Bad Day for a Killing (Book Three of the Western Serial Killer Series)

by Hestand, Rita

  "Yes, I did. An idea came to me the other day, that I want to talk to you about. I was thinking you might want to go back into the a café business." Mr. Carver announced quietly.

  "The café business?" John stood up from his chair and stared at him. "Why would I?"

  Mr. Carver studied him a moment, then lit his pipe again. John wondered how a man could talk about such serious things and fix a pipe at the same time. As though what he was talking about was nothing.

  "I never considered going back to work for Stanley. And now that would be impossible, wouldn't it?"

  "Of course, anyway, John you already know that, don't you?"

  John fidgeted, nervous and upset that Mr. Carver would bring this up when his daughter was just in the other room. He hadn't fully trusted Mr. Carver since he learned of him murdering Stanley.

  "The town needs a café. And we don't know of anyone that could run one, except you." Mr. Carver seemed confident of what he said.

  "I guess that's true enough. But won't that look bad…." John hesitated taking his bait this time. "I mean, starting another café, when we aren't supposed to know what happened to Stanley in the first place?"

  "Perhaps, but we need a café. The business men of the town think it's necessary. I don't know why they think so. But after due consideration, I don't know why not." Mr. Carver said.

  "I've been very happy here, working with you. I have never ran a café before."

  "Really, I heard your sister used to run one in Cross Timbers, isn't that correct?" Mr. Carver announced out of the blue.

  John squirmed. Did Carver know everything about him? Had he had him investigated. Is this how he intended keeping a tight lid on John's knowledge of the killing? At that moment John wanted to wring his neck. But because of his beloved wife in the next room, he stilled his appetite for blood once more. Still he was at a complete disadvantage and he knew it. He'd kept his life clean since he came here. He wanted no trouble with the law.

  "So you know all about me?" John asked, curious as to how he would answer.

  "Let's say I know enough. But really John, I admire you. You came here to change. To make a better life than you had back there. I can understand that, admire that even. But make no mistake, we are of kindred spirit my dear son-in-law." Mr. Carver announced, a satisfied smile on his lips.

  "There's not much to know…really."

  "Isn't there. Your name is Elmer, you used to hunt for your sister. She ran a charity café in Cross Timbers. I believe that is correct."

  "That's right, so…"

  "Well, the Sheriff of Melville was interested in finding a certain Elmer Martin. It seems there was some unseemly killings in the area and he finally found the proof to link it to you. Didn't he?"

  John's fist came down on the chair arm heavily. What proof did they have? He knew of nothing. He'd cleaned his mess well, Sadie had taught him that much. Had the Sheriff there figured it out? Did he have proof, all of this was news to John. "I know nothing about a Sheriff from Melville."

  "Oh I know, John, but he knows a lot about you. In fact, he's waiting for your return…"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Your sister told him you ran off. She's waiting for you to come back. She's still there, isn't she?"

  "So….?"

  "I guess you don't know…" Mr. Carver scrunched up his face and frowned. "They found human remains in the dumplings your sister cooked. Proof that you'd been killing people and that she'd been feeding it to the people of Cross Timbers. Rather cannibalistic of you, don't you think? Don't tell me your sister was an innocent? No one would believe that!"

  "My God!" John flopped back into the chair.

  "Yes, so I guess you'll be excited about opening another café in town, now, wouldn't you?"

  "Why….why should I?"

  "Because that will throw the guilt on you, John. They will think you killed Stanley. It's perfect, don't you think? I mean it's not like the first time you've killed is it? This would just add to it."

  "How could you be so low?" John's voice rose.

  "Because it was your mouth that caused Stanley's demise. If you hadn't come to tell me what had happened I might never have known the truth about him. To think he'd offer you what I had. I might never have killed the man to shut him up."

  "Why did you have to kill him? Why did you have to shut him up? What could he say? And why are you black-mailing me." John accused.

  "What is going on in here? I can hear you all the way in the kitchen?" Penelope stormed into the room. "Honestly, when the baby comes, you are going to have to be more quiet." She insisted.

  "Baby?" They both shouted and stood up.

  "Yes, oh, did I forget to mention that this evening. We are having a baby…" she cried and nearly jumped into John's arms.

  "Are you serious?" He asked, kissing her cheek.

  "Very. I went to the doctor today…" she announced glancing at her father's who's mouth hung open in total surprise. "Aren't you happy for us, daddy? This is what you've always wanted, a grandchild."

  "Of course," He flustered. "I'm very happy for you darling."

  "When?" John asked, forgetting his former conversation with her father. His arms cradled her gently, as he looked her up and down.

  "About seven months from now…" she cried aloud. "Oh, I'm so happy. And I want the two of you to be happy for me…"

  "We are…" they cried in unison.

  John twirled her high into his arms and kissed her sweetly on the lips, forgetting the problems he had with his father-in-law. Nothing could be as sweet as this. He whispered a prayer on his lips, thanking God that he was so blessed.

  "Good." She smiled and walked back to the kitchen. "Now no more shouting."

  John shot Mr. Carver a menacing look. "Well, perhaps you should rethink doing me any damage, Mr. Carver. At the very least I've given you a grandchild. I've also made your daughter very happy too. You have to look into her face to see that happiness."

  "So you have…who would have thought it." Mr. Carver grunted. "Well, I think we have a double-play at black-mail. We understand one another, now don't we. I won't mention this to the Sheriff here, and you will open a café in town. If any suspicions is thrown on me or the council, I will expose you for what you really are. Is that understood?" He announced, tampering his voice to a quiet murmur. "You may never take the blame for Stanley, but you can't explain the other."

  "I do understand." John frowned at the man. "I never should have trusted you."

  "Yes, and you never should have said anything about Stanley."

  John twisted his head in amazement. "You weren't shocked when I first told you of Stanley. So why did you kill him? I still don't understand."

  "Because I didn't want to be exposed. I've spent a life-time building up my business in this town. I have a big ranch, a fine family and I've earned it all by the sweat of my brow. My small indiscretion with Stanley was threatening to be exposed. Him going to you…well, let's just say I had to kill him. It really wasn't that hard. The rest of the council agreed we needed to get rid of the trash in Hard Tack. So we did."

  "You…and Stanley?" John exclaimed.

  "Keep your voice down. Yes…me and Stanley. And if he hadn't been so gallish to involve you in this, nothing would have happened. It was me, Stanley and Joe Simmons. I've been a lonely man all my life since my wife died. I've had little pleasure, little diversion. Stanley offered that diversion. I took it. But I would never let something like that come between my family or me and my business. The true fault lies with Stanley, but you played an innocent victim. My deal with you is this…you keep your mouth shut about this. Do you understand me? Keep your mouth shut. Not one word, or I'll expose your dirty laundry too. Is that understood?"

  "Completely." John acknowledged.

  "Don't take it so hard John. There's no body to be found. No one knows Stanley is dead, so we are both safe for the time being. But if I go down, you'll go down with me."

  "You don't have to keep
repeating it. I understand. But there is something I want to say in my own defense. No one might know except you, but I wanted to become a better man than I was. I wanted to redeem myself in God's eyes. I had nearly accomplished it, when this happened. Can you not understand it?"

  "Of course I can, son. Of course I can. It's the same for me. I have a wonderful life here in Hard Tack. Make no mistake though, I aim to keep it a good life, you understand?"

  John nodded woodenly.

  "I'm glad we've had this little talk. Men should always understand each other."

  "If you know about Sadie feeding the town with human remains, does anyone else?"

  Mr. Carver smiled sardonically as though he had swallowed the fatted calf. "What difference does it make to you now. You've got a new life. And if you want to keep that life, you better keep quiet. It's as simple as that. I don't want to expose you John, it would hurt Penelope. I simply don't want you exposing me."

  "Yes, of course. I was only concerned for my sister." John murmured.

  "A sister you claim is dead. Perhaps she should stay that way." Mr. Carver sighed and drew on his pipe thoughtfully as he eyed John's distress.

  "Yes, yes of course…"

  But it wasn't that easy, John thought. He couldn't let any harm come to Sadie. Even though he had wiped her out of his life, he wished her no harm. She was still his sister, and he still loved her, despite the fact that he tried to bury her in his mind.

  What could he do? As far as he knew, she was still in Cross Timbers and surely nothing bad would happen there.

  He couldn't fret over her, he had Penelope to think of, and the baby.

  His baby. He smiled. She had made his secret wishes come true and he'd do anything to protect her from all this evil.

  ~*~

  Rusty and Marty had finished digging the grave up. They stared at the tow sack that had covered it. For a long moment, neither of them moved.

  "I guess we can't just sit here, it's getting dark and we need to find out if it is Stanley or not. Is there any way we might recognize him?" Rusty asked.

  Marty shook his head. "I don't know…let's open it up and see."

  In a matter of minutes they uncovered the body, it had decomposed until the skeleton showed. Worms and ants crawled all over it.

  "I don't suppose we can prove this is Stanley at all now." Rusty said, letting the body slip down into the grave once more.

  But Marty hesitated before covering it again. "Wait…there is one thing. If we could find it we could be sure it is Stanley."

  "What is it?"

  "Stanley wore a ring on his little finger. Maybe it is still there. It had some weird crescent on it."

  "Let's check that out, now." Rusty insisted.

  Dragging the body up and out of the grave they laid it down once more. Then they scanned the hand. There was nothing there.

  Just before they covered him again with the dirt, Marty stopped. "Wait…maybe it is in the sack."

  "Okay, let's see…" Rusty said.

  They drug the sack up and dumped it on the ground. And there, staring up at them was a silver ring, shining.

  "That's it! This is Stanley." Marty announced proudly. "I've seen that ring on his finger forever. He never took it off. I knew if it was him, it would be here."

  "That's good work, Marty. I want to take one more look at Stanley. Maybe I can determine how he died."

  "In that condition?" Marty screeched.

  "I can try."

  "Yeah…what makes you an expert?" Marty asked.

  Rusty stared at him a moment, realizing how much he actually did trust his young deputy. He sighed heavily and looked deep into Marty's eyes. "I used to be a doctor…"

  "You don't mean it? Then how'd you become a Sheriff?" Marty's eyes widened.

  "Pure accident, I guess."

  "What happened?" Marty blurted out.

  "I killed a man, back in Melville."

  "While you were doctorin'?" Marty asked.

  "No…I mean I was a doctor, and a man attacked my wife and I went to find him and killed him."

  "So…That seems justified to me…"

  "The law didn't see it that way. So a doctor takes an oath to preserve life, not take it. I broke that promise. I got run out of town before they arrested me, and I ran smack dab into Hard Tack."

  "Who ran you out?"

  "The Sheriff…my friend. He saved my life. They would have hung me, if I'd stayed."

  "He must have been some friend."

  "Yeah….so when I killed a man here they made me a Sheriff. So that's how it happened. When you think about it, it's ironic, isn't it? In one town I kill a man, and they make me leave town. In another I kill a man and they make me a Sheriff."

  "I guess that is some kind of double standard, ain't it? You ever want to go back to doctoring?" Marty blurted.

  "Yeah, every day of my life…But I'm not a dreamer, Marty. You can't go back. You can only go forward. Although I hate killing, I now realize that sometimes it must be done for justice to be served. But there is a certain amount of guilt that goes with the killing, if you are any kind of man. And somehow, you have to learn how to live with that guilt."

  "Then why haven't you gone back to doctoring?"

  "It's hard to go back to something like that, after you kill a man. Not many would trust me with their lives again. I'm not sure I would trust me…"

  "Yeah…I guess that's true enough."

  After Rusty checked the remains, they put Stanley's bones back in the tow-sack and buried him once again. This time Rusty said a few words over him. "God forgive us for desecrating this grave, but in the name of Justice it had to be done. Bless this man now and deliver the rest of us from evil. Amen."

  As they were riding back, Rusty glanced at Marty. "Marty, don't mention this to anyone, about me…"

  Marty shot him a quick glance and nodded. "If that's how you want it, I can live with it. Personally I think you make a better Sheriff anyway."

  "Good. It would complicate things for me…"

  "Did you have a life back there?"

  "Yeah…I did. And I can't go back to it…"

  Marty shot him a glance of pity and Rusty frowned at the pain it caused.

  "Sure, I understand." Marty was quiet for a while then he asked. "So who do we arrest for murdering Stanley?"

  Marty had quickly changed the subject and Rusty was glad. He was near breaking down and he didn't want to discuss it. He was very glad that his deputy had grown up a bit.

  "I'm not sure yet. Let's keep what we found under our hat for the time being. Maybe someone will hang themselves." Rusty winked. "We don't want any false arrests. We have to find a way to expose the killer, before we can arrest him."

  "That's a good idea. That way we catch the right person." Marty nodded.

  "That's the idea. Besides, right now I might be tempted to arrest the entire town council, but all of them may not be guilty. That's what you and I have to find out. The council has a lot of power in a town. Arresting one of them will create a stir. We have to have the facts, before we act upon this."

  "How we gonna do that?"

  "Usually, the killer gives himself away. I'm almost certain that Mr. Carver is one of the killers. But I want them all, so we listen and we pay attention. I want to know why they killed him."

  Marty nodded. "So do I. You know when you first told me to listen, I thought that was a bunch of bull. But now I understand what you mean. Funny, but John Conroy turned out to be one of our better citizens."

  "Looks like it, doesn't it. I'm glad you understand, you are learning. You've come a long way Marty. And you are a dang good deputy." Rusty smiled at him. "Not many men I'd turn my back on."

  "Thanks…but don't brag on me too much, I might get the big head."

  "I know…and I won't." Rusty chuckled.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Back in Melville, Tom Mueller was a drunk by all rights. He stirred up trouble no matter where he went. And Melville wasn't an excep
tion. Not a longtime resident, he still managed to incur wrath at the local saloons in town. But once the town council got the full report from Jim on what had happened in Cross Timbers the story was all over town. Everyone repeated it. Jim had been silently glad that Sadie was dead and didn't hear all the goings on.

  Tom found himself telling and retelling the story in the saloon one evening. The more he talked the more the people listened. Half liquored up, it wasn't hard to get a rise out of them. "She was a witch, and that dern brother of hers was a murderer. Plain and simple. And you all know what they do with witches, don't you?"

  "Burn them." Someone said in the saloon that dreary day.

  The whispers of "witch" increased. The madness of liquor and vile thoughts mixed.

  "That's right, but then she's dead, isn't she?" Another asked.

  "Yeah…she's dead…an buried right out there in our cemetery. A witch. Are we gonna let her lie there?" Tom asked. The crowd needed little encouragement, they were already stirred up about the story. The more he talked, the more worked up the people became.

  "No…" someone shouted.

  "That's right, we need to go an dig her up and burn what's left of her…Drive a stake through her heart so she does no more evil." Tom laughed.

  "That's right. It's sacrilegious to let her lie in our cemetery. She ain't from here anyhow." Another chimed in the rowdy crowd in the saloon.

  It took a couple of hours but Tom had the crowd ready to burn the whole town down. The more he talked the worse things got.

  "Let's go dig her up!" He insisted after everyone had drank their fill.

  "Yeah…let's dig her up." Someone else shouted.

  So after they made some torches the crowd of drunks and no-goods walked out to the cemetery and looked for the grave. Most of the men were too liquored up to be afraid. None of them had any idea where Sadie was buried. They held the torches up so they could read the headstone, but Sadie had no stone. Jim figured it was better that way. Instead he made a cross for her and put flowers on it every day. Tom had been clever, he heard all he needed from the town council and he witnessed Jim putting flowers out every week.