by Paula Boyd
"Have a seat over there, Russell," Jerry said, motioning to the leather wingback. "Want a beer?"
Russell sat down and shook his head. "Thanks, man, but I don’t do that anymore. You got any bottled water? I’m parched."
I got a clean glass from the dresser, plopped in a few ice cubes and filled it with water from the bathroom tap and took it to Russell. "This is as good as it gets."
He reluctantly took it and sucked it down in one swig. "This stuff out of the faucet is really bad for you. Once you get used to having it pure, you can taste the chemicals. Same with veggies. Man, I don’t eat nothing but organic anymore."
I guessed it only made sense that Russell would be as fanatical about his new addiction as he had been about his old. Whenever I see an old Cheech and Chong movie, I always think of Russell. Russell could have been a stand-in for Tommy Chong in both looks and drug expertise.
"Glad to hear you’re taking care of yourself," Jerry said, picking up his beer and taking a drink. He’d holstered his gun but his hand was still resting on the grip. "Now, what is it that you have to tell me that you couldn’t call the police or sheriff’s department about?"
Russell frowned a little at that one. "No, offense, Jer, but I didn’t much want to get hauled in by Leroy again. That guy is nuts."
There was something we could agree on. I sat on the edge of the bed farthest from Russell, my hand in my pocket. "If you’ve been watching Jerry, then you must know there are several police officers here at the hotel as well." And just what were they doing, sleeping? "You could already be under arrest." If they’d noticed.
Russell nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah, Jolene, I saw ‘em. Real good idea, having them watching out, but I was real careful."
I looked away before I rolled my eyes. If our lookout in the garage didn’t think a scraggly-looking guy in a wild Hawaiian shirt and sandals was suspicious, we were in big trouble. "Russell, why are you here?"
He looked at me like it was perfectly obvious. "Because of Calvin, of course."
Jerry pulled out the desk chair and sat down. "What about Calvin?"
"Well, you know I worked for him, right?" When Jerry shook his head that he certainly didn’t know, Russell continued. "Not many people knew it I guess, but after I got out of rehab a couple of years ago, Calvin gave me a job when nobody else would. Taught me how to work on appliances." He sighed and shook his head. "Do you know that at least fifty percent of the problems with a dryer can be cured just by cleaning out underneath it? Man, it’s real simple, but hardly anybody ever does it."
Jerry rubbed his hand across his face. "Calvin hired you to work for him, and?"
"Oh, yeah. Don’t really know why he did it. We weren’t ever friends in high school or anything." He grinned. "‘Least I don’t think we were, anyway, that time’s kinda hazy."
Jerry took another sip of beer. "Your father said you worked at the all-night Wal-Mart."
He nodded. "Oh, I do, or did, until a few days ago. I’m gonna get fired for not showing up. And now with Calvin dead and all, I won’t have any job at all."
Jerry set his beer aside. "Are you here because you think somebody wants to kill you?"
Good one, right to the point. Now, if we could only get a to-the-point answer.
"Well, yeah," Russell said, a definite hint of "duh" in his voice. "I’m thinking we got some bad shit going down, and I don’t want to be anywhere around."
Even the ever-patient Jerry was growing weary of the game. "We can’t guess about this all day, Russell. Who do you think wants to kill you? Start talking and make it good."
Russell reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded yellow paper, then handed it to Jerry. "Calvin gave this to me the day before he was killed. Told me to get it to you if anything happened to him. And that’s what I’m doing. That’s why I’m here. It was, like, cosmic, him telling me that and then getting killed. Man, it’s like the universe is telling me something."
Yeah, it was telling him he’d fried his brain a couple of decades ago and all the bottled water and organic vegetables in the world weren’t going to bring it back.
As Jerry unfolded the paper, I crept over to see what the big secret was. Large scratchy print covered about half of the page. It wasn’t your best penmanship, but it was readable. "Pollock wants to settle up. Don’t let him find out about Rhonda and the boy."
"What does this mean to you?" Jerry asked.
Russell shrugged. "Nothing, really. Calvin never said much about any of it, just that he was worried about Rhonda."
"When’s the last time you saw her?" I asked.
"At the falls."
"Before that?"
He ran his hand through his thinning gray-brown hair and sighed. "I probably saw her a couple of times in the last two years, but I never really talked to her." He glanced at me, then at Jerry. "Tell you the truth, I never did much like her."
Join the crowd. "So, was Calvin dating Rhonda these days?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that. Calvin just liked helping people. I guess you could say that me and Rhonda were sort of his projects."
"So, what do you know about Willard Pollock coming to town?"
"Nothing much. Calvin did get a call from somebody a week or so ago that got him real upset, but I don’t know who it was. I was just at his place and overheard. He didn’t say much about it, I just noticed."
"So you don’t know who he was talking to?"
Russell shook his head. "No."
"What about Pollock?" Jerry asked. "Have you heard from him?"
"Pollock? Man, why would he want to talk to me? I don’t hardly even remember the guy, except that he was kinda nice to me. I sold him a joint every now and again."
Great. I’d always suspected that Pollock the pervert was easy on Russell for just such reasons, but I could never prove it. Too bad since the conservative starched shirts on the school board might have actually done something about that.
"What else, Russell?" I asked. "There’s got to be something else that made you come here."
"I’m scared, Jolene, and I’m not too proud to admit it. I can’t say that there’s any one thing, it’s more like everything that’s got me going. I figured Jerry ‘d know what to do."
"You’re going to have to talk to the police," Jerry said, fingering the paper. "And if I were you, Russell, I’d shoot a little straighter with them than you have with me. These murders are making everybody a little edgy and they’re just looking for a reason to lock somebody up. Can you prove where you were Friday night?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. I was mowing the grass. At my girlfriend’s. She’s got this really cool little lawn tractor with a little scoop on the front. I really like driving that thing."
"We’ll need to talk to her."
"Oh, man, I sure wish you wouldn’t. That’d just screw up everything."
"You want to call your dad and let him know you’re okay?"
"Good idea. I don’t want him thinking I’m out smoking dope or nothing. But maybe I ought to wait until I know for sure nobody’s gonna get to me first. I’ll call from the police station."
Jerry nodded and picked up the phone. While he chatted with the Redwater Falls Police Department, I chatted with Russell, or tried to. I asked a few questions about his girlfriend, but he wasn’t quite as talkative as he had been at the falls. In fact, he didn’t really want to say much about her at all. I did learn that she was about ten years older than he was--and real organized--but I surely didn’t get a name out of him. I tried to find out why he hadn’t been hiding out with her, but all I got were vague answers and unrelated anecdotes.
Jerry hung up the phone. "There are two officers on the way over now. Should be here in a few minutes. Where’s your car?"
"It’s not here. I walked over."
"From where?" I asked, a little exasperation creeping into my voice. "Oh, from the park. They put in some real nice restrooms over there."
It sounded both ridiculous and suspicious. Russell w
as up to his dangly earring in something. And he was afraid. "So you’ve been hanging out at the falls since the ceremony?"
He hemmed and hawed a little. "Yeah, pretty much."
Jerry stood and stretched. "Then you probably saw all the cars coming and going yesterday. Heard it was really busy."
"Yeah, man, it was," he said, nodding. "Just because of Calvin, I guess. Mostly I stayed in the bushes, but a couple times I walked over to McDonald’s and got me a salad. The chemicals in that stuff tasted awful, but I was real hungry."
"See anything in particular last night?"
Russell frowned, clicking slowly through the remnants of his brain for an answer. "No, don’t think I did."
Well, now, that was telling. If he’d been at the falls, I suppose it was possible he’d been asleep under a bush and hadn’t seen all the emergency equipment show up. But unless he was stoned out of his mind, he couldn’t have not heard the sirens.
Russell Clements was lying. He also had a reason for sneaking around after Jerry rather than going directly to the police station. My guess was that he thought Jerry could somehow protect him. Protect him from whom, and why?
I glanced at Jerry, who was watching Russell intently without seeming to be. I didn’t figure I’d get any better answers than he had, but I’d sure give it a try. "Who do you think is killing all these people, Russell?" I asked casually.
He thought on that for a minute. "Somebody’s who’s just gone crazy. Nobody in their right mind could be doing this stuff."
"I’d have to agree," I said, nodding. "I just wish we knew why they were doing it. Seems like things that happened back when we were in high school should be long forgotten."
"Some people don’t ever forget, Jolene," Russell said, staring right through me. "And some people don’t want things remembered."
Awfully eloquent speech for Russell. "Who’s not forgetting?" I asked quietly.
He mumbled a little to himself, then blinked his eyes, but said nothing.
I sure wanted to know what he was going to say before he caught himself.
Another knock on the door, and this time I was fairly certain it was the police.
Russell’s eyes darted to Jerry and he clutched the arms of the chair. "You’re going with me, aren’t you?"
Jerry glanced at me with a sincere "I’m sorry" look on his face.
I smiled a little, letting him know I understood. I didn’t like it, but I understood. "Of course, he’ll go with you Russell." Who else would be able to catch him in a lie? "That’s why you came here, so Jerry could help you."
Jerry opened the door and a uniformed officer ushered Russell out into the hall to wait while Jerry talked to Rick in private.
After handing Rick the yellow paper with Calvin’s note and giving him a quick explanation, Jerry added, "He knows more than he’s saying, but I don’t know how we’re going to get the truth out of him."
Detective Rick nodded his curly blond head toward me. "Maybe we should turn Jolene loose on him."
Jerry grinned. "She was just getting started good when you got here." He paused and glanced at me again. "Give me a minute, Rick, then I’ll meet you out in the hall and go over what he’s told us so far."
As Rick stepped outside, Jerry pulled me up from the bed and gave me a quick kiss. "I’m really sorry about this. Nothing ever seems to be easy for us."
"Oh, if it was easy it wouldn’t be any fun at all, now would it?" I said, smiling. "Besides, you shouldn’t be gone all night."
"Want me to wake you when I get back?"
I reached up and gave him a quick kiss. "If you don’t, you’ll be really, really sorry."
* * * *
I awoke the next morning to the tickle of carbonated bubbles popping on my nose and the rattle of ice in a glass. I smiled, thinking I hadn’t awakened this cheerful in my entire life. I didn’t know what time it was, but it felt early and I doubted I’d slept three hours. Not a problem. None. And as far as my promise to make Jerry sorry, well, the only thing he seemed sorry about last night was that we’d waited so long. Same for me. And now, he’d brought me breakfast in bed. Yes, a Dr Pepper is breakfast. "I think I could get used to this."
Jerry leaned down, kissed me on the cheek and pushed the glass into my hand. "I’d let you sleep if I could."
He’d gotten up maybe an hour ago and told me to go back to sleep. I had no trouble following that order. Now, I definitely sensed something had changed. I cracked my eyes open just enough to see that he was already showered and dressed, wearing his official sheriff’s uniform today. From the look on his face, I also guessed he’d been on the phone already, finding out things that were going to ruin my good mood.
"I can’t lure you back to bed, can I?"
He shook his head, but it did look like it pained him to do so. "I set you some fruit and toast on the dresser."
I sighed. "You got more points with the Dr Pepper."
He reached down and brushed a curl from my face. "Last night was fantastic, Jo. Better than fantastic."
I liked what he was saying a lot, but there was a definite unspoken "but" attached to it that I didn’t much care for. I scooted up in bed and took a sip of caffeine and courage. "Yes, it was. But?"
"Today’s not looking so good."
I groaned and took another quick drink. "How not good?"
"The security guard found a car parked up on top of the falls last night. Nineteen-eighty silver Monte Carlo with a white left quarter panel and a peeling vinyl top."
"And?"
"It’s registered to Russell Clements."
I shrugged. "Well, guess we know where he left his car now."
"And why."
Why? Oh, no, we were getting to the not good part, I could tell. "This is bad, isn’t it?"
Jerry nodded. "Red White was stuffed in the trunk."
Chapter 18
Red White, the mysterious cowboy from Abilene, had been murdered? By Russell Clements? No, it was not beyond comprehension. Nothing is beyond belief for me anymore. In fact, I have become so broad-minded about what can occur around here that I would not even blink twice if someone said it was raining semi-trucks.
This too, is possible, you see, as the overhead interstate is not quite completed and a slight rearranging of "road closed" signs could make tractor-trailer rigs come splatting down around us like hailstones. See? That’s what happens to your mind around here. It just goes. Completely. Pffft!
Chuckling at what some might have called a brief episode of hysteria, I somehow managed to get a quick shower and dress myself in the last set of clean clothes I had. This meant I’d be wearing jeans today with my last tee shirt, which was of the tight-fitting clingy variety rather than the baggy.
Feeling very bold and a little frivolous, I stacked all my dirty clothes on the bed, wrote a nice note to the maid and left it on top of the pile with a twenty dollar bill. I had never done this sort of thing before, but I hoped it would get me the desired results, meaning my laundry done.
By the time Jerry came back in the room, I was pretty well put together--at least physically. Mentally, I couldn’t make sense of anything, especially the murder of Red White. "I’m ready." I paused for a minute and frowned. "Where are we going?"
"Rick wants us to come look at the body before they move it."
Huh? Why would we need to do that? "No offense, but I don’t much like that sort of thing. I know I pretend to be tough, but I’m not. I’m just a wimpy little girl who’s highly likely to throw up on your car if she sees another bullet hole."
He slid his arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead. "You don’t have to go if you don’t want to."
I reached up and laced my fingers through his. "I don’t want to, but I get the feeling you need me to."
"Yeah."
"Want to tell me why?"
He hugged me then guided me toward the door. "Not until I have to."
* * * *
It only took us about three minutes to circle u
nder the highway and wind around into the upper parking lot of the falls. The perspective looking down on the flowing water was very different--and pretty in its own way. What wasn’t so pretty were the lines of emergency equipment flanking the gray junker Chevy with the trunk up. I waved to a couple of firemen and an EMT as we drove by. They all know me now.
Guys with tweezers and plastic bags were working all sides of the car when we walked up. The camera guy was hanging back, probably already finished with the bulk of his job. I recognized him from the first crime scene, so I knew he wasn’t with the media. Rhonda’s death had been kept out of the paper and I figured Rick was doing his best on this one as well. Three murders in as many days at the latest would-be national landmark was something the city fathers wouldn’t want anybody to know about.
Jerry held my arm and stayed close beside me. We stood at the front of the car, just out of view of the open trunk area. That was close enough for me, but Rick motioned us forward, so I gritted my teeth, trudged to the back of the car and forced myself to look.
The killer had considerately wedged the victim into the small compartment face up for easy identification. And it didn’t take long to do that. The old cowboy definitely looked different without his hat--all cowboys do--but there was no doubt that the trussed-up guy with the bullet in his head was Red White.
"Yeah, it’s him," Jerry said, for the record and because I couldn’t. "This is the same guy who roped Calvin Holt out of the river. He was also at the Dairy Queen in Kickapoo on Sunday."
Rick pointed a gloved finger just behind Red’s ear. "Contusion. Could have happened getting him in the trunk, but I don’t think so. He was hit on the head."
Jerry frowned, but before he could say anything, Rick added, "Yes, we’re having the coroner review his reports. The victims had evidence of trauma. The fall from the rocks did damage and then the water--"
"He still shouldn’t have missed something like that," Jerry said tersely.
