The Mournful Teddy (30 page)

Trent sat back in the chair and folded his arms. “If you know I didn’t kill Thayer, why should I sit here and be interrogated?”

“Because it’s in your best interest. Even though I know who actually killed Thayer, the best evidence points directly at you. Without my help, you’ll be charged with first-degree murder and a local jury will convict you—

even if they have doubts—just for the sheer joy of getting rid of you.”

Holcombe finally seemed to pay attention and said in an old man’s querulous voice, “Trent, just shut up and answer the man’s questions.”

“All right.”

I leaned a little on my cane and tried not to fidget too much. My leg was beginning to ache, and as much as I wanted to sit down, I remained standing since it placed me at a psychological advantage because the Holcombes had to look up at me. I asked, “Okay, so what happened on the Island Ford Bridge on Friday night?”

“I decided to stop Bobby Thayer,” said Trent.

“Why? Hadn’t you and your dad been told by Liz Ewell to leave him alone?”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“But what?”

“I was . . . Hell, I just didn’t like the fact that Ewell told us to leave him alone. This is our county.”

“Thanks for being honest. Were you staked out and waiting for him or did you just see the truck?”

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John J. Lamb

“I just saw it going by.”

“Where did you pull him over?”

“On the west side of the bridge.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I walked up to the truck and the first thing he does is begin yammering at me about how I’ve made this
big
mistake because his auntie would have me fired. So, I got a little mad and . . .”

“And what?”

“I walked to the front of his truck and fired off a couple of rounds at the windshield. Not near him, mind you!

I just wanted to scare him.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah. He started screaming at me not to kill him.”

“Then what happened?”

“I got him out of the truck and told him that I knew he was a burglar and that he was going to have to start paying up like everyone else. He didn’t have much in his wallet, and then he started yelling about telling his aunt again, and I kind of got real angry, and that’s when he showed me the teddy bear.”

“You glided past becoming real angry and how this caused Thayer to tell you about the bear. Did you do something to make him show you the teddy bear?”

Trent looked at the floor. “I stuck the barrel of my gun in his mouth and told him I was going to kill him and throw his body into the river.”

I resisted the urge to sarcastically say:
Yeah, that would
certainly cause me to think you were ‘real angry’
—
or
freaking nuts.
Instead, I said, “What did he tell you about the Mourning Bear?”

“Only that it was worth a lot of money and that he and Poole had already found a buyer. He said I could keep the bear.”

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“Believing that if he didn’t surrender the bear, you’d shoot him, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“So, he didn’t actually give you the bear. Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say that you robbed him at gunpoint?”

“I suppose.”

“What happened after you robbed him?”

“I, uh—I threw him off the bridge and into the river.”

“Why?”

“To show him I meant business.”

“Is that another way of saying you meant to terrorize him?”

“Well, yeah.”

“What happened when he hit the water? Was he hurt?”

“No! He was fine! I was watching him with my flashlight. He was swimming like a damn fish!”

“What happened after that?”

Trent shrugged. “I drove over to my folk’s house with the bear to show it to my dad. Then I gave Poole a call.”

“That wasn’t smart, by the way. He recorded the call and if it weren’t for what we know, your comments could well convict you of murder. Why did you take so long to contact Poole about making the sale?”

“You’ll have to ask my dad that. It was his decision.”

“Did your dad tell you to threaten the lives of Deputy Barron’s children?”

Holcombe sat up straight and looked at his son, his eyes showing surprise and loathing.

There was a long pause before Trent answered and I knew he was thinking, which is always a suicidal pastime for thugs because they’re never as clever as they imagine themselves to be. The worst part about waiting for him to speak was that I strongly suspected what he was pondering 260

John J. Lamb

and hoped there was still a milligram of decency in his bloated body. This investigation was already too squalid for my tastes, but Trent sent it plummeting to a new level of filthiness when he finally said, “Yeah, he told me to do it. In fact, all along I’ve just been doing what I was told. What I said before about it being my idea to stop Thayer—that was a lie. It was my dad’s idea and he told me to shoot at the truck and throw Thayer in the river.”

As the litany of betrayal came spilling out, Holcombe sagged in his chair and his lips twitched slightly. It was hard not to feel profoundly sorry for him because I knew Trent was lying to save his own wretched skin. I looked at Holcombe and said, “Is any of that true?”

“It
is
my fault, but not in the way he’s saying it.”

“Would you like to explain?”

Holcombe’s gaze drifted to Ash and then back to me.

“It’s obvious you truly love your wife. What would you do if she got sick? I mean,
really
sick. Would you do anything to make her better?”

“Absolutely.”

“Anything? Even violate the oath you swore to uphold the law and . . . do what needed to be done to ensure she received the necessary medical treatment?”

“Your wife has cancer.”

“Pauline has non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.” He pointed at the photograph of the woman pinning the badge on his chest. “That’s her. We’ve been married twenty-three years and I love her more now than the day I married her.”

“When did she become ill?”

“She was diagnosed two years ago. It was shortly before the county changed over to a better HMO system and we didn’t mention her condition on the application forms because they wouldn’t have covered her.”

“Due to a preexisting illness.”

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“Exactly. The treatment for NHL is very expensive: chemotherapy, radioimmunotherapy, MRIs, tests, tests, and more tests . . . most of it very painful. And through it all, my angel has stayed cheerful and brave.” Holcombe smiled sadly and swallowed hard.

Ash’s hand found mine and she asked, “What happened?”

“About six months after we enrolled in the new HMO, they somehow learned that we’d concealed the information about her illness. I think the doctor’s receptionist told them because I’d arrested her brother for drunk driving.

Anyway, they cancelled our policy and said that we’d have to repay them for all the bills they’d already paid because we hadn’t told the truth on the application documents.”

“And don’t tell me, they wanted their money back immediately.”

“Of course.”

“How much do you owe?” I said.

“Counting everything, probably close to six-hundredthousand dollars, but that doesn’t count yesterday’s mail.”

Holcombe flashed a bittersweet smile. “And the bills keep rolling in because Pauline still needs her treatment. I maxed out our credit cards and took out a second-mortgage on our home, but it wasn’t nearly enough . . . just a drop in the bucket.”

“So you decided to supplement your income by collecting a tariff from the local criminals.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision, despite what you undoubtedly think about me.” He nodded at the badges on the desktop. “I was as proud of what that badge stood for as you are, but if it came down to you having to choose between your wife’s life and your pride, which would you pick? Be honest.”

“I’m pretty certain I’d have done the same thing.”

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“That’s what I thought.”

“Tell me about Friday night. Did you send Trent out to intercept Thayer?”

“No, but I’ve known since the beginning that my son lacks the ethical and emotional maturity to be a deputy sheriff. I know he’s a bully and uses steroids, but I kept him on the job because I needed his help.”

“But unfortunately, he didn’t view your criminal fundraising efforts as an ugly necessity.”

“No, much to my shame I discovered he enjoyed it.”

Holcombe glanced at Trent, who was glowering at the floor. “So, I have to accept moral responsibility for whatever happened on the Island Ford Bridge.”

“When Trent showed up at your house on Friday night, why didn’t you contact Poole immediately?”

“I was afraid that we’d gone too far and not just because we’d crossed Liz Ewell. When Trent told me that he’d shot Thayer’s truck and thrown him in the river, I realized that we were no longer merely collecting graft. It’d become armed robbery and malicious wounding.”

“And then Thayer’s body was found in the river the following morning. You thought Trent killed him, didn’t you?”

“Of course. He denied it, but he’s a congenital liar.”

He glanced at Trent again and said sarcastically, “Can you
ever
forgive me for not believing you, son?”

Trent muttered something under his breath and his hands balled up into fists. The atmosphere in the room was swiftly changing and becoming charged with tension. It was like the breathless calm before a thunderstorm struck. The problem was that Ash and I were the obvious lightning rods.

I tried to return Holcombe’s focus to telling the story.

“So, when Deputy Barron radioed the description of the man pulled from the river . . .”

Holcombe looked back at me. “I knew it was Thayer.

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That’s why I insulted you and told you to mind your own business. It’s a day late and a dollar short, but I
am
sorry for that.”

“And you did that because you figured concealing the murder as an accidental drowning was your only option, right?”

“Yes, because I was certain that if Trent were arrested he’d immediately implicate me.” He shot a brief spiteful look at his son. “And if that happened, who’d be left to take care of Pauline?”

“What you did was wrong, but I can sure understand your dilemma.”

“It was my fault. I’d created the situation.”

“At some point on Sunday you finally decided to sell the bear. Can you tell me about that?”

“Yes, I thought about it all day Saturday and decided to go ahead with the deal. Our portion of the proceeds would have been over one-hundred-and-twenty-thousand dollars. It was simply too much money to turn my back on.”

“And so you met here in town a little while ago with Cleland and Poole.”

“She gave me the cashier’s check and I gave her the bear.”

“I’m assuming the check is here. Can I have it?”

“It’s in the drawer.”

I should have been prepared for what happened next, but even if I’d known, there was nothing I could have done about it. There was a desk between us and it all happened far too fast. Holcombe turned in his swivel chair and bent slightly as if to open the top desk drawer, but at the last second his hand shifted to his pistol. The gun was out of his holster in a nanosecond and pointed directly at Trent’s head. Trent’s mouth flew open in shock and he sat back rigidly in the chair.

“Son, I’m going to kill you in a second, but I want the 264

John J. Lamb

pleasure of telling you why before we both die. I raised you right and your momma and I loved you, yet you turned out to be the biggest piece of gutter trash in the county. You’re a hoodlum, a drug addict, a liar, and a coward. But I do have some good news,” said Holcombe, mimicking an old car-insurance television commercial.

“Your life is insured for two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars.”

“Daddy, don’t do this. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better.”

Holcombe continued as if he hadn’t heard, “Now, there won’t be a payout for me since it’ll be a suicide, but they’ll have to pay off on your policy because you’ll have been murdered. At least your momma won’t be left penniless.”

“Sheriff, don’t kill him,” I said, trying to move crabwise in front of Ash. “If you do this, Pauline will never understand and she’ll be left alone. She needs you alive.”

“Even if I am alive, I won’t be there to help her. I’ll be in prison.”

“Maybe.” My mind was racing, trying to think of some way to minimize the gravity of the charges against him. I continued, “But maybe the charges you’re facing aren’t that serious.”

Holcombe looked at me, but kept the pistol pointed at Trent. “You mind if I call you Brad?”

“Not at all.”

“Well Brad, don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s rain.”

“I’m not. Just think for a second before you do this.

Okay, so you collected graft from a bunch of crooks.

How many of them do you think are actually going to come forward and sign a criminal complaint against you?

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They’d have to get up on the stand and incriminate themselves. That isn’t going to happen.”

“Maybe, but I’m also an accessory after the fact to murder.”

“No, you’re not. Pay close attention, Sheriff. If Trent didn’t kill Thayer, you can’t be an accessory after the fact. At worst, you covered up an armed robbery and a misdemeanor assault, because Thayer wasn’t injured by his fall into the river.”

“And I engaged in a criminal conspiracy to sell stolen property.” Holcombe turned his attention back to Trent.

“Son, if I were you, I’d keep that hand right where it is or I will open your head up like a ripe melon.”

“Sheriff, listen. Those are first-time offenses, you’ve got mitigating circumstances, and you’ve cooperated fully. Once the story of why you did all this comes out—

that it was done because you love your wife and some soulless HMO screwed you guys—the Commonwealth’s Attorney will recommend probation,” I said and paused to take a deep breath. “But most of all, don’t do it because it’s wrong. Pauline would expect better of you.”