“What in Sam Hill’s goin’ on around here?” It was a ruddy-faced man who said this, dressed in a coal miner’s dirty work-clothes and scuffed leather boots, one of which had a hole split down its side. He rubbed a hand across the black smudges on his face, shaking his head as the hearse headed off toward the west end of town.
Pitch, grinning, stepped over to Doc Fletcher and slapped him on the back. “Hey there, Doc,” he said, when Fletcher turned to face him. “What’s all this?”
Fletcher looked down at the bloody sidewalk, and then raised his eyes to Pitch.
“Murder.”
“Bank robbers and murders,” the old miner said, like he just couldn’t believe it. “Christ Almighty!”
“Gutted him like a deer,” Fletcher said. “Poor bastard.”
Pitch laughed. “Hell,” he said. “I never realized what a fun place this could be.”
The miner frowned, cutting his eyes toward Pitch as Fletcher looked nervously around, and Pitch said, “C’mon, Doc. Let’s go see my two favorite Teddies.”
* * *
They arrived at the courthouse to find Teddy Levay and Judge Croft sitting in the mayor’s office, an open bottle of Lord Calvert on the desk between them.
“Ah,” Fletcher said. “Talkin’ to the Lord, I see.”
Croft downed a shot of whiskey, and looked Fletcher in the eye. “Who did it?”
“Nobody saw it, Judge.”
“My ass, nobody saw it.”
“Broad daylight,” Levay said. “Middle of town with a sidewalk full of people, and nobody saw anything?”
Fletcher shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the scuttlebutt,” he said.
Pitch crossed his arms, watching the old judge, who seemed to be growing angrier with each passing moment.
“Yeah, well, I’ll scuttle some goddamn butts around here before this shit’s over with,” Croft said. He settled back into his chair, took a deep breath and blew it out. “You can bet your ass on that.”
“Goddamn, Teddy,” Pitch said. “You act like they just loaded your son into that hearse.”
Croft looked up, the strain evident on his face. “He was my godson.”
Pitch chuckled. “Oops,” he said, and then walked over and put a hand on Croft’s shoulder. “What’s the story on this goddamn incident, anyway?”
Doc Fletcher spoke up, “The man you saw getting loaded into the hearse? Murdered his wife last night. His—”
“Like hell he did,” Croft said, while Pitch looked on with amusement.
“Oh, hell, Judge,” Fletcher said. “You know good and damn well he did it.”
“Well, he had every right to kill that stupid bitch. Come home to find his front door wide open, them two little boys dead and her walkin’ across the mountain to be with that goddamn Elmer Hicks? I’d’ve killed her ass, too.”
“Damn right,” Levay said, picking up a half full glass of whiskey and raising it to his lips.
“Jared tell you that, did he?” Fletcher said.
“That’s right,” Croft said. “The hell you got to say about it?”
“Well, Judge… I… Well, I just find it hard to believe that little girl could’ve killed her own babies.”
Croft shot Fletcher a cold, hard look, one that had withered a great many men over his years on the bench. “The hell do you think did it?” He pressed his thin lips together, scowling and tapping an index finger beside an empty glass sitting on Teddy Levay’s desk.
Levay picked up the whiskey and leaned across the desk; pouring Croft a couple of finger’s worth while Fletcher took off his wire-framed glasses and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief he had produced from the pocket of his jacket. He put them back on and glanced nervously at Judge Croft, and looked quickly away.
“Goddamn it,” Croft said. “I’ve got to go see Jared.” He downed his whiskey, stood up and stalked across the room.
“See you tonight, Judge,” Pitch said, but Croft kept going as if he hadn’t heard him, and would have stormed out of the room if Pitch hadn’t shouted his name when he reached for the doorknob
He flinched and turned and looked at Pitch, who gave him a piercing look of his own, before saying, “I said, I’ll see your honorable ass tonight, or come morning I’ll see it crucified in the goddamn town square.”
“Yes, of course.” Croft looked like he was trying to smile, but his face had frozen into a pained grimace. “See you tonight,” he said. Then he turned back to the door, opened it and hurried away.
“Well, hell, Mister Mayor,” Pitch said, and then took a seat in the chair Judge Croft had vacated. “What say we have our own little conversation with the Lord?”
Laughing, Levay stood up and made his way to the liquor cabinet behind his desk, opened the glass doors and reached inside and snatched a couple of glasses off a shelf.
“C’mon, Doc,” Pitch said. “Take a load off.”
Fletcher walked over to a corner of the room, grabbed the back of a small wood-framed chair and dragged it across the floor. By the time he had positioned it in front of the desk, and eased his lanky frame onto its cushioned seat, Levay was sliding a quarter-glass of whiskey toward him.
Pitch, already drinking from one Levay had offered him, swallowed a mouthful and eased back into the chair. Forearms dangling off the armrests, the glass held against his thigh, he said, “Ah. Really hits the spot, doesn’t it?”
“Every single time,” Teddy Levay said.
Fletcher took a drink, nodding as he winked at Pitch. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
Pitch smiled. “Well now. What say we get back to that crotchety old prick’s godson,” he said, drawing a laugh from Fletcher.
“Apparently,” Levay said. “While we were up at your house, somebody killed Jason Thomas’ wife and two kids.”
“Jason being the aforementioned godson,” Pitch said, and then took another drink and set the glass on the desk beside him.
“Right,” Levay said. “Mean son of a bitch, crooked as a goddamn snake. You know they found her at the top of Seeker’s Mountain.”
“You don’t say.”
“About one o’clock this morning.”
“You’re kidding,” Pitch said, still smiling as it dawned on him that, while they were down in the basement doing the Dark Master’s bidding, someone else was prowling the mountainside, doing his part as well.
“You were saying, Doc?” Levay prodded him.
“Huh?”
“Yes!” Pitch said. “Right before his high and holy venerableness huffed his way out of the room. Something about… finding it hard to believe, I think it was.”
“Right… right. That little girl didn’t kill those children. No way.”
“Yep,” Levay said. “Jason killed all three of ‘em. It’s already all over town how she’d been sneakin’ around with Elmer Hicks. Probably got sick and tired of Jason’s bullshit and walked out on him. And that sick son of a bitch come home and found her gone and went plumb crazy. That’s what Earl and Alvie Ross said, anyway.”
“He’s some hero, that cop of yours,” Pitch said. “Tracked down the bank robbers, grabbed the loot and blew their asses to Kingdom Come. Saved the goddamn day.”
“He ain’t no slouch, that’s for sure,” Fletcher said. “He’s smart, and brave.”
“Smart enough to make a firebomb out of a jar of moonshine,” Levay added.
Pitch laughed. “What a waste,” he said.
“Had a forty-five minute head start,” Levay said. “And he still found them. Jason’s daddy and two other men swore his son had been drinkin’ and playing poker with them all night. Sheriff went up to the house and came back with enough evidence to send that old boy off to the gallows. Says he’s gonna put his ass in jail soon as he finds him.”
“I don’t imagine our good friend the judge would allow that to happen to his godson,” Pitch said.
“That’s just what I told Earl,” Teddy Levay said. “He didn’t give a shit. Told me he’d haul the
son of a bitch over to the state capital if he had to.”
“Jason killed his wife and kids, alright,” Fletcher said. “Ain’t much doubt about that.”
“Shit,” Pitch said. “Why wasn’t he a part of the family? Huh? Hell, that’s exactly the kind of people we need.” He laughed, snorted and shook his head. “Here I am on pins and needles tossing around piles of cash trying to find three goddamn kids, and that prick’s mowing ‘em down for the hell of it. I would’ve made him the richest man in four goddamn counties.”
Levay leaned forward, drumming his fingers on the desktop. “Jason and his daddy’s already rich and powerful. His daddy and the judge grew up together, and Jared pretty much gets his way around these here parts.”
“Yeah,” Fletcher said. “No telling how Jason would’ve reacted to our little group. Might have gone along with it… maybe not. I know Jared led the search for those three boys back in ‘16. And he was damn well pissed when we couldn’t find ‘em.”
“Well hell, Doc,” Pitch said. “I hate to piss anybody off. Maybe we should just get those little bastards out of the basement and put them on Jared’s doorstep. I still have them, you know.”
Fletcher glanced at the mayor, who looked like he had just swallowed a handful of maggots.
“Maybe after we finish up tonight, I’ll have you too knuckleheads take my three little friends over to Jared’s place and plant them on his front porch, ring the doorbell and haul ass. That’ll be some kinda goddamn trick or treat, huh? Trick or treeeet!”
Pitch looked at Fletcher, and then turned to the mayor, whose hands were trembling. He chuckled and laughed, slapped his knee and laughed again. “Maybe I’ll hide in the bushes and watch the whole goddamn thing!”
“You’re kidding,” Fletcher said. “Right?”
Pitch, leaning back in his chair, cocked an eyebrow and said, “What do you think?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Alvie Ross flushed the toilet, walked to the sink and turned on the water. He washed his hands and rinsed them off, and splashed water onto his face. The water, cool and refreshing, drew a weary sigh from the tired policeman. What in the hell, he wondered, was going on? With those three bank robbers, Missy and her boys, and now Jason Thomas, more people had died around here in one day than in the last six months. Seven people in twenty-four hours. Seven violent deaths. Gotta be a record.
Jason.
That fat bastard got what he deserved, finally got what was coming to him. And Alvie Ross hoped Jared Thomas would choke on what he had done. Maybe if he hadn’t protected him, his son would be still alive. Better locked in a cell than laid out over at Ezra Butcher’s place with his guts hanging out. A whole street full of people and nobody saw anything?
Yeah, right.
Somebody saw what happened. Henry Walker saw it; damn right he did—Fraley, too. Alvie Ross was sure of it, the way Fraley looked away when he asked about Elmer Hicks. And poor old Elmer. Lost his woman, and if Earl could figure a way to strap this on him, he’d be on his way to the electric chair before you could say ‘Jimmy Mitchell’. The honorable Judge Theodore Croft would see to that. Probably one of the few times in the history of Baxter County the prick would actually put the right man in the hoosegow. Alvie Ross smiled at the thought, even though there was nothing funny about Elmer’s situation. Elmer was a good man, who’d served his country, and served it well. He deserved better than this. Missy too, for that matter. And those poor little children.
Alvie Ross splashed some more water onto his face, cupped his hands and drank a mouthful. He grabbed a red-and-white striped towel off a thin metal bar fastened to the wall beside the mirror and dried his hands, ran the towel across his face and put it back. He was tired, and hungry. He’d have to get to the diner soon or his head would start to hurt. And that was about the last thing he needed right now. After turning off the water, he opened the door and made his way back to the office, and found Earl Peters sitting at a desk, talking on the telephone:
“Yes, terrible. Look, I’ll be home before you know it… Sounds good… Okay, see you soon… Bye.”
Earl hung the telephone up. “Hell of a day,” he said to Alvie Ross, who had made his way to Earl’s side.
“And then some.”
Headlights glared off the window as a car pulled up to the curb and the driver killed the engine.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m—”
A door slammed, then another.
“Aw, hell, look at this shit,” Alvie Ross said, nodding toward the front window.
Footsteps sounded outside the office. Then the door opened, and in walked Jared Thomas and Judge Croft. Jared’s eyes were puffy and red. He looked tired, haggard. Both men looked angry.
“Sheriff,” Jared said. “Alvie Ross.”
Alvie Ross nodded, wondering just what the blue plate special was at Kelly’s Diner tonight, and if he would actually get to find out for himself.
Earl said, “Mr. Thomas, I’m sorry for your loss.”
Alvie Ross wasn’t. As far as he was concerned, Jared Thomas and his son had reaped the whirlwind. He would not smile. He would be professional about the situation, but deep down inside, Alvie Ross Huckabee felt a smug sense of satisfaction.
“Look, Sheriff,” Jared said, but Croft cut him off before he could continue. “I want to know why Elmer Hicks ain’t locked up in one of those goddamn cells.”
Here we go, thought Alvie Ross.
“Look, Judge,” Earl said. “We can’t just throw somebody in jail without the evidence to back it up.”
“You were willing enough to lock my goddamn boy up last night, with or without evidence.”
“Jared,” Earl said. “You lied right to my face, you and your hired hands. You said your boy’d been playin’ cards all night, that he hadn’t even seen her. But we found the living room all tore up. All tore up, as if somebody’d been fightin’ in there.”
“Well of course you did, you goddamn moron,” Croft said. “That fucking hillbilly dragged her ass outa there.”
“No,” Earl said. “He didn’t. We found Jason’s shirt lying on the floor amongst the buttons that popped off when Missy ripped it off him.”
“You listen to me,” Croft said, shaking a fist in the air. “You go get that son of a bitch, now, and lock his ass up. He’s going to the goddamn electric chair.”
“Look. We went huntin’ for Elmer. We couldn’t find him. He wasn’t home and nobody knew where he was. Just let us handle this, okay? We’ll find him, we’ll talk to him.”
“You’ll talk to him,” Jared sneered.
“Goddamn it!” Croft shouted. “You’ll do a damn sight more’n talk to him if you want to keep your job!”
Earl slammed his palm on the desktop and stood up, drawing a startled flinch from Croft, but nothing from Jared, who calmly stood his ground.
“Listen,” Earl said, his voice rising with every word. “I’ve had about as much of your shit as I’m going to take. You want my badge? Take it and shove it up your ass!”
Atta boy, Alvie Ross thought, smiling and crossing his arms.
“You know as well as I do that he did it. He killed my boy.”
“How do you know that? Nobody saw him do it.”
“Goddamn it, Earl,” Croft said. “You know he did it. What’re you tryin’ to prove here? You’re the sheriff, for chrissakes. Do your—”
“That son of a bitch lied to me. If he’d just told the truth his boy would be alive—right now. But nooo, huh uh. And now that murderin’ cocksucker is right where he belongs.”
Alvie Ross felt like saluting, and thought if he’d had a flag he’d be waving it wildly. As far as he was concerned, it was over. He just hoped Elmer had sense enough to hightail it out of town. Because he had no family, no reason to stay. And Jared and the judge were right: Elmer was as guilty as sin, and Earl, even with all his spiteful indignation, was just the man to prove it. And if he could, he would.
“So what are you going to d
o?” Croft asked his sheriff.
“Look, Alvie Ross and I have been up all night. Soon as I closed my eyes you were waking me up about Jerry Hodges. We’re tired, exhausted. I’m going home to kiss my wife and get a good hot meal in me. Alvie Ross is going to do the same.”
“What? Kiss your goddamn wife?” Croft said.
“You know what I mean,” Earl said, grinning. “We’ll get something to eat, then we’ll see if we can’t round up Elmer.”
“He’s either home or somewhere around town,” Alvie Ross said. “Or he’s hauled ass up north, which is what I’d do if I were him.”
“Because you know he did it,” Croft said.
“That’s pretty goddamn obvious, Judge.”
“I believe he did it. Maybe once we get him going we’ll trip him up and get a confession out of him.” Earl glanced at his watch. “It’s six o’clock. We’ll meet up about eight and see if we can’t run him down.”
Croft stepped over to his childhood friend, put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “We’ll get this straightened out.”
Jared, as if making a personal threat against the judge, said, “You’d damn well better.”
* * *
Having extracted his vengeance upon Jason Thomas, Elmer Hicks took off running down Third Street, sheathing his blood-splattered hunting knife in the slim leather casing that dangled from his belt. He fled to the alley, to his truck, which was parked by the railroad tracks running parallel to the Dime Store. He got into the truck and drove the back way up to High Street, until the paved road turned into a rut-filled, hard-packed dirt trail that would lead him winding his way up Ward Rock Mountain. He went as far as he could before the ruts and the washouts forced him to abandon his truck. Then he continued on foot, until he found himself looking up at a giant rock formation the Indians had once considered to be hallowed ground.
Lord of the Mountain Page 19
