A Knife in the Back (14 page)

Read A Knife in the Back Online

Authors: Bill Crider

BOOK: A Knife in the Back
3.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
I
told you it was about cars,“Sally said.
“I guess you were right,” Jack said.
Kaul said he wouldn't be at all surprised if she was, but that there was more to the story.
“Let us have it then,” Jack said.
“Roy Don Talon's mixed up in it somehow,” Kaul said.
“What about Jorge Rodriguez?” Sally asked, more or less hoping that Kaul wouldn't have an answer, or at least not one that would reflect poorly on Jorge.
Kaul's eyebrows went up.
“How did you know about him?” he asked.
Damn
, Sally thought.
“Never mind how I know,” Sally said. “It was more or less just a hunch, anyway. How is he involved?”
“I don't know for sure,” Kaul said. “How about letting me tell this my own way?”
“Go ahead,” Sally said. “I didn't mean to interrupt you.”
“I'm not so sure about that. Anyway, Roy Don Talon's auto dealership is in some kind of trouble. It's all a little vague, just rumors so far, but something's going on there that's not on the up-and-up.”
“Hey, I know that,” Jack said. “Have you ever had any work done on your car at that dealership? You're lucky if your car survives.
I had some windshield wiper blades installed on mine because they were an odd size, and I wanted to be sure it was done right. Two days later I was in a rainstorm in Houston, up on the Pierce Elevated, and as soon as I turned the wipers on, the blades just peeled right off. I thought I was going to die before I could get to an exit and get off the highway.”
“I have to admit that Roy Don's repair department doesn't have a sterling reputation,” Kaul said, “much less a commendable success rate, but that's not what the problem is.”
“Then tell us what it is,” Sally said.
“I told you that nobody knows for sure. There are just rumors that something's wrong and that Roy Don could be in big trouble. Money trouble. Lawsuit trouble.”
“That sounds bad, all right,” Jack said. “What does Jorge have to do with it?”
“That's a little mysterious, too.” Kaul gave Sally a speculative look. “I thought I was the only one who knew. He came around asking me questions about Thomas, but he never would say why.”
“Maybe it had something to do with Thomas losing his job at the prison,” Sally suggested.
“I don't think so,” Kaul said. “That was years ago. My conversation with Jorge was just last week.”
Sally wished now that she hadn't asked about Jorge. It was beginning to seem more and more as if he might have something to do with Thomas's death. And maybe Bostic's, too.
“What about Fieldstone?” Jack asked. “Had he been told about all this?”
“He knew most of it,” Kaul said. “If you hadn't nailed Bostic at that board meeting, Fieldstone would have. He was very upset with Bostic already because Bostic had accused him of fiscal irresponsibility, and when I told him what Bostic was doing to the college, he hit the roof.”
Sally wasn't surprised to hear that. Fieldstone was rarely known to lose his temper, but when he did, no one wanted to be nearby.
Jack asked Kaul a few more questions, but he couldn't answer
any of them. He seemed to want Sally and Jack to leave so he could get back to his auctions.
Sally took the hint, nudged Jack, and said, “We have to be going now, Hal. Thanks for your help.”
Kaul started to get up, but Sally said, “Don't bother. We can find the door.”
She took Jack's arm and guided him back outside. When the door had closed behind them, she said, “Could he have been lying?”
“Lying?” Jack said. “Why would he do that?”
“He could be the one who was conspiring with Bostic, not Thomas. Now that everything is about to come out into the open, he needed a scapegoat.”
“Or a scapecat,” Jack said.
“Stop that. This is serious business.”
“Right. Scapegoat. But you're going to have to explain it to me. I don't get it. I must have missed something.”
“Maybe you do have a concussion after all.”
“I'm not seeing the little lights any more.”
“Good. But you're not thinking straight, either.”
“Oh, yes, I am. I can see what you're really worried about here. You're worried about Jorge.”
Sally started to deny it, then stopped. After all, it was awfully close to being the truth. No matter how much she hated to admit it to herself, she was concerned about Jorge. She didn't want him to be a killer. Well, he was already a killer. She knew that. But that was different. She was sure of it.
“Let's get in the car,” she said. “I could use some air-conditioning.”
A breeze had come in off the Gulf, but it hadn't done much to lower either the temperature or the humidity, and Sally could feel her hair turning into a frizz that the Bride of Frankenstein would envy.
“Well?” Jack said when they were in the Acura.
“Of course I'm concerned about Jorge,” Sally said, starting the
engine. “He's a colleague, just like you are. I'm trying to help you, and I'd try to help him if he were falsely accused, too.”
“Hmmm,” Jack said as Sally backed into the street.
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Sally asked.
“Nothing. I was just thinking. Let's get back to the scapegoat.”
“Fine. Here's what I think. Maybe Hal knew he was going to be blamed for the cheating that went on in the billing. So he had to get rid of the two people who could fix the blame: Thomas and Bostic.”
“That's not bad,” Jack said. “And to make things even harder to figure out, he used my knife, knowing I'd get blamed, at least at first, because of my quarrel with Bostic.”
“Right. So you agree that it could have happened that way?”
“Not really. There's too much it doesn't explain.”
“Such as?”
“Jorge's involvement. And all that stuff about Roy Don Talon.”
“What stuff? Hal didn't really know anything about Roy Don.”
“Then I guess we'll have to find out,” Jack said. “Won't we?”
“I suppose so,” Sally said. “But not until tomorrow.”
“I thought you didn't mind bothering people at home on Friday night.”
“That was before I got tired,” Sally said.
“Oh, Jack said.
Sally didn't want to visit Roy Don Talon, and she didn't want to talk about Jorge. What she really wanted was a Hershey bar.
“Do you eat candy?” she asked.
“Candy?” Jack said.
“That's right, candy. Like Hershey bars or Snickers.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. Just answer the question.”
“I like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups,” Jack said. “But I hardly ever eat them. I try to watch my weight.” He looked at Sally. “But now might be a good time to have one.”
“Good idea,” Sally said.
She drove to the nearest 24/7 Mart and stopped the car.
“I'll be right back,” she told Jack, and got out.
When she returned, she was carrying a Hershey bar and a package of two Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. She handed the Reese's to Jack and said, “My treat.”
“Thanks. I didn't know you were hungry. I mean, we didn't have to get just a candy bar. I would've been glad to spring for a cheeseburger.”
“I didn't want a cheeseburger,” Sally said, unwrapping the Hershey bar.
They sat in the car and ate their candy, watching the customers come and go at the convenience store. Most of them appeared more interested in cigarettes, soft drinks, and lottery tickets than in food.
Jack finished eating first and crumpled the candy wrapper in his fist.
“Litter bag?” he said.
“Backseat.”
Jack twisted himself around, and Sally could see that his ribs were hurting him. He dropped the wrapper in the litter bag and turned back.
“You should go home,” Sally said. “You need to get some rest.”
“I'm fine.”
“No, you're not.”
Sally folded the Hershey wrapper and deposited it in the litter bag. She resisted the urge to lick her fingers. She didn't think it would seem dignified. So she got a tissue from her purse and wiped her hands.
“Do you have any ideas about how to approach Roy Don Talon?” she asked when she was finished.
“Not a single one,” Jack said. “Maybe we should just forget the whole thing.”
Sally would have liked nothing better. It wasn't really any of her business. Except that Jack was a member of her department, and he was her friend.
Boyfriend
was too strong a word, but she did like Jack.
Besides, she was sure that Weems wasn't investigating properly.
If he were, he would have questioned Hal Kaul, and Hal would have mentioned it to them earlier. Weems must still think that Jack was somehow involved with the murders, or at least with Bostic's, and since Sally knew Jack was most definitely not involved, it was up to her, with Jack's help, of course, to prove it.
“I can't just forget it,” she said. “Somehow I think we have all the pieces of the puzzle if we could just put them together in the right order.”
“I keep thinking there's something I've missed,” Jack said. “Some little something that would make a big difference if I could just think of what it is.”
“Maybe that knock on the head made you forget.”
“I don't think so. I think I'd already forgotten whatever it was before I got the knock. And the knot.” Jack touched the back of his head. “I think the knot's getting smaller, though. Maybe I'll remember.”
“Maybe what we need is a good night's sleep,” Sally suggested. “We can go see Roy Don Talon first thing in the morning.”
“Do you really think he'll tell us anything? If his business is in trouble, it's not likely that he's going to talk about it to the two of us. Besides, I don't think he likes you very much, not after that business about the picture.”
“I'm sure he's forgotten all about that,” Sally said, thinking of the painting that Talon had objected to and that had led to a lot of trouble for her and the college a while back. “It was just a simple misunderstanding. He was wrong, and I was right. He knows that, and he'll cooperate.”
“I'll bet he will,” Jack said.
“You should be more positive about things. Sometimes that helps.”
“Easy for you to say. You're not the one Weems is going to put on death row.”
“You're being overly dramatic again. You're not in any danger of going to prison.”
“Tell that to Weems.”
Sally thought about doing just that, and she realized that Jack had a point. Weems wouldn't listen. Which just proved her point. She and Jack had to find out the truth. If they could.
As her mother used to say, it was a mighty big
if
. She couldn't tell Jack that, however. She was the one who'd just told him to be positive.
So she said, “We'll probably figure it all out by morning. Talon might be the one with the key.”
“I'll bet he will,” Jack said again.
J
ack sat on his couch drinking Pepsi One and feeling sorry for himself while listening to the Kingston Trio singing about how all their sorrows would be soon forgotten.
He should have known that things wouldn't work out between him and Sally, he thought. He hadn't had much personal experience along those lines, but he'd read more than enough books and seen more than enough movies to know that no matter what women said about liking nice, stable guys, when it came right down to it, they really preferred someone who walked a little bit on the wild and crazy side.
Jack wasn't wild, and he wasn't crazy. He was not Prince Hamlet, nor was he meant to be. He wasn't even meant to be Polonius. If he were going to fill a role, he'd probably be someone more like the comic sidekick in an old black-and-white western—Gabby Hayes, maybe, or Smiley Burnette.
Jorge, on the other hand, while he might not be Prince Hamlet, wasn't the sidekick type at all. He was Marlon Brando in
The Wild One
, or James Dean in anything.
Jack had never thought of Sally and Jorge as a couple, but it appeared that Sally had. Jack wondered if Jorge knew. He also wondered if Mae Wilkins knew.
Jack himself had never quite seen the attraction that Mae had for men. She was a little too neat for him, a little too precisely
turned out. But it was clear that others didn't feel the same way at all.
The Kingston Trio had moved on to other songs like “Corey, Cores,” all of which were considerably livelier than “All My Sorrows,” and it lifted Jack's spirits a bit. To really feel sorry for himself, he needed some old-time country music, something by Webb Pierce or George Jones or Hank Williams. Senior, not Junior or the Third. Those guys were experts at self-pity, and a song like “He Stopped Loving Her Today” would probably have sent Jack so deep into the slough of despond that it would have taken him a week to climb out. Or maybe listening to the Kingston Trio sing “I Bawled” would have had him out in seconds. It was hard to be sad when you heard a song like that, even if the title sounded sad.
Jack decided to stop worrying about his virtually nonexistent love life and do something practical. He picked up his little list from the coffee table and tried to think back over everything he'd heard and seen that day. Surely somewhere in it there was a clue as to who had taken his knife and killed Ralph Bostic. He was sure of it. But the harder he thought about it, the less sense he could make of things, so finally he gave it up, took four aspirin, and went to bed, where he slept restlessly and dreamed of being pursued through the oak-lined streets of Hughes by a monstrous figure wearing a welder's mask. But instead of a ballpeen hammer the monster was carrying a knife of enormous size, swinging it within inches of Jack's fleeing figure and getting closer with every step.
 
The next morning Jack woke up feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. He was so tired that it was almost as if he'd actually been running from the swinging knife rather than sleeping and dreaming.
He got up, showered, and shaved. When he was dressed, he went outside and picked up the Houston
Chronicle
that lay at the end of the driveway. It was going to be a typical day in Hughes. The humidity was so high that Jack felt sheathed in sweat before he was back inside the house.
He sat at the table and read the paper while he ate his breakfast
of dry cereal and skim milk. There was a short article about the murders in the metro section, but it didn't go into details, and it didn't mention Jack, at least not by name, for which he was thankful.
It did say, however, that the Hughes police were investigating every aspect of the case and that they had a “number of suspects.”
“Sure they do,” Jack said aloud. He thought he knew who the “suspects” were and that most of them were him.
After he finished his cereal, he went outside and put some food in a bowl for Hector, who was nowhere to be seen. He'd wander up later, when he got good and ready. Probably hiding under a car, waiting to sever the tendon of some unsuspecting soul, Jack thought. He changed Hector's water while he was at it, giving him some filtered water from the kitchen tap. Jack didn't think Hector cared about filtered water; in fact, he probably preferred water from some muddy puddle. But giving him the semipurified water made Jack feel better.
When Jack went back inside, the telephone was ringing. It was Sally.
“Are you ready to see Roy Don?” she asked.
“I guess so. If you're sure you want to.”
“I do. I'll pick you up in ten minutes.”
“I can drive.”
“I know that. But your ribs will feel better if you don't.”
Jack didn't argue. He sat on the couch and read the comics while he waited. He liked to start the day by finding out what Robotman was up to, though he identified considerably more strongly with Monty, Robotman's hapless human companion, unlucky in love and most other aspects of his life.
Jack heard Sally's car in the drive, so he dropped the newspaper on the couch and went out to meet her. He got into the little Acura without too much trouble. Maybe his ribs were getting better. Maybe Weems had been lying about how long it would take.
“Feeling better?” Sally asked.
“A little. Did you call Talon to let him know we were coming?”
“No. I thought it would be better to surprise him.”
“I'm sure he likes surprises,” Jack said.
 
Talon's automobile dealership was on the outside of town, down the highway toward Angleton. About six blocks from the dealership, the highway was dominated by a huge billboard that depicted Roy Don Talon, in full Roy Rogers regalia, riding atop a bucking automobile. He was waving his ten-gallon hat in one hand and hanging onto the reins with the other. The words TALON TAMES BIG CITY PRICES! were printed in large black letters above Talon's head.
“Very tasteful,” Sally said.
“Very,” Jack agreed. “And probably effective.”
There were acres and acres of cars on the huge lot, since Talon had in some way or another captured a virtual monopoly on selling cars in Hughes. If you wanted a Toyota, Ford, Chevrolet, Chrysler, Cadillac, Oldsmobile, Jeep, Pontiac, Lincoln, or Mercury, you could find it at Talon's. If you didn't, you could drive to Houston or some other nearby town.
It was still early when they arrived at the dealership, but when Sally pulled into the gate at one end of the lot, they could see a double line of cars waiting to get accepted for service that day. Men with clipboards were going to each driver to ask about the problems with the car. When the work order was filled out, the driver would turn over the keys and wait for a ride back to town on the Talon Express, a shuttle bus that would drop people at their homes or at a store. Talon had only recently begun opening the repair service on Saturday, but it was clearly a big success. Jack couldn't understand why. After his experience with the wiper blades, he had found an independent mechanic he more or less trusted and had never gone back to the dealership.
“Isn't that Stanley Owens?” Sally asked.
Jack looked up toward the head of the line and saw Owens watching over all the action. When the cars were driven into the shop in back of the lot, the keys were brought to Owens, who
took them inside his office and hung them on a rack, where they would stay until the work was done. Then the keys would be taken with the bill to the business office, where drivers could pay for their repairs, pick up their keys, and retrieve their cars.
“That's him,” Jack said. “Maybe he could tell us what's going on out here. I know him a lot better than I know Talon. Of course you know Talon, so we can do whatever you think is best.”
“Let's talk to both of them,” Sally said. “Starting with Owens.”
“Why not?” Jack said.
Sally parked the car away from the lines, and they got out. Owens was busy with keys and copies of repair invoices and didn't see them coming until they were fairly close. He smiled at Sally, and then seemed to notice Jack for the first time. His face changed, and for a moment Jack thought he might run.
I guess I'll have to get used to that reaction,
Jack thought.
Nobody likes to see a suspected killer coming up to him early in the morning.
Owens recovered quickly. He said, “Jack. It's good to see you. What can I do for you today?”
Jack introduced Sally and said, “We'd like to talk to you if you have a second or two. I'm in a little trouble, and maybe you could help me.”
“I don't think so,” Owens said. “I'm pretty busy, as you can see. I can't afford to stop now. The customers would never stand for it.”
Jack started to tell him that the customers were plainly willing to stand for quite a lot if they were bringing their cars to Talon's for repair, but he didn't think that would be very diplomatic.
So he said, “I'd really appreciate it if you could give us just a minute. I promise we won't take too much of your time.”
Owens looked extremely uncomfortable, but Jack hoped it was just the humidity, not the fact that Owens thought of Jack as a hardened murderer.
“All right,” Owens said after a long pause. “Let me get someone to help out here.”
He called over one of the men with a clipboard and asked him
to take over for a few minutes. The man nodded and handed his clipboard to Owens.
“Let's go inside,” Owens said, and he led the way into his long, narrow office, which had a window that looked out on the lines of cars. When he had closed the door, he put the clipboard on a long counter under the window and said, “Now, tell me what you want from me.”
“We heard that there was some kind of trouble here at the dealership,” Sally said. “We'd like to know what it is.”
“I don't have any idea what you're talking about,” Owens said. “This is one of the best dealerships in the state. There aren't any problems here.”
“We're not talking about your repair department,” Jack said. “It has to do with something else.”
He was about to go on when the man who was taking Owens's place brought in some keys and invoices. He gave them to Owens, who made sure the keys were with the right papers.
“Now,” Owens said, turning back to Jack when he was finished, “what were you saying about trouble?”
“Just that there's a rumor going around that Roy Don Talon's in financial trouble and might get sued.”
“That's just a lie. Some of the big-city dealers don't like Roy Don, and they start rumors like that, hoping they can get some of our business. It happens all the time.”
Owens was looking at the floor while he talked, and Jack didn't believe a word he was saying.
“Come on,” Jack said. “Give me a break. I'm in serious trouble with the police, and I need something to help me get out of it.”
“Even if Roy Don's business was in trouble, it wouldn't help you any,” Owens said. “You have big-time problems of your own. They don't have anything to do with us.”
“We don't know that,” Sally said. “It could all be tied together somehow. That's why Jack needs your help. You were his teacher, after all.”
“I didn't teach him to take a knife he made in my class and stick
it in somebody's back,” Owens said. “If I'd known what he'd do, I'd've never let him near me.”
The assistant came back in with some more keys, and after Owens took them, he said, “I have to get back to work. We're swamped here today. You two should just go home.”
He followed his helper outside. Jack looked at Sally, who was staring thoughtfully at Owens's back.
“He wasn't much help,” Jack said. “I don't think Talon will tell us anything, either.”
“You never know,” Sally said.
“Positive attitude,” Jack said. “I forgot.”
“Don't forget it again,” Sally told him.

Other books

Santa Viking by Sandra Hill
1912 by Chris Turney
Mr Majeika by Carpenter, Humphrey
Blood Ties by S. J. Rozan
Forever's Fight by Marissa Dobson
WayFarer by Janalyn Voigt
Slave Next Door by Bales, Kevin, Soodalter, Ron.