Authors: Bill Crider

A Knife in the Back (12 page)

BOOK: A Knife in the Back

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J
ack jumped about a foot.

Sally didn't seem surprised.

“Are you going to answer it?” she asked.

“Sure,” Jack said, getting up and heading toward the kitchen.

“Do you have Caller ID?”

The phone rang again.

“Yes,” Jack called when the ringing stopped. “It says âunavailable.'”

“Why am I not surprised?” Sally said.

Jack picked up the phone.

“Hello?” he said.

There was no answer. Jack looked through the doorway into the den at Sally, who shrugged.

“Hello?” Jack said.

Still no answer. Jack hung up.

“See what I mean?” Sally said when Jack returned.

“Why call me? I didn't see him. After I banged my head on the concrete, I didn't see anything except for some funny white lights.”

“There's probably a name for those.”

“I don't know it, though, and I don't even care. What I want to know about is those phone calls.”

“I can't tell you anything. I just had a premonition something like that phone call might happen if that guy wearing the mask
thought I saw his face. That's what I was going to tell you. It doesn't really matter whether I saw him or not if he thinks I did.”

“You should have told Weems. You could have asked for protection.”

Sally laughed. “I have a picture of that happening.”

Jack smiled ruefully. “You're right. Weems would think you were crazy. He probably doesn't believe in premonitions.”

“I kind of thought I was crazy, too,” Sally admitted. “My mother's the one who claims to have psychic powers. Everyone thinks she's a nut.”

“Even you?”

“Even me, but only about the psychic powers. In other ways, she's as sane as can be. At least she doesn't go around carrying a pistol.”

“The pistol seems like a good idea right now,” Jack said. “Have you ever shot anyone?”

“No. Only targets. That's what the instructor in the concealed handgun class liked to talk aboutâthe difference between shooting a target and shooting a person. As Mark Twain said, it's like the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.”

“Twain was talking about choosing the right word when you're writing,” Jack said. “Not shooting somebody.”

“I think the analogy still works.”

“We're only talking hypothetically here, though,” Jack said. “We both know that you're not going to have to shoot anyone.”

“I know that,” Sally said. “And you know that.” She looked into the kitchen at the telephone. “But does he know that?”

Jack looked worried.

“You sound almost as if you'd like to shoot him,” he said.

“I don't want to shoot anyone. I'm not even sure I could. The instructor in the handgun class wasn't happy with me.”

“It's a good thing there was no final exam.”

“True. Anyway, now you know the situation. What are we going to do about it?”

“I'm not sure I do know the situation,” Jack said. “You didn't come over here so I could protect you, did you?”

Sally smiled. “No. I'm the one with the pistol, remember? I think I just wanted some company.”

“I'm glad you picked me, but maybe you picked the wrong guy. Now the man in the iron mask is calling me. If he's really the one who called. We don't really know that.”

“We don't know that he called me, either, but it's interesting that we both got phone calls from someone who wouldn't identify himself, don't you think?”

Jack nodded. “I guess so. I wonder why he called here. I didn't see him. Do you think he knows you're here?”

“He might. It would have been easy enough for him to follow me if he was keeping an eye on my house. But speaking of phone calls, you still haven't told me why you called me.”

“Never mind that now,” Jack said. He looked uneasy. “It's not important at all, considering everything else that's going on. Let's just forget about it. Now that you're here, maybe we can figure out something that will get us out of this mess. Let me get my list.”

“List?” Sally said, but Jack was already on his way out of the room.

When he returned, he was holding a piece of paper in his hand. He walked to the couch and handed it to Sally.

“This is the list,” he said. “I tried to write down all the people who knew about the knife in my office and who might have had a motive to kill Bostic.”

Sally looked over the names Jack had written and said, “I don't see your name on here anywhere.”

Jack sat on the couch. “You're getting as bad as Weems. I didn't kill anybody.”

“I know, but you did have a motive. That spat you had with Bostic at the board meeting even made the newspaper.”

“If you can call what we have here a newspaper,” Jack said.

Sally thought he was being a bit unfair to the
Hughes Daily News,
though she had to admit that the paper's true reason for existence wasn't to publish the news but to sell advertising space. Perhaps for that reason, the paper's single reporter didn't lavish a great deal of attention on local events, or any events for that matter, with the result that stories were sometimes so difficult to decipher that many readers simply gave up in despair.

“You're just resentful because the story about your run-in was clearly understandable,” she said.

Jack opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and remained silent.

“Well?” Sally said.

“You could be right. Even Weems had read the article. He mentioned it to me. I've often wondered why every sentence in that story was so amazingly clear and to the point. You have to admit that it's uncharacteristic.”

“We have enough to worry about without taking on the prose style in the
Hughes Daily News.
Everyone in town, including Weems, knows that you more or less accused Bostic of being a crook.”

“All right,” Jack said, pulling a ballpoint pen from his pocket. “Let me have that list.”

“There are some other things you should know before you write your name down,” Sally said, and she told him about Mae Wilkins.

“She certainly gets around,” Jack said. “I didn't even know that she was going with Thomas, much less Jorge.”

“Me either,” Sally said, trying not to sound bitter. “And there's another thing. Jorge used to work as an auto mechanic.”

“I'd heard that. So what?”

“Think about it. Everything's connected. Bostic repairs cars. Thomas taught auto repair. Jorge worked as a mechanic.”

“That's really stretching a point.”

“Roy Don Talon,” Sally said. “He's on your motive list. He sells cars. He's the one who got A. B. D. upset about Bostic in the first place. A. B. D. went to the faculty senate, which is why you went
before the board in the first place. If you look at it that way, Talon is the one to blame for all your troubles.”

“When it comes to stretching a point,” Jack said, “you're an expert.”

“I think we should talk to him,” Sally said. “Point stretching or not. There are too many automobile connections here for us to ignore them. He must know something about this.”

“What about Fieldstone?”

“If we have to, we'll talk to him. Bostic was trying to get him fired, after all. And nobody seemed able to locate him this afternoon.

“All right. When do we start?”

“How about now?”

“It's Friday night,” Jack said.

“Don't give me any more of that âI don't like to bother people at home on the weekends' stuff. This is too important for us to worry about something as petty as that.”

“You're right. It's just that I really don't like to bother peopleâ”

“I told you not to start that.”

“Sorry. I can't seem to control myself. I must have some kind of phobia.”

“Get over it,” Sally said.

“I already have,” Jack said, but Sally didn't believe him. “Are you ready?”

“I'm ready. I'll make the first call.”

“Call? I thought we were going to see people.”

“Why is it that men never like to use the telephone?” Sally asked. “Do they just like to do everything the hard way?”

“I like to look at people when I'm talking to them,” Jack said. He sounded a bit defensive.

“In this case, we don't have to. It's the kind of investigation we can do on the telephone. It won't take as long that way.”

“I'm willing to wait.”

Sally went into the kitchen and looked around.

“Where's the phone book?” she called.

Jack came into the kitchen holding their glasses and napkins, which he set on the countertop.

“In here.”

He pulled open a drawer and pulled out the very thin book, which he handed to Sally.

“Thanks,” she said, flipping through it.

When she'd located the number, she handed the book back to Jack, who replaced it in the drawer as she was punching the number on the phone. It didn't take long for her to get a response.

“Eva?” she said. “This is Sally Good.”

After the “I'm fine, and you?” small talk and some oohing and ahhing over the awful events of the afternoon, Sally got to the point.

“Can you tell me where the president was this afternoon? No one could find him to tell him what happened.”

Eva was hesitant. “I really don't think I should say anything.”

“It's okay,” Sally assured her. “I'm not going to tell anyone else.”

Jack waved at her and pointed at himself, but Sally ignored him.

“I'd just like to know for my own satisfaction,” Sally said.

“All right,” Eva said. “I'll tell you, but if Dr. Fieldstone ever finds out, he'll throttle me.”

“I hope you don't mean that literally.”

Eva laughed. “Of course not. But it's supposed to be a big secret. He only does it every now and then.”

“Does what?”

“Slips away to a movie. You know how quiet it is here on Friday afternoons. Nothing ever happens. I've worked in this office for over fifteen years, and I can't remember a single important thing that's happened on a Friday afternoon.”

“Not counting today,” Sally said.

“Oh. I forgot. That was about the biggest thing that's ever happened here, period. And nobody was around.”

Sally decided not to remind Eva that she and Jack had been around. Not to mention Ray Thomas.

She said, “You mentioned that Dr. Fieldstone slips away fairly often.”

“No, not often. If I said that, I didn't mean it. He hardly ever does. More like once a semester. And then only if there's something he really, really wants to see. He always documents the time away from campus and counts it against his vacation days, too, so there's nothing at all wrong with it. It's just that he doesn't think it would look good if people knew he was going to a movie. He always drives into Houston, where nobody knows him.”

“And that's where he was today.”

“Yes. He always calls at least once to check in with me and make sure things are going smoothly.”

“Did he call today?”

“Yes, but that was before I heard that Mr. Thomas was dead, so I couldn't tell him about it.”

“I'm sure he knows by now,” Sally said. “Thanks, Eva.”

She hung up the phone and looked at Jack.

“That pretty much eliminates Fieldstone,” she said. “He was at a movie.”

“It could be a cover-up.”

“I doubt it. Eva talked to him, and it seems to be something he does from time to time. We can forget about him for now, I think. Are you ready for Hal Kaul?”

“Are you going to phone him?”

“I think he's a much more likely suspect than Fieldstone. We'd better see him in person. Are you ready?”

“I've been ready ever since you suggested it.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Sally said, picking up her purse and pistol. “I'll drive.”

BOOK: A Knife in the Back

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