“I appreciate your help on this one, Judge. I really do.”
“It’s my pleasure. But it’s also my turn to ask you a favor.”
“I guess I owe you at least one, Judge. What is it?”
“If you’re taking Savage over to Mrs. Montgomery’s boarding house, you’re gonna have to wake him up. He’s over there sleeping like a baby. A big fat toadie baby.”
“Yes. So?”
“So, I’d like the pleasure of waking him up. That’s all.”
“Sure. Be my guest.”
Judge Moore wasn’t a big man by any measure. But he had a strong pair of legs.
He used them to walk around to the back of the couch where Savage lay sleeping.
He squatted, grabbed the bottom of the couch, and used his legs again to straighten up, at the same time unceremoniously dumping Savage onto the floor.
“Get up,” Randy commanded.
“We’re taking a walk.”
Savage pitched a fit.
“You have no right to take me away from here. I don’t feel safe anywhere else in town. You saw those people in the crowd. You heard what they said. Now get out of my bank!”
Randy was having none of it.
“Maybe I didn’t explain myself clearly enough, Mr. Savage. You no longer hold all the cards. And you no longer hold sway over Blanco’s residents. You can’t ride roughshod over them. At least not while I’m in town.
“As for your bank, it’s now a crime scene. And until I release that crime scene, it’s off limits. Even to you.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’m taking you to Mrs. Montgomery’s boarding house, where you’ll be her guest until you can return to your bank. I understand you have a house off the city square. But it’ll be easier for me to protect you in a more public place.”
“You have no authority to take me anywhere against my will without charging me with a crime.”
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Savage. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“So you’ll let me go?”
“No. I’ll charge you with a crime. You’re under arrest for two counts of murder.”
“Bull. You have no arrest warrant.”
“I don’t need one. Now then, you have the right to remain silent. I highly suggest you do so. You have the right to have an attorney present for any and all questioning. If you do not have an attorney or cannot afford one, an attorney may be appointed for you at no charge…”
“I assure you, Ranger, that I can afford any attorney in the State of Texas.”
“Don’t interrupt. Do you understand your rights?”
“Screw you, Ranger.”
“You’re not making it any easier on yourself. Again, do you understand your rights?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can’t make these charges stick. You have no evidence.”
“Perhaps not now. But I may have some very soon.”
“What in hell are you talking about?”
“Have you ever handled Mr. Gomez’ gun, or Mr. Duncan’s gun, either before or after your shootout with them?”
“Of course not. Why would I handle their guns?”
Randy didn’t answer. Instead, he asked his own question.
“So… if your fingerprints showed up anywhere on those handguns, it would cast serous doubt upon your version of events, wouldn’t it?”
Randy was fishing.
He was playing a hunch. But as any lawman knows only too well, going on a hunch sometimes solves the most difficult of cases.
As for Savage, he shifted into full-scale panic mode.
It occurred to him that when he took the weapons from his victims and tossed them around the room that he hadn’t wiped off his fingerprints.
He said absolutely nothing.
But his face gave him away. His eyebrows furrowed. His skin became ghostly white.
He looked as though he was getting ready to pass out.
Randy knew he was on to something.
He smiled.
“A minute ago I told you you had the right to remain silent, Mr. Savage. I suggested you take the advice.
“I think there’s a very good chance you’ll wish you had done so.”
By claiming he’d never touched the victims’ firearms, Savage had painted himself into a corner.
If fingerprints or DNA evidence showed otherwise, it would cast serious doubt upon his whole story.
The sun was breaking on the sleepy town as they walked out of the bank and onto Main Street.
The angry mob which had gathered the night before had long since dispersed. The only one around was old Mrs. Parker, a woman in her eighties who seldom left her house except for church on Sundays and her early morning walk.
She yelled an obscenity at Mr. Savage and flipped him off.
John Savage had told a lot of lies that morning and the night preceding it.
But mixed in with the lies was one indisputable truth:
He was not a well-liked man in the town of Blanco.
-7-
“Um… just a minute, sir. Let me get Mrs. Montgomery.”
The assistant manager of the boarding house, a fine woman named Rebecca Vance, disappeared into a back office.
Seconds later a dignified woman in her sixties appeared.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Randy Maloney of the Texas Rangers. I’d like two connecting rooms please, for three nights.”
The woman eyed Savage with some disdain before responding, “You are welcome to stay here, Ranger. He is not.”
“Ma’am, may I speak to you in private?”
“Certainly. We can go in my office.”
Randy turned to Savage and said, “I’m going to trust you to be here when I come back. If you’re not I will hunt you down and it’ll be a long time before I trust you again.”
Savage, afraid that going outside without the Ranger was tantamount to a death sentence, uttered angrily, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good enough for me.”
He followed the woman into her office and she closed the door behind them.
“Look, Mrs. Montgomery. I know you despise Mr. Savage, and from everything I’ve heard I don’t blame you. But I’m in a bit of a bind.”
“How so?”
“There are two bodies lying in the middle of his bank’s floor. It’s a crime scene and he won’t be allowed to return to the bank for at least a couple of days.
“The only other places in town where he might be safe are his own home and your place.
“I don’t want to force him to be held prisoner in his own home against his will. While I don’t know of any specific statute that prohibits it, I’m afraid I’d be on shaky ground by doing so. I’d hate for him to be released on appeal because I violated the law by holding him there.”
“Ranger…”
“Maloney.”
“Ranger Maloney, this man is evil beyond compare. It makes my skin crawl just knowing he has invaded my home. Most of the roomers here know him and feel the same way. It’s not fair to any of them to allow such a monster to share their living space.”
“Would it pacify them any if you told them there’s a good chance of his being arrested for murder? If that’s the case I will take him to Austin, and there’s a good chance none of your boarders will ever see him again.
“But…”
She first smiled at the prospect of getting rid of Savage once and for all. The “but…” gave her pause, though, and she raised a single eyebrow.
“But what?”
“But, I need a place to put him so I can complete my investigation. I need to speak with some prospective witnesses that might be intimidated if I drag him along when I question them.”
“I understand your predicament, officer. But I do not want him wandering around here, mingling with decent people.”
“That’s not what I’m looking for, ma’am.”
“Then what are
you looking for, sir?”
“I’d like two rooms with an adjoining door. When I am available I will be up there with him. When I leave I will handcuff him to a bed frame or to a sturdy piece of furniture. I will tell him the room is to be considered his holding cell. I’ll tell him if he leaves he will incur additional charges.
“He’ll stay put. I’m certain of it. You won’t see him again until he comes downstairs to check out.”
“And you’ll take him to Austin when your stay is complete?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I’ll take him away if my investigation produces evidence pointing toward his guilt. Although that’s my hope, I cannot make you that promise until I finish my investigation.”
She pondered his request.
“How will he eat if he’s confined to his room?”
“I will take my meals downstairs with your other boarders. If you’ll prepare another meal for him, I’ll take it upstairs to him.”
She was still hesitant.
“Ma’am, I assure you that you’ll be paid for both rooms. I will provide you a Texas Rangers payment voucher. It will be good for your entire bill, and will be paid by one of our traveling paymasters within ninety days.
“In gold or silver.”
“That would be a refreshing change,” she said.
“Why?”
“Most of my boarders are running tabs because they have no gold or silver to pay. I likely will never see payment from any of them. It’s not their fault. They can’t help it if they need a place to stay.
“And they can’t help it either that they have no means to pay.
“That’s why I’m behind in my mortgage payments to Savage’s bank.
“And that’s why I expect him to foreclose on my property at any time.”
“Because he’s not as understanding as you are.”
“Exactly.”
“But then again, ma’am, if I can prove he’s guilty of murder, he’ll likely hang or spend the rest of his life in prison. In either case, he wouldn’t be in any position of foreclosing on you or anyone else.”
“They’re hanging people in Texas again?”
“In some cases. The district and circuit courts are still working in Austin. And they have been assessing death by hanging sentences in some capital offenses.”
“Ranger, I’d walk the ninety miles to Austin to see him hang. I imagine a lot of people around here would.
“Were you aware he’s killed before?”
“Are you talking about Red Poston’s family?”
“I am.”
“If I can get solid evidence of those murders I’ll charge him with those too.”
“It shouldn’t be hard to obtain that evidence. The entire town knows he did it. Talk to Red. She collected evidence herself after her house exploded. A stick of dynamite that for whatever reason didn’t explode. She found that in the rubble, as well as some blasting caps the killers dropped.
“She found a remote control detonating device just inside the woods. The button they pushed to detonate the dynamite. It almost certainly has the fingerprints of whoever pushed that button.”
“Do you think it was Savage himself?”
“No, sir. Savage is too cowardly to do such a deed himself. He paid someone. Perhaps those men he shot dead. Maybe someone else.
“Everyone in town is speculating about the men he shot. Half the town thinks they were the men who killed Red’s family and he shot them to shut them up forever. The rest of the town isn’t so sure. They believe the killers were different men, and I’ve heard rumors Red already killed one of them herself.
“I think by the time your investigation is complete you’ll discover all kinds of things Savage is guilty of.”
“I hate to tell you this, but unless you agree to let me billet Savage here it will be very difficult to conduct that investigation.”
She paused again, then made up her mind.
“Follow me, sir.”
She led him back to the lobby, where Savage was standing quietly in a corner. Two children of seven or eight, a boy and a girl, were giving him the evil eye.
Rebecca Vance’s dog, a German shepherd, was growling at him menacingly.
Randy smiled. Not even kids or dogs liked him.
“I’m going to place you and your prisoner in rooms 201 and 203. I’ll log you in the register for three nights, under the names ‘Maloney and guest.’”
She continued, “I’ll trust you to keep your word, sir. I do not want this animal to mingle with my guests. They are decent people. And he, most certainly, is not.”
“I promise, ma’am. And thank you.”
Breakfast is at eight, lunch at one and dinner at seven.”
-8-
On the other side of Blanco, an old wooden hay wagon left the highway and went overland through a farmer’s field.
Creaking and swaying with each deviation in the land’s surface, the wagon rocked gently from side to side, its weathered wood braces screaming their objection every inch of the way.
But it wouldn’t collapse under the stress. It was well built almost a century before, when plastic was still the stuff of a chemist’s dreams. Back when things were made of wood and steel and sweat. And they were built to last.
The team of two horses was tired.
This was the longest they’d traveled thus far to pick up a load. Almost four miles, going and coming.
And this was the heaviest load to date by far.
But they were of sturdy stock, as sturdy as the wagon.
They’d cost Savage a pretty penny. He’d whined and complained about the outrageous price.
But in the end he’d paid it. For in the new world, horses weren’t cheap. And strong ones came at a premium cost.
His investment would be worth it in the long run.
Atop the wagon, on a wooden bench seat built for two, were brothers Luis and Jesse Martinez.
Luis and Jesse were in their thirties now and covered with tattoos. Some were colorful, some not. Some associated with gangs, some placed there during prison stays. Both men wore full sleeves of such artwork, but both had thought ahead to a time in their futures when such body art might not be acceptable in some circles.
So they hid their tats well. With a long-sleeved collared shirt the art was pretty much invisible.
Or at least covered.
Not that the pair had always led a respectable life.
At various times in their younger years they’d been petty thieves, drug dealers, loan shark muscle. Luis had helped a friend cut up and bury two bodies when he was younger, but neither had gone as far as murder themselves.
In recent years they’d tired of going in and out of prison and had worked hard to become respectable.
Jesse got a job with the electrical co-op and was able to talk them into hiring Luis when he made parole. When the blackout occurred Jesse had just celebrated his sixth year with the company.
Luis had been coming up on four years himself.
Of course, with the power grids down forever the co-op was out of business.
Luis and Jesse suddenly had a lot of free time on their hands.
Savage knew of the brothers because they’d done his yard work for years. For Savage was far too lazy to push a lawnmower.
Savage knew of the Martinez brothers’ troubled pasts and they seemed the perfect men to hire for his latest scheme.
They’d been a bit leery at first.
“You want us to do what?”
“I want you to take a hay wagon to the highway every day. I want you to find trailers of food and other items, and I want you to bring certain types of items back with you.”
“What kind of items?”
“Bottled water. Dried beans and rice. Dried pasta of any kind. Lasagna noodles, spaghetti, elbow macaroni. It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s dry.”
“Okay. But why are you gathering all this stuff?”
Savage was one of those fools who didn’t realize h
e was a fool. He considered himself smarter than everyone else because he thought differently than they did.
And he only saw the brilliance in his schemes. Never the flaws.
He spoke slowly and in simple terms.
“Because everyone is going to the trucks and gathering the short term foods. The canned ravioli, the cans of spam and tuna and soup. They’re gathering those things because they’re easy to cook. They’re quick and convenient.
“But this blackout, they say, is forever. Or at least, it’s gonna last for a very long time. Eventually all these short sighted people are gonna use up all the canned goods. Or the canned goods are gonna start making people sick because they’ve gone out of date.
“When that happens, people will be desperate for an alternative food source. They’re gonna be looking for the dried beans and rice and noodles. The stuff they didn’t want before because it was more inconvenient to cook.
“But the joke will be on them. Because by the time they want and need that stuff there won’t be any left. Because we will have collected it all. Every damn bit of it for twenty miles in any direction.”
The Martinez brothers finally understood Savage’s plan. And it seemed to make sense to them.
“So, we’re going to gather all the dry stock and bottled water and bring it all to Blanco and store it. And then at some point in the future you’re going to start selling it to the townspeople?”
“Exactly.”
“But why bottled water?”
“Bottled water will be the fine wine of the future. It’s clean and tastes much better than well water. It doesn’t have to be boiled like rainwater or river water.
“At some point in the future people with means will pay top dollar for bottled water. It’ll be like champagne. The rich will swill it and the poor will drink it on special occasions.
“And when they want it, they’ll get it from me. Because I’ll have all of it. Every bottle in the area will be in my warehouses or on my market shelves.”
They’d been gathering the goods for several weeks now. A wagon load per day. They’d set out early each morning and head north on Highway 281 until they came to the first abandoned tractor trailer rig which might contain the items they were looking for.
No Help From Austin: Red: Book 5 Page 3
