A Reckoning in the Back Country

by Terry Shames

  “Oh, well. Then I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  When I hang up, Dusty is busy tearing up a piece of paper he found on the floor, growling with his little pup growl. I watch him for a minute and remember that I still haven’t told Ellen about him. Last time I talked to her, he wasn’t going to stay.

  It’s mid-afternoon, and I haven’t called Wendy to find out if her niece has gone home. “Dusty, I’ve got myself in a predicament.”

  Tired of the game, he plops onto his backside and cocks his head at me, as if he’s waiting to hear more of what I have to say. He’s starting to fill in a little and his legs are sturdier. He’s going to have a brush tail and is getting some fluff to his ears.

  “Suppose I don’t call Wendy? What do you think would happen? I expect she wouldn’t pine away.”

  He ambles over and attacks my boot, falling onto the floor and gnawing.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” I pick him up. “My boots are off-limits.” I sigh and turn on my phone. Wendy’s number is right there and I dial it.

  “Samuel, I thought you’d never call,” she says. “I managed to convince Tammy to go home.” She sounds practically giddy. “Oops. I guess I’m assuming you called to find out if I can go out tonight?”

  “Yep. Shall I pick you up at seven?” My heart rate speeds up.

  “Are we still going to Landry’s?”

  “If that suits you.”

  “Of course it does. What should I wear?”

  “What do you mean what should you wear?” I laugh. “How do I know?”

  Her laugh gets me. “Seven is great. See you.” She hangs up, leaving me smiling at the phone.

  It’s three thirty, plenty of time to go over to see Margaret Wilkins and ask her if she knew her husband was clearing out.

  The Hastings grandkids are out front, playing a game of croquet with Glo. She waves as I pass. There’s no car in front of the Wilkins place, and I’m afraid that Margaret has gone out with her son, but she answers the door.

  “Tell me what’s happening. I feel so isolated here, and I wish you could get things cleared up so I can figure what to do next, but I don’t want to bother you.” Her words come in a rush, and I imagine her pacing before I arrived, waiting for some word. More guilt, although this of a different kind.

  “Something else has come up that I need to run by you.”

  “God, what now?” She opens the door wider.

  We sit in the kitchen over coffee. Every time I’m in the place, I feel trapped. I can imagine how oppressive it must be for Margaret. “Do you and your husband travel out of the country?”

  “Out of the country? We used to. We went to Europe a few years ago. And we’ve been to Puerto Vallarta a few times. Not recently, though. Why?”

  “Where do you keep your passports?”

  She blinks a few times. “Hold on. Let me look. Lewis usually brings a case with him with important papers. They may be there.” She goes into the back room and comes back carrying a metal case. She opens it and searches through the file folders, selects one and opens it. “Here they are.”

  I open Lewis’s passport and it’s the same picture as in the fake one.

  “Does the name Leonard Wilson mean anything to you?”

  She looks into the distance, frowning, but eventually shakes her head. “No. Who is it?”

  “I went through the SUV and I found a passport with your husband’s picture in it, but the name in the passport was Leonard Wilson.”

  She brings a fist to her mouth. “I don’t understand. Why would Lewis have a passport in another name?”

  “That’s a good question. Something else. Along with the passport, there was also a fair amount of money. Do you have any idea where your husband might have gotten it?”

  “It’s the same as that boat you told me about. I have no idea. How much money? You mean like ten thousand? Twenty thousand?”

  “A good bit more than that.”

  She looks as if she could cry. “That makes no sense. We’re broke.”

  “Did someone owe him money? Maybe somebody paid him back.”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Did you have any other property he could have sold?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Did he ever say he scored big when he was gambling?”

  She sighs. “Until you mentioned that he won the boat, I didn’t know he gambled for more than a few dollars. You didn’t say how much money he had.”

  I’m not ready to answer her question, and something else has occurred to me. I remember the assorted pills I found in the prescription bottle he had with him. “Margaret, is it possible that he was selling fake prescriptions for opiates?”

  “I don’t know. Wouldn’t someone have noticed if he was writing a lot of prescriptions?”

  “Possibly.” It’s worth a call to the branch of the Department of Public Safety that handles fraudulent drug prescriptions to find out for sure. “Or maybe he was performing surgery again, on the quiet?”

  “He hadn’t applied for hospital privileges anywhere. Or at least if he did, he didn’t tell me.” Margaret lays her hands on the table in front of her, but when she realizes they are trembling, she clasps them firmly. “I don’t understand this. And you still haven’t told me how much money he had.”

  “Around two hundred thousand dollars.”

  Her mouth drops open. “That’s impossible. I can’t imagine where that much money came from.”

  “Is your son around?”

  “He went out to see a college buddy.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “Late tonight.”

  “Are you planning to go to San Antonio tomorrow to get your car?”

  “How long will it be before the SUV is released?”

  “Given what I found in it, I’ll want a more thorough investigation, so it’ll be a few days.”

  “Then I guess I have no choice.”

  “One more thing. I’d like to examine that case.” I nod toward the metal case that held the folder with the passports.

  “Of course.”

  The metal case contains several folders, but they are all innocuous. They contain utility bills, wills, automobile papers, and insurance for auto and both houses.

  “Does he keep files anywhere else?”

  “At home. He has a big desk, and it’s full of papers. I kept telling him he ought to clean it out. Not that it isn’t neat. Lewis was always a neat freak. But it has patient files from years ago. He never threw anything away.”

  I’d love to get my hands on that desk, but I suspect that will be the job of whoever takes on this investigation. It’s looking much bigger now than when I first started.

  At home I feed Dusty and put in a call to Maria. She answers right away. “Hey, boss.” There’s a lot of noise in the background.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “One last party.”

  “How was the wedding?”

  “Wonderful. Lupe looked so beautiful. Everybody was here. I saw cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl.” In all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never heard Maria sound so happy and chatty. I imagine her family as a large, close bunch, although she has never revealed much about them. “What’s up? Is everything all right?”

  “We had a man go missing. We found him.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you the details when you get back, but he was murdered.”

  “Oh my goodness. Any idea who did it?”

  “Not at all. He and his wife are from San Antonio, so while you’re there I want you to look into something.” I tell her the details of what I want done.

  “That won’t be a problem. Do you want me to call you as soon as I find something out, or wait until I get back?”

  “Call me when you know something.”

  “Will do.”

  “Oh, and by the way. I got a dog. His name is Dusty.”

  I hang up before she can quiz me a
bout him. I grin, thinking how excited she’ll be when she sees the puppy.

  When Maria first arrived last spring, courtesy of an apprentice program from the state of Texas, I wouldn’t have figured she’d last. Besides having a gloomy disposition, she was prickly. Being sent to a small town for her apprenticeship wasn’t what she had in mind. She was even pricklier about working with an old guy like me.

  We surprised each other. I surprised her by having more to offer than she thought. She surprised me by exhibiting a sly sense of humor and making friends quickly. People appreciate that she is serious about her job. When her apprentice period was up a couple of months ago, she decided to throw her lot in with Jarrett Creek Police Department for another year. “I can’t promise I’ll stay here longer than that,” she said, “but I like it here.” She has made particular friends with Loretta, though a more unlikely pair you’d never meet. And I have grown to depend on her.

  As I’m getting dressed to drive over to Bryan to see Wendy, I notice that once more I’m taking more care than I usually do. I’m wearing a jacket and leaving my ratty hat at home. And I’m wearing my new boots again. I have a moment in which I wonder if I should call off our date. But I don’t really even consider it—I want to see her. That’s the truth of it.

  The harder truth is that as much as I like Ellen, the feeling of excitement I have thinking of Wendy is something I’ve never had with Ellen. It would be a lot more convenient if I had. Ellen lives down the street, and to see Wendy I have to drive more than a half hour.

  I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I almost forget about Dusty. I wonder what he’s up to, and go into the kitchen to find him gnawing on the chew bone. “Looks like I have to take you along,” I say, picking him up. “You better behave yourself. I don’t want you to embarrass me.”

  On the drive over I have misgivings. Have I built Wendy up too much in my mind? It’s true she’s lively and fun and pretty. But am I making too much of the chemistry between us? As soon as she answers the door, I know I’m not. She’s wearing a low-cut black dress that fits her like skin. It makes me want to run my hands over it. We stand like fools, grinning at each other. I had thought my teenaged days were over, but apparently not. I’m tongue-tied and all I can think about is when I’m going to get to kiss her.

  “Samuel.” Her voice is husky, and without even thinking, I put my arms around her and draw her to me. She lifts her face and I bend down and kiss her. Her body fits against mine as if we were sculpted together. After a few minutes of this it’s clear to me that we aren’t going anywhere. She takes my hand and leads me through the living room and down the hallway. The only thing she says as we reach her bed is, “Darn. I went to so much trouble to dress right.” I can’t find the voice to tell her that she succeeded.

  Later, we’re lying in bed, her head on my shoulder. It feels like I’ve always known her. We’re talking softly when suddenly I remember and sit bolt upright.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I forgot I left the dog in the car. It’s cold out there.” I jump up and pull my pants on.

  “I don’t think he’ll freeze to death,” she says, laughing. “It’s not that cold. I’ll fix us something to eat while you go get him.”

  Dusty doesn’t seem any the worse for wear. The pickup has retained its warmth and he’s sound asleep as usual. I let him out on the ground and then take him inside, where Wendy makes a big fuss over him. I swear he’s grinning by the time she sets him down.

  Over ham sandwiches, she doesn’t seem inclined to chew over what just happened between us. Instead, she asks me to tell her about my wife. “I bet she was terrific.”

  “She was.” I tell her that Jeanne and I had a good life together—that we couldn’t have kids and that Jeanne ended up working for the school. “All the teenaged girls loved her and hung around our house.” I don’t dwell on her fight with cancer. “Your turn. What was your husband like?”

  She tells me that he died several years ago in a freak farm accident. “James wasn’t a farmer. He was helping his brother bale hay and the baler turned over and pinned him.”

  “What kind of work did he do?”

  “I’m sorry to say he was never very successful. He tried his hand at several things. He went to college for two years and hated it. He got out and tried being a salesman, and he was terrible at it.” She laughs. “He didn’t actually like people very much, although you wouldn’t have known it. He could be absolutely charming.” She could be describing a long-lost cousin; someone she was once close to, but moved away from. “Then we decided to buy a pizza franchise, but it went bust.”

  Her eyes are soft as she recounts this, and I have the feeling that she regrets some things. Maybe over time I’ll find out what those things are. “How could you afford to keep going?”

  “I think that was part of the problem. James had money. His grandmother left him with a trust. Not that we were rich,” she adds hastily, “but it allowed him to dabble instead of being serious.”

  “Any other kids beside your daughter?”

  She sighs. “I have another daughter, Allison. She’s the opposite of Jessica. Something of a wild child. She adored James, and when he died, she became . . . I don’t know what you’d call it . . .” She looks off into the distance. “A wanderer?” She grins at me. “Sort of like me. I love her, and I think she loves me, and when we’re apart we miss each other, but when we’re together we don’t get along that well. Right now she’s in India. God knows what she’s doing there. I get postcards from her.” She shrugs, but I can see the pain in her eyes.

  “You worry about her.”

  “Of course I do.” She kneads her hands. “The way I’m sure my mother worried about me. I know she’s strong and capable, but things can happen.”

  “That’s what you get for raising a free spirit.”

  She smiles. “How did your wife like you being a policeman in a small town?”

  “I never was a police officer. I started out as chief.” I tell her the circumstances and that Jeanne didn’t like it much, so I left after a couple of years and spent most of my career as a land man with an oil and gas company.

  “But you’re chief of police again? How did that happen?”

  “You mean at my advanced age?”

  “No!” She shakes her head firmly. “We’re not going there. I’m determined to enjoy every minute of my life. I don’t do ‘age’ for me or for anyone else.”

  I tell her that Jarrett Creek went broke a couple of years ago, and that the situation led to me getting back into the position of chief. “It suits me. But I won’t be able to do it forever. I’m looking for someone to take my place.” I tell her about Maria and her foibles. “She’s a good officer. I hope I can entice her to stay.” As I describe Maria, I realize that I’ve left out Bill Odum. He deserves a shot, too, but although he is a good, diligent officer, he doesn’t have Maria’s fire.

  We talk until late, and it’s only as I’m on the way home that I realize that I never managed to get around to the question of Ellen.

  CHAPTER 17

  It’s Sunday, and I don’t go into the office first thing. I wait until after nine to call Margaret Wilkins to see if her son is in, but there’s no answer. They must have gotten an early start to San Antonio. I get a call from Gloria Hastings asking me to come over for a meal. “Let’s call it a late lunch,” she says. “The kids are leaving at noon, and Frank and I will be at loose ends with them gone. It would be nice to have company. Do you have a friend you’d like to bring?”

  For a second I consider calling Wendy to see if she wants to come, but until I get the situation with Ellen straightened out, I’m going to keep a low profile. I tell her that I’ll be bringing someone, but not a human someone. She says the puppy is welcome.

  Before I leave for the office I call Wendy to tell her I had a great time last night. She doesn’t answer her phone, and I leave a message, wondering where she is, and then reminding myself that it’s none of my busin
ess.

  As I’m stowing Dusty in the pickup, I see Jenny and Will leading their horses out through the side gate. I walk over to say hello and tell them how much I enjoyed spending Thanksgiving at their place. As soon as I say so, I feel heat creeping up my neck. All it would take is for Wendy to tell her daughter Jessica that we’ve seen each other twice, and Jenny would be after me to fill her in on the details. Not that she’s a gossip, but we’ve been good friends through some tough times, and she likes to know what I’m up to.

  But she and Will seem eager to be on their way, and I escape without incident.

  At headquarters, I take a couple of calls that have come in on the landline. Although the answering machine directs people to call my cell phone, a lot of people still prefer to leave a message. One woman has called with her weekly complaint that kids have been “cutting up on a Saturday night,” as she puts it, in the house down the street. I’ll let Maria handle this one when she gets back. She turns out to be good with old people.

  Someone has stolen a few bales of hay from John Lothrup’s barn. I suppose he has a way of knowing that some hay is gone, and I suspect it’s kids who stole it for a hayride. He says he knows I probably won’t be able to find out who did it, but he thought he ought to call just in case I have time to deal with it. I call him back and he doesn’t answer, so I leave him a message saying that if I hear anything I’ll get back to him.

  The last message is one I’m pleased to get. The woman whose dog disappeared has left a message that the dog had wandered over to her friend’s house a mile away and the friend had been gone and got back to find the dog hanging around. “Last time I was over there with Scout, my friend gave him a whole pork chop. I guess Scout thought that was the place to be.”

  At least that’s one fewer dog disappearance to investigate. But it reminds me that I need to find out where those other missing dogs are. The problem is, I don’t have the slightest idea where to start.

  I spend the next couple of hours doing paperwork, the bane of any police chief.

  When I drive over to the Hastings home, Glo and Frank greet me like an old friend.