Summer People (14 page)

Ray didn’t respond; he just kept perusing the form as if he hadn’t heard the question. After several minutes he asked, “Did you wait on Mr. Buck?”

“I’m the only one here, Sheriff, except during deer season when my brother-in-law comes in to help.”

“Can you tell me about Mr. Buck?”

“He was waiting in the parking lot when I got here; I guess it was sometime after nine. He said he wanted a deer rifle.”

“And you showed him a deer rifle?”

“I started to, one of the new Winchesters that’s real popular, but he said he wanted to see an AK-47.”

“Did that strike you as strange?”

“I’m never surprised by what some of those fudgies come up with; besides, the liberal media has given these weapons such a bad rap, lots of honest folks are embarrassed to ask for one. And I told that young man if he wanted one of these,” he turned and picked one off the rack behind him, “he’d better buy one while he still could. Ain’t that right, Sheriff?”

“How much ammunition did Mr. Buck purchase?”

“He purchased two hundred rounds.”

“Isn’t that an unusually large quantity?”

“It’s a lot, but these guns use a lot. You can go through that much in a few minutes of target shooting. Besides, I urge people to buy a lot just in case the government tries to ban the sale of ammo for this type of gun.”

“Can you tell me about how he acted?”

“He just acted normal. As I was telling you, he said he wanted a deer rifle; then he got interested in this baby. These are fun, Sheriff. You should try one.” He handed the rifle across the counter; Ray made no effort to take it, and he pulled it back. “Buck just seemed like a normal kind of person. Nothing really strange, I mean long hair used to bother me, but now it’s just common. He seemed normal, you know what I mean? I was surprised to hear about the shooting. But, Sheriff, you need to know that the gun had nothing do with the killing. If he was determined to kill Joe Hammer, he would have found a way. He could have run over him, or used an axe, or knife, or even a broken beer bottle. People kill people, guns don’t. But I will tell you one thing.”

“What’s that Bud?”

“He didn’t really seem like a sportsman. You can usually tell. He was too much of a fudgie. Joe Hammer, on the other hand, he was a real sportsman and one hell of a shot. He killed damn near everything that moved. He was a good customer, too. I’ll miss him.”

Bud thrust the AK-47 in Ray’s direction again. “Sure you don’t want to get some of these? I’ll give your department a hell of discount.”

“Thanks for the help, Bud,” said Ray as he headed for the door.

Ray’s first trip to Joe Hammer’s was the night of the shooting. In the darkness he was able to notice little of the exterior.

His second trip was made in the brilliant light of a summer morn. Sue accompanied him. He remembered the long, unpaved drive. The house was long and low, and centered in a clearing of scrub oak. The exterior of the house was covered with a variety of materials, most of which looked like they had been scavenged from abandoned buildings. The rusting hulks of two derelict cars and one pickup were off to the side next to a partially collapsed shed. In front of the house stood two bullet-riddled cars; most of the windows were shattered. The picture window in the front of the house was covered with plastic sheeting held by thin pieces of wood carelessly tacked to the frame.

Two small children were playing in the sand next to the house. When Ray and Sue got out of the car, the children ran to a screen door. Ray and Sue followed.

Kit Hammer was standing at the door. “Can I help you, Sheriff?”

“Mrs. Hammer, we have got some questions we would like you to help us with.”

“I told the deputy all I knew the other night.”

“We need to go over some things again and ask you some additional questions. May we come in?”

“I wasn’t expecting no company, and the place is a mess. But,” she completed the sentence with a tone of resignation in her voice, “come on in. You can sit at the table if you like. Let me clear a few things.”

She rushed in front of them and removed several bowls with the remains of cereal and milk. Then she wiped the table and motioned them to sit. “Would you like coffee, Sheriff and Miss….”

“This is Sue Lawrence; she is helping with the investigation. I’d love some coffee, how about you?”

“Yes, please,” said Sue.

Kit picked three cups from a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, rinsed them, and set them, still wet, on the table. Then she brought a battered aluminum coffeepot from the stove and filled the cups with a dark, thick liquid.

“Do you want anything in your coffee?”

They both gave a negative nod.

The two children stood quietly watching the activity. “You kids go out and play,” Kit ordered. They disappeared out the screen door. Another child appeared, a tall, frail girl of eleven or twelve. “Melody, go look after the kids while I talk to the sheriff.” The girl headed in the direction of her siblings.

“She was real close to her stepfather,” said Kit. “She’s hardly said anything the last several days.”

“Mrs. Hammer, we don’t want to take much of your time. We just have a few routine questions that we need to ask to get this thing cleared up. Then we won’t have to bother you any more. How long were you and Mr. Hammer married?”

“We got married five years ago. The youngest boy, Junior, that’s Joe’s.”

“Then you were married before?”

“No, Joe was my first husband. I had Melody when I was in high school, but I stayed with my parents. Later, when I had Billy, I was living with another man. We always said we’d get married, but he turned out to be real mean. I was living back with my parents when I met Joe. I got hired during the summer at the IGA where Joe was a butcher.”

“You and Mr. Hammer, did you get along?”

“At first we were real happy. Joe was the first man that was good to me. About two years ago he got involved with the Freewill Bible Church, you know about that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, things went bad after Joe joined that church. He got real religious. From that time he wasn’t no fun any more, and he was always after me to change. He stopped smoking and drinking, wouldn’t take me dancing anymore. And the worst thing was that he made me go to church with him. Sometimes we’d spend all Sunday at that stupid church. And then the beatings started.”

“Beatings?”

“I wouldn’t stop smoking and drinking. So Brother Tim told him it was a husband’s right to demand that his wife love him and honor his rule, and if she didn’t, he had the right to use the rod until she obeyed.”

“How often did this happen?”

“At first it was only occasionally, and I thought it would pass, but then Brother Tim told him that God was demanding that I stop sinning, and he had to beat me to save my soul.”

“When did you meet Lennie Buck?”

“It was last fall or winter. I met Lennie at the Laundromat. He was lonely, and nice, and would listen. Joe stopped listening to me years ago. He just talked at me. Lennie and me, we kinda got involved. I don’t know how Joe found out. I guess someone saw my car at Lennie’s trailer and told Joe about it. One day he takes me out in the woods away from the kids and tells me he knows all about it, and then he starts beating me. He makes me tell him everything, everything I can remember. He makes me go through everything and starts beating me again when I stop. It was like he was getting some weird pleasure out of making me tell him. Then he tells me that Brother Tim says that I should be stoned to death, that’s what the Bible says is the punishment for adultery. He tells me that he’ll spare my life for the sake of the kids if I beg for Jesus’s forgiveness at church on Sunday.”

“And you did,” said Ray, “we’ve heard you did.”

“But what I didn’t know was that it was all planned. It was planned for the men in the congregation to go over and beat up Lennie. I guess that Joe was the worst of all. He used an axe handle on him. Joe told me if I ever saw Lennie again he would kill both of us. But I didn’t care. As soon as Joe went to work I went over to see if he was all right. Lennie told me he was going to kill the bastard, but I told him not to do it. I thought he was just mad, that he would get over it. The next night when Joe got home Lennie killed him. As soon as I heard the shots I knew it was Lennie.”

“And,” said Ray, “you didn’t say anything to Lennie when you saw him that might make him think you wanted him to kill your husband?”

“No. I probably agreed with him that it would be nice if Joe was gone. Then I would be rid of him. But I didn’t tell him to kill Joe.”

“Did you give Lennie some money?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you give him money?”

“He didn’t have none.”

“The money, what was he suppose to do with it?”

“I told you. He didn’t have none. He needed to get away. Joe wasn’t done with him.”

“Did Joe tell you that?”

“No, but I know Joe. He’d find a way to get Lennie.”

“How much money did you give Lennie?”

“Couple hundred, maybe three. Didn’t really count it. I’d been saving a little back for more than a year. Money I might use to leave Joe.

“What am I going to do now, Sheriff? I got three kids and no husband to support us. What am I going to do now?” She looked across the table at him.

“Deputy Lawrence will arrange to have the people from social services meet with you. They should be able to provide you with some help. But it will be difficult.” Ray stood, “I’m probably going to need to ask you some more questions in the next few days. Stay in the area.”

“Where can I go Sheriff?” she asked as she walked them to the door. As Ray pushed the screen door open, the three kids came darting past them into the house. They did not talk until Ray pulled back onto the highway. “What do you think?”

Sue shook her head. “I don’t know, Ray. I just don’t know.”

John Tyrrell’s tenure as Cedar County prosecutor started twenty years before Ray was elected to his first term. Tyrrell was only a few years out of law school when he was elected the first time. He had aspired to a judgeship a time or two during his career as prosecutor, but the voters were reluctant to make him a judge. Although he was very popular and influential in local politics, his reputation as a bit of a drunk and womanizer must have suggested to them that his expertise was more appropriately applied as a prosecutor than as a judge.

Early in Ray’s tenure, the state police had arrested Tyrrell for DUI. Tyrrell had asked Ray to “cut a deal” with the state police and get the ticket torn up. Ray’s refusal had set the tone for a relationship that was, although not rancorous, never cordial.

Although the Cedar County Center had been a smoke free building for more than a year, when Ray entered Tyrrell’s office the stench of the cigar smoke was almost overwhelming. In the few months since Ray had given up smoking, he had grown to dislike the smell of cigarettes and cigars and had become increasing intolerant of smokers.

Tyrrell sat behind a massive walnut desk, a copy of the county seal on the wall behind him. Tyrrell, now well into his fifties, had run to fat. His head was unusually round, and its shape was accentuated by his completely-bald head. His eyes bulged from his face.

“What do you have for me, Ray?”

“I think that the Hammer murder is pretty clean. You can get Buck for murder one. We have lots of physical evidence, the weapon, and paper work from Bud’s showing that Buck bought it the day before the murder. We have a statement from Reverend Tim and several of his congregation that Buck threatened Hammer. We have a statement from Hammer’s wife. And last, we have Buck’s statement admitting to the crime; although I’m sure Ms. Hawthorne will try her best to keep the statement from being admitted as evidence.”

“That woman’s a real bitch. I was hoping she would never come back from maternity leave. Is there any reason to think that she might get away with it?”

“Not with Judge Murphy. You know we are very careful about upholding Miranda. We read Buck his rights at the time of the arrest. We didn’t question him until the court had appointed counsel. We asked questions, and he answered them, answered them over her objections.”

“What if she goes for change of venue?”

“I don’t think she’ll get it. But even if she does, I don’t think there are weaknesses in procedures or the evidence.”

“I’m glad you’ve wrapped this one up so quickly. I like murder trials. The Holden case made me afraid I’d have to do a guest appearance on Unsolved Mysteries.” Tyrrell smiled at Ray; when he smiled, he opened a long slit of a mouth to show two rows of yellow teeth.

“There’s another matter involving this case that you’ll have to make a determination on.”

“What’s that?” asked Tyrrell.

“Joe Hammer’s wife, Kit. Lennie Buck said that she had told him to kill her husband. Let me read you that part of the statement.” Ray leafed through the typed statement.

‘That was Sunday. Monday, after her old man had gone to work, she comes over and says that I got to do something. She says that he’s going to kill me and probably going to kill her, too. She asks me if I’m going to run. I tell her I don’t have enough gas to get to TC, and I don’t have no money. How am I going to run? She gives me this big roll of bills she says she’s been saving for a long time. She says I got to do something. Then she fucks me real good and tells me this is what it could be like every day if she could get away from her old man.’

“Then I ask, ‘Lennie, did she ever say to you directly that she wanted you to kill her husband?’

“He replies, ‘Not directly, not like that, but we both knew what she was talking about.’

“I ask, ‘Then what happened?’ And he replies, ‘I took the money and went to that gun shop at Cedar Junction. They had a big display of those AK-47s with a sign that said you should buy one before the law changed. I had enough for one of them and a bunch of ammo.’

“I don’t know what you want to do with this,” said Ray. “I don’t know if this is strong enough to constitute conspiracy.”

Tyrrell rocked back and forth slowly in his large swivel chair, his elbows rested at the sides of his large, round stomach; he bounced his two hands together, an indication that he was considering the matter. Then he rocked forward and said, “It isn’t very strong, Ray. It isn’t very strong. Besides, we’ve clearly got this bastard for murder one, and he’s a downstater. Kit’s local, and everyone knows she had a tough time. And,” he gave Ray a salacious smile, “at least half the men in the area have had a piece of old Kit at some time or another, especially during the time she was a barmaid at the Last Chance. It would not be a popular move on our part, especially right before an election. I’ll have to have a word with Jack; we should get her working again, now that she’s a widow.”