Dead South (Mattie O'Malley FBI agent)

by Daniel Adams

  Mattie tested the rope holding her hands. It held firm.

  “Ain’t right mixin’ black blood with pure blood,” Junior Barnes said.

  Mattie tried to break the rope but it only cut into her wrists.

  “Fight all you want to but it ain’t gonna do you no good,” Leroy told her.

  Picking her up, they dropped her onto the bed. Leroy wasn’t happy with Junior Barnes’ remark about pure blood. As far as he was concerned, Junior Barnes’ blood was no purer than his.

  Junior Barnes flopped down beside Mattie. With a finger he traced her bra around her breasts. She cringed away from him.

  “What do you think, real or plastic?”

  “Real,” Leroy said flatly.

  Junior Barnes squeezed her breasts.

  “They’re real all right. You have a good eye.”

  Junior Barnes wanted to rape her but he knew Leroy wouldn’t tolerate it.

  “We come by to give you a message. Nobody wants you here. If you ain't gone by morning, we're gonna come back and feed ya to the gators. You got it?”

  Mattie was silent. She had no intention of answering him. Junior Barnes had other intentions. He pinched her nipple hard. She tried to squirm away but Leroy held her firm.

  “You got it?”

  She nodded her head.

  “If you’re smart, you’ll pack up now.” He nodded to Leroy. “Get the car.”

  Leroy pointed his finger at him and made the clicking sound with his mouth.

  “Check.”

  Leroy hustled out.

  Mattie had never stopped tugging at the rope around her wrists. Her effort paid off. One wrist broke free. Junior Barnes was so horny he didn’t notice. Big mistake.

  With a twist, she got her other hand free. Junior Barnes grabbed zipper and yanked it down.

  “Me an’ you’s gonna have a little fun before he gets—“

  She hit him with a right cross so hard it snapped his head back onto the bed. Stunned, he could only watch as she quickly untied her feet. Leroy walked in just as she freed herself. Before she could yank off the blindfold he pounced on her. Drawing back his fist, he swung a hard blow that caught her in the chest. She went down flat on the bed. Even though he chest felt like he’d broken a couple of ribs, she didn’t stop. She swung her feet over her head, somersaulting backwards off of the bed and landed awkwardly against the far wall. For a brief instant neither man knew where she was. She dropped to her hands and knees. As quietly as possible, she crawled around the bed.

  “Where is she?” Leroy whispered.

  “Don’t know,” Junior Barnes replied. Junior Barnes wasn’t feeling very good. Mattie had pounded the shit out of him. He was ready to go home.

  Mattie didn’t try to go out the door. Instead, she picked up one of her shoes and threw it out the door. Luckily for her, it hit a car.

  CLACK!

  “She’s outside!” Junior Barnes hissed.

  “Hold up,” Leroy ordered. “Don’t say nothin’.”

  The room was instantly quiet. Mattie could hear them breathing so she was pretty sure they could hear her. Like her instructor had said, the best defense is an offense.

  Gathering her feet under her, she launched herself toward where she thought the second man was. Knees first, she landed on how back.

  “Yowwww!” Junior Barnes squealed.

  She punched him in the back of the head then rolled off the bed. Leroy didn’t fall for it. He dove on top of her. His big fists slammed her against the wall. She couldn’t take much more. She felt blackness overcoming her. She had to act. She felt the electrical plug and light cord against her back. An idea popped into her head. It was suicide but it was all she had. He wasn’t quite sure where she was which gave her a few seconds to put her idea into motion. With the last of her energy, she put her feet on the bed then planted her back solidly against the wall and lifted herself off the floor. Reaching behind her, she grabbed the lamp plug, pulled it halfway out, and then touched the bare copper prong.

  ZAP!

  She wasn’t grounded. Leroy was. 120 volts coursed through her body, without harm, then arced through Leroy.

  “Aahhhhh!” he bellowed.

  When she smelled the odor of cooking flesh, she let go of the prong.

  Leroy slumped to the floor beside her.

  “What happened?” Junior Barnes asked from across the bed.

  Leroy stirred, used the wall to regain his feet.

  “The bitch electrocuted me,” Leroy said shakily.

  “Where is she?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  Mattie knew it wasn’t smart but she did it anyway. Laying on her side, she kicked in front of her as hard as she could. As luck would have it, her foot caught Leroy behind the knees. He dropped to the floor like he’d been shot.

  “Damn!”

  “What?” Junior Barnes wanted to know.

  “She knocked me down.”

  Mattie knew it was time for a change. She jumped back on the bed, punched Junior Barnes in the body then dove into the corner of the room.

  “Let me kill her,” Junior Barnes begged.

  “No.”

  Junior Barnes took out his pistol. He didn’t give a damn what Leroy said.

  “Where is she?” he whispered.

  “I’m goin’,” Leroy said.

  With numb legs he wobbled out the door.

  Junior Barnes hesitated.

  “Don’t make us come back,” he warned. “Next time we’ll kill you.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  “You think that’s funny?” Junior Barnes asked, trying to hear where she was.

  Mattie wasn’t stupid. As soon as she laughed, she rolled a few feet to one side.

  “Laugh again, Hon. “It’ll be your last.”

  Mattie kept still. It was the smart thing to do.

  “If you ain’t gone today, you’re dead.”

  With that, Junior Barnes staggered out the door.

  Mattie sat in the corner for a good half hour before she stirred. She had taken some hard blows and she hurt all over. Without turning on the light, she gathered her possessions, jammed them in her suitcase and forced it closed. After checking one last time to make sure she had all of her stuff, she threw the suitcase in her car and drove away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After leaving the motel Mattie drove down to a secluded part of the river. She was dogged tired and felt like she’d been run over by a truck. She knew one thing. There was no way she could stay at the motel any more. It was just too dangerous. She knew the two men would be back. They would stew and fret about the beating she’d given them until they talked each other into going back to the motel to kill her. It was inevitable. Their pride wouldn’t let them take a beating from a woman. She figured the big guy would let it go but the smaller man wouldn’t. If she wanted to get any sleep it was going to have to be here where no one knew where she was. The car was parked under some trees, completely out of sight to anyone who drove down to the river. Unless the person drove through the bushes exactly where she had, she would never be spotted. Nevertheless, she put her gun on the seat beside her. After she locked the doors, she put her head down on her rolled up jacket. Ten seconds later she was sound asleep.

  Sheriff Wilks had a lot on his mind. Foremost was selling the booze he’d stolen from Rafe over in Ford County where Rafe wasn’t welcome. The sheriff there was a tough lawman. He didn’t do anything for Rafe except escort him out of the county every time he saw him. Rafe was not used to such ill treatment. On more than one occasion he had told Leroy and Junior Barnes that he was going to kill Sheriff Tillman. Leroy and Junior Barnes wisely kept their mouths shut. They knew he was just blowing off steam. When Rafe was serious he kept his mouth shut. That was when people went to the swamp and didn’t come back. Sheriff Wilks knew stealing the booze was risky. If Rafe ever found out Sheriff Wilks would have to kill him, that or watch his own back for the rest of his life. Rafe wasn’t a ven
geful man, he just didn’t forgive or forget. When he had something on his mind it stayed there. During his college years a fellow student had stolen $200 from him. Twenty years later Rafe had had Leroy and Junior Barnes beat up the man and throw him in the ocean three miles from shore. The other thing on Sheriff Wilks’ mind was who had killed Big Blue. He wanted to find the person because until he did, Rafe would be on his back.

  There were only three stable hands at the racetrack. Sheriff Wilks figured he could talk to all of them and still have time to eat breakfast back in town. The first hand on his list was a feeble white man named Gil who was definitely slow in the brain. Since dropping out of high school eleven years earlier, Gil had cleaned stalls at the racetrack without much motivation to do anything else. He didn’t talk much, which was just as well because he didn’t have anything to say. Every night he ate at the café then went home and watched TV until midnight. He never varied his schedule. If you wanted to find Gil, all you had to do was be at the café at 6:05 P.M. He would be sitting in the back at a table, eating fried chicken just like he had done every night for eleven years. You could set your watch by him. At exactly 6:25 P.M. he would leave for home, which was a brisk five-minute walk from the café.

  Sheriff Wilks found Gil, sweeping out a stall. When Gil saw Sheriff Wilks, he looked around for a place to hide but it was too late.

  “How you doin’? Gil,” the Sheriff asked.

  In spite of being weak-minded, Gil knew one thing; he was in big trouble. He knew because the only time Sheriff Wilks talked to him was when the Sheriff thought he had done something bad. Gil thought back but couldn’t think of anything he had done that would bring a visit from the Sheriff.

  “I din’t do nothin’, Sheriff.”

  “Who said you did? Can’t we have a friendly little conversation?”

  “Never had one before.”

  Sheriff Wilks laughed. “Guess you’re right. Always been business. You been peepin’ again?”

  “Not me, Sir. Not done it again since you whupped my ass over at Miss Cindy’s place.”

  Sheriff Wilks had caught Gil window peeping at a single woman’s house. Rather than put Gil through the legal process, the Sheriff had beat him until he was black and blue from head to foot. It had made a big impression on Gil.

  “That’s good.” Sheriff Wilks lowered his voice. “You heard Big Blue got poisoned?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know who done it?”

  Gil stopped sweeping and started sorting hay bales.

  “Couldn’t tell if I did know. Ain’t a snitch.”

  “How’d you like to make a hundred dollars?”

  Gil thought about it. He knew it was a trap. If he took the money the Sheriff would want something for it.

  “Naa, I got enough money.”

  “You rob a bank?” the Sheriff asked. He laughed but he was dead serious.

  “No way, Sheriff. You know I’m just a peeper.”

  “But you know who did it. I can tell.”

  Sheriff Wilks really didn’t know one way or the other. He figured he’d run a bluff and see what happened.

  “I can’t tell ya. I ain’t no rat.”

  Pay dirt, the Sheriff thought. Gil did know. And if Gil knew, he couldn’t keep it from the Sheriff.

  He put his arm real chummy like over Gil’s shoulder.

  “You're right. You don't have to tell me. Ain't a thing I can do about it. Course when Junior Barnes asks ya, he may not be as understandin'. He gets kinda violent when people tell him no.”

  He felt Gil swallow. Everyone was scared of Junior Barnes. He was a psycho.

  “What’s Junior Barnes got to do with this?” Gil said, his voice shaky with fear.

  “Rafe lost a lot of money on the race. Damn near $100,000. He’s very unhappy.”

  “Shit!” Gil swore.

  “I’ll see you later.” The Sheriff walked to the door. If he was right, Gil would stop him before he got to his car.

  “Wait up, Sheriff. If I tell you, ain’t no reason for Junior Barnes to ask me about it, right?”

  “I suppose. If that’s what you want to do. Say, I was thinkin’ about Ronny Parks the other day. Too bad he left town. He was really good with horses.”

  Gil got the intended threat. Ronny Parks had accidentally hurt one of Rafe’s horses. The horse healed but Ronnie disappeared anyway. Everyone knew he was in the swamp.

  “You ain’t gonna tell anyone I told you, right?”

  “Course not, Gil. What you tell the Sheriff is strictly confidential.”

  Gil went to the door and scanned the stall area.

  “During the Klan rally, I stayed here and tried to get a little sleep. After everybody left, I crawled up in the loft. I was just about asleep when I heard someone come into the barn. I didn't see him do nothin' but everybody else was gone.”

  “Who was it?”

  Gil didn’t want to say. It was plainly written across his face.

  “Dewey.”

  It was all Sheriff Wilks needed. Leaving Gil to clean his stalls, he headed for breakfast. He would find Dewey later.

  Deep in thought, Sheriff Wilks drove back to town. He wasn’t thinking about the legal aspects of what Dewey had done, he was thinking about how he could make a buck off it. If he was, he was going to have to set it up before he told Rafe that it was Dewey. Once he did, it was only a matter of hours until Dewey paid for his sins. Sheriff Wilks doubted that Dewey had killed Big Blue but he knew who did. If he confessed quickly, Rafe might forget about him in his hurry to get his money back. The odds were very long that Dewey would live to see another week. Maybe he could tell Rafe an informant wanted money to give him the information about Dewey. Say $500. He could pocket the money and Rafe would never be the wiser.

  He parked across the street from the café. As he walked across the street, Mattie called to him. He was surprised to see her but he didn’t let it show.

  “Sheriff!”

  He stopped behind a car parked in front of the café.

  “Where have you been? I heard you left town.”

  She faced him. He saw bruises under her jaw and on the side of her head. The more he studied her, the more bruises he saw.

  “I left for a couple of hours to get some sleep. It’s pretty active at the motel at night.”

  “I was worried. The night man at the motel said he saw two men come out of your room real late. Next morning, you was gone.”

  “Two guys broke into my room. They warned me to leave town. Said if I didn’t, they’d feed me to the gators. I beat the hell out of them. One of them tased me but I got away from them. You see a really big guy and a short guy limping around, it’s them.”

  “Are you ok? Did they hurt you?”

  “I hurt them a lot more than they hurt me. I’m gonna be sore for a couple of days. Lots of bruises. I electrocuted the big son of a bitch. Thought he was dead but it only stunned him.”

  “How big was he—the big guy?”

  “Six six—six eight—250 to 300. You know anybody like that?”

  Leroy and Junior Barnes came to mind but there was no way on earth she had fought them and won. It had to be someone else.

  “Not right off the top of my head.”

  “When I find out who they are, they’re gonna pay.”

  Sheriff Wilks was astounded. Here was this 120-pound woman who had fought two men and won. He couldn’t believe it. Thing was, she wasn’t even surprised. It was all in a day’s work for her.

  “Are you a black belt or something?” he ventured.

  “Black belt plus four bars,” she said matter of factly.

  “I should have known.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she queried.

  “When those three punks broke off your mirror you were hoping for a fight. I can tell. You were going to clean their clocks.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You get a look at them?”

  “No, it was too dark.”

&
nbsp; “I'll find out who done it. I ain't gonna tolerate this kind of shit in my town.”

  He meant it too. But for a different reason. Beating up an FBI agent was like kicking a beehive. You hit one bee, they all come down on you.

  She took a document out of her bag.

  “I got back the preliminary lab report on the evidence I collected at the barn. Noonan's blood is everywhere--on the baler--on the barn door--on the floor. And it was Paxton's blood on Noonan's gown and on the bottoms of his slippers.”

  “Told you so,” he gloated.

  She didn’t seem to care that he had been right.

  “I don't know. Something just doesn't feel right. I didn't find any of Noonan's fingerprints in the barn and they should have been there. If he wasn't careful about getting his blood all over everything, why would he be careful about his fingerprints?”

  “He ain't no rocket scientist. My guess is that he didn't know his blood could be traced back to him. You’re givin’ him way too much credit. He’s a hillbilly. I doubt if he got past Sixth Grade. He doesn’t know a damn thing about forensics. They don’t even have a TV.”

  “Maybe. But the thing I can't see is how he got Paxton into the baler. He just couldn't do it by himself even if he hadn’t been shot. The killer had to carry Paxton’s body—what—fifty feet to the stairway up to the second level—up the stairs and over to the baler? Paxton was dead weight. Movin’ him would have been like trying to carry a three hundred pound bag of potatoes.”

  “You’re beatin’ a dead horse. We got enough to indict Noonan. Sometimes you have to dig deep but this time, it is what it is. Noonan done it.”

  “You remember the splinters of wood I found in Paxton’s hair?”

  “Course.”

  “They didn’t match any of the samples I took in the barn. So where did they come from?”

  “Did you check his house or the other buildings out there?”

  Sheriff Wilks was tired of the conversation. He wanted to eat his breakfast.

  “No.”

  “Tomorrow the DA’s gonna take the evidence to the grand jury. I need a copy of that report.”