by Stuart Woods
“He’s cute as a bug,” Eloise said, laughing. “He reminds me of the one you gave us a long time ago, Mr. Funderburke.” Foxy nodded. “We sure got to love that dog. He lived to be fourteen.”
“I came prepared to bargain with you Mr. Funderburke, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pay whatever you’re asking. I’m smitten.”
“Well, I guess fifteen dollars’ll do.”
“Isn’t that a bit low, now?”
“Well, he’s the runt of the litter, after all. Seems to take to you.”
Patrica wrote him a check, made her good-byes, and turned toward the car. She stopped with a start. The policeman Sonny Butts was standing at the corner of the house. He tipped his hat.
“Sorry to scare you Miz Lee, I just coasted down the hill, and I guess the cycle didn’t make much noise. Miz Eloise, how’re you?”
“Fine, Sonny. You scared me, too.”
“Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll have to start making more noise, I guess.” He shot a look at Foxy and noted that he, if anything, looked more surprised than either of the women. Worried, too. “I’ve just got a little business with Mr. Funderburke. I can come back if I’m interrupting anything.”
“Oh, no, Sonny,” Patricia replied, “I’ve just bought myself a puppy, and we’re on our way home now. You go right ahead.”
The women drove away and left the two men staring silently after them. “How you doing, Mr. Funderburke?” Sonny made a point of not sounding overly pleasant. He wanted to see how Foxy would continue to react. He had purposely cut the engine of the motorcycle and coasted the last, downhill part of the road.
“Just fine.” Foxy was perspiring, which wasn’t too odd, considering the warm day, but he was breathing a little fast, too. “Uh, what can I do for you?”
“Well,” said Sonny, stretching it out, watching Foxy, “I just need a little information, and I thought you might be in a position to help me.” He waited for a beat, then turned to the motorcycle and slowly unbuckled the saddlebag. He removed the bundle and walked back to where Foxy stood. He kept his voice flat, toneless. “I thought you might be able to tell me something about this.” Foxy looked at the oily rag nervously. Sonny unwrapped the pistol and handed it to Foxy, butt first.
Foxy took the pistol as if it were a rattlesnake. Then he suddenly relaxed and licked his lips. “P-38. Walther. Good weapon.” He removed the clip and worked the action to be sure it was unloaded. “Nice example. Want to sell it?”
“What do you reckon its worth?”
“Well, there’s Lugers all over the place these days, but you don’t see many P-38’s. I’ve got one, but it’s the only one I’ve seen up to now. I’d give you forty dollars for it.”
“Well, no, sir, I didn’t really come out here to sell it to you. I just wanted to get your opinion. From what I hear you’re the authority around here.” Sonny was smiling now, turning on the charm.
Foxy grinned slightly. “Well, I’ve owned a few handguns in my time.”
Sonny looked around. “Nice place you’ve got here. First time I’ve been out here.”
“Oh, well, let me show you around. I’ve got a few weapons around the place you might like to see, too.” Foxy was completely at ease now.
“No, sir, thank you, I appreciate it, but I’ve got to get back to the station and spell Charley.” Foxy seemed relieved, he thought. Sonny thought he liked him better nervous. “I’d really love to see your place some time, though. Tell you what, one day when there aren’t too many speeders coming over the mountain, I’ll just drop in and surprise you.”
That did it. Foxy was all tight again. “Well, uh, I’d appreciate a little notice. I, ah, get pretty busy around here now and then, and I’d ‘preciate it if you’d give me a call first. Be sure I’m available.”
“Oh, yeah, sure Foxy, I could probably do that.” Sonny switched to the first name easily. He felt he was on top in this conversation, and he wanted to stay there. He wanted to keep Foxy nervous, too.
“Fine, that’s just fine.” Foxy put his hand on Sonny’s shoulder and walked him toward the motorcycle. “Be glad to have you out here sometime. Just give me a call. I’m in the book.”
Just before Sonny cleared the little rise and started down the mountain, he glanced over his shoulder. Foxy would be watching him leave, he knew it. He was right. There was something going on with that guy. Nothing urgent; he’d just check on him now and then, ask around, maybe drop in again, unannounced. Maybe he was connected to those old murders. That was a long time ago, though; why would he be nervous about something that far back?
Then Sonny felt his skin crawl, remembered something, something in Chief Lee’s notes. What was it he said? “How many more?” That was it. He had underlined it. More murders? But there weren’t any more murders, not in the files, not that anybody knew about.
Not that anybody knew about. Jesus.
10
BILLY LEE was just leaving for work when the phone rang in the trailer. He sank down in the dinette seat, where he could have a view of the house. They had moved the trailer out here as soon as the electricity and phone had been hooked up, so Patricia could be there all the time during the finishing work. He picked up the phone on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Is that Colonel Lee?” A man’s voice.
“Yes, this is Billy Lee.” The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“This is Marshall Parker, Colonel, at the garage. How are you today?” Billy laughed at himself. He hadn’t recognized a familiar voice, because he had identified it as white instead of black.
“Morning, Marshall, I’m just fine. How’s business?”
“Just fine, just about all I can handle. I’m putting on some help next week.”
“Well, that’s good news.”
“Yessir. Uh, Colonel, I think I’ve got a problem. I wonder if you could stop by here on your way to town for a minute?”
“What’s the trouble, Marshall?” He looked at his watch; it indicated 7:45. He had a board-of-directors meeting at the bank at 8:00.
“Well, sir”—Billy noted an odd caution in Marshall’s voice— “I think it’d be better if I explain it here. Can you come by?”
“Is it urgent, Marshall? I’ve got a meeting at the bank at eight. Could it wait until a little later this morning?”
“Well, ah, if you could just stop by here for just a minute you might be a better judge of that than me. I, uh—” He stopped talking, and Billy could feel tension in the silence.
“Sure, Marshall, I can stop by for just a minute. It’s right on my way in.”
“Thank you, sir, I sure appreciate it.” The relief in his voice was obvious.
On the drive into Delano, Billy wondered about Marshall’s reluctance to talk on the telephone. Was somebody there with him who inhibited his conversation, or was he worried about the operator? Delano still didn’t have dial phones, and all calls were placed by operators. As he pulled up in front of the garage, he was relieved to see that everything appeared normal. The front doors were wide open, and Marshall came out to greet him.
“I’m sure glad you could stop by here, Colonel.” Marshall pointed to the rear of the building. “Could you step back here? There’s something I want to show you.”
They walked out of the main building into a small storeroom at the back. Billy immediately noticed that a window pane was broken. The frame was new wood, unpainted, and stickers still covered the other panes. “You had a visitor in the night, Marshall?”
“Yes, sir, I believe I did.” He indicated two cardboard boxes on the floor.
“Have you called the police? What did they take?”
“Well, sir, it’s not what they took; they didn’t take anything as far as I can tell.” He walked over to the boxes and pulled back the flap of one. “It’s more like what they left.”
The box was a container of twelve Mason jars. Their shiny new tops gleamed in the morning light. “You taking up canning, Marshall?”
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Marshall removed one of the jars from the box. It was filled with a clear liquid. He handed it to Billy. “No, sir. I’m not taking up canning. I’m not taking up this, either.”
Billy unscrewed the top of the jar and sniffed the contents. “Whew! That’s powerful stuff! You a drinking man, Marshall?”
“Well, my brother-in-law gets down here from Atlanta ‘bout once a month, and he always brings me a bottle of Early Times. That’s the only drinking I do.”
Billy leaned against the door jamb and scratched his head. “Well, it looks like somebody’s made you a gift of about a two-year supply. You know somebody in this business who might be using your place for some temporary storage?”
Marshall looked at him and shook his head. “No, sir, I sure don’t.”
“Well, why would—” Billy froze in midsentence. “Uh, oh.” He looked at his watch. “Listen, Marshall, let’s get this stuff in my car—you do that, will you? Just stick it in the trunk. I want to make a couple of phone calls.”
Billy found the phone book and called a number. “Melvin? … This is Billy Lee. How you doing?… Good…. Yes, she’s fine, working hard on the house. Listen, I wonder if you could meet me down at the station? There’s something I need to talk to you about…. Right now, ‘bout five minutes…. Good.” He called Holmes and explained that he would be a little late for the board meeting; he’d get there as soon as possible. Then he started for the car. “You’d better lock up, Marshall, then come on and ride with me.”
On the way into town Billy asked a few questions. “Marshall, anybody got anything against you?”
“I don’t think so, I really don’t.”
“Haven’t had any arguments with your neighbors or customers or anybody?”
“No, sir. I’ve been getting along real good.”
“Nobody unhappy about the way you fixed his car, anything like that?”
“No, sir! When I fix something I guarantee my work!”
“Course you do.” Billy thought for a minute. “You had any problems with any white folks?”
Marshall started to speak, then stopped. “Well—”
“Better tell me about it, Marshall, we haven’t got much time.”
“Sonny Butts might still be mad at me, I don’t know.”
“Sonny? What’ve you had to do with Sonny?”
Marshall told him about the incident with Sonny’s car. “I would have been glad to work on it; I even offered to come get it when I was through with Smitty’s car, but he wouldn’t listen; he just went off. You reckon this is something to do with Sonny?”
Billy said nothing. They were at the police station, now, and he parked his car and got out. “Come on in with me, Marshall.” The two men entered to find Charley Ward all alone. He seemed startled to see them.
“Hey, Colonel, you’re up early.” He looked quickly at Marshall. “What can I do for you?” Before Billy could answer Chief Melvin Thomas shuffled into the room looking sleepy.
“Morning, Billy, Marshall. Well, what’s the problem, Billy?”
Billy walked him out to the front of the building and opened his car trunk. He pulled out a jar and handed it to Thomas. “Looks like somebody broke into Marshall’s garage last night and left two dozen bottles of the finest moonshine, Melvin. What do you make of that?”
Thomas took the jar and laughed aloud. “Well, that’s sure a new one on me. Folks usually take stuff when they break in, not leave it. You’re sure a honest man, Marshall.” He winked at Billy. “If somebody had left that at my house I’m not sure I’d of turned it in. You could have yourself quite a party with that much shine.” He laughed again. “You serious about this, Billy? That really what happened?”
“Marshall called me about half an hour ago, just as soon as he found it. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he called me. Somebody broke a window in the back of his place and left this there.”
Thomas scratched his head. “Well, I’ll come out there right now, and we’ll take a look at it. I don’t know what the charge would be if we caught somebody, though. It’s not as though anything got stolen.”
“Well, there’s breaking and entering, and I guess if you found out who it was you could make a pretty good case for possession. They couldn’t get it there without possessing it.”
They unloaded the illegal whiskey and locked it in a cell, then proceeded to Marshall’s garage, Billy’s car leading the way, the Chief following in the police car. As they came in sight of the garage, Billy said, “Well, now,” and pointed ahead.
Marshall was speechless. Parked in front of the garage were two sheriff’s cars and the Delano Police Department motorcycle. As they pulled to a halt, Billy could see the padlock and hasp hanging from a splinter of the front door. As they got out of the car he could hear somebody trying to raise the sheriff’s car on the radio. He thought he could recognize Charley Ward’s voice. Billy walked into the garage, followed by Chief Thomas and Marshall. He could hear voices from the back room. “Hello back there!” he shouted.
Skeeter Willis, two deputies, and Sonny Butts all spilled back into the main garage. Skeeter recovered first. “Billy, I’ve got a search warrant here.”
“Well, Skeeter, you better serve it, I guess.”
Skeeter walked over to Marshall and shoved the paper at him. Marshall unfolded it and started to read.
“Have you conducted your search yet, Sheriff?” Billy asked innocently.
“We’re… we were just in the middle of it.”
“Keep going, by all means.”
Skeeter motioned his deputies back to work. Melvin Thomas was next to speak. “Sonny, how’d you get in on this?”
Sonny was ready. “Well, Chief, I was just going off duty this morning—I had the night shift, you know, sir—and I got a call from Sheriff Willis. He said he had a tip that there was some whiskey being sold out of here, and he wanted the department in on the search as just a kind of courtesy, I guess. So I came on out here. We just got here a couple of minutes ago. I didn’t call you, because it didn’t seem like a big thing. I hope I did the right thing, sir.”
“Well, yes, if Sheriff Goolsby called you, you did the right thing. Wasn’t any need to call me on a thing like that.”
The two deputies reported back to Skeeter. One of them shook his head. “Sheriff, there ain’t no shine around here unless it’s buried.”
Skeeter nodded and turned to Billy. “We had this call; we had to check it out. Looks like there’s nothing here.”
“It’s down at the police station,” said Billy.
Skeeter looked confused. “How’s that?”
Chief Thomas spoke up. “Billy and Marshall turned in two cases of white lightning to me a few minutes ago. Marshall says somebody broke in here last night and left it here.”
Skeeter snorted. “Well, that’s pretty smart, Marshall. You must of knowed we had a tip.”
“If Marshall had wanted to hide the stuff, he had plenty of time,” said Billy. “Instead, he called a lawyer and asked advice on what to do. He took my advice and turned it in to the police. I think that demonstrates his innocence in this. Somebody planted it here and called you. That’s pretty clear, I think.”
Skeeter flushed and looked at the ground. “Yeah, maybe.” He looked up at Marshall. “And maybe we just oughta keep an eye on you, boy.”
Billy interrupted Marshall’s attempt at a reply. “I think you’d spend your time better trying to find out who wanted to put the frame on an innocent man, Skeeter.”
Skeeter signaled to his men. “All right, let’s get outta here. We got work to do today.” He nodded to Billy and Chief Thomas. “See you, gents.” In a moment the two sheriff’s cars were gone.
Sonny spoke. “Well, Chief, I reckon I’ll go home and get some sleep if you don’t need me.”
“All right, Sonny, I’ll finish up here.” Sonny left, and the Chief made a cursory inspection of the broken window. “Not much more I can do,” he said. “I’ll destroy the whiskey
and make a note in the logbook about this, but unless you’ve got some idea about who might have done this, Marshall, I can’t do any more.”
Billy, out of the Chief’s line of vision, shook his head at Marshall.
“No, sir,” Marshall said, “I don’t know who would want to do it.” The Chief made his exit and left Billy and Marshall alone. “Marshall, you’ve been getting some of Mickey Shelton’s business since you opened, haven’t you?”
“Yessir, I guess I’ve got a lot of his colored trade. He was charging too much.”
“Some of his white trade, too?”
Marshall nodded. “Yessir, I guess so.”
“Well, that’s what you’re supposed to do in business, I guess. I sure won’t advise you to stop doing that, but I tell you, Marshall, I’d be real careful where I stepped for a while. Mickey Shelton and Sonny Butts are pretty tight, I think, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one or both of them was at the bottom of this thing. You just walk the straight and narrow. Don’t get drunk, don’t drive too fast, don’t get into any arguments with anybody. There’ve been some rumors about Sonny, and you don’t want to let him get you in jail. You see what I mean, don’t you?”
“Yessir, I do. I’ll watch my step.”
Billy nodded. “And listen, if you even so much as get wind of anything else like this, or if you have any problems, you call me right away, hear? You did the right thing this morning.”
“I’ll do that, Colonel, and I’d like to pay you for your time.”
“Well, I think my wife’s station wagon could use a grease job and an oil change. That ought to just about do it.”
Marshall grinned. “Yessir, you tell her anytime, just anytime.”
Billy left and hurried to the bank for his meeting. On the way he thought about Marshall. He would not like to be in that man’s shoes right now.
11
FOXY FUNDERBURKE woke about nine and took his time about rising, as was his custom. When he had shaved and dressed, he went to the kitchen, looking forward to what he would find there.
He felt the tiles first with his hand, then tapped them with a heavily shod foot. Dry. Firm. Foxy was delighted. He ate his breakfast quickly, anxious to finish with the floor. When he was done, he took a stiff brush and scrubbed down the whole surface to remove any vestige of dirt or cement left from his work, then attached a hose to the kitchen faucet and rinsed the floor. He watched delightedly as the water swirled, then inexorably flowed down the cleverly slanted surface to the drain he had installed in the center.
