by Jada M Davis
Messner sat on the beam and waved directions as the Mexicans and Pete handled the rope.
“This is one deep bastard!” Blondie called, his voice muffled. “It’s darker’n the inside of hell!”
“Yell when your feet touch water,” Messner said.
He peered into the well.
“I hope we got enough rope,” Blondie called.
“What?”
“I said I hope we have enough rope!”
“Oh. We got plenty of rope.”
“Tell them to take it easy. I see water now. About ten more feet.”
“O.K.”
“Stop her!” Blondie yelled.
There was a body, pin-pointed by the flash.
“It’s not Wesley!” Blondie called. “This guy hasn’t been here long!”
“Okay, we’ll pull you up. I know who it is.”
Messner helped lift Blondie.
“Get the coroner and some more help,” he said. “Get the body out of there. I’m going to go get Ree.”
“Maybe I’d better go with you,” Blondie said. “There’s nothing I’d like better than getting that bastard.”
“You do like I said. I’ll handle Ree.”
“Who the hell is this guy?” Blondie called as he drove away.
It had stopped raining.
Messner drove straight to the courthouse.
He called Halliday.
“This is Messner,” he said. “All hell’s broken loose now, and we’ve got our asses in a sling.”
“What now?” Halliday asked. “What’s happened that hasn’t already happened?”
“Ree’s killed a man,” Messner said. “Found him in a well out on the railroad tracks, and by morning everybody in town’ll know Ree killed him.”
Halliday cursed.
“Listen, Halliday, you call Byrd and the mayor and Swing. I’ll get Fry. Come on down to the courthouse as quick as you can and we’ll figure what to do.”
“Right away.”
“Yeah, right away. This time hell is going to bust wide open.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
“Yeah, I have an idea, but it’ll have to wait until you get down here. I can’t tell you over the telephone.”
“Go ahead and call Fry. I’ll get the rest and come on down.”
Messner called Fry.
Messner sat down and smoked.
So they were coming down, all of them, and he’d tell them what had to be done. The only thing that could be done... if they wanted to go on living in this town as respectable citizens.
They were not going to like it.
But they’d have no choice.
Swing would be the man to take Ree’s place, because he had things pretty well lined up and he had been doing Ree’s work, anyway. And Swing would be easy to handle, a helluva lot easier than Ree had been. Fact, Ree couldn’t be handled. He’d been doing the handling. They had given him plenty of rope and he’d hanged himself. Only trouble was, he almost hanged the whole kit and kaboodle before he got snubbed himself.
Arthur Fry was the first to arrive. And he was scared, plenty scared.
“What’s up?” he asked. “What’s happened now?”
“Have a seat, Arthur. The others are coming.”
“What’s Ree done now?”
“Killed a man.”
“How do you know?”
“We know, Fry. And by morning the whole damned town will know.”
Fry sank into a chair.
“So, what’ll we do? Throw the book at him?”
“We can’t, friend. He’s got us by the ying yang and we can’t risk a trial.”
“I don’t see—”
“You will, Fry. You will. Just wait for the others and I’ll explain it slow and simple like.”
Swing was next, and Halliday arrived with Byrd and the mayor.
Messner led the way upstairs to the district courtroom, carefully locked the doors, and joined the others at the press table near the jury box.
“Spill it,” Halliday said.
“The other day an old woman told us Ree had killed Wesley,” Messner said. “We thought she was nuts. Remember that little bald burglar Ree killed at Johnson Tool? Well, he was this old woman’s brother, so we thought she just had it in for Ree and was making up this story about Wesley being dead.”
Halliday started to speak, and Messner silenced him with an upraised hand.
“The old lady said she heard shots out by that old well the night Wesley disappeared. Said she’d seen car lights down there, and heard the shots later. Says she knows for sure Ree was mixed up with her brother in the Johnson Tool burglary and some others. Said Ree killed her brother to keep from having to split the take. She said Wesley was down in that old covered well out on the railroad track.”
“Well, was he?” Halliday asked, half rising from his chair.
“No. I sent Blondie out there for a look around. He said the net wire around the well hadn’t been tampered with. He used a flash to look down the well and didn’t see a thing.”
“Get on with it!” Fry yelped.
Messner grinned, a tight cold grin.
“Tonight this Laura Green came in. She was Ree’s girl friend. She says Ree hid the Johnson Tool take in a chair at her apartment. The next day her dad came and got the chair. So, tonight, Ree went over to Rockford to get the money. The girl’s dad is a preacher over there. Or was. Ree killed him. The girl had gone over and found Ree’s gun and a lot of blood in her dad’s study. But no body.”
“Then what the hell do you mean that Ree killed him?” Fry asked. “How do you know—”
“We went back out to the well,” Messner said. “I decided Wesley could be in that well after all. He wasn’t, but the preacher was.”
“Who knows about this?” Halliday asked.
“Blondie and Old Pete and the Mex janitors,” Messner said. “And the girl knows for sure Ree killed her father. So the whole town will know about it by morning.”
“We’d better do something,” Halliday said. “We’ve wasted too much time now.”
“Sooner the better,” the mayor said. “Run him out of town.”
Swing and Fry said nothing. Byrd squirmed in his seat.
Messner cleared his throat, fished for a cigarette and accepted a light from Swing. He could feel all their eyes on him, and he took it slow, made them wait, let them sweat.
“We can’t let him leave town,” he said easily.
“Why not?” Halliday asked.
Messner knew Halliday was just asking, just talking. You didn’t have to draw any pictures for Halliday.
“He’d be caught,” Messner said. “We’d have to put out a wanted call on the guy if he skipped, and he’d be caught. He wouldn’t get a hundred miles.”
“And if he’s caught?” Fry asked. “What then?”
“He’d drag us down with him, and you know it,” Messner said. “That baby’s not going to take a rap by himself. He’d tell all he knows about us—and a lot he just guesses. He’d make up things, bad things, and the town would believe it because people like to believe things like that.”
“We’ll have to take that chance,” Byrd said.
“What chance?” Messner asked. “You wouldn’t have a chance! This town would launch an investigation that could put every one of us behind bars! Ree wouldn’t just talk about vice pay-offs and things like that! He’d talk about contract pay-offs and special funds and liquor licenses and all kinds of deals, and there’s not a one of us clean enough to get out of it clean! Not a one! Swing would have the best chance because he just collected the money from the whores on Ree’s orders. The rest of us would be trying to explain how we bought ranches and rental property and big homes on the salaries we get!”
Halliday plucked a cigar from the mayor’s coat pocket, got it going, and leaned back in his chair.
“Messner’s right. Ree would try to implicate us in everything he’s done, up to and including murder.”
“He can’t do that,” Fry said. “My hands are clean.”
“Are they?”
“As clean as yours!”
“Watch yourself, Fry,” Halliday said. “Just remember Ree doesn’t have to prove a thing! Not a damned thing! All he has to do is talk—and we’re ruined!”
Fry stood and pointed a trembling finger at Halliday.
“We should have run him out long ago! He’s caused nothing but trouble! Remember what I told you! I said—”
“Shut up,” Messner said scornfully. “We don’t give a damn what you said! It’s what we do now that counts! This Ree murdered a man and threw him down in that well! For that he can burn, but before he does he’ll drag every single one of us down! Every single one of us!”
Fry gasped like a fish out of water and sat down. Swing sat up straight in his chair and Sam Byrd beat a nervous tattoo on the table top with his fingers. Halliday arched his brows and cocked his head.
“Why haven’t you—well—why haven’t you arrested him?” Fry asked.
Sam Byrd looked up, his eyes slightly out of focus with drink.
“I’ll tell you why he hasn’t arrested Ree,” he said. “It’s because he’s afraid to, that’s why. He’s going to kill the poor bastard.”
Halliday leaned forward to stub out his cigar in the tray. Fry raised his hands and held them close to his face, seemingly fascinated with their trembling. Byrd laughed, explosively, and was as suddenly silent. The mayor looked at Halliday, a hurt look on his face.
“This is insane,” the mayor said.
“I’m getting out of here,” Fry said.
“You’ll stay,” Byrd said. “You’re like me, Fry. You got in too deep and you’ll stay.”
“We’d better decide something,” Messner said. “We’d better get down to brass tacks.”
“It’s your worry,” Sam Byrd said. “You’re the sheriff. Arrest him.”
“Listen, you bastard!” Messner almost, not quite, shouted. “Arrest Ree and bring him to trial and he’ll pull us all down! All the way down!”
“Ree can’t prove anything,” the mayor said. “Not a thing.”
“Prove it!” Messner hissed. “He wouldn’t have to prove it. All he’d have to do is tell it, you dumb bastard! There’d be investigations then and the city books can’t stand investigation! Neither can county books!
“Oh, we’re not the only crooks in town! The judge and county commissioners will suffer just as much as we will if an investigation is made. But they’re not in on all the things we’ve been in with Ree, so they wouldn’t appreciate this little meeting.”
“This is no place for me,” the mayor said. “I haven’t had anything to do with this Ree. Whatever was done is not my responsibility, and I feel that the voters will understand if I....”
“Crap!” Halliday said. “This is not a question of taking your story to the voters! You’d be in front of a jury, brother, and don’t you forget it! You’re in just as deep as the rest of us!”
“I say it’s time we cut out this stalling and decide what to do,” Messner said.
“Let’s don’t jump too fast,” Halliday cautioned. “Of course you’re right, sheriff. The whores would back him on the pay-off business, even if that is a minor point. But if he proved that, they’d believe anything else he said. That would be enough to start a general investigation, and none of us could stand that.”
“What’ll we do?” Fry bleated. “What are we going to do?”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Halliday said. “That’s why the sheriff got us down here.”
They all turned to Messner. He got up, stood rocking on his heels.
“I’ll have to arrest Ree,” he said. “There’s no doubt but that he’ll try to make a run for it. Since he’s a killer—and probably would be sentenced to death in court for the murders he’s committed—I couldn’t just stand there and let him get away. I’d have to shoot him.”
Byrd got up and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Messner asked.
“I’m going home. I’ll not have anything to do with any of this.”
“You’ll stay,” Messner said, walking toward him. “You’ll stay and make your vote right with the rest of these men. I’ll do the work, and there won’t be any blood on your hands, but you’re going to vote.”
“Why?” Fry wailed. “If you had your mind made up why did you drag us down here?”
“I’m going to make damned sure I’m not going to be left standing alone,” Messner said. “This way nobody will be able to put the blame on my shoulders.”
Halliday laughed. “What he means,” he said, “is that he’ll make us vote and then he’s got us around his little finger. He could have killed Ree and not a soul could have said a word, because by tomorrow everybody will know Ree killed the preacher.”
“I’ll stay and I’ll vote,” Byrd said. “But my vote is no, and that’s the way it’ll stay.”
“It doesn’t have to be unanimous,” Messner said.
“Yes it does,” Halliday said.
“How will you vote, gentlemen?” Messner asked. “How about you, Halliday?”
“I say arrest Ree,” Halliday said.
“Finish the thing,” Messner told him. “Say the rest of it.”
“That’s all of it,” Halliday said. “Arrest Ree.”
“Arrest Ree and see to it that he stands trial?” Messner asked. “Is that what you mean?”
“I didn’t say that,” Halliday said. “You’re only human, and Ree might not submit to arrest. For all I know he’ll make a break for it. If he does—why, then—do your duty.”
“In that case, what should I do, Halliday? What should I do if Ree makes a run for it?”
“Do your duty, sheriff.”
“That’s good enough for me. All right, Fry. What do you say?”
Fry had his hands clasped on the table in front of him, the fingers twisting and weaving and twining.
He didn’t answer.
“What do you say, Fry?” the sheriff persisted.
“I say do your duty,” Fry muttered.
The sheriff laughed.
“All right, mayor,” he said. “Let’s hear your little speech.”
“You took certain oaths when you took office,” the mayor said. “You know your duty.”
Messner laughed, “You vote aye, then, mayor.”
The mayor left the room.
“All right, Byrd,” the sheriff said. “How do you vote?”
Byrd was still standing by the door.
“No,” he said. “You can stay here all night, but I say no.”
The sheriff looked at Halliday.
“Let it go at that,” Halliday said.
“Then,” said the sheriff, “I have work to do. Good night, gentlemen.”
“What about me?” Swing asked.
“All right, what about you? Do you want to be chief of police?”
“Yes.”
“Then that takes care of you. Good night.”
Sam Byrd was sober, cold sober, for the first time in a long time sober.
He didn’t like himself, couldn’t stand himself, but for the first time in a long time he had a faint glimmer of pride in himself, for himself.
I bucked them, he told himself. I bucked them and didn’t back down. Even Halliday rode along, even when he didn’t want to go along, because he was afraid not to go along. What he has and what he is means more to him than his conscience.
He paused on the courthouse steps, wondering what he should do.
Halliday came out the door.
“Want me to give you a lift, Sam?” he asked.
“I’ll walk.”
“What do you think about all this?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I’m sorry it went this far. Ree’s gone, of course. Long gone, and we won’t ever hear anything about him.”
“They’ll catch him if he’s gone.”
“N
o they won’t. The sheriff won’t ever send out a wanted message.”
“He’ll have to. Ree will be indicted and they’ll have to.”
“He won’t be indicted. The sheriff can cover things up. He can say there’s not enough evidence.”
“You’re kidding yourself,” Byrd said. “You’re kidding yourself so that later you can tell yourself you only voted yes because you thought Ree would get away. You can kid yourself, but you can’t kid me.”
“I’m not kidding myself,” Halliday said. “Ree’s gone by now. He won’t be around when the sheriff goes to get him. If I didn’t know that for a fact I’d have strung along with you.”
“You’re just trying to ease your conscience in case he hasn’t skipped,” Sam Byrd said.
“No, I’m not. Messner wasted too much time, and by now Ree’s long gone. I know he’s gone, and that’s the only reason I didn’t take a firm stand against Messner.”
“I hope you’re right, but I don’t think you are.”
“Well, at any rate, I’m getting out of town. I’m going home and pack some things and get out of town.”
“Where you going?”
“I don’t know. But when the sun comes up I’ll be a long way from here, in a hotel, and I’m not coming back for a week.”
“I hope you sleep well.”
“Oh, I’ll sleep, but things are going to be different when I come back. I’m going to stay on the council, but things are going to be different. We’re going to run things right. I’ve got all the money I need and I don’t want any more. We’ll run the whores out of town, stop gambling and keep the city’s business on a sound basis.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late. I’ll see you in about a week. Sure you don’t want a ride home?”
“I’ll walk. Thanks.”
“Well, good night, Sam.”
“Good night.”
Sam Byrd walked up the street, slowly, wondering if Ree had skipped town and knowing he hadn’t. He had no reason to believe he hadn’t, but knowing it just the same.
Messner will kill him, he thought, and I’ll spend the rest of my life in hell.
There’s only one thing to do, he thought. Call Ree and warn him. That way I can always know that I was against what Messner said. Even if Ree doesn’t believe me and stays and is killed, I’ll know I did what’s right.
