Final Justice

by Patricia Hagan

  "I've got to run along. I need to get over to the fairgrounds and check things out."

  Clyde grinned. "Lots of luck, sheriff. I hear the cooch show is a real sizzler this year. Packin' 'em in like crazy. Tootie Byrd was in here a while ago and said he saw the first show. When word spread what a certain little gal was doing with a Coke bottle, the line to buy tickets was a mile long."

  Luke shook his head in disgust. It happened every year, and just as soon as the wives and church folk got wind that the hoochy-coochy show was back, his phone would be ringing off the hook. He usually let the strippers get away with it for the first few nights, depending on how raunchy they got, and then he'd run them out of town.

  "Did Tootie happen to know the girl's name?"

  "No. He says she's new. He doesn't remember ever seeing her before. She's got this routine where she comes out all wrapped up in animal fur before she strips buck naked."

  Luke stood. "Save the pie for me, and I'll try to get back before you close."

  Luke went to the toilet, and when he came out saw that Hardy Moon was sitting on a stool up front, the center of attention as the teenagers fired questions about the wreck victims. "Go see for yourself if you want to," he said with an airy wave. "They're right outside."

  The teens made a dash for the door.

  Hardy glanced up at Luke. "I guess you've seen enough for one night, right, Sheriff?"

  As he did every time they met, Luke wanted to slam his fist into his face. "How in the hell can you let them look at those bodies?"

  Hardy stiffened. "All those people at the scene saw them. What's wrong with a few more?"

  "The families of the victims won't appreciate it, and you can be sure they'll hear about it."

  Hardy scowled. "You know, sometimes I think you're an all right guy, but there are times you can be a real prick, like now. If I'm not breaking a law, get off my back."

  Afraid of what he might do if he didn't get away from him fast, Luke walked out of the cafe and pushed his way through the crowd gathered around the hearse. One of the kids had crawled in the back and unfastened the gurney straps from around Wiley Hendon's body and pulled back the sheet to display his face, which was a mass of blood with big gaping holes where his nose and eyes used to be. A girl who had been looking on was now puking in the gutter. Another was leaning against a telephone pole crying. Luke hoped they had nightmares the rest of their life. He yanked the boy out and slammed the doors. "The show's over."

  All the while he was thinking what a fine day it would be when he finally did find a way to bring the hammer down on Hardy Moon.

  * * *

  The fair was set up just off the Birmingham highway on the land used for softball fields during the spring and summer. It wasn't much of a fair by big city standards, but the locals always looked forward to it. The local 4-H club had livestock and small animal exhibits, and there were contests for best pickles, preserves, and baked goods. But, by far, the reason people came out was for the midway with its ferris wheel, bumper cars, freak shows, and the chance to throw their hard-earned money away at the game booths in hopes of winning a stuffed animal or some cheap drinking glasses.

  The air was pungent with the smell of popcorn and frying onions and the hot dogs Luke couldn't resist. Supper had only been cold collards left over from lunch. Alma's church was holding a revival with services every night, so she wasn't cooking much this week. He washed the hot dog down with a Pepsi, then bought a bag of roasted peanuts to nibble as he strolled along the midway.

  There was a big crowd. Word had spread about the wreck, and he heard a few people talking about it, but most everyone was too busy having a good time to dwell on tragedy. Tomorrow, to be sure, they would flock to the funeral home, then head to wherever the victims' families were gathered for fried chicken and all the fixings. Funerals in small towns were a social occasion.

  Luke didn't have any trouble locating the cooch show. Just like Tootie had reported to Clyde, the line was long. What the men paid to see would be inside, of course, but outside there was a narrow stage for the girls to parade up and down. Wearing filmy baby doll pajamas over skimpy bikinis, the girls did a lazy bump-and-grind routine to the tinny music from a record player while a sleazy-looking guy walked up and down promising the gawking men that the show inside was guaranteed to put lead in their pencils.

  Luke saw the girl wrapped in fake fur, and she was, by far, the best looking of the bunch. The others had seen better days, but the men didn't care about their faces. They came to see their bodies and imagine all the unnatural, perverted acts they could do with them. He recalled how last year he had happened along to find Ronnie Turnage behind the stage whacking off in the dark and thought how if he'd done that this year instead of getting drunk and mad at his flirty wife, he'd still be alive. Luke entered the tent. His badge was his ticket.

  The hawker rushed up to him to whisper, "Hey, sheriff, cut a little slack, will you? These little gals are just trying to make a living. They don't mean no harm. And they ain't into no funny business after the show, neither. Sure, they get lots of offers for a quickie, but they're exotic dancers, not hookers. So don't pull the plug on us, okay?"

  Luke brushed by him. The girls knew how far they could go. So did the hawker.

  Boards set on nail kegs provided seating before the raised platform at the front of the tent, and the men were packed in tight. Luke stood to one side in the shadows and scanned the excited faces of the waiting audience and decided the hawker had done a good job in making sure no minors got in. He did, however, spot Burch Cleghorn sitting on the very front row and thought again what a hypocrite he was. If it got out that he had been there, Burch would just claim he had merely been checking it all out for his church because he was a deacon.

  The first girl who came out was always the worst. Tonight was no exception. "Tiny Lou," as she was called, was at least fifty pounds overweight, and the men were only mildly interested in seeing her strip down to flimsy underwear. Her prop was a feather boa that she rubbed back and forth between her fleshy thighs, but the crowd never really got worked up.

  The next one drew whistles when she was able to swing the red, white, and blue tassels fastened on her nipples in time to the tune of Stars and Stripes Forever. The gold foil star between her legs covered her privates.

  He didn't care how much any of them bared, just so they didn't go to the altogether. What he was waiting for was one of them to get totally naked, and when the one called Sheena came onstage, she quickly obliged.

  After her performance, which Luke found as lewd as Tootie Byrd has reported to Clyde, the tent emptied quickly. Luke made his way behind the curtains to where the girls were lounging around in robes, sipping beer and smoking. At the sight of his badge and uniform, they all started talking at once, saying they hadn't done anything wrong. All of them, that is, except Sheena.

  She was sitting off to one side, away from the others. Fixing Luke with an icy glare, she silently puffed on her cigarette. When he started toward her, she said, with a smirk, "What do you want back here, sheriff? A private show?"

  "No," he said quietly, "I just wanted to offer you a ride to the bus station."

  She stubbed out her cigarette and bolted to her feet. "What kind of bull is this? You can't run me out of town just like that. Hell, I'm willing to tone things down some."

  Suddenly a pudgy little man in a shabby suit rushed in. "Hey, what's going on, sheriff? I'm Manny Duncan, and I run this show. You giving my gals a hard time?"

  Luke motioned to Sheena. "Just her. She's out of here."

  "Aw, come on, sheriff," Manny pleaded. "Give her a chance to work up a different act. She's the best-looking broad I got. The men will pay to see her dance even without her getting naked."

  "It's too late for that. Word spreads. The guys will show up expecting to see a repeat of tonight and get pissed off when they don't and cause a ruckus. Besides, the God-squad will come down hard on me if I don't run her off."

  Ma
nny swore and told Sheena, "Just go on to Phoenix City and meet us there. You know where my brother lives. He'll let you stay at his place."

  She held out her hand. "I need money to get there. I want my pay."

  "Uh-uh, baby. If I give it to you now, you won't show up, and I need you. Phoenix City ain't as hicky as this place. We can make big money there." He shot a glare at Luke.

  "Damn it, Manny, if you don't give me some money, what am I gonna live off between now and then? Hell, I don't even have the price of a bus ticket."

  Manny took a twenty dollar bill from his wallet. "This will buy your ticket, and Eddie will feed you when you get there."

  "Yeah, sure he will... if I let him do me when his old lady ain't looking."

  "Well, see that she's looking, and you ain't got nothing to worry about." He motioned to the other girls. "Get off your butts. It's time to start drumming up business for the next show."

  Sheena turned on Luke. "I hope you're real happy, sheriff. After I buy my ticket, I'll have about five bucks between me and starvation."

  "I'll give you something to tide you over."

  She raised a brow. "Yeah, and then I give you something to tide you over, right? Don't worry. I know how to play the game."

  "You've got it wrong."

  But she was no longer listening, having quickly disappeared behind a dirty, tattered curtain.

  Luke went and brought the patrol car around to the back of the tent. He had no intentions of walking her through the midway for everybody to see.

  By the time he returned, she was waiting in the shadows with a battered suitcase held together by a rope. She was wearing a raincoat over a skirt and sweater. Her flame red hair was pulled up on top of her head, and if not for the thick layers of pancake makeup, the garish green eye shadow, and lipstick the color of blood, he figured she would be a right nice-looking woman. He already knew she had a damn good body.

  She got in and lit a cigarette. They rode along in silence for a few moments, then she asked in a bored tone, "So how long have you lived here, Sheriff?" Not giving him a chance to answer, she continued with a harsh laugh. "I'll bet you were born here and you'll die here, right? Hell, I know how that is. I was born in a jerky little town like this, too, but believe me, I got my ass out of there as soon as I could and never went back. God, I hated that place."

  He could have told her she was wrong, that he was living for the day he could escape, but let her ramble on and drove faster than usual to get her to Creech's station. It was closed, as he knew it would be, the lights off. The bus driver would collect the ticket money.

  He pulled around back and stopped.

  "So we do it here?" Sheena asked, wide-eyed. "Jeez, Sheriff, I figured you for the sort to spring for a cheap motel room instead of doing it behind a gas station, but I don't guess we've got much time. Manny says the midnight bus is the only one out of here till morning."

  Luke told her the gas station was also the bus depot. He gave her twenty dollars. "It's all I can spare."

  She took the money and shoved it down her sweater and into her bra, then maneuvered off the seat and onto her knees so fast she took him by surprise, and he didn't realize what she was up to till he felt her tug at the zipper of his fly.

  He caught her wrist and held tight. "Thanks... but no thanks."

  She was stunned. "I ain't never been turned down before."

  "Well, there's always a first time." He pushed her back, got her on the seat, then reached across and opened the door.

  With an oath, she got out, yanking her suitcase from the back seat, then slammed the door and gave him the finger through the window.

  He had just pulled away from the station when he heard Matt on the radio. He had sent him to deliver the bad news to the Hendon family and asked if he had found them.

  "Yeah, and it was bad. You can imagine. Anything going on at the fair?"

  "There was. But I just put her on the bus." Luke told him to take a run out to Junior's place so he'd know they were keeping an eye on him. Then he headed for the Bulldog and the pecan pie he hoped was still waiting. As he was easing into a parking space, Ned Tucker radioed, "We got a ten-eighty out at Rudy Veazey's place."

  Luke swore. Ten-eighty was the code for a domestic disturbance, and he hated them. Without a warrant, he couldn't enter the house, anyway, and nine times out of ten, the wife wouldn't sign one. If she did, her husband would either sweeten her up to get her to drop it before court date or put the fear of God in her if she didn't. It was a waste of time and risky, to boot. But most of all, he didn't want to respond to anything connected with Rudy Veazey.

  Ned went on to say, "It could be bad. His old lady called in and said he was killin' her, and I could hear Rudy yelling in the background, and then she let out a real loud scream and the line went dead."

  Luke quickly backed the car out, hit the siren, and took off with tires squealing.

  Chapter 9

  Luke had radioed Matt to meet him. It was always a good idea to have backup for a domestic violence case, but Luke especially wanted a witness because of the bad blood between him and Rudy.

  The house was ablaze with lights. Rudy's truck was around back, his mother's car parked beside it. Luke eased the cruiser in and got out. Matt was right behind him, pointing to Bertha Veazey's car. "Looks like she got word her baby boy was being naughty."

  Luke paused to throw down his cigarette and grind it out with his heel. "In her eyes, he's never done anything wrong in his whole life."

  "Have you seen Rudy's old lady?" They headed for the back door. Nobody in the country ever used their front doors.

  "No. And frankly I'm not anxious to see what somebody dumb enough to marry Rudy looks like."

  "Oh, come on. Give the devil his due. Rudy's not a bad lookin' guy. Remember how the girls chased after him in high school? That curly hair of his gives him that little boy look women fall for. Besides, she's not from around here. I heard he met her when he was stationed in Florida."

  "You know her?"

  "No, but I've seen her at Creech's getting gas. She's right nice-looking. Cute figure, and..."

  "Just hold it right there." The screen door opened and closed with a loud bang as Rudy stepped out on the porch. He was holding a shotgun.

  Luke pulled his holster strap open. "Put it down, Rudy."

  "My gun. My house. My business. Now you ain't got no right to be here, and you know it."

  His speech was slurred, and he was lurching from side to side, obviously drunk. "I'm not telling you twice, Rudy."

  "Do what he says, honey." Bertha Veazey came up behind Rudy and put her hands on his shoulders. She was wearing a faded blue chenille robe over a muslin nightgown. Her gray hair, which she normally wore wrapped in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, hung loose down her back.

  Rudy, bare-chested, bare-footed, his jeans slung low beneath his beer belly, shook her away. "Stay out of this, Ma."

  "There ain't no need for trouble with the law." Bertha stepped in front of Rudy to glare down at Luke and Matt. "You all ain't got no business here. Now git."

  "We had a call from his wife, Mrs. Veazey, saying he was trying to kill her," Luke said, not taking his eyes off Rudy and the shotgun.

  "So they had a little fight, and she got mad and called the law. So what? They've made up now, so you ain't needed."

  Rudy grinned. "That's right. And you ain't got no warrant and can't come inside without one, and if you don't hurry up and get off my property, I'm gonna blow you away."

  Luke's eyes narrowed. "I'm telling you for the last time to put that damn gun away."

  "Do it, honey," Bertha urged.

  Scowling, Rudy lowered the gun to point at the ground.

  "Get your wife out here now," Luke ordered. "She's the one that called. We need to talk to her."

  "She's gone to bed," Bertha said.

  "Then wake her up, because we aren't leaving till we see her."

  "Go get her, Ma," Rudy growled. "Let's get this o
ver with."

  Bertha disappeared inside the house, grumbling to herself.

  Rudy's eyes narrowed as he stared down at Luke. "I've managed not to have a run-in with you since the stupid folks of Buford County elected you sheriff, but I should've known it was just a matter of time till you tried to use that tin badge to try and get back at me for that fight back in high school. Well, you'd best get something straight: I ain't takin' no shit off you, Ballard."

  Luke and Matt exchanged smiles, and Luke said, "I have no reason to get back at you for that fight, Rudy, seeing as how I whipped your ass. As for my badge, I didn't need it then to take you on, and I don't need it now. So watch yourself, and you won't have anything to worry about."

  Rudy hooted. "Worry about you? Hell, that'll be the day, and..."

  "Here she is."

  Luke watched as Bertha shoved a girl who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties out on the porch. He couldn't tell if Matt was right about her being pretty because she had her head down, and he couldn't see her face. She was wearing white capri pants and a yellow blouse. The sleeve on the right had been ripped away, exposing the big whelp on her shoulder.

  "Tell him you're fine, Emma Jean," Bertha said brusquely. "And tell him you and Rudy done made up, so's there no reason for them to be here."

  "I'm okay," Emma Jean mumbled.

  Luke walked up the steps so he could see her better in the porch light, then cursed to see the red imprint of a hand on her cheek. Her eye was nearly swollen shut.

  Embarrassed, she made a tiny fist and pressed it to her mouth to hide her torn lower lip, which was oozing blood. He could also see a tiny bald spot on her scalp where a hank of hair had been ripped out.

  Whirling on Rudy, he cried, "I ought to rip out your eyes and piss on your brain for this."

  Rudy took a step backwards and began to slowly raise the shotgun, but Luke was quicker, yanking it away to fling into the yard as he drew his revolver.