When I looked back, I saw that the Buick had stopped at the side of the highway and the men were climbing out. They were almost a city block away, but they were running towards us over the rough ground. One of them tripped and fell against a cactus. I could hear them yelling as they went to his aid. Then they started running toward us again.
I pushed the car door open, then ran to Jessie’s side of the car. “Help me, damn it!” I yelled as Kelly sat frozen, “I think she’s having some kind of seizure!” Sara was on the floor, sobbing. When Kelly finally understood what I wanted him to do, he got in the front of the car. He used every ounce of his strength to push Jessie toward the middle of the bench seat while I pulled from the other side. When we’d made enough room, I climbed into the driver’s side and tried to start the engine. It took only a second until I found the starter with my foot. I got the gearbox into neutral and pressed down on the starter. At first, I got no response and I let up on the gas. I’d flooded the engine. Papa had taught me to keep trying the ignition without giving it any gas, which was what I did. Miraculously, it started up. I shifted into reverse and looked back to see the big blond guy only fifty feet behind, running and shooting at us. A bullet shattered our windshield just as I gunned the engine. The car leaped back so fast that the blond man couldn’t get out of the way. Our back bumper caught him squarely and his body flew through the air. I saw him land in the dirt as the other men scattered. They fired a barrage of shots after we passed them, then started running back towards their car.
I backed onto the highway and shifted into first, grinding the gears. The car died again and I sat helplessly as the men ran towards us. Just as one of them got near enough to shoot, the engine started again and the Cord lurched forward. I pushed the pedal all the way down as we headed out on the highway. After we lost sight of them, I realized they’d have to collect their wounded. I knew for sure I’d injured the blond guy when I’d backed into him. I hoped he was dead.
Sara stopped sobbing and leaned against me from the back seat. She put her hand on my shoulder. Kelly was still shaking as he cradled Jessie’s head on his lap. Her tongue seemed to be rolling around in her mouth as she made strange noises. She was having one of her epileptic fits.
No one said a word, but my mind was churning. I kept thinking about those papers Ace had hidden. Those men obviously hadn’t found them yet or they wouldn’t be after us. Then I started yelling at Kelly. “Where the hell did Ace hide those papers? Didn’t Ace tell you where his other hiding places were?”
“I told you I don’t know where they are!” he yelled.
“Damn it!” I yelled back, “you’ve got to know something, Kelly!”
Just then, Jessie regained consciousness and sat up, holding her head. “Billie!” she yelled, “what are you doing? Pull over and let me drive!” Then her head dipped like she was dizzy.
“You had a seizure,” I shouted. “I know what I’m doing. We just passed a sign that said fifty miles to Phoenix. If we keep up our speed, those guys can’t catch us.”
“You mean, they’re still after us?” she asked confusedly.
“Yeah,” I answered, “but we’ll have to slow down in town. I’m afraid to head straight to the governor’s house—they’d catch us for sure. That’s what they’d expect us to do. They’ll call ahead and have people waiting to ambush us.”
We said nothing more until we reached the junction and turned south towards Phoenix. An hour later we were on the outskirts of town. “I know where we could hide!” I heard Kelly yell. “If we can get to the old dump, we can hide the car in there. I know a path that’s big enough. It’s near my old clubhouse.”
I didn’t answer. It seemed like a bad idea. Only when I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw the Buick again. I gunned the Cord and pulled into the left lane. Every time we passed a car, I kept praying we’d see a highway patrolman. But that would be dangerous, too, I thought. If a patrolman pulled us over, the guys in the Buick might drive up and shoot us all.
“Show me where to turn,” I yelled, “but we’ll have to get far enough ahead of those guys so that they’ll lose sight of us. They’ll think we’re headed for the mansion.”
I started weaving in and out of traffic as I went through the stop sign at the six-points intersection. We were only half a mile from the dump and the Buick was completely out of sight. I turned onto Roosevelt Street, then turned again into a trash heap. The main path had been used years before by the dump trucks, but now it was littered with bottles. I didn’t stop until we reached a hollowed out place between two mountains of trash.
I cut the engine and sat there, then looked over at Jessie. She still looked dazed. “We have to leave the car here,” I said, “but we can hide in Kelly’s clubhouse. We can stack trash all around it. They’ll think it’s part of the dump.”
Kelly helped Sara out of the car while I helped Jessie. She was wobbly on her feet, but she was able to keep up with me.
It took ten minutes of crawling between mountains of trash for us to reach the packing crate that Kelly had made into his clubhouse. When we crawled inside, we found some blankets on the floor and cigarettes butts scattered everywhere. Someone had been using it as a shelter. Kelly and I ran back out and picked up all the loose trash we could find, then piled it around the crate. Finally we got back in and pulled the opening shut.
Sara was crying again. I put my finger over my mouth to shush her, then gave her a little hug. After that I helped Jessie lie down on one of the blankets. Then I heard a voice. “Goddamn it!” someone yelled, “they covered it with a bunch of trash!” I grabbed a rock and moved to the entry. I waited silently until someone pushed the tin sign away and ducked inside. I started to bring the rock down on his head, but I stopped myself. It was Oaf.
“Get in here!” I said, “You might have been followed.” Then I realized that sounded silly since Oaf was probably the only person staying there.
After I pulled him inside, the place stank even worse than it had before. He had scabs on his dirty face and his clothes were torn and ragged. I was sure he hadn’t bathed in weeks. Big tears welled up in his eyes as he looked around at us.
“Oh, Jesus, Billie!” he blurted, “Oh Jesus! I’m so happy it’s you! They burned down our shanty town last week. They put my father in jail for killing those church ladies. I didn’t have nowhere to go. Promise you’ll let me stay here!” He was so out of his head that he didn’t even ask why Jessie was there.
“Of course you can stay here,” I said to him. Just then a strange thing happened. Sara reached up and pulled down one of the airplane drawings that Kelly had pinned to the wall. She kept pointing to it. It was so dark in there that I couldn’t see why she was excited.
“You have any matches in here, Oaf?” I asked. He felt around the edges of the crate, then I saw a match flare. I could see him smiling as he handed it to me. “You want a cigarette?” he asked.
“No, I just need the match,” I answered. I held it up close to the paper in Sara’s hands. I could see that the back of the paper had typing on it. At the top, it said “State Insurance Bureau.” “Where’s the rest of them?” I asked.
“Give it back to me,” Kelly said. “That’s mine.”
“No it isn’t yours! These are those papers Ace was hiding!”
Kelly looked dumbfounded. “No they ain’t. They were just a pile of old mail Ace was throwing out. I grabbed ‘em so he wouldn’t throw ‘em away. The fan blew ‘em all across the house.”
I looked at the paper again. “This isn’t Ace’s mail,” I said angrily. “Where’s the rest of ‘em?”
Kelly just stared at me. “I stuck ‘em underneath the crate,” he finally answered. “I didn’t want ‘em to get wet. Every time it rains, the floor gets soaked.”
“Oh, Jesus, Kelly,” I said, “it’s not like they won’t get wet underneath the crate. They’re probably ruined.”
“No they ain’t!” he answered. “I put ‘em into a big scrapbook and wrapped ‘em in
an oil cloth.”
“Well get them!” I yelled.
Then he started digging with a broken knife just outside the other end of the crate. Finally he pulled out a big muddy oil cloth wrapped around a scrap book. “Here they are,” he called out.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jessie rise to a sitting position. “What are we doing here? Where are we?” she asked, gasping. Her eyes were glazed. I held her hand tightly and explained once more about our hiding place. She seemed to come back to her senses again. Kelly held onto the scrapbook tightly.
“The car!” said Jessie, “We had an accident! They were after us!”
“It’s okay,” I said reassuringly. “I got in the driver’s side and drove us out of there. We’re safe for the time being. Until they figure out where we are.”
Then Oaf spoke up. “I seen a big Buick pull up at Jack Wells’ place. I was spying on ‘em a little while ago. I figured they were comin’ after me, so I came over here to hide.”
“Thank God!” I answered. “If the Buick’s over there, they don’t know where we are! I think we can get out of here! Let’s get moving!”
I took the scrapbook from Kelly and helped Jessie to her feet. She seemed fully aware of her surroundings now.
We all had to duck down as we proceeded out of the crate. We struggled through the trash mounds again as Kelly helped me with Jessie. When we reached the car, I motioned for Sara and Oaf to get in the back. Then Kelly and I helped Jessie into the front. We sat on either side of her. I handed the scrapbook back to Oaf and told him to be careful with it. Although it was twilight, I didn’t dare use the headlights. There wasn’t enough room to turn the car around between the mountains of trash, so I craned my neck and backed up. I prayed we wouldn’t run over nails and flatten our tires.
When we came out onto Roosevelt Street I heard police sirens. I saw four cop cars rushing the other direction. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. I headed down 17th Avenue toward the governor’s mansion. It took us another fifteen minutes or so to reach the house. Just as we turned the corner, I could see that the place was ablaze with lights. There were cars parked all around it, like the governor was having a party. I parked on the street next to the house and just sat there, studying it. Then I heard a car door open. When I looked back, I saw Oaf jump out, still clutching the scrapbook.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I ain’t goin’ in that place. They’ll arrest me and take me to jail.” He looked around, then started to walk into the darkness.
I lurched out of the driver’s seat and ran after him. “Give me the scrapbook!” I yelled. He stopped and looked at it like he’d forgotten he was even carrying it. Then he handed it over to me and went jogging off.
When I went back to the car, I saw that Jessie was still sitting there. Her eyes were dull. “Jessie, please listen,” I said as I reached across the seat and took her hand. “We’re here at the mansion. We made it! Squeeze my hand if you understand.” After a moment, I felt her squeezing. “Kelly’s scrapbook has the papers everyone wants—the missing insurance papers the crooks were after.”
She squeezed my hand again, then suddenly smiled. “Thank God!” she blurted.
Just then I saw Tuck trotting toward us. “I saw you out the kitchen window,” he said when he got to the car. “My, oh my, I’m glad to see you. All hell’s broken loose around here. Old Johnny’s in there with Attorney General Defoe and Colonel Rutledge of the State Patrol. Captain Sykes is here, too, and they are all worried about you. The phone’s been ringing off the wall. I guess you don’t know it but that Insurance Commissioner, Calvin Roscoe, confessed to a lot of bad stuff in exchange for leniency.”
We followed Tuck into the kitchen. Tuck had everyone sit at the table while Jessie went into the governor’s study with me in tow. I had Kelly’s scrapbook in my hands. When we came through the door, we saw the governor with some other men. Cigar smoke filled the air.
“Where have you been?” said the governor as he rose and hugged Jessie. “We were worried to death!”
“I’m okay, Dad,” said Jessie. She started to tell him what had happened but he cut her off again.
“I just got a call about a raid on Jack Wells’ house,” he said. “We caught us some crooks right at payoff time.” Then he gave her a concerned look. “Why did you drive alone?” he asked, looking accusingly at Captain Sykes.
“No time for that,” Jessie replied sharply, “Show him the papers, Billie. Look at ‘em, Dad! These are the missing documents—the ones that are going to put a lot of people in jail!” She proceeded to tell everyone about the car chase and her seizure, and us hiding out in the clubhouse and finding the papers. The only part she left out was Captain Sykes getting drunk.
Colonel Rutledge stood up and started to pace. He looked furious when Jessie told them about the men who tried to kill us. Just then a man sitting on the sofa got up and came over to me. “May I see those papers?” he asked.
I looked around nervously.
“Go ahead,” said the governor. “This is Attorney General Defoe. Show him the papers, Billie.”
I slowly reached out and handed them to him. He was a dapper man with slicked-back hair and a little mustache. He reminded me of Ace except his eyes looked fierce. I could tell he was angry from the set of his jaw.
He leafed through the scrapbook, then looked up at us. “My God,” he said, “it looks like the real thing. Everything we suspected. Thank God I authorized the raid today.” He sat back on the sofa and shook his head. “I’m still not sure it was completely legal, but I think we can declare a state of emergency and get by with it.”
Then the governor cut in. “Old Cal Roscoe confessed to everything,” he said to Jessie. “Half the state’s involved! Roscoe went to a meeting at Jack Wells’ house to make a payoff. Our boys caught ‘em in the act. Lacy Horne carried the money and handed it over to a bunch of hoodlums from Chicago. They didn’t know Roscoe had already confessed and was setting them up.” I realized right then where all the police cars we’d seen were headed.
Then Rutledge spoke up. “I’m expecting to hear from our men again any minute. But Pat already told the governor the raid was a success. They caught Lacy Horne and that cop, Riggs, red-handed.” I was surprised that Detective Riggs was in on it. I hadn’t figured him for a bad guy.
“That was a motley crew we used,” added the governor as he looked at Jessie, “retired cops working under Pat and Jim. I didn’t want any tip offs.” Then he looked at me. “Billie, you’re the hero of the day. Thank God we have these papers! Roscoe’s word alone may not have been enough. Lacy Horne and Riggs would have claimed they were undercover or some damn thing.”
The only one not excited was Captain Sykes. He was sitting alone in a big chair in a dark corner of the room.
Just then the phone on the stand next to the fireplace started ringing again. The governor picked it up and listened a moment before answering. “You’ll have your story, Cooley, but I can’t talk to you now. Come on over here.” He paused, then shouted into the phone, “No, I’m not crazy and I’m not setting you up. This is on the level and it’s the biggest story of your miserable career. Come or stay home, I don’t give a damn. I’m calling some other reporters, too.” Then he slammed the receiver down so hard I thought it would break. As soon as he did, the phone was ringing again. The governor growled as he picked it up, then suddenly smiled. “Pat,” he said into the phone, “thank God it’s you.” I figured it was Pat Fellows.
The governor listened closely, then spoke again. “Repeat this all to Rutledge,” he said. “Work it out with him about where to jail them. I haven’t got the slightest idea.” Colonel Rutledge took the phone and identified himself, then listened while the governor stood beaming.
A few minutes later, Dr. Kessler arrived. After Jessie told him about her seizure, he shined a light into her eyes and took her pulse. “I’m going to need to run some tests on you, Jessie,” he said. “But there’s not
hing to worry about. Go ahead and have Tuck fix you a mild drink. It’ll help you relax.”
“Biggest haul in history,” the governor said to Jessie. “Pat, Jim and the boys just nailed our friend, the county attorney, in the process of paying off some Chicago hoods. Lacy Horne was carrying a briefcase full of cash. They got that detective, too. Riggs.” He stopped talking for a moment. “Shocked the hell out of me. The problem is we can’t put ‘em in the county jail and I don’t trust the city cops to hold ‘em. Pat needs a place to stash these guys quick. We can only hold ‘em 24 hours before we charge them, and the evidence is here in these damn papers. It’ll take all night to comb through them.”
Colonel Rutledge looked back at the governor as he held a hand over the receiver. “The only thing we can do is use one of the jails in a nearby town. I’m sure those boys aren’t in on this. The Wickenburg jail will do. We can run ‘em up there. It’s only fifty miles. The reporters will have no idea where we’ve put ‘em.”
“Listen, when those reporters come in,” said the governor, “I don’t want a word about where we’ve jailed these guys. Not a damn word. If we’re lucky, we’ll find enough in those papers to identify the crooks in the courthouse—the ones we never suspected. These are crimes against the state, so it will be legal to take them out of the county. Later on we’ll transfer the others back here. Now let’s get to work on these papers.”
Summer of the Guns Page 22
