An Unsettling Crime for Samuel Craddock

by Terry Shames

  “You can see how that worked out.”

  He grimaces. “Something went wrong, that’s for sure. But my point is I didn’t have anything to do with the building. I was careless and didn’t obtain permits. That’s all it amounts to.”

  “You know the name of the family that moved in?”

  “Naw. After I told them to go ahead, I didn’t think any more about it. But I can call Mr. Dudley and ask him.”

  “Why don’t you do that? You can use my phone.”

  For the first time, I see a crack in his cheerful demeanor. “I’m afraid I don’t have his phone number with me.”

  I open my desk drawer. “I have his number. I ran into Mr. Dudley and a friend of his right after the fire.” I pull out Dudley’s card and hand it to Cato with a big smile.

  He stares at the card. “I need to have a private conversation with him.”

  “Just to get the name of the family that moved in?” I couldn’t act any more innocent. Clearly he doesn’t want to talk to Dudley in front of me, and I’d like to know why.

  He licks his lips. “I haven’t talked to him for a while, and I have a couple of other sensitive matters to discuss with him.”

  “Why don’t you stick to the one subject on this call and tell him you’ll be in touch later about your other matters?” Now I’m really eager to find out why he’s reluctant. “I tell you what, why don’t I step outside and give you some privacy. First, let me dial the number, and we’ll make sure he’s in his office.”

  He looks down at the card in his hand as if he’d give anything if it disappeared into thin air. I keep on smiling.

  “Okay, but let me dial the call,” he says.

  “That’s okay. The phone is right in front me.” I hold out my hand for the card, which he hands over with reluctance.

  Blue Dudley answers his own phone, a nice, old-fashioned touch. “Mr. Dudley, this is Chief Craddock over in Jarrett Creek.”

  We exchange hearty pleasantries while Cato drums his fingers on the desk. “Listen, the reason I’m calling, I have a fellow here who wants to have a few words with you, name of George Cato.”

  “Who?” Dudley asks.

  “Cato. Owns the property where that house was built, where those people got killed?”

  “Uh . . . oh, yes. Sure, put him on.”

  I hand the phone to Cato, who says, “Hello there, Mr. Dudley. Nice to talk to you again.” He widens his eyes and nods his head toward the door, wanting me to live up to my promise to give him some privacy. I look a question at him. “Hold on.” He puts his hand over the receiver. “A little privacy?” he whispers.

  “Oh, right.” I walk slowly out the door and close it behind me. If I’m not very much mistaken, Mr. Dudley had no idea who George Cato is.

  I cool my heels for several minutes, during which time the sound of Cato’s voice comes through the door a couple of times, although I can’t hear any particular words. That’s all right. I keep a tape recorder in my desk drawer in the event that I need to record somebody being questioned. I’ve never had occasion to use it, but when I took Blue Dudley’s card out, I turned it on. If it’s working, it will pick up Cato’s side of the conversation. I’m ready to barge back in when the door opens and a decidedly nervous George Cato beckons me back inside.

  “I’ve got myself into an uncomfortable situation,” he says when we are seated.

  “What’s that?”

  “Turns out that Mr. Dudley never found out the name of the people who moved in.”

  “I wonder who the contractor is who built the place?”

  “That I can tell you.” His grin returns. “Man by the name of Carmichael. Freddie Carmichael.”

  “Was Carmichael building the house for his own family?”

  “Tsk. I didn’t get that information.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll follow up. Why don’t we head on over to the place. Did you ever see it after it was completed?”

  “I didn’t. I hardly ever get down this way.”

  Interesting, since his half brother, Owen Montclair, said Cato comes once a month to collect his rent in person.

  Before Cato arrived this morning, I phoned the Bobtail PD to ask them to let me know when Truly arrived at the jail in San Antonio, and when the phone rings, I tell Cato I need to take the call. But instead of the Bobtail PD, it’s Principal Gilpin on the line. “We’ve got a problem.”

  I listen to what he has to say, and as soon as I hang up, I say to Cato, “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to postpone going to the place with you. In fact, I’d as soon you didn’t go out there. I can meet you back here in a couple of hours.”

  “That’s all right. I’ve got things I can do in town. I’ll see you back here at one.”

  As soon as he’s out the door, I turn off the hidden recorder and put in a call to Tilley. He’s not home, so I try Eldridge. He’s surprised when I tell him what I need him to do.

  “Suppose Cato shows up? What am I supposed to do? It’s his property.”

  “Eldridge, it’s a crime scene. Tell him he’ll have to take it up with me if he wants to do anything with the house.”

  “I don’t know if we have that authority.”

  “I’m giving you that authority. Something has come up over at the high school, and I have to get over there.”

  “Why don’t you get Tilley to do this?”

  I hang up. He’ll either confront Cato or he won’t. But one thing is for sure—once this is all over, I’m going to seriously consider whether the police deputies I’m stuck with are capable. I call Tilley once more and leave a message telling him if he gets home soon, to get over to the site of the fire.

  When I arrive at the high school, the ambulance is pulling away. Gilpin is standing on the curb next to a green Chevrolet with the doors open and a couple ready to get in. They are a few years older than me. The man is dressed in slacks and a golf shirt, and the woman in jogging shorts and a T-shirt. Her eyes are red; and her face, puffy.

  “Here’s the chief,” Gilpin says. “Craddock, this is Mr. and Mrs. Blackman. Their daughter is the young girl who was, uh, taken ill.” The girl apparently overdosed on some kind of drug.

  I’ve seen Blackman around town. He owns the flower shop. I shake his hand. “I’m sorry about your daughter. I hope she’ll be all right.”

  The woman lunges forward, a fierce scowl blazing across her face. “I want to know what you’re going to do to punish this boy who poisoned my daughter. He’s a menace!”

  “Now, Julia, you have to calm down. The chief just got here. He doesn’t know what happened.”

  She puts her hands over her face and starts to sob. Blackman puts his arm around her shoulders and says, “We need to get on to the hospital. But my wife is right. I want this boy prosecuted.” He tucks her into the passenger side, and then without another word he gets in the car and they roar away.

  “What boy are we talking about?” I ask Gilpin.

  “I think you know. Let’s get on inside, and I’ll tell you what happened.”

  The building is strangely quiet. There are a dozen people in the reception area outside Gilpin’s office. In the corner, three teenaged girls huddle in a circle, clutching each other’s shoulders and sobbing. The secretary is standing near them, murmuring softly to them. Girls of their age can be pretty dramatic, so it’s hard to tell how much of their grief is real, and how much is nerves.

  A teenaged boy is sitting on a bench next to a wall, hunched over with his head in his hands, while an adult leans over, talking to him. He looks up as I walk in, and I see that it’s Charlie Ostrand. When he spots me, he looks away and then down at the floor. Another boy sits near him, arms crossed, not looking at anybody, just staring off into space.

  “All right, Gilpin,” I say, “I’d appreciate it if you explain what happened.”

  Gilpin shoots a look of venom toward Charlie Ostrand. “Second period had just ended when a couple of those girls came running into the office and said Eileen Blackman
was in the bathroom having convulsions.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Second period starts at nine thirty, so it was about ten o’clock.”

  I glance at my watch. It’s 11:15. “That’s over an hour ago. What took you so long to call me?”

  “This place was pure chaos. The girls were hysterical. I had Mrs. Clayton here stay and call the ambulance and notify the school nurse while I ran down to see if there was anything I could do.”

  I look my question, and he says, “I was a medic in Vietnam. Not for long, but I do have some training.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  “Anyway, at least the girls had sense enough to leave Eileen with the only one of them who has a head on her shoulders, Judy Boyd. She had Eileen rolled onto her side. Eileen had thrown up and was moaning and thrashing around. I asked Judy what happened. She didn’t want to tell me at first, but I wasn’t about to put up with that, and I got her to talk. She said Eileen took some pills she got from Charlie Ostrand. That son-of-a-gun!” He looks another dagger in that direction.

  “Who is the other boy?”

  “That’s Mike Damon.”

  “What’s he doing here?”

  He beckons to the woman who has been standing watch over the two boys.

  “This is Mary Verdeen. She’s the social studies teacher. Mary, tell Chief Craddock what you told me.”

  She’s a plain woman, and although she’s young, she wears her hair in a bun and she’s got on sensible shoes. “When I heard all the commotion in the hallway, I went out to see what was going on, and I found Charlie in the hall talking to Mike. I thought Mike looked a little out of it, but he does half the time anyway. I sent the two of them into class, and then I went down to the bathroom to find out what was going on. Mr. Gilpin told me that Eileen had gotten sick from some pills she got from Charlie, so I took him and Mike out of class and brought them down here.”

  “Did they say anything to you?”

  “Not a word. But that’s not unusual for boys their age.”

  “Have you ever had any sign that these two have been high on anything?”

  “Mr. Craddock, they act like that half the time. That’s all I know about this business. If you don’t need me, I’d better get back to my class. I gave them a reading assignment, but they’re bound to be getting rowdy by now.”

  When she leaves, I ask Gilpin to hold on a minute. I look over to Charlie Ostrand. “Get over here,” I say.

  He looks up at me, and I have the distinct feeling he’s going to give me some lip, and I shortcut it. “Don’t say a word to aggravate me.”

  The other kid on the bench turns his head in our direction, but he doesn’t seem anymore with it than he did before.

  Charlie ambles over to me and Gilpin, and I have to hold back from reaching out and snatching him by the arm to hurry him along. “What kind of pills did you give her?”

  “Pills?” All innocence.

  “Don’t even think about bullshitting me,” I say. “You’re in more trouble than you’re going to know what to do with.”

  “You can’t prove anything.”

  “Really? There’s a girl on the way to the hospital, and you’re going to take that line?”

  “Charlie, the girl said you gave her pills that made her sick,” Gilpin says.

  Suddenly, a burly man in a sharp business suit comes striding into the office. “What are you doing with my son?”

  “Hey, Daddy,” he says. His face goes into a smirk. “These guys are hassling me again. I didn’t do anything.”

  “I hope you kept your mouth shut.”

  “’Course I did. There’s nothing to tell.”

  I look over at Gilpin and see him wavering.

  “I’m Chief Craddock. I assume you’re Raymond Ostrand.”

  “I’m a little tired of you harassing my son.”

  “Mr. Ostrand, a girl is in the hospital. She said she took some pills she got from your son.”

  “I’m sorry for the girl, but it’s her word against his.”

  “Maybe so. But based on the accusation, I’d like your permission to search your son’s locker.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “That’s fine. I’m going to have to put the locker off-limits, and I’ll talk to a judge and get a search warrant issued.”

  “Wait a minute,” Charlie says. “I’ve got to get my football cleats out of the locker.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “It’s a potential crime scene.”

  “Dad!”

  “You could let the boy get his cleats.”

  “I could if you’d consent to a search. Otherwise, not going to happen.”

  Gilpin clears his throat. “No need for the cleats. There’s not going to be any football for Charlie until this is cleared up.” He’s barely speaking above a whisper.

  Ostrand turns on him. “You know what this means?” It’s obviously a threat.

  “He may know what it means,” I say, “but I don’t. I’d like to have it explained to me.” I know exactly what it means, but I want to make him say it.

  Ostrand looks at me like he’s looking at something he’d find on his shoe. “If my son isn’t on the football team, I may find better use for my limited funds than paying for a bus for the team to travel to games.”

  “I can’t help it,” Gilpin says. “It’s out of my hands. It’s state rules. An accusation like this requires follow-up, and until it’s cleared up the athlete can’t participate in sports.”

  “It’s not so bad,” I say. “When I went to school here, the parents had to drive the kids to games, so I don’t think it will kill them if they have to do it again.” Not that I ever had a chance to play a sport. I was always too busy working after school.

  Chapter 29

  Since my house is close to the school, I stop by to get a sandwich. Jeanne is on the phone in the kitchen when I walk in. She waves to me and says, “He’s here now. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  I’m looking in the refrigerator when she hangs up.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I’m going to grab a quick bite of lunch.”

  She comes over and puts her arms around me and kisses me. “Let me fix you a sandwich.”

  When she has the mayo, pickles, and lunch meat on the counter, she reaches for the bread and says, “I heard the ambulance over near the school. You know anything about that?”

  Gilpin and I agreed that the less said, the better. I’m of two minds. I know Jeanne isn’t a big gossip, but I also know she talks to a lot of other women during the day. If I don’t tell her what’s going on, she’ll wonder why I didn’t confide in her. I tell her the bare bones—that a girl took some unidentified pills and had to be hospitalized.

  “Was she trying to kill herself?”

  “It looks more like she was experimenting.”

  She pauses from plastering the bread with mayonnaise. “I thought the kids were into marijuana?”

  “It’s not just that. Gilpin tells me that kids steal from their folks’ medicine cabinets.”

  A look passes between us. Jeanne’s brother used to do that. Her mother broke her wrist and had to lock up her pain medication. She walks toward me with the mayonnaise knife raised. “Samuel, I don’t understand what’s going on. Jarrett Creek is a small town. I expect that sort of thing in Dallas or Houston, but not here. That’s one reason I wanted to settle in Jarrett Creek. Where are the kids getting drugs?”

  “I’m working on the answer to that. I told you when they hired me—Hazel said they thought that because I’m young, I’d have an appreciation for the problem.”

  She lifts an eyebrow. “Did they think you were into drugs?”

  I grin. “Don’t you remember I was always stoned in college?”

  “Oh, you!” She walks back and finishes making the sandwich. I hope the conversation has run its course, but when she hands the plate to me with the sandwich, she says, “Isn’t it dangerous for you to investigate this? Dru
g dealers target lawmen.”

  “I don’t think we’ve got hard-core criminals in town. More like somebody trying to make a buck.”

  She props her arms on the counter and watches me eat standing up. “I don’t like it. You don’t have the experience to be going after drug dealers, even if they are small-time.”

  I walk over and tear off some paper towels and wrap the sandwich in it. I don’t want to argue with her, and part of me worries that she’s right. “I’m going to take this with me.”

  “Samuel! Really. How are you supposed to deal with this?”

  I kiss her on the lips. “Sweetheart, don’t worry about me. If it gets too big, I’ll bring in the Texas Rangers. But I really think I’m dealing with nothing more than somebody who is out to make some money and who found a kid to sell for him.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you later. I have to go.”

  I want to get to the burned-out house in case George Cato went there after all, but first I need to go by the station to listen to the tape I made of him on the phone with Blue Dudley. Taping it was illegal, and it would have no place in court. I did it because I hoped it would give me a clue about the murders. But when I listen to the tape, I’m disappointed. Cato tells Dudley that I’ve asked him for the names of the people who lived there. And then the conversation is all on the other side, with Cato interjecting the occasional “hmm.”

  I wait for the “other topics” that Cato mentioned he wanted to discuss with Dudley, but there’s no such thing. The only deviation from the subject of the murder victims is, “Dudley, when you talk to Freddie Carmichael, will you remind him that he still owes me five hundred bucks?” No mention of why.

  Two cars are parked on the road near the crime scene. One I recognize as Eldridge’s old Ford, and the other is a black Lincoln Town Car that looks brand-new.

  Cato and Eldridge are standing back from the house, having what looks like a relaxed conversation.

  “Here he is now,” Cato says. “I just got here,” he says, giving me his friendly smile. “I thought I’d swing by and take a look at it before I met you at the station. This was quite a house. I didn’t realize it was going to be so big.”