The Huckleberry Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery

by Patrick F. McManus

  Tully smiled at Angie. “Thanks to you and Mr. Wilson, we may have a lead. What do you think about a little backpacking, Angie?”

  19

  AS THEY APPROACHED Blight City, Tully pulled into the long paved driveway that led up to Pap’s castle. Tully believed Pap had built the huge house on a hill so that he could look out his front windows and survey what he regarded as his domain, a broad expanse that stretched out over much of Blight County, bordered on one side by Lake Blight, on another by the Snowy Mountains, and on another by the Hoodoo Mountains.

  “Good heavens!” gasped Angie. “This is gorgeous!”

  “Yes, it is. You might want to keep in mind, if you ever start looking for real men again, that when Pap dies I inherit all of this. Just thought I’d mention it.”

  She smiled. “I’ll definitely keep it in mind, Bo.”

  “On the other hand, the way Pap is going, smoking and drinking and carousing all over the county, I suspect he’ll never die, if for no other reason than just to torment me.”

  Angie laughed. “How old is he?”

  “Just turned seventy-six. He stole a gorgeous young waitress from Dave’s House of Fry about a year ago. Claims he hired her as his housekeeper. Turned out Deedee is now boss of the place and runs Pap around like he’s a lowly servant. I love it.”

  “The House of Fry? I’ve heard it’s the best restaurant in the county to eat.”

  They approached a wide parking area lit by several large lights on high poles. “It probably is. Claims to have the world’s biggest and best chicken-fried steak. I’ve never found fault with the claim. The place is owned by a somewhat mysterious friend of mine, Dave Perkins. Dave pretends to be an Indian, but only because he wants to turn the House of Fry into a casino operated by his tribe of one.”

  Tully parked his battered old red Explorer next to Pap’s most recent Mercedes, a small silver convertible that all by itself filled his son with unquenchable envy. And Tully didn’t care that much about cars in the first place.

  Angie dug a tube of lipstick out of her shoulder bag and, using the mirror on the back of the visor, refreshed her lips. The makeover completed, she examined it this way and that, shoved the visor back up, and said, “Your friend Dave sounds interesting. Why mysterious?”

  “I’ll give you one example. A while back we were eating in a little café up north, and a couple of young lumberjacks came in. They said we were eating at their table. Dave seems to be a mild-mannered guy, and he politely told them there were lots of other tables, choose one of them. The jacks told him they would move him to one of the other tables. One grabbed Dave around the neck and the other grabbed him around the waist and they started to lift. The next thing I knew, both men were lying on the floor behind Dave, both of them out cold and bleeding about the face. I was seated directly across from him and never saw him move. He was nibbling on a cracker. Now is that mysterious?”

  “I would say it meets the definition. Do I get to meet him?”

  “Before we get our recent murders taken care of, we’ll no doubt bring him in as backup. I don’t like to use him until a situation gets dangerous.”

  “You think this situation will get dangerous?”

  “I’m sure of it.” He jerked his thumb at the house. “Well, Angie, this is it. I might as well take you in and introduce you to Pap Tully. Don’t expect too much.”

  “Oh, Bo, don’t be silly. I’m sure meeting your father will be a treat.”

  Deedee answered Tully’s knock on the door. “Oh, Bo! This is so great.”

  He introduced Angie. “She’s an FBI agent.”

  “An FBI agent!” Deedee exclaimed. “My goodness, I’ve never met a real FBI agent before.” She was shaking hands with Angie when Tully heard the rustle of paper, a piece of furniture knocked over, and the back door opening and slamming shut.

  Tully rushed out the front door and around the side of the house. His father had already leaped into the convertible. Tully jerked open the passenger door. “Hold up, Pap. It’s a woman agent. She’s working with me. She’s not after you. She just wants to meet you. You’re her hero.”

  Pap turned off the convertible. “Really, Bo? You’re not joshing me now, are you?”

  “No. She’s in town helping me on the killings up in the huckleberry patch.”

  “You say I’m her hero?” Pap looked skeptical but hopeful.

  “She’s read all about you. And she’s very good-looking, particularly for an FBI agent. On the other hand, you should avoid committing any crimes while she’s in town. I suspect she’s the kind of agent who goes by the book.”

  Pap got out of the convertible. “If you say so, Bo, I’ll check my list and eliminate any possible fed crimes. Good-looking, you say?”

  “Yeah. Well, for a middle-aged lady. She’s not one of those young hotties you’re always checking out. Her name is Angela Phelps.”

  “Bo, any woman under sixty I consider a hottie. And quite a few over sixty.”

  They walked back into the house through the back door. Angie and Deedee were seated in the living room. Tully introduced Pap to Angie. She popped up from her seat and shook the old man’s hand. “Mr. Tully, I have to tell you I’ve read everything ever written about you, and I have to say, you are a real-life legend.”

  Pap grinned. “A legend. Surely you exaggerate, Agent Phelps.”

  “Not a bit. And please call me Angie, sir. You son has been filling me in on even more of your extraordinary feats.”

  “Really? You sure it was Bo?”

  “Yes indeed. Awarded a medal of valor by the governor. That’s major, Mr. Tully. Major.”

  “They shot me three times,” Pap said.

  Tully shook his head. “Don’t milk it, Pap. Which reminds me, Deedee, if you were thinking of serving tea, I take milk in mine.”

  “You are such a mind reader, Bo. Even though I hadn’t mentioned it yet, I was very much thinking about offering you tea.”

  Pap said, “Would you like to see the medal of valor, Angie?”

  Tully said, “Pap!”

  “Indeed I would,” Angie said. “And I don’t know how a nice man like you, Pap, could raise such a grumpy son as Bo.”

  Tully rolled his eyes. Pap went off somewhere to retrieve his medal, and Deedee disappeared into the kitchen to make tea.

  “You have quite the way with old men,” Tully whispered to Angie.

  She smiled. “It’s my specialty. I’m surprised you didn’t notice when we were in the swamp.”

  “Probably because I’m scarcely forty.”

  “Going on forty-three. Remember, I read your file, too.”

  Pap returned with the medal. Angie was impressed, perhaps overly impressed as far as Bo was concerned. Presently Deedee came in with a tray bearing a silver teapot and china cups. Tully could tell that Deedee had been upgrading Pap’s lifestyle.

  After both Deedee and Angie appeared to be about finished making over Pap, Tully said to him, “Enough of this nonsense. I brought Angie over here only because I need some information from you about the swamp.”

  Pap chuckled. “I figured you was gettin’ tired of these two beautiful women fussing over me.” He grinned at the ladies. “Bo is about the most envious man you’ll ever meet, when it comes to women.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Tully said. “Stop preening for a moment and tell me about the swamp.”

  “It’s haunted.” Pap settled back into his chair. “You know that, don’t you, Bo?”

  “So I’ve heard from Poke. In the past week I’ve heard about a haunted lake and now a haunted swamp.”

  “Poke’s all right as far as he goes, but he don’t go far. He’s still too young.”

  “He was the first one to tell me it’s haunted.”

  “Yep, and me and Eddie Muldoon was the fellas that haunted it. It’s true, two young boys disappeared in the swamp, but that was long before Eddie and me came along. We was about ten, maybe even a little younger, when we heard that train robbers had burie
d their gold somewhere in the swamp shortly before they was killed by a posse. Now, you can check the old papers about the robbers, so you’ll know that much is true.”

  Tully tugged on the droopy corner of his mustache. “I want to know all of it is true, Pap.”

  “It is, Bo, it is.” Pap put his feet up on an ottoman, folded his hands on his belly, and prepared himself for storytelling. “Now shut up and let me get on with this. Where was I?”

  “You and Crazy Eddie were ten,” Deedee said.

  “Right, we was about ten. I can’t remember our exact ages. Anyway, Eddie found out about the robbers’ treasure and came up with the idea we should build a raft and go look for it. We was in a powerful hurry to find the treasure because neither of us had a cent of money. The real Depression was going on at the time and any adults who had money, they didn’t waste it on kids. Our raft wasn’t much for show, because we built it out of cedar fence posts we borrowed from one of the Muldoon fences.”

  “Fully intending to replace them, no doubt,” Tully said.

  “You bet. Now are you going to let me tell this, or not?”

  Angie and Deedee held fingers up to their lips, signaling Tully to be quiet. He expected Deedee at least to be familiar with Pap’s fantastical yarns by now. But he held his hands up in surrender.

  “So,” Pap continued, “we slid the raft into Scotchman Crick and both of us got on, one at each end. That’s when we discovered we were one or two fence posts short, because the raft floated along about an inch underwater. In no time at all, we had drifted into the swamp. We had made ourselves some paddles, but they wasn’t much good for steering a raft. You might think a crick would know its way through a swamp, but Scotchman don’t. It would go this way for a while, and then we’d find that was a dead end, and then we’d turn and go a different way. Pretty soon evening came on, and after a while it got dark and the air took on a chill. The moon came out and the raft continued to drift this way and that, mist rising from the water, owls hooting, and every so often a goose or a duck would take off squawking like mad from right next to the raft and scare us half to death.”

  Tully smiled at Angie. She didn’t notice. “All at once,” Pap continued, “we look up ahead and see a big fire burning on an island and men outlined against the fire, rushing around, doing some kind of work. I whispered to Eddie, ‘We’re saved! Those fellas will get us out of here.’ And he hisses back, ‘No way! They’ll kill us for sure. They got to be some kind of pirates! Just stand real still and maybe they won’t notice us when we float by.’ That’s when I see the lookout. He’s sittin’ on the end of the dock with his legs dangling over the water and he’s got a rifle across his lap.”

  “Wait a minute!” Tully exclaimed.

  Deedee and Angie both shushed him.

  Pap gave Tully a little grin and went back to his story. “Well, that lookout sees us and jumps up and his rifle falls into the water. He turns around and rushes back to the men working around the fire and he’s telling what he saw and is pointing right at us. All the men stop what they’re doing and stare out at us. But just then we drift into a patch of fog. One of the men takes off his hat and whips the lookout across the head with it. An hour or so later—it seemed like at least a year—we got back in the main current and floated out of the swamp. I ain’t never told anybody about our little adventure before, because I figured nobody would believe it. But that’s the way it happened.”

  Tully looked at Angie. Her mouth was gaping. FBI agents are such pushovers. He turned to Pap. “Angie and I have hired Poke to take us into the swamp on his raft tomorrow night. I’ve got this feeling there may be something in there that holds a clue to the murders up in the huckleberry patch.”

  Pap scratched his chin. “In that case, we’d definitely want Dave along.”

  “Poke did suggest I bring along a rifle with open sights. I’ve got my old Marlin .32 Special in the Explorer right now, but don’t expect I’ll have to use it. If the fellows I’m after are hanging around out there in the middle of the night, they’re stupider than I think.”

  Pap looked over at Angie. “Well, I’d better go along. I don’t trust you one minute out in a swamp with a pretty lady, Bo.”

  Angie laughed. “Thank you for the compliment, Pap, but I think I’ll be safe with Bo. I’d love for you to come along, though.”

  Deedee said, “Oh, please take him! He needs a little excitement. And I need some peace and quiet.”

  Tully stretched and yawned. “I guess that settles it, Pap. You’re going whether you want to or not.”

  • • •

  Driving Angie back to her hotel, Tully said, “Well, what did you think of the famous Pap Tully?”

  “I thought he was wonderful, Bo! I about fell over when he told that story about rafting through the swamp. It fit right into what Poke told us.”

  “You believed it, then, did you, Angie?”

  “Why, yes, I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I take it the FBI doesn’t let you interrogate suspects.”

  “Now that you mention it, I haven’t had that particular experience. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.”

  20

  TULLY WAS SURPRISED the next morning to get a full cup of coffee out of one of the five coffee pumps, the first four of which, as usual, only fissed at him. The last one squirted out a full stream of black coffee. There was even a little pitcher of cream next to it.

  “What’s going on?” he said, looking around the briefing room at his troops. “You left me some coffee for a change.”

  Several of the deputies chuckled. Ernie Thorpe said, “It was just an oversight, boss.”

  “Not really, boss,” Brian Pugh said. “It was Flo’s idea that we start being nice to you. From now on, you’ve got your own coffee pump, filled with French roast, I believe. Flo says anybody who sneaks a cup out of it will have to deal with her.”

  Tully stuck his head into the radio room. Flo smiled at him.

  “Thanks, Flo. It’s nice to have someone looking out for me.”

  “No problem, boss. I figured with you having to hang out all day with an FBI agent, you needed a little special care.”

  “Indeed I do.” Tully guessed that she and Daisy had been discussing Angie. He glanced around the room. Daisy was at her desk. Lurch was in his corner. Undersheriff Herb Eliot was standing in front of the other deputies. “What’s up, Herb?”

  “I just finished my briefing, Bo. We’ve got some nut breaking into houses up on the north side. Because he doesn’t seem to mind if folks are home, folks assume he’s armed. So folks are going to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Yeah,” Tully said, “and folks end up shooting one of their kids who gets up to go to the bathroom. Get over to the radio station, Herb, and be a guest on Jim Dinkum’s morning show. Every idiot in town listens to it. Explain to our gun-happy populace that anyone firing a weapon inside the city limits for any reason will be in serious trouble.”

  “Got it, boss.” Herb had settled into a chair and remained seated.

  “One more thing,” Tully said. “Everybody be on the lookout for a big white pickup truck with dual tires on the back and a California plate. If you spot it, don’t do anything, but try to get the plate number. Not a good idea to stop the truck. The occupants would shoot you dead in a second. I’m not sure what they’re up to.”

  Ernie Thorpe raised his hand. “You got some evidence against these guys, Bo?”

  “No, I don’t. What’s your point, Ernie?”

  The briefing room erupted with laughter.

  Tully went on. “We had one possible witness but somebody killed him. Pugh, if you’re out in an unmarked car and happen to spot the pickup, you might follow it at a distance, try to find where they’re holed up, but don’t get close. You understand?”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Ernie Thorpe said, “You think there’s a connection between the break-in guy and the pickup folks, Bo?”

  “
Naw, I don’t think so, Ernie. The break-in guy is some nut who doesn’t realize some of our Blight County folks will shoot him dead and bury his body in the backyard before they eat breakfast.”

  Herb was still relaxing in a chair. Tully glared at him. “So why are you still sitting here, Herb? Get over to the radio station.”

  “Right, boss.” Herb shoved himself up out of the chair and shuffled out.

  Tully pointed to three deputies one after the other. “Thorpe, Pugh, and Daisy, I want to see you three in my office. The rest of you guys hit the road and try not to get yourselves killed. Flesh wounds are okay, but nothing serious. Daisy will apply a Band-Aid. We can’t afford more doctor bills.”

  The deputies shuffled off. Daisy, Brian, and Ernie went into the office, pulling in a couple of extra chairs. Tully sipped his coffee and set the cup on his desk. He flopped down in his office chair and studied the three deputies. He started with Daisy. “You get that warrant from Judge Patterson?”

  “Yes. It’s in my desk drawer. He was more picky than usual. He wanted to limit the search for the body to the house.”

  “Body?” Ernie Thorpe said. “What body?”

  “Orville Poulson’s,” Tully said. “I have some information the body may be buried under the house. The ranch-sitter may have killed him, but I don’t think so. He’s a sociopath but not a killer.”

  Pugh leaned forward in his chair. “You think there’s some connection between Orville Poulson and whoever blasted Lennie Frick?”

  Thorpe added, “And the huckleberry murders?”

  “Could be, but I don’t have a clue. I think the swamp has something to do with it, but I’m checking that out tonight.”

  “You taking the FBI lady?” Pugh asked.

  Thanks a lot, Brian, Tully thought. He could feel Daisy’s eyes boring into him. “The FBI lady is insisting on it. If we don’t find anything tonight, maybe she’ll head back to Boise tomorrow. Otherwise, I’m turning her over to you, Pugh. It’s your turn to babysit her. I tried to get Daisy to do it but she refused.”

  “She’s that bad, boss?” Ernie said.