Low Country Law

by Ron Hudson

  “We are about to make an arrest regarding the case, and I will have more information tomorrow.”

  Chapter 37

  Harley Kettle spent more time hanging around Nel’s Place than he spent at his own home. It was his favorite place to drink and engage in conversation with other people. He had an opinion on everything and everybody. He never passed up an opportunity to express his opinion to anyone would listen.

  Harley and Nellis both served in the Army during the Vietnam War, although not together. They both had served in 115th Cav. This gave them lots of opportunities to exchange war stories. Nellis was very reserved and realistic about his experience, but Harley, being a good storyteller, always blew his exploits out of portion from the facts. Nellis knew it, but let Harley go on to wax is ego. Later, he would tell anyone listening, “that fucking lying bastard. He was a company cook, and never left the base camp. What a crock of shit.”

  To say the least, he was a brash individual. Not only did he drink a lot, but his constant chatter and the ability to be a great storyteller drew people to him. His ego caused him to try to impress the transients and unemployed who hung out at Nel’s Place. Nellis Garvant made his living on the sale of beer, lottery tickets, and a few other staples. This was much different from Floods Place, where people went for entertainment and social hellraising. Harley was a magnet for the other customers at Nel’s.

  Harley would usually come into Nel’s with a jar of moonshine he had gotten from Homer or Henry and share it with Nellis and a few special friends. During times when business was slow, Nellis and Harley would sit around and drink the strong stuff. Neither of the men liked to drink beer. That was the stuff Nellis sold to his customers, and usually by the six-pack. The space was only about twelve feet square. About a third of that was taken up by the enclosed counter, behind which Nellis usually sat. Customers who wanted to hang around would sit on several fifty-pound bags of animal food and dog food available for sale. Drinking in the store or just outside, was part of the environment of the small business.

  Nellis wasn’t best buddies with Harley, but through their mutual habit of drinking, and the fact that Harley would always furnish the booze, Nellis was friendly with him. Occasionally Harley would get so drunk that he would pass out. When he did, Nellis would just roll him over behind some bags of dog food. There he would sleep until the end of the day when Nellis would wake him up and put him out the door. Harley would get in his pickup and swerve down the road to his home a few miles away.

  Besides talking loud and using profanity with almost every other word, another habit Harley had was to tell stories of his life experiences or anyone else’s. As it turns out, most of the stories he told were figments of his imagination. Since Homer and Henry had been murdered in the swamp behind Nel’s, Harley was full of stories about the exploits of himself and the two men. With neither of them being able to dispute it, he could expand their exploits to suit his imagination. An example was when Harley told Nellis he was the one that had set up Homer and Henry in their business and told them how to market and get rid of it to the buyers in North Carolina. Of course, Nellis, knowing it was all fabricated just listened and laughed.

  Having drunk a substantial amount of whiskey one day, Harley started talking about his connections with the mayor, treasurer, sheriff and other politicians in Warrenton. Nellis hadn’t been drinking much that day, so he was quite alert to the onslaught of bullshit.

  At one point, Nellis said, “If you don’t shut up your mouth I’m gonna kick you out of here. But before I do I’m gonna stomp your filthy ass good.”

  Harley replied, “You do, and I’ll call my buddies, in high places in Warrenton. One of them owes me a favor, and I’ll call it in.”

  Nellis didn’t believe Harley and didn’t care anyway, but the name of the someone in Warrenton did pique his interest, so he left Harley alone. Harley continued in his drunken stupor mumbling to himself with his head bobbing up and down. His speech was not very clear but intelligible.

  Nellis kept listening and since he had seen Harley in this condition before knew that after a little while he would just go to sleep. Nellis’ ears picked up again when heard Harley mumble something about someone owing him money.

  “You didn’t think I could do it did you? I told you I would, and I did, just like you wanted me to. Now you owe me big time. What I did for you ties us together at the hip, motherfucker. I’ll be back and collect more money when I need something else. How’s about that, old buddy? I don’t give a shit if you win or lose the election. I’ll collect what you owe me and then some.”

  Harley kept mumbling with his head bobbing for a few more minutes about having a buddy in politics, then went quiet with his head dropping to his chest.

  Nellis usually didn’t believe anything he heard Harley mumble or say out loud, as Harley bragged so much and told so many tall stories he was hard to believe. Yet, his comment about a buddy in politics was interesting. At the time, he decided to dismiss it as just more bullshit.

  Chapter 38

  Caley wasn’t satisfied with her previous conversation with Nellis Garvant. He just seemed to be withholding something. Maybe it was his personality, but she doubted it. He appeared to be an intelligent man. There was no reason he shouldn’t be truthful with her if he knew anything that might help identify the murders.

  When she walked in, Nellis was the only one in the place. Right away, he said, “Good morning, I’m glad you are back. There is something I didn’t want to tell you before with all the customers in the place. It has to do with Harley Kettle.

  Nellis continued by saying, ”I’m glad Harley is not here now either because I want to tell you something I heard him say. Don’t say where you got the information. You probably don’t know it, but Harley is a heavy drinker.”

  Pointing toward the bags of dog food Nellis said, “While he was almost passed out, sitting right over there the other day, he was mumbling something he knew about Jim Avant who you told me you were investigating.”

  “It wasn’t very clear since he was almost passed out, but you may want to at least talk to him about it. Ask him about Jim Avant. I couldn’t hear it all, but it sounded like he was in cahoots with Avant on some gun deal. Harley is the biggest bull shitter in the county, so I doubt if anything he tells you is the truth. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to ask him about his dealings with Avant and some politician in Warrenton.”

  “What politician?”

  “I didn’t get his name, but according to what he was mumbling about, this politician seems to owe him some kind of favor.”

  Unable to obtain any more useful information, Caley finally walked out the door.

  Then she saw Mo was back beside the tree where he was before. She paid her respects and asked if he had spoken with Harley Kettle lately.

  Emphasizing the “yea,” Mo said, “Oh yeah. He talks with me every few days.

  “What do you mean he talks with you, Mo.”

  “Guess you don’t know Mr. Harley does all the talking when he is around. You don’t get a word in edgewise with him, but he is a very nice person otherwise.”

  “Have you ever heard him talk about Homer Aiken or Henry Padgett,” asked Caley.

  “Well, yeah. I know he said to me one time they made the best whiskey in the state. He even gave me a drink of it, and you know I believe he was right.”

  “I’ve heard that before. They must have been very good at what they were doing,” said Caley trying to get Mo to become more communicative.

  “Oh yeah, they made good stuff, alright. Better than that store bought liquor. But I didn’t drink much of it. I couldn’t afford it.”

  “Mo has Harley ever mentioned any of his friends in town. You know, like politicians or anyone else?”

  “No, I never heard him say nothing about his friends, outside of the people right around here.”

  “OK, Mo.

  Chapter 39

  Caley needed to talk with Jim Avant again to see if she coul
d get any further corroborating information that might give her a better feeling about the pistol she found beneath his house. She had questioned him in his yard earlier and had a sense that he was genuinely surprised she had found the gun under his house.

  There were many questions to be answered, but she was not prepared for a suspect interview just yet. But it didn’t matter at this point. The sheriff had directed her to bring Avant in, and she needed to pursue the issue. Arresting him just didn’t seem like the thing to do before she had more information about the mysterious gun.

  Avant heard Caley drive up. He walked to the front of the house to meet her. She immediately noticed a difference in his demeanor from his former belligerent attitude. He approached as she got out of the vehicle.

  “I know you back about that gun you found under my house, but I swear to God I never seen it before,” said Avant as she pulled up.

  Seeing that Avant appeared to be concerned and more cooperative, Caley decided to take advantage of his change of attitude while she had the opportunity. She still didn’t want to arrest him in spite of the sheriff’s instructions, so she tried to see if he would come with her on his own recognizance.

  “I believe you Jim, but you got to understand my position. Here I am investigating the murder of two people who were shot with a .45 Automatic, and low and behold, I find one under your house.“

  “Well, the only gun I own is a shotgun. If I had a pistol, it surely wouldn’t be a .45. It would be a .22 or something small enough for me to shoot animals running around this neighborhood.”

  “That makes sense to me Jim, but I do have to ask you some more questions. How about if you come down to the office with me so we can get your statement on record. Maybe we can clear up this whole mess. If everything turns out you could be back home before the end of the day. Does that make sense to you?”

  Avant didn’t seem to be pleased that he had to go to the sheriff’s facility to make a statement, but he decided he needed to cooperate.

  “OK, I’ll go, but I need to get back soon enough to feed my hogs. I’ll drive my pickup and follow you.”

  While walking around the property, Caley had not seen any hogs. She got the feeling that Avant’s hogs were as non-existent as were the dogs, which he previously lied about. She was still not able to read Avant, as she could with many suspects. Some statements seemed logical, but then he kept lying to her. Without hesitation, Avant walked over to his old early model Ford pickup and started it waiting for Caley to pull out ahead of him.

  In the interview room, Avant was seated in one of the three chairs waiting for Caley to start the conversation. His old rumpled narrow-brimmed black felt hat was sitting on the back of his head. A large man, with seriously decayed teeth, he seemed nervous. Caley sat in one of the other chairs, slowly crossed her legs and took her time getting a notepad and pen out of her pocket. She continued to casually observe Avant’s demeanor, intentionally taking an unusually long pause. Avant seemed to get more fidgety.

  Caley never liked to interview people across a desk. On many occasions, she had been able to read non-verbal signs that might have otherwise been missed. It had paid off for her on several occasions. With one suspect, he would clench his fists every time she keyed in on certain issues. Picking up on this non-verbal pattern, she was able to get a confession by just observing his reactions to certain leading questions. She was more comfortable with attempting to establish a trust with the other person, as opposed to taking accusatory style.

  Her neat appearance and pleasant conversation made her an expert interviewer. She was usually able to find something personal with which to flatter the person without creating a sense of deception. To her, this came naturally rather than contrived.

  Right away, she observed that Avant had an Army paratroopers jump pin on his old ragged shirt. Assuming he was proud of him service in the Army, Caley said, “Were you in the Army Jim?”

  “Yep, Viet Nam, three tours!”

  “It must have been tough over there Jim.”

  “You bet. I was shot twice and received two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star.”

  “Well Jim, it was a different time from I’m told. Now military service is more respected.”

  After a while, Avant seemed to become more relaxed responding the way Caley had planned. She knew he wasn’t ready to let his guard down yet, but so far, he seemed more at ease. After letting Avant comment on a few more of his Army experiences, she changed tack.

  “Jim, having put so much time in the military, I know you are a smart man. I need your help in solving this crime and want you to level with me. You think you could do that?”

  “Of course and I have been leveling with you all along.”

  “OK, let’s get back to that pistol I found under your house. Any idea at all how it got there?”

  “As I told you I don’t. But I have been thinking a lot about it and was wondering what difference it makes anyway.”

  “Jim, being a Viet Nam vet, you must be very familiar with a Model 1911 .45. Bet you have shot plenty of them.”

  “That’s no shit.”

  “Well Jim, we are checking to see if ballistics match the bullets from the victims. If that comes back negative, you’re off the hook, on the other hand, if it comes back positive, what would you say to that?”

  “No way can it be positive!”

  “I hope you are right, but since you don’t know how it got there, you certainly can’t predict how the forensics will come out. Right?”

  This seemed to have an effect on Avant as he shifted back to his fidgety state. Just as she felt she was gaining his trust in comes the sheriff.

  Without waiting for Caley to report anything the sheriff blurted, “Well Jim you’ve gotten into a mess here, what you have to say for yourself?”

  Caley cringed, and Avant immediately got more nervous. His facial expression changed from a slight smile to a stoic expression. The sheriff’s presence apparently upset him. The sheriff continued to make offensive comments. Caley let him continue his line of questioning, thinking that this may be a good time to play the “good guy, bad guy” scenario with the unwitting sheriff.

  Avant responded to the sheriff’s inquiry with silence.

  “Now Jim, we know you killed those two people, and we got the weapon you used to do it. There is no need for you to do anything but give us the whole story. Why did you do it, Jim?”

  Silence!

  “I’ve known you for many years, and I know you never did like Homer Aiken. You finally got the chance to do him in, and Henry Padgett along with him, didn’t you? Not only that, but you saw an opportunity to take over his whiskey operation. Then you went back and stole his still and equipment. If we get a warrant to search your place, will we find the stuff?”

  The one-sided tirade continued for about 15 minutes, while Avant just stared straight ahead and said nothing.

  Finally, the sheriff still not realizing that Avant wasn’t under arrest said, “Caley I’m leaving. If this fool don’t come clean, keep him here locked up until hell freezes over.”

  Chapter 40

  The last tornado to hit South Carolina was 10 years earlier. Even in this area, which frequently experiences hurricanes a tornado is rare. However, today was going to be different. Not only was the Lowcountry overdue for some bad weather, but a danger of a “doomsday” hex hung over the population.

  Fuzz was about to learn how strong his supernatural powers really were.

  Most educated people in the area dismissed witches, ghosts, and other paranormal events as myths passed down from previous generations, having little influence on reality.

  Not so for the people of Shelltown and a few of their friends. They had all heard about the murder of the two moonshiners. They were convinced it was the work of Oba and his intermediary, Fuzz. It was also common knowledge that they had placed a “doomsday” hex on the entire area, and its effect was yet to be realized.

  Fuzz knew it was coming when he first abou
t the local TV stations warning the residents to take precautions against a possible tornado touch down in the area. He was now stricken with fear as to what he had turned loose, in his desire to help Strep and Topop. In spite of his bragging that his hex worked on the moonshiners, he never expected to inspire the murders. Now he was even more distressed about his feeling of being responsible for a “doomsday” happening.

  He was certain the death of the two people was not the end of what he had initiated. What he regretted, even more, was that he knew of no way of stopping what was to come—yes, a tornado was on its way. The only question now was where it would hit.

  Maybe if he and Cricket prayed or tried another séance, it would help lessen the force of what was to come. Therefore, they went to their favorite log just outside the village. Cricket crawled up on the log and laid her head in fuzz’s lap. He closed his eyes and said a series of words that would have made little sense to anyone who may have been around.

  “Hum, hum, hum, dum, dum, dum, waw, waw, waw, chee, chee, chee, hear me oh great Lucifer in control of all things magic. Please put a stop to the spell I done put on this place.”

  Fuzz went on to repeat the chant adding more unintelligible words as he repeated the phrases over and over. When Fuzz started chanting, Cricket began a low howl, which sounded as though she was in severe pain. But no pain was in her body today. She just wanted to help her master. She didn’t completely understand what the chant was about, but she knew Fuzz rarely performed it in this manner and knew it was important. She wanted to do her part.