by Randy Rawls
I felt great. I had a viable clue that might lead somewhere. I burst out singing, They Say It’s Wonderful from Annie Get Your Gun, and the boys bolted toward the bedroom. I didn’t care. I kept singing.
* * * *
I called the main house and talked to Wanda. “Are you aware the musical Annie Get Your Gun featured Annie Oakley and Frank Butler? Get it, Annie and Frank.”
“You’ve been out in the sun too long. Now, get down here. It’s time for dinner.”
I feared my new love was not a romantic. I’d have to train her, but priorities had to be followed. “Have you finished the names?”
“Yes. There were five cowhands who left, either by choice or at Matt’s invitation.”
“Great. Are Chip and Matt back from Terrell?”
“No, but…”
I waited as she spoke to someone, I presumed Annie.
“Annie says they said they’ll be back by dinnertime.” Wanda closed the conversation by saying she missed me, leaving me on top of the world. Glowing with thoughts of Wanda, the memory of Terri crept into my euphoria.
Terri had been my special person, and I missed her. If fate hadn’t given us such a swift kick, I believe we’d have married. Her ghost will stay with me because my love for her will never die. Did I have enough love for two women? I didn’t know.
Terri drifted into the background again as Joseph’s case came to the forefront. I had to solidify how to handle the ransom drop and capture the kidnapper. I was confident I’d know his identity by then.
I washed my hands, rinsed my face and debated changing my shirt. It looked good enough for one more evening. Besides, dinnertime loomed, and Annie did not like to be kept waiting. After checking the boys’ dishes, I headed for the main house.
I arrived a few seconds before Chip. Frank looked at Chip’s car, mine, then toward Chip. He swung Chip’s door open as the car rolled to a stop, letting me know where I stood in the pecking order. As Chip got out, Matt climbed from the passenger side and headed toward his truck.
“Matt, hold up a minute,” I called.
Both Matt and Chip stopped and looked at me.
“What’s up, Ace?” Chip asked.
“We need Matt to stick around until after dinner so we can talk. Unless you’re willing to tell Annie to hold dinner until we finish our business.”
“Sure,” Chip replied. “You’ve been here long enough to know what Annie would say to that. I’d rather come up against a skunk in your cottage.” He grinned as he turned toward Matt. “How about staying for dinner, then we’ll both find out what Ace wants?”
“Okay, Mr. Jamison, if you think it’s important. I don’t have nothing planned for the evening.” He grinned. “And Annie’s the best cook I know.”
“Good, it’s set,” Chip said. “We’d better get in there or Annie’ll be using our heads for a dinner bell.”
During dinner, we kept the conversation light as Wanda told of our exploits in First Monday and made fun of my purchase.
“Chip, it’s obvious your little sister’s education has been neglected,” I said. “She does not understand the necessity of protecting the historical fiction of Texas.”
“You may be right,” Chip replied, a mischievous look on his face. “She had the same attitude when I brought home a shoe from the Lone Ranger’s horse, Silver. What do you think—”
“Oh, shut up you two,” Wanda said as Annie entered the room. “Annie, I’m surrounded by fools. Did you get lucky with Frank, or did you retrain him after you broke him to the saddle?”
“Ms. Jamison, there’s some secrets I won’t share, even with you.” Annie looked at me, then Wanda. “You’ve already had three tries. You’re running out of time. You’d better cast that loop right this time, or you might die a lonely old woman.” She retreated to the kitchen.
“Whoa,” Chip said. “I do believe Annie delivered a message.” He turned toward me. “You, my friend, passed Annie’s tests and run number one in her suitor’s race.”
I looked at Wanda who dipped her head. This was not a conversation I wanted to pursue, or allow to go on around me. I felt like a prize bull at an auction again. “Well, that’s a topic for another day. We need to free Joseph first. Can we adjourn for brandy? I want to run something by the three of you.”
Chip, Wanda, and Matt nodded as I pushed my chair back and rose. Chip said, “I suppose the brandy you want comes in a Killian’s bottle.”
“Why yes, that would be a pleasant surprise,” I said.
When we were all settled, me with a Killian’s, Chip and Matt with long-neck Buds and Wanda with an actual brandy, Chip said, “Okay, out with it, Ace. What have you come up with?”
I thought for a moment. “Chip, what’s your name?”
“No games, Ace. You know my name.”
“No, I mean, what’s your real name, your given name?”
“Samuel Othar Jamison. What’s this all about?”
“Othar?” I chuckled. “I’d have never guessed.” The look on his face told me he didn’t share my levity. “I asked to establish a point—nicknames. I have one, we all have them. Sometimes they’re part of the real name, like Matt’s. That’s short for Mathew, right.”
“Yeah, Mathew,” Matt replied.
I continued, “Sometimes, they have nothing to do with the real name, likes yours, Chip. We’ve been assuming our kidnapper slipped and gave us part of his real name—Mel. So we’ve been looking for anyone with a first name or last name beginning with Mel. I’m betting he gave us part of his nickname.”
“Makes sense,” Matt interjected, “but where do I fit in?”
“You, my friend, are my subject matter expert. I still think this is a revenge thing, maybe somebody you fired. You deal with the ranch hands. Give me their nicknames.”
“Well, let me think. There’s Muggsy, Buster, Hairy, Herder, Mutt, and Jeff.”
“Great. Now we’re getting somewhere,” I said.
“Maybe you think so, but I’m lost,” Chip said. “What’s this got to do with Joseph’s kidnapper?”
“Give me another minute to round this out. I’ll bet each of those nicknames means something special. For example, Hairy is bald. Right?”
“No,” Chip replied. “That one I know. If you’d seen him with his shirt off, you’d understand. He’s hairy as an ape.”
“Great, proves my point. Let me try again. Mutt and Jeff—one’s tall, the other’s short, and they hang around together.”
“Right on target,” Matt said. “Try Herder, that’s a good one.”
“Hmmm.” I flipped my brain into high gear. “Must have something to do with herding cattle, maybe he’s good with the cattle, maybe he—” I had an inspiration based on the cowboy movies I watched as a kid. “He keeps the cattle quiet by singing to them.”
“What?” Chip said. “That’s the nuttiest thing I’ve ever heard. Why—”
“Ah, Mr. Jamison,” Matt said. “He’s right. Herder’s near as good at settling a herd as Joseph. He croons and the cattle relax.”
“Well done, Ace,” Wanda said, smiling.
“Alright, you win,” Chip conceded, then added, “Doesn’t surprise me a bit though. After all, I hired you.” He looked around the room with a satisfied smile on his face. “But what has this got to do with the kidnapper?”
I took a swallow of my beer and began, “I believe Mel is the first part of his nickname. Here’s a guy that ran around with a Peanut, so what would his nickname be? Matt, think. We need a Mel something. I’ll venture another guess. Melon, I think his nickname might be Melon.”
Matt sat for a moment as Chip, Wanda, and I stared at him.
After a few minutes, he smiled. “That’s it, Mr. Edwards. Melon. About two, three years ago, I took on a new hand when Muggsy had surgery that kept him out about three months. So I brought in a temporary. I knew he’d done time, but he swore he’d gone straight. From the first day though, there was a thing about him. He seemed sneaky, like he was schemin
g something. When Muggsy told me he could return to work, I let the new guy go. He won’t none too happy about it, either. You’re good, Mr. Edwards. His nickname was Melon.”
That was quite a speech, more than I’d heard Matt say since I’d arrived. “Thank you,” I said. “We need one more thing—Melon’s real name. Can you locate it in the records.”
“I think so. You jogged my memory now so he should be pretty easy to find.”
I turned toward Wanda. “Do you have the list you and Annie put together?”
She took a piece of paper from her pocket. “Here it is.” She explained to Chip and Matt they’d gone through the employment records and written down names of people who had disappeared from the roles. She handed the list to Matt.
He studied the list for a moment. “There, Mervin Sampson. Yep, Melon Mervin Sampson, he’s the guy I canned. Do you think he’s the one that kidnapped Joseph?”
“I’m putting my money on him.” I looked at my watch, and it blinked nine p.m. “It’s too late to call the sheriff tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll get him to check Sampson out. If he’s still around, I’m betting he’s our man.”
Chip grinned and took a long pull on his beer. “Sounds good to me. Matt, thanks for staying. Even the great Ace Edwards couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Jamison. Anything to get Joseph back.” Matt finished his beer, stood and started toward the door. “I’m on my way.”
“We’ll be on our way too, Chip,” Wanda said as she took my hand and pulled me from my chair. “I think our hero deserves a treat.”
Chip smiled at Wanda, then glared at me. “Remember what I told you.”
Wanda and I had a great night and ate both the watermelons. The boys? They slept in the guestroom.
TWENTY-ONE
The fact it was Saturday didn’t change Annie’s schedule one bit. The phone rang at five, alerting Wanda and me that breakfast was at six sharp. Annie acted like we were married.
At breakfast, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Wanda. She seemed to have a special glow about her. I hoped I knew the reason. On the other hand, Chip’s glow had been pushed to the back burner. He looked at Wanda with pride, then at me with skepticism.
Annie served me three glasses of orange juice and one cup of coffee, absolute proof she believed orange juice had mystical rejuvenation powers. I wasn’t about to explain to her, especially in front of Chip, that Wanda and I had kept our lovemaking more on the tender side than the frantic. Also, we’d gotten a decent night’s sleep—but only because we started early.
After breakfast, I called the sheriff’s office and told him my guesses about the kidnapper. I asked him what he knew about Mervin Sampson, a.k.a. Melon.
“I should have thought of him. Melon moved here from Longview several years ago. He wasn’t here long before I had a heart-to-heart talk with him about a burglary at a local gas station. After the trial, he did a year. Since then, he’s been back once in a while. I’d hear about him, then he’d disappear. Don’t recall seeing him recently. I’ll check with my deputies and let you know as soon as I find out something. Remember though, it’s First Monday, and we’re as busy as a three-legged dog on a fire ant hill.”
I hung up and turned around to find Wanda standing with her fists on her hips. “Okay, my PI, what are we doing today?”
I knew I could work faster alone, but I could see that wouldn’t be the right answer. I glanced at Chip who had that innocent grin on his face again. No support there. I concentrated on Wanda. “I’d like to go into Canton to wander the First Monday grounds. Maybe the yellow shirt will be there. My hunch is Melon will be wearing it. I want to get a look at him so I’ll know what to expect Tuesday morning.”
“Why don’t we grab him, bring him to the ranch, and sweat the truth out of him?” Wanda said.
“Ah, dear, I believe you’ve described kidnapping and assault. I’d rather not go for the long tour at Huntsville. I need to catch him in a situation that proves his guilt. The ransom drop is perfect.”
“Humph, I should have found me a PI with balls,” Wanda said. “You’re letting him make all the rules and pick the game field. He’s going to get away, and you’re going to get hurt. Joseph might get hurt, too. That’s three possibilities, and I’d be upset if two of them happened.”
I didn’t ask which two because, in her mood, I feared I knew. “Wanda, be patient. I’ve done this before. I’m the pro, remember? You make your plans for Monday night and make sure they do not include the Holly Springs Cemetery. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“The hell you say. I’ll be right there when he shows up. Somebody has to baby-sit you.”
We yammered at one another a few more minutes before Chip called, “Time out, you two. I’m trying to get some work done. Either take it outside, or stuff it. You sound like six-year-olds—or an old married couple.”
Chip knew how to put the fear of God in a man. Wanda and I both looked at him and laughed.
I accepted his accuracy. I mean six-year-olds, not the marriage thing. “Come on, Wanda. I need to call Dallas, then we’ll head into Canton. Okay?”
“That’s fine with me. I can’t wait to get a crack at this Melon character.”
I let that one slide and walked to the phone. “I want to check with Tom. He should have gotten back to me by now.” I dialed his number and waited as the phone system did its thing.
Tom didn’t answer, but his answering machine kicked on after the fourth ring. “Hello, you’ve reached the Roberts Computer Consulting Company. I’m sorry, but I’m out of town due to an illness in the family. I expect to be back in about a week. Please leave your name and phone number, and I’ll contact you as soon as I return to Dallas. I hope my absence doesn’t inconvenience you.”
The machine beeped, and I said, “Tom, you sonnavabitch. Yes, I’m inconvenienced. If I’d been planning to pay you, I wouldn’t.” I knew he’d get a chuckle out that. “This is Ace. Call me as soon as you can. I need the ID on that plate I gave you. The last letter is Q, I repeat Q, as in Quebec. Hope everything’s okay.”
I hung up the phone and told Chip and Wanda about Tom’s absence. “I can’t get an ID on that black pickup. Maybe I’ll use Wanda’s idea, take him down, and pound a few facts out of him.”
“Now you’re talking,” Wanda said, an eager gleam in her eyes. “Let’s go get him and while we’re at it, we’ll pick up Melon, too.” She started toward the door.
“Chip, if we’re not back by dark, call Bob and see if he’s got us in the hoosegow. Otherwise, send out a search party.” I said it with a grin, but Wanda’s comment about grabbing Melon made it a sick grin.
As we walked to the car, I studied the sky. “Look’s like it might rain. I’ll leave the top up.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ll have a few less tangles and won’t look so frizzy,” Wanda replied, chuckling.
“What? I thought that was your natural look.” She pinched me.
We left Chip’s property and headed toward Canton on 1653. I checked my rearview mirror, but the black pickup was nowhere in sight. At Route 64, I took a left into the busy traffic headed for the First Monday grounds. If possible, the traffic ran heavier than yesterday. There weren’t as many concession stands on this side of Canton, but there were enough to make life interesting. I looked in my rearview mirror, but the traffic was so thick, elephants could have hidden and I’d have missed them.
“Is he there?” Wanda asked.
“Not sure, but I doubt he’s given up. Tell you what, let’s find out.” We were approaching the intersection with Route 16, so I put on my right blinker and turned.
“Where are we going? I thought you wanted to look for the yellow shirt.”
“Oh, we will. I’m just going to take a short detour.” I slowed my speed and kept an eye on the rear. Sure enough, before I’d gone a quarter mile, a black pickup turned onto Route 16. “There’s our friend. Let’s have some fun.” I sped up and put space between us
before he caught on and came after me. I shot past Kellam’s Lake at about seventy-five, looking for a place I could turn off. Route 16 is, if anything, narrower than 64 and I was uneasy about my speed over a strange road.
I saw a sign with an arrow pointing to the left showing an intersection with FM 4418. I hit the brakes and threw the car into a hard, sliding, left turn, then accelerated out of it. The Chrysler responded like a thoroughbred and took me up 4418. I braked and spun the wheel, spinning the car in a one-eighty. As I finished the spin, I saw the black pickup race by on Route 16. I gunned the Chrysler, raced to the intersection and fell in line behind him. Now he was the possum, and I yapped on his trail.
He had a jump on me, but I closed the gap. The Chrysler was better suited to the road conditions than his pickup. He bounced all over while the convertible hugged it like a mother with a new baby. An exit to Interstate 20 loomed in front of us and my friend swung onto it with me in hot pursuit.
He forced himself into traffic as taillights flashed and horns blared. I held in the merge lane and had to slow to pick a hole between cars. The time I lost allowed him to open a gap between us. I jumped to the outside lane and stomped the accelerator hard. My speed closed on one hundred miles per hour.
Wanda held onto the dash with white knuckles. “Let him go, Ace. It’s too dangerous. This is stupid.”
I poured my total concentration into driving and overtaking the black pickup. Right brain tried to tell me I was well beyond the limits of common sense, but something or someone had taken over my body. I pushed harder on the accelerator although it was already mashed into the floorboard. The distance between us shrunk. My forearms ached, and I realized I was squeezing the steering wheel so hard, my fingernails dug into the leather covering.
I tried to relax my hands and my mind. Ahead, I saw the black pickup moving up fast on a slower Mom-to-Market van in the left lane. I grinned. He was boxed with a sedan on his right and the MMV in front of him. I had him. Suddenly, the black pickup swerved into the right lane forcing the car to slam on its brakes. The pickup swerved back to the left, cutting off the MMV that had been in front of him.
