Outcast In Gray: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 7)

by M. Glenn Graves

  “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  He stood up. I noticed that his face was red and seemed to be increasing in size. I had heard of a swelled head, but I had never actually seen one before this moment. I peeked around Starnes’ body to get a better look at the red-faced sheriff who seemed to be a tad angry with my friend.

  Sheriff Murdock spotted me. I suspect that up to this moment my presence was not an issue for discussion. He seemed to be focused intently upon Starnes and how he was going to redress her current recalcitrant behavior. It was even money that he didn’t know she was being recalcitrant, but it was a given that her independent investigation was decidedly against his grain of things. My thought was that the man had control issues, especially when it came to handling Starnes Carver.

  “Who the hell is this?”

  I stood so that I could formally introduce myself to the sheriff.

  “Clancy Evans,” I said as I moved next to Starnes and offered the obese man my right hand. Something told me that there was no way on earth that man was going to shake my proffered hand. Some people are easily sized-up.

  “I don’t know anybody named Clancy Evans. What do you have to do with this petty stuff?”

  “Private detective,” Starnes said before I could answer. In fact, she took the very words right out of my mouth, so to speak. I would have had more attitude, but with the same words.

  “Ah, for crying out loud. You brought in some stupid gumshoe to support your wild theory of a supposed crime?”

  “Too much to respond to there,” I said before Starnes could answer. “Let me just say in my own defense here, I’m not stupid, but I am a gumshoe of some standing.”

  “I don’t care who you are or where you’re from or how intelligent you think you might be, you got no business in my county without my permission.”

  “I’m on vacation.”

  He started to speak, but didn’t know how to respond. Either that or he was searching for just the right expletive.

  “You can get out of my office now,” he said with a snarl in his voice. I tend to pick up on such things. Good detective and all.

  I turned to look at Starnes who was staring at Murdock without fear or malice.

  “If you’ve got nothing else, you can leave as well,” he said to Starnes.

  “Yikes,” I said, “he is unceremoniously dispatching both of us I think.”

  “What?” Murdock said.

  I think he was confused despite his forthright verbiage.

  “What she means is that I believe we have some serious crimes going on, that there is more to these piles of bones than just the coincidence of wild animals killing a person. I think we need to investigate more to see if something is happening of a more planned nature. We don’t believe it is merely the work of a wild animal.”

  “Wait a minute,” Murdock said. “You said piles of bones?”

  He was listening now. Wow. Finally got his attention. Ever the astute sheriff.

  “Found another bone pile across the county from where we found the remains of Rufus Ramsey. I suspect that this second pile belongs to Randall Lee Carter,” Starnes said.

  “How in god’s name did you come across another pile of bones? You spending your time out canvassing the woods for bones?”

  Murdock sat back down heavily in his squeaky desk chair. It was like a high-pitched groaning from the cushioned chair when his oversized body contacted the worn fabric. My guess was that the man did everything with a heavy emphasis.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you everything, so just suffice that we found another set of bones which are also being checked by the Asheville lab. I think something bad is happening in your county and you might want to let us keep snooping around until we find what’s actually killing some of your residents. Could make the evening news,” Starnes said and nodded at me as if to say that she was satisfied with our handling of the volatile sheriff. Starnes turned and headed towards the door without waiting for his answer.

  “Before you go, missy,” Murdock said, “you need to understand something.”

  He was trying his best to snarl the words at her.

  “We need to be clear about something here, missy. This is my county and I’m in charge. That’s why I wear this badge and you work for me. You don’t do no investigating without my say so. If you think something is suspicious, then you talk to me first. It makes me look bad when there is an investigation going on and I don’t know anything about it.”

  “I couldn’t bring you my suspicions until I had some facts, you know, something substantial on which to investigate. I had to do some snooping around to make sure that there was something happening that was endangering our people. As you said before, there are plenty of bones lying around this county.”

  “So what made you think these were different?” Murdock asked.

  “I was sure that they were human and recent. Both bone piles had teeth marks that indicated a very large animal had attacked the person.”

  “Probably some wild dog or coyote,” Murdock said.

  “Probably not a wild dog. If it’s a coyote, it’s the largest one I have ever heard of.”

  Starnes showed him the file of photos she had brought into his office. She pointed to the ones where Mandy had noted the size of the teeth marks on the bone. Murdock stopped huffing and puffing. He studied the photos for several minutes and then handed them back to Starnes.

  “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree,” he said and laughed to himself. Attempted Sheriff humor. “But, …” he hesitated for a moment, “keep me in the loop.”

  He waved his flabby arms in a gesture of mild disdain and dismissal. “Get outta here and don’t call me unless you have something more substantive to report.”

  I thought it too big a word for Sheriff Murdock to be using before lunch time.

  “Wow,” I said.

  Starnes was already through the office door and missed both the flabby gesture as well as his twenty-dollar word.

  “Nice meeting you, too,” I said as I followed Starnes out of the office with my back to the disgruntled fat man.

  “I ain’t payin’ for no private dick to come in here and work a case either,” he yelled after us.

  Ah, back to the regular verbiage. I knew that substantive was overextending his repertoire of the English language.

  13

  “I’m hungry. You hungry?” I said to Starnes as we faced each other over the top of the cab of her small, beat-up old red truck parked in front of the county jail in downtown Madison. The dogs were basking in the warm sunshine of the truck bed and had ignored our return. Basking was merely a close proximity to what they were doing. They appeared to be sound asleep. Ever the watch dogs.

  “Food? I wanna go shoot somebody,” Starnes said.

  “I get hungry when people chew me out. Especially when they throw big words at me. Let’s go find something that will settle us down.”

  “Shooting someone is the only thing that will settle me down at the moment.”

  “And this coming from a trained police lab scientist. I thought you analytical types didn’t get pissed off so much at the bureaucrats.”

  “He’s an idiot. Not even much of a bureaucrat.”

  “And what was that about paying for my services?” I said.

  “He said he was not paying for your services,” Starnes made sure she was correcting my point.

  “Maybe we could revisit that if we find something vital in this case.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. I’m not paying you and I doubt Murdock will either.”

  “So, take us to a good eatery. You can buy my lunch as a partial payment. I need a sandwich and some fries,” I said.

  Sam raised his head at the mention of some specific food. Dog continued to bask and snore.

  “Limited vocabulary,” Starnes said nodding in the direction of Dog.

  “Like the high sheriff.”

  “No. Don’t compare Dog to that imbecile in th
ere,” she motioned with her head in the direction of the building. “Dog is young and learning.”

  “Murdock didn’t seem to be so old,” I said.

  “Learning, I said. Dog is young and learning. The latter part is the main difference.”

  “Oh.”

  Starnes drove us to the French Broad Café and I finally convinced her to eat something. We both took our lives in our hands and ordered delicious but greasy cheeseburgers and fries. I ordered two hamburgers to go as well. I figured that the dogs deserved a reward for their skills at finding the bones. The sheriff wasn’t likely to give them a bonus, so I decided to take care of our partners in this affair.

  “Where to after we finish this sinful display of absolute delight?” I said holding up my cheeseburger to Starnes. It was probably a nail in my coffin, but gosh they were good eating.

  “Gonna drive over and visit with the Carter clan. That should take us the rest of the day once we leave here.”

  “That far?” I said.

  “It’s a big county. You might want to order another cheeseburger. Could be late before we have supper.”

  Fully fed by the scrumptious fatty foods and unceremoniously but officially chastised, we left greater Madison for parts unknown, as far as I was concerned. We were heading into the wilds of McAdams County. Dog ate her first ever hamburger with relish. I thought I saw her smile just as she took her last bite. Sam gulped his down with one swallow and looked disappointed when I didn’t offer him another one. Softy that I am, I cut in half the second cheeseburger I was saving for later and divided it between our two canines. Dog enjoyed the cheeseburger every bit as much as she had the hamburger. Sam ate his so quickly that I doubt he even knew he had eaten cheese.

  We drove for about thirty minutes before Starnes said that we were getting close. Imagine that. Like living in a big city except there just happens to be lots of trees, several mountain ranges, and some open spaces where trees used to be once upon a time. The sunshine and the warmth made it a pleasurable ride. I would assume that the drive was equally so for Starnes. It was her backyard so to speak.

  Once we left what I would call the main road, we traveled several miles on a gravel road. Starnes said that this was a state maintained road. Wow.

  We finally reached the end of the gravel. Several paths led off from the dead-end; most of them appeared to be footpaths or what I would call trails. One or two of them were quite rough looking.

  “If we had to, we could take the truck up that way,” Starnes pointed to the right at what appeared to be merely a wider footpath.

  “Don’t tell me. It’s an old logging road, right?”

  “As a matter of fact …” Starnes said and laughed a little without finishing the sentence.

  “How far do we have to traipse up that way to see the people you want to see?” I said.

  “Two miles, give or take.”

  “You’re not kiddin’, are you?”

  “I never jest about walking such a distance.”

  “How rough is it to drive the truck?”

  “Not bad, just … well, a tad unusual for most folks around here. People walk a lot when they live at the end of the hollers. You want to see if Old Red can pull her weight?”

  “Old Red?” I said.

  “Yep. Just named her. How ’bout that? Let’s see what she’ll do,” she said and shifted the gear of Old Red into low and we took off.

  The terrain at times was bumpy, then as level as riding on asphalt, and then we encountered some gullies left over from the heavy rains of last week still holding onto the water. We splished and splashed our way through them, probably more fun for the dogs than the women. Mostly we were climbing our way up the slope of what I could only believe was the backside of the mountain on which Starnes’ family home rested, the chief difference being that the Carter place where we were headed was much higher. At least I was able to figure out where we were geographically. I was not completely lost, although the route Starnes had taken to get us to this spot was circuitous to say the least. I thought it would be fun to include the word circuitous in our official report to Sheriff Murdock when the time came.

  “Zeb and Ida Carter are the folks who live where we are going. They’ve been in this county for most of my life, at least as far back as I can recall,” Starnes said.

  “Came over from Tennessee, you said.”

  “Yeah, at least that’s what Mama and Daddy told me. Spud knew about everybody in the county, especially those who lived within a twenty to thirty mile radius of our place.”

  “That takes in a lot of radius,” I said.

  “Daddy knew people. He was like a walking encyclopedia. He could remember details about everybody. I’m talkin’ stuff that is truly minutia. Had a penchant for such as that.”

  “Anything I should know about the Carters before we arrive?”

  “Maybe two or three things.”

  “Lay it on me. My education needs reinforcement.”

  “Well, for one, Zeb and Ida don’t much care for strangers,” she said and revealed a wicked smile at the corners of her mouth.

  “Like us?”

  “Like you.”

  “You’re not a stranger?”

  “Naw. They’ve known me since I was tall as weeds in the fall. I used to play with Randall Lee and his older sister, Bethany Blue. I knew all of the kids, all except Farley Ray. He’s the youngest. Farley Ray is a first cousin to serious trouble. Spends more time in jail than out.”

  “Anything in particular?” I said.

  “Nope. He runs the gamut. I doubt there is little the boy has not tried or done in his life.”

  “Ever worked for a drug cartel in Venezuela?” I said and smiled at her.

  “Leave it to you to come up with something that would be outside Farley Ray’s purview.”

  “I like challenges. Sounds like Farley Ray’s quite a character around here.”

  “Farley Ray’s a character no matter where he is,” Starnes said.

  “And where is he at the moment?”

  “Jail.”

  “What else do I need to know about the Carters?” I said.

  “Just one more item worth mentioning.”

  I waited and she seemed to be pondering. She slowed Old Red to a stop and parked in front of dilapidated fence and gate. There was a house nearly fifty yards from where we had parked.

  “That’s the Carter place there,” she pointed to the small house in front of us.

  “The other thing is you really need to be careful here.”

  “In what way?”

  “Zeb shoots first and then asks questions.”

  “Oh, that. I’ll try to mind my manners.”

  “It’s not your manners that worry me,” Starnes said.

  “What worries you then?”

  “You’re tall and an easy target for Zeb.”

  “I’ll stay low … and maybe crawl some.”

  “Please. Let me do the talkin’. Might keep both of us alive till supper,” she said and climbed out of the truck.

  14

  The first shot broke the side mirror on Starnes’ side of the vehicle, missing her by the narrowest of margins. She fell to the ground instinctively as did I. I was lying on one side of the old red truck while she was on the other. I could see her as I stared through the underbelly of the truck frame. Starnes was lying on her back checking the clip from her handgun.

  “You okay?” I whispered loudly.

  “My arm hurts,” she said and moved it slowly so that she could view it up close in her prone position without raising her head and providing a better target for whomever it was shooting at us. I was guessing it was Zeb since she had already warned me about him.

  A few minutes went by and no more shots were fired.

  “Damn,” Starnes said. “I think a ricochet grazed me. I’m bleeding a little and my arm hurts.”

  I looked under the truck again to check on her. She was examining her right arm, her shooting arm.
r />   “Can you use your arm and hand?”

  “Yeah, I can shoot, it just hurts like the dickens, you know.”

  “Been there and done that. My foot is testimony to that kind of pain, even as we speak.”

  “Zeb must not be receiving visitors today.”

  “Maybe we should have called ahead and made an appointment,” I said.

  “Couldn’t.”

  “Don’t tell me … no phone, right?”

  “You’re getting the hang of things around these-here parts, lady,” Starnes said. “For some folks, it’s a way of life. For others, it’s the economic situation. For Zeb and Ida, it’s because they don’t talk much.”

  Another shot was fired. This time the bullet hit close to me. I was slightly offended and yet appreciative of the fact that my injured side-kick was no longer the singular target.

  “I don’t think he recognizes you,” I said.

  “Zeb can’t see too well.”

  “You forgot to mention that in your earlier assessment. Should I take consolation in that?”

  “More or less. Means that we can probably move closer. I’ll draw his fire and you can do the moving since I’m injured.”

  “I was thinking we should flip a coin to see who moves. Why do I get to be the running target for a mountain man unhappy with two strangers on his land?”

  “I’m already shot. I’ll stay put and you maneuver. I’ll fire some rounds. You run like hell and don’t get hit.”

  “Your strategy leaves a lot to be desired. What with my game leg and all, I don’t think I like the idea of being the rabbit on the flywheel. Feel free to fire whenever you think it appropriate. I’ll meander and amble my way closer.”

  “Ambling might not serve you too well.”

  “Okay, then I’ll zigzag as I meander. Wait a minute…” I said, pausing from our plan of action which would put me further and closer into harm’s way. “Why don’t you just yell out and tell them who you are?”

  “That’s the other thing,” Starnes said.

  “What other thing?”

  “I seem to recall that both Ida and Zeb are hard of hearing.”