“He wasn’t very busy in his office. His secretary, Leanne said she had a hard time staying busy.”
“I’ve heard that,” Bishop said.
She nodded and said, “Now and then, when I was here, I could hear mumblings from his office, you know talking coming through the wall but I only heard anything I could understand a couple of times. Once his dad, Hank, was telling him he should work harder developing his practice. Stan told him he was working as hard as he could. That was early on. Hank was a little hard to deal with. He didn’t think anything should ever break down or need repair.”
“I’ve heard he was a little tight with his money,” Bishop said.
“He was. Anyway, to answer your question, here awhile back, few days ago, well, just before he was shot, I heard a man shouting at him about selling something to a woman. From what he was saying, he wanted Stan to sell it to him and while he didn’t exactly threaten Stan, I got the impression that he was really hot under the collar. That was the day before he was shot.”
Bishop nodded his head in agreement. “Most likely that was Elmer Bryant. I don’t guess you heard his name while he was shouting? Did you?”
“No. I don’t think he gave it. But it sounded like Mr. Thomas knew him.”
“His secretary told me about it,” Bishop said. “Anything else?”
She shook her head.
“Were you here when he was shot? That’d be the day after the man came in shouting, Saturday,”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t usually work Saturday’s, but I did have an emergency that day. An existing patient. She had an eye irritation I had to treat. I finished seeing her around two and closed up. I’m not taking new patients now. As I told Hank, when my lease runs out, about four months from now, I’m retiring. I won’t be sorry. I just want to sit in a rocking chair on my back porch with my husband and our dog and relax the rest of my days.”
“Do you know if anybody was in Stan’s office when you here?”
She didn’t know. She was to busy anyway but she didn’t hear anything.
He told her if she thought of anything else, she could call him at any time.
She said she would.
Not much, he thought on the way home. Stuff I already knew, or crap I didn’t need to know.
He typed up a computer report and sent it to the chief. He ended his report with “So far I haven’t found anybody who looks remotely like the killer.”
The chief called him an hour or so later. “Got your report. Not much, eh?”
“Nothing I’d take to court. The eye doctor confirms what Thomas’ secretary said about Bryant. I’m getting the impression that the senior Thomas was something of a skin flint. He wanted his son to excel and his son wasn’t doing it.”
“Might have been one of those cases where there just isn’t enough legal business to go around. I know lots of lawyers who live off their wives’ income. Can’t get blood out of a turnip. His dad couldn’t know that, I suppose.”
Bishop didn’t really know about “living off their wives” but had no reason to doubt the chief.
“So true,” Bishop agreed. “I guess the old man was tired of paying his son’s bills.”
“I would have been.”
He repeated what he’d said in his report. “My next call will be on Margo Dawkins and Elmer Bryant.” He was saving Freddie until last. He was hoping Freddie would slip up and admit to killing Thomas. Assuming the other two didn’t slip up first.
The chief laughed. “Knowing you and Bryant, I’d like to be there for that one.”
“Yeah. I imagine it’ll be fun. He sounds like a hothead.”
“At least. Prepare yourself.”
“I always prepare for the worst,” Bishop said.
“But hope for the best,” the chief said with a laugh. He was reciting the tail end of an ages old quip.
“You got it.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” the chief said as they hung up.
Yeah, Bishop thought. I imagine Bryant will be settled down after spending time in jail wondering what was going to happen to him.
He had the address of both Dawkins and Bryant.
“Question is, do I call first? Yes, at least I’ll call Dawkins,” he said answering his own question. “I’ll think about Bryant. Calling him would give him a reason to leave the house. Maybe I’ll call him when I’m in sight of his house.”
*****
“Margo,” the woman answered when Bishop called. “What can I do you for?”
He gave her quip a polite chuckle and explained who he was and why he was calling.
“I was just let out on bail,” she said. “Great fun being in the can. But I think I answered every question they threw at me. A lot. Check with them. It was all recorded.”
“You were arrested on a different case, Mrs. Dawson. Selling weed. I’m working on the Stan Thomas murder. Some of my questions may overlap the ones you were asked but I expect I’ll have some that won’t. Is that a problem for you?”
“No, but I get tired of being harassed by the police. Why can’t you guys do it all at once, one time?” she said.
Bishop told her he didn’t know the answer to that. “We just don’t. Each case is like a different road. I’m on the murder road,” he said. “Am I to take it that you’re refusing to answer my questions?”
“I don’t refuse. Hell, I’m not crazy. But I didn’t do any murder. Can’t you ask ‘em over the phone. I’m busy.”
“No. I don’t do it that way, and I doubt many investigators do,” Bishop said. “We have to see your face when you answer.”
There was silence for a few moments. Finally, he heard, “Okay. I guess I don’t have a choice, do I? When do you want to ask your fuckin’ questions?”
“How about now? You’re at home. I can be there in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“You know where I live?” she asked.
He gave her the address he had.
After a loud sigh, she said, “Okay. I’ll see you in twenty minutes, give or take.”
In about that time, Bishop pulled up in front of her trailer and parked. With his notepad in hand, he knocked on her door and she invited him in.
She was wearing a pullover, slacks, and a pair of loafers. It didn’t look like she’d combed her hair for the day yet, maybe since she’d gotten out on bail. Bishop enjoyed an internal laugh.
He took a seat in her living room. She sat facing him on the sofa with her hands in her lap. He smelled something cooking in her kitchen. Had a tomato smell to it, but that was the best he could do.
She said, “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“I’d like to know why you killed your supplier, Stan Thomas?”
Her face went white. “Thomas! You’re saying he was my supplier?”
“The evidence supports that,” Bishop said.
“Good man. Elmer was thinking that to. I reckon I knew Thomas might ‘a been. Just didn’t know how. Elmer kept beatin’ ‘round the bush about it. Jes ‘tween you, me, and the bedpost, I never knew who the damn supplier was. Thomas said it was one of his clients. That was okay with me. I didn’t kill him regardless. Why would I? I was making money out of him, assuming he was supplying the weed Bryant was selling. If I was gonna kill anybody it would ‘a been Bryant. He’s an asshole.”
No doubt, Bishop thought, but didn’t say. “If you thought Thomas was selling you out to Bryant you might be motivated to put a hole in his head. That’s why.”
She scoffed. “Why would he deal with Elmer? I doubt Thomas could ever get along with him, even if he’d be getting a few more dollars out of the deal. I don’t think he liked the man. Thomas had to deal with him getting’ me a restraining order. Wish to hell I’d a kept it. I could’a built my own network of sellers and buyers.”
“Should have. Might be better off,” Bishop said and thought, but you might have ended up having a shoot-out with old Elmer.
“Shore as hell would’a been,” she said.
“You know, Elmer’s got a source for weed, even coke, in New Orleans. Most likely will cut me out, now that Stan Thomas is dead. I guess I’m shut down, but the weed gonna stay on the street. Elmer’s got buddies. And, the coke’ll be right there with it. ‘N that shit’ll really get ‘em hooked. Ain’t worth shit when they go to sniffin’ that.”
Bishop nodded. “I expect Elmer’ll get some prison time. That should cut down on his selling activities.”
“Maybe, I don’t know. The way the DA was talking when we were in the tank, we may just get probation ... for cooperating. I’m outta business. I don’t have a source anymore. Have to go back working the ‘tonks. Damn hard life. You wouldn’t know.”
No, I wouldn’t and I’m damn sorry you or anybody has to know. But both of you, you and Bryant, are out of the drug business if I have anything to say about it, Bishop thought. Drug users ‘re going to have to find some other way to get high.
*****
What she didn’t tell him about was the phone call she’d just received that morning. Somebody called and asked her if she still wanted to sell the weed. The man said he was checking to see if he could leave a load but saw somebody watching her trailer so he kept moving. She told him she sure as hell did, but asked him to wait a couple of weeks till things settled down. He said he’d call back in two weeks.
That was Angel calling. After he hung up, he called Garcia and told him what Dawkins had said.
Garcia said, “People want drugs. We need to plant more weed in that spot we fixed on the slope at the river. It’ll be out of sight of the road.”
They’d plant it to mature in phases like Thomas had been doing. They didn’t have a green house but they could improvise.
Angel told him he’d be at the house early Saturday to help set out the plants. He’d bring them in his truck.
*****
Bishop looked Margo in the eyes and said, “The word on the street is that Stan Thomas and Bryant were going to make a deal to cut you out, selling the stuff Stan had, the good stuff, and the other stuff Bryant got in New Orleans, and make more money for themselves. You got wind of it, got mad and shot him. The DA knows. He’ll have you in again. Maybe charge you.” Bishop was bluffing but wanted to see if he could shake her up.
“That’s horse manure, Bone. Prime grade. Hell, I don’t even have a gun. Well, I have a shotgun in case somebody comes knocking on my door late at night. I heard the Thomas guy was shot with a hand gun.”
Bishop recited the day and time Stan was shot and asked, “That’s what you say, but where were you when he was killed.”
She thought a few seconds. “I guess I was right here. Ask the neighbors. Car’s outside when I’m here. Hell, at that time of day, I usually take a shower and get ready for the night. I still have a livin’ to make.” She grinned. “Have to look my best, ‘n smell good, doin’ whut I do. For awhile, I got to take a break peddling that shit. Paid better too. I hate going back to it.”
“I can imagine.” Bishop figured he’d gotten all he was going to get out of her. He stood and told her goodbye.
She walked him to the door. “I hope this is the last time I get asked these damn questions.”
“I do too,” Bishop said as he left.
Bryant’s next, he thought. It’ll be a bitch, I expect.
He headed home first to record the gist of his interview with Margo.
*****
He recorded the interview in his computer for inclusion with his interview with Bryant that was coming up. “No need to send the chief what she said anyway. Not much in the meeting with her that’s worth reporting.”
He was feeling frustrated. Not a single worthwhile lead yet. It was beginning to look like Stan’s murder was going to end up at a dead end. And he was going to end up looking like a dumb shit.
“Well, the good news in that is the chief won’t ask me to help out in the future. Humiliation is a hell of a price to pay for that relief.”
Chapter 14
Lunch was a cup of coffee and a couple of pieces of cheese toast, sitting quietly on the porch wishing for something enlightening to come to mind. The beavers were swimming around doing their thing. That was all he got out of the lunch, no brilliant mental flashes.
With lunch finished, Bishop climbed into his jeep and headed toward Elmer Bryant’s old house. It was an old shotgun house, about fifteen minutes away on an unpaved dirt road, that showed only a little of the white paint it was painted with ages ago. The tin roof was rusted. The posts holding up the porch were two by fours, bowed. One had a crack in it. The house was held off the ground by brick columns, some of which showed lose bricks. Bryant’s old truck was parked toward the rear of the house beside a carport that was leaning to one side.
“Gotta be lazy as hell to let all that go,” Bishop said to himself as he took it in. “And, he’s supposed to be a carpenter. No wonder he enjoyed the selling of drugs. Hell of a lot easier that work.”
Bishop had parked within watching distance before calling the man.
“What you want?” Bryant answered with his usual belligerence. “You ain’t wanted here!” He said when Bishop identified himself as working for the Lawton Police Department.
“Mr. Bryant, I need to talk to you about Stan Thomas, the lawyer who was murdered. I understand that you had dealings with him. I could take you downtown and talk to you there if you’d prefer.”
“Yeah, yeah, threats. That’s all you guys do. What’s it to you if I had dealings with him or anybody? I had dealings with him but it ain’t no business of the police. It was private!”
“I still need to talk to you,” Bishop said. “I have to be satisfied that it wasn’t police business.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you need to do,” Bryant said. “’Sides, I don’t think you’re anything with the police department. You’re just one of them slimy bullshitters. What’s yore game?”
“Mr. Bryant, I assure you I’m a special investigator appointed by the mayor at the request of Chief Jenkins. If you are refusing to talk to me, I’ll notify the chief and he’ll send a car out to pick you up. I’ll talk to you at the station. Is that what you want?”
“You bastard! Damn police. All the same. All of you want somebody you can whip up on! By God, it ain’t gonna be me. Git yore ass over here if you want to talk to me. I ain’t goin’ no wheres.” With that, he hung up.
Bishop, who was parked only a few hundred yards from Bryant’s house, cranked up and drove into his drive way. Bryant was coming out his back door headed for his truck as he drove down the driveway.
Bishop parked near the front, blocking his truck path to the driveway. He got out of his jeep and walked to the front door like he hadn’t seen him hurrying down the back steps. Bishop heard a curse from Bryant as he walked toward the man’s porch.
Bishop knocked on the door. There was no doorbell, since the house was either built before they were available or the owner couldn’t afford one.
A minute after Bishop had knocked, the door flew open. “Wise-assed bastard,” the rough looking man said when he saw Bone standing there, holding out his police card for him to see.
“Fuckin’ special investigator,” Bryant said, staring at the card. “Getting’ paid to harass honest people, most like. Come on in. You ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from me.”
“I saw you were planning to leave before I got here. Not too smart, Mr. Bryant.”
Bryant cursed under his breath and stared at Bishop who took one of the living room chairs. A small table occupied a place in the middle of them. Bishop put the tablet he’d brought on his knees.
Bryant leaned against the wall and stared at him with a sneer on his face.
“So, you’re going to stand and look weird. Suits me … suits you too,” Bishop said. “Okay, I’ll get started. You killed Stan Thomas. We have a witness who heard you threatening him. The chief of Police wanted to charge you but I asked to interview you first. From your tone however, I think he was right. I think I’ll
tell him to arrest you and charge you with the murder. What-”
With that, Bryant came off the wall, stepped toward Bishop, but veered off after one step and sat down. “Ask your fuckin’ questions. I ain’t killed nobody. I already tole ‘em that at the jail. They done asked me if I did! I didn’t! ‘N I tole ‘em I didn’t!”
“You threatened him. You said you were going to kill him if he didn’t sell his pot directly to you, instead of selling it to Margo Dawkins.”
For a second or two Bryant seemed confused, but managed to say, “I … I didn’t tell him I was gonna kill ‘em. That witness … that damn little girl he keeps outside his office, I reckon, said that. She’s full of shit. I … hell, he never admitted he was selling weed to Margo. Shit fire and save matches, he said he wasn’t doin’ it.”
“Well then, we’ll play it your way for a minute. Where were you when he was murdered?” Bishop gave him the day and time Stan was shot.
“I know what damn day it was. I watch the television. Hell, I … I was here ... watching ‘uh old football game with my buds, drinking beer.”
Bishop decided to push him and said, “No, you weren’t. The police have another witness who’ll testify that you had been at a local honkytonk half an hour before he was shot.”
“Lying bastard tole you that. Who was, it Bernard Watson? That son of a bitch. I left him hours ‘fore the time you’re talkin’ ‘bout. Come home to slop the hogs. Was out collecting the slop. You call the place he said he saw me at. They’ll tell you.”
“First time you said you were drinking with your buddies. Now, you’re saying you were slopping your hogs. You could have used the hours you said you had after leaving Watson to go by Stan Thomas’ office and shoot him before you got home and slopped your hogs,” Bishop said. “Thomas turned you down when you told him to deal with you, not Dawkins. You said you were going to get him and you did.” Bishop said.
Death of the Weed Merchant Page 16
