by Daniel Adams
“Good luck with that. I don’t know if I mentioned it but the people here were going to a vet because they couldn’t get a doctor to come here. Thing about the vet is he killed more animals than he cured. Wanna bet on how he did with people? He gave one man 16 ounces of penicillin—enough for a 1600-pound horse. Wanna know what the guy did?”
“Died, right?”
“Right. There’s probably still enough penicillin in that grave to cure every sore throat in town for the next decade.”
“I think you’re doing the right thing. They don’t appreciate you in the slightest.”
“Thanks. What do you want for breakfast?” he asked.
“Coffee and a roll.”
“Why don’t you shower and get ready while I get breakfast?”
“You don’t have to twist my arm. Oh, what about the guys in the basement?”
“I’m thinking bread and water. Isn’t a one of them that can’t benefit from a restricted diet.”
They slap hands.
Mattie wasn’t exactly sure what to expect at the bank. So, when she walked through the front door it was with a certain amount of trepidation. It was a small bank with the neighborhood feel that had left the big city banks decades earlier. The tellers greeted nearly everyone by first name. Seeing Mattie, all of the tellers pretended to be busy. She walked over to the closest teller and flipped out her badge.
“FBI. I want to see Mia Clagg.”
“Wait here, please,” the woman sniffed.
A minute or so later a medium-sized woman with a man’s haircut approached her. Mattie pegged her at thirty-five to forty, five foot seven inches tall and around 120 pounds. She wore what appeared to be men’s slacks with a golf shirt and loafers. A logo on her shirt said “YES I CAN.”
“Hi. I’m Mia Clagg.”
“FBI. Mattie O’Malley. Do you have time to talk to me right now?”
“Sure.” (only she pronounced it ‘shore’) “Follow me.”
She led Mattie to a desk in the corner where she motioned her to have a seat.
“What can I do for you Agent O’Malley?”
“I’m working a murder investigation and some evidence has come up that pointed me to this bank. I need some information about a client.”
“Ok. Who is it?”
“Grace Flatt.”
“Oh. I’m not sure I can help you.”
“Look, Mia, it’s possible that her life is in danger. I don’t suspect her of anything. It’s someone else. So, how about it?”
Mia thought a great deal about it before she finally replied.
“Is it about the loan?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think she’s in danger?” Mia questioned her.
“Because she’s already given away $250,000 of her loan money,” Mattie replied.
Mia looked shocked.
“I told her to be careful,” Mia whispered. “I told her people would be after her money.”
“You loaned her $400,000, right?”
“That’s the number.”
Mia eyed Mattie from the top of her head to her shoes. It made Mattie very uncomfortable.
“She’s used $300,000.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
“Right again. You know, I like that dress. It looks very sexy on you.”
“Ummm, thanks.” Now Mattie was really uncomfortable.
“Did she say what she was going to do with the money?”
Mia eyed Mattie’s breasts. Unconsciously, she licked her lips.
“Buy a house. Buy some presents. Nothing extravagant. Say, if you’re going to be in town for a couple of days, I’d be glad to show you around. We have some very interesting landmarks from the Civil War.”
“That sounds nice but I’m leaving soon. Oh, one other thing. Did she take out insurance on herself?”
“Yes. That was my suggestion.”
“Do you recall who the beneficiary is?”
“Her father in law—Jubal Flatt.”
“Thank you very much.”
Mattie stood up. She was more than ready to go. She had had other women hit on her but never so openly.
“Here’s my number if you should change your mind.”
She handed Mattie her card.
Mia’s eyes followed Mattie every step of the way out of the bank.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In many small towns there is usually a café that is social gathering place for the entire community. The waitress’s name is Barb or Dora and she has her hair in a beehive hairdo, the same beehive hairdo she had when she graduated from high school 23 years earlier. Women come to gossip and show off new clothes and pictures of their kids and grandkids. Men come to talk about sports, hunting, cars or farming and they don’t gossip, they advise. They don’t ever share pictures of their family, friends or relatives. If they have a picture in their wallet, it’s a picture of their truck or tractor—or their dog. The odds of a man having a picture of his wife in his wallet are the same odds as him having on a clean pair of underwear—very long odds.
In Kingswood the White Rose Café was the community-gathering place. Over the years many deals had been finalized over a big piece of apple pie at the White Rose. The reason people went to the White Rose to talk business was because there was a row of booths in back with high walls that stretched to the ceiling. If you talked quietly in one of the booths, no one could overhear you. But the big draw wasn’t the booths, it was the mammoth slice of apple pie that was served very hot with two scoops of vanilla ice cream. If you couldn’t finalize a deal at the White Rose, it wasn’t because of the pie.
At lunchtime, the day Mattie talked to Mia, another meeting was about to get underway at the White Rose Café. At the café, if you didn’t get a table before noon, you didn’t get a table until after 1:00 P.M. It was that popular. It also helped that the only other restaurant in the downtown area had been closed by the health department for a week because of unsafe food preparation. It would have been nice if the health department was acting proactively in closing the restaurant but it wasn’t the case. It had sprung into action after five people had been hospitalized and one person had died. What it turned out to be was simple enough. No one had ever cleaned out the mayonnaise dispenser and it was loaded with enough clostridium to knock down an elephant. The silver lining for the restaurant owner, if you could call it a silver lining, was that he didn’t have to worry about being sued by the deceased person’s family. Why? Because it had been his mother-in-law who died. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Harold Baum the owner, was glad that it had been his MIL and not a customer. Although he was saddened by her sudden departure from this world’s trials and travails, he knew a lawsuit would have ruined him and the restaurant would have folded.
The café was noisy with three-dozen conversations as groups talked among themselves and called to their friends at other tables. With hard smooth walls and no baffling or knick-knacks on the walls, the sound sometimes reached 90 decibels or better. The old-timers with sensitive ears sat in a row of tables next to the front windows where it was quieter. At times the waitresses had to scream at each other to be heard over the din. People put up with the noise because there wasn’t better food within several hundred miles. The café excelled in prime rib sandwiches with French fries and horseradish sauce. A platter with a pound of beef went for $6.00. Most of the men ordered the two-pound plate to make sure they stayed at least 100 pounds over their maximum healthy weight.
Even though Jubal arrived at 12:30 P.M. he wasn’t worried about a table. He knew Rafe would already be there in the corner table with Junior Barnes and Leroy or as the Justice of the Peace called them, Rafe and his bookends. Jubal wasn’t very happy about meeting Rafe—even in public. The man was a psycho. On a whim, he might have Junior Barnes gun him down in the café—to show the town who was boss. Rafe had been known to do such things. It scared Jubal. He was used to being the bully—had been one his whole life so it was hard to assume the role of victim.
He had thought about bringing his shotgun and gunning down Rafe and the bookends as they walked out but in the end, he was just too scared.
They saw him at the same time he saw them. It wasn’t like he was meeting a friend for a good time. Jubal knew that if he wasn’t on his toe the whole time, he might be dead before dark. It wasn’t a good feeling. He pretended he was glad to see them.
“Hey, Rafe,” he greeted him. He ignored the bookends.
“Good to see you, Jubal.”
Rafe stuck out his hand and they shook hands but it was like kissing a copperhead. You only do it once.
“What, ain’t you happy to see us?” Junior Barnes snorted.
“Yeah, ain’t we your pals no more?” Leroy chimed in.
He kept right on ignoring them. What was left of his big toe still hurt like hell. If he got drunk enough he still might gun them down. Course he’d have to do Rafe too.
“Do they have to be here?”
“Boys, go out to the car and wait for me.”
Grumbling, Leroy and Junior Barnes left. The look Junior Barnes gave him as he got up from the table was mean enough to cause Jubal’s heart to thump in his chest. Jubal sat down where they had been sitting.
“Let’s get this over with,” he grunted.
“You got my money?” Rafe questioned.
“Put your hand under the table.
Jubal put the fat manila envelope in Rafe’s hand.
“You want to count it?” he asked.
“No, Jubal, cause you know what would happen if you shorted me.”
“Ok. We’re square. You got your money.”
Jubal stood up.
“Sorry I had to get tough with you, Jubal, but business is business.”
“I ain’t gonna borrow no more money from you.”
“I feel bad about your toe. Tell you what I'm gonna do. To make things right with you, I'm gonna cut you in on something. I got a horse for ya that's a guaranteed winner. You want him, I'll sell him to you for what I paid for him.”
Jubal sat back down. His eyes lit up with excitement.
“What horse?”
“Oh, it’s a thoroughbred. Three years old. Won three races, so far.”
“Just like Big Blue.”
“Hey, that’s right,” Rafe agreed.
He couldn’t believe Jubal would seriously consider anything Rafe offered him. The man was a total sucker. On Rafe’s orders, Junior Barnes had shot off Jubal’s toe and here Jubal was going to buy a horse from Rafe. If Rafe had been in Jubal’s boots, he would have waited in the parking lot and shot Rafe, Junior Barnes and Leroy as they got in their car. Simple math.
“How much?”
Rafe had been going to sell him the horse for $4,000 but he decided to add another grand to it, just because he hated Jubal.
“Five grand.”
“You got papers on him?”
“You betcha.”
Jubal thought about it. He didn’t trust Rafe much but the man knew horses. Jubal knew there wasn’t a kind bone in Rafe’s body so there had to be an angle. But if Jubal got to examine the horse first, and if the papers were good, he couldn’t see a downside to doing a deal with Rafe.
“When can I see him?”
“Tomorrow night at the plant. The owner’s bringing him over from Benton.”
“I’m gonna bring a vet,” Jubal warned.
“Bring a dozen,” Rafe responded. “He’s a solid horse. I just have too many like him. He’s never gonna be a Secretariat but he’ll win a lot of mid-length races.”
“It’ll take me a couple of days to put the money together.”
“Tell you what, Jubal. Because of the unpleasantness that happened, you can keep him a month before you pay. That fair?”
Jubal couldn’t believe it. Now he didn’t have to bring a vet to the meeting.
“More than fair, Rafe. I appreciate it.”
Rafe held out his hand. This time Jubal shook it for real.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
With waves to several people he knew, Jubal went through the restaurant and out the front door. About a minute later, Junior Barnes and Leroy returned to the table.
“He fall for it, Boss?”
“You just gonna take his money or give him the horse?”
“Oh, I’m gonna give him a horse alright.”
Mattie had a lot on her mind. Things were beginning to take shape in her mind. What Jenny had told them had been a real eye-opener. If Sheriff Wilks was in Rafe’s pocket, it changed everything about the case. Whereas she had been thinking that Sheriff Wilks was dead set on charging Noonan because he was too lazy to consider any other suspects, it now looked like maybe his laziness was really to help cover up something for Rafe. But even more alarming was Emil’s disclosure that Sheriff Wilks had been at Perkins Landing with the Klan. That too was a game changer. It meant she had better watch her ass because no one else was.
Focused on her thoughts, she didn’t see the Sheriff until he called to her from where he stood beside her car.
“Mattie, you have a second?”
He looked tired. Guess the burden of being on both sides of the law was taxing him. She stopped a few feet from him.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” she asked coolly.
He pointed to the bandage on her arm. “How’d that happen?”
“I got too close to an alligator.”
“Where?”
She knew that he knew and he knew that she knew. They were just sparring, looking for weaknesses in their opponent.
“Perkins Landing.”
She closely watched his eyes. They would tell her the truth. And they did. She saw them narrow and his eyes blinked several times for no apparent reason. He had known about Perkins Landing.
“What happened out there?”
“Sheriff, I'm not very good at hiding my feelings. Last night, I heard some pretty bad things about you. Truth is, I don't think we're on the same side of the law.”
He studied her for several long seconds before he replied.
“Just hold on. Don't I get a chance to defend myself?”
“Sure you do. Just tell me one thing, does Rafe Cummings own you and your badge?
This time it was a full thirty seconds before he answered her.
“People may think he does, but he don’t.”
“Have you ever broken the law for him?”
Another thirty-second hesitation told her a lot.
“Small things. Nothing important.”
“What about Dusty Pew?”
He tried not to show it but he was surprised that he knew about Dusty.
“Who told you about that?”
“Does it matter? It happened. Answer the question.”
“I roughed him up a little. He told me what I wanted to know so I let him go.”
She couldn’t believe he had admitted it.
“So, where do you draw the line? Murder? Rape? Kidnapping? Bribery? Assault? Or does the line shift as he pays you more?”
“You don't have a clue how it is down here. You come here, stay a couple of days, and think you know everything. Well, you don't. This ain't New York. Sure, I do a few things for Rafe, but it's the only way I can keep him from takin' over completely. He already owns three other counties. I’ve tried to get help but nobody wants to come down here and get their hands dirty. Let me tell you something. You wouldn’t last a second on your own.”
“Maybe that's how you sleep at night, but it doesn't cut it with me. Right's right and wrong's wrong. Ain't no middle ground. You cross the line, you aren't a lawman any more. You're just a crook with a badge.”
The Sheriff’s face flamed red. She had hit a nerve.
“I ain't going to try to justify myself to you. I done what I had to. You don't want to work with me, fine.”
She figured she might as well get it all out in the open.
“I heard you were at Perkins Landing last night. Were you there on official business or ju
st to watch the festivities?”
“It’s a lie,” he snarled. “I wasn’t there.”
“Then you won’t mind rolling up your sleeves.”
“Not a chance. Where does it stop? Taking off my shirt? My pants? What’s it going to take to satisfy you?”
“Just your sleeves,” she answered.
“Not gonna do it. Either you take my word that I wasn’t there or not. Your choice.”
“How can I trust you, Sheriff? If push comes to shove, which side of the line are you going to be on?”
“Let me ask you something, does Rafe own the whorehouse?”
“Yes, so what?”
“Jenny Calvert said Rafe, Leroy and Junior Barnes are the ones who beat and tortured her. Rafe owns the whorehouse. What’s it going to take for you to do your job?”
The Sheriff’s eyes had gone flat—a very bad sign for her.
“The only way anyone can stop Rafe is to kill him. He’s too smart to let anyone get close to him and he sure as hell isn’t going to fall for any stings. I could get an indictment based on Jenny’s testimony but you know what? I would be signing her death warrant and I like her. She’s a good person. But if she was going to testify against Rafe it wouldn’t be long before she disappeared. Permanently.”
She wanted to believe him. She ran a bluff.
“I heard that Jubal poisoned Big Blue.”
She saw surprise in his eyes. He hadn’t known.
“Why?”
“Jubal owes Rafe a quarter of a million dollars. If Jubal poisoned the horse, and his horse won, he would have enough money to pay back Rafe.”
“Except Jubal’s horse LOST,” he pointed out.
“I know.”
“Nothin' I say is going to change your mind.”
“Probably not. It’s best we go our separate ways.”
Without another word he walked away.
As she hit the button to unlock her doors, she suddenly thought of something. She needed a new battery for her watch. She looked around. She was in luck. The general store was just two stores over. She pressed the button again, locking the car doors. With Sheriff Wilks heavily on her mind, she entered the store. She didn’t know it but Karma was about to deal out a big payback for her.
