached over and turned the burner on under the teakettle.

“He didn’t.” Sonny gave his shark grin. “He had a heart attack.”

“Oh, sure,” I said. “And then he up and died of an infected toenail.”

“Honest.” He put a teabag and two sugars in his mug and stood by the stove. “Ray said Mickey had a very minor bit of pink foam in one lung and in his throat. Not nearly enough to indicate drowning. Just that he probably inhaled a little water and then coughed it up.”

“So he was still alive when Tommy laid him by the creek,” Cindy remarked.
       

“Who was that Russian guy they couldn’t kill?” She mused.

“Never mind Russians. When did Mickey have a heart attack?” I was lost.

“It was Rasputin. Neither Doc is absolutely sure, but they imagine it was when he collapsed into the bush. He lived some minutes after that. At some point he moved a little and got his face in the water, but reflexively coughed up the water he had inhaled. Then he died. Finally.”

“Did the head wound cause it?” I asked.

“Not directly.” The kettle whistled and Sonny poured his tea. “He was dragged, carried and walked all over the place with a serious wound; he was laid in cold mud and had to be bone chilled; he was soaking wet; he was full of booze and drugs—not a real good guarantee for longevity.”

“So now where does this leave Branch?” Cindy looked hopeful as she made herself tea.

“Your hero is now charged with assault and battery. In my opinion that will last about five minutes after he gets a lawyer. There is no direct proof the wound caused the heart attack. At the very least, Branch stopped Mickey from illegal trespass into a house where two women were staying…never mind all the other plans he had.” Sonny stopped short, he hadn’t meant to get into details with Cindy.

I covered for him. “Yes, he had said something to Branch about trashing the house so Ken would think we left it that way.”

Sonny quickly resumed his tale. “I would bet Branch will walk. With the way this town feels about Mickey, they may give him a medal. Ken is going into town with them in a minute and post bail for him and bring him back here to spend the night, since Clay’s away.”

“Where will
he
sleep?” It seemed to me we were running out of beds.

“There are two beds in the room I’m using. I guess we’ll be roomies for a night. Unless… I’ve been thinking. How tired are you two?”

My first thought had been to answer, “Exhausted,” but then I realized where his question
 
was leading. I changed my answer to, “I’m tired, but jumpy, not sleepy.”

Cindy just said, “Dead.”

“Okay.” He grinned. “Then you get the first shift in the backseat with Fargo.”

Hearing his name, Fargo crawled out from under the table and cocked his head. Were we going somewhere? It looked as if we might.

“Are you crazy?” Cindy couldn’t fathom what the Peres kids were suggesting.

“Look,” Sonny explained, “I really need to get back, and I can’t believe you aren’t ready to leave, too. Nothing is holding us here. I’ll take the first driving shift. Alex can take the second after a nap, and if you feel like it, you can take the third. By this time tomorrow…or earlier…we’ll be home!”

Cindy straightened. “Now that you mention it, I’m brimming with energy. Alex, let’s get those bags back in the car.”

“Wait.” I held up a hand. “Let’s say goodbye to Branch and Ken in case we leave before they get back.”

We caught them at the front door and explained our plans. Ken, too, would be leaving early tomorrow morning, along with Ray. Lewis might need to stay longer. So everyone understood Sonny’s need to get going. They politely didn’t mention that Cindy and I might be eager to get the hell out of Dodge City.

Branch was tearfully grateful of our support and insisted that next year we come again and stay with him and Clay. I wondered if Clay was aware that Branch had become a permanent fixture. We thanked Branch for “solving our problem” and assured him we would be available if he needed us “at a later time.” We thanked Ken for his “gracious hospitality,” declared how we had “enjoyed the natural beauties” of the area and were “charmed by many of the townspeople we had met.” Having been right up there with the politicians at saying everything while saying nothing, we both kissed both men on the cheek as they left.