Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (31 page)

“The Blazer can't get through those trees, Maggie, and it would be hard going for us to walk through that undergrowth. One thing's for certain. There hasn't been anybody up this way in a long time."

“There's a simple solution, Big Brother,” Maggie said. “We pull off our shoes and wade upstream in the creek."

Frank smiled. “I like it. I haven't gone barefooted since I was a teenager."

They piled out of the Blazer and pulled off their shoes. Frank rolled up his pant legs as the two women stripped, revealing the bathing suits they were wearing. They began to divide the tools to carry with them.

Greta turned her back and adjusted the top of her suit. Let's see how you like my tits, Mr. Frank, she thought. Hey, Miz Jenkins. Would you like for us to screw Maggie's brother?

“Want to take the picnic basket and cooler?” Frank asked.

“Don't know how far we will have to walk,” Maggie said. “If you think you can lug them several miles, be my guest."

Frank studied the situation for a moment, placed the basket and cooler a few feet apart and ran the shaft of the shovel under the handles. He lifted the shovel from the middle of the shaft and placed it behind his neck and across his shoulders. “If the Chinese can do it,” he said, “so can I."

They made their way slowly, stepping cautiously to avoid sharp rocks in the creek bed.

“We're in luck,” Greta squealed when they covered half a mile.

Maggie and Frank looked in the direction of Greta's pointing finger and saw a sharp bend in the creek. To the left of the bend was a swampy area of still water.

“Perfect!” Maggie exclaimed.

Frank was a quick learner and, although Maggie's dishpan he was using didn't work as well as the specially made pans used by the girls, he was the first to find a few flakes of gold. The site turned out to be loaded with gold flakes and several nuggets. By five o'clock, they filled three baby food jars with flakes and half a coffee can with nuggets. The next hour, however, turned up only one additional flake.

“I've had enough,” Frank said. “Every muscle in my body is aching. I don't know how you ladies can stand it."

“Excuses, excuses,” Maggie chided. “The truth is, you have a hot date tonight and you don't want to be late."

“That, too,” Frank admitted.

“Who are you dating?” Greta asked as the Blazer headed back to the Dollar's house. “Or is it none of my business?"

“June Dinkins,” Frank answered. “One of the waitresses at Dot's Diner."

“Oh, I know her. Kind of a mousy little thing with pimples."

Frank shot her a dirty look and said, “Careful. You're speaking of my future wife."

“I ... I just meant she seems a little bashful. I'm sure she's very nice.” Sorry, Miz Jenkins, she thought. He wasn't interested anyway—never did look at my boobs.

“Let's change the subject,” Maggie joked. “I've heard all I can stomach about June Dinkins."

“Okay,” Frank agreed. “We wound up with a lot of gold today. How much do you think it's worth?"

“I don't know,” Maggie replied with a twinge of chagrin in her voice. “That's one aspect of our project I haven't looked into. There must be somebody in Charlotte who will give us a fair price."

“Do you have to melt the gold down to sell it?” Frank asked.

“Damn it, Frank. I told you I haven't investigated that yet."

They rode in silence for thirty minutes, each engrossed in private thoughts and concerns.

“Oh, my God!” Maggie suddenly exclaimed.

Frank and Greta looked up. The Dollars’ house was now in sight and there were deputy cars parked all over the front yard. As they drew closer, they could see a large number of men and a scattering of women gathered near the front porch.

“Something awful has happened!” Greta gasped.

Maggie set the parking brake and the three piled out of the Blazer. She spotted Borders standing apart from the crowd and rushed to him with her companions on her heels.

“Little boy's missing,” Borders explained. “Been gone most of the day. Mrs. Dollar thought he might have gone to the spring on the other side of that hill,” Borders said as he pointed, “but she and Tim searched the area and came up empty. We're forming a search party now and would appreciate any help you can give us."

Greta screamed at the top of her lungs. “Damn you, Eddie Crow! You promised you wouldn't do it!"

Borders caught Deputy Bud Cranfield's attention and beckoned to him. “What are you saying Greta? For God's sake, tell me!"

“Eddie done it. He kidnapped Junior,” she sobbed. “He promised he wouldn't, but it must have been him."

“Why do you think Eddie kidnapped Tim Junior?” Bud Cranfield asked as he joined the group.

“He came to Dot to get even with Sandra Dollar. First he said he was gonna kill her. Then he decided to punish her by kidnapping Junior."

“You are Eddie Crow's wife?” the deputy asked.

“My name is Greta Dominick. Me and Eddie ain't really married."

“Do you know where Eddie is?” Borders asked.

“What time is it?"

“Six forty-five."

“He's supposed to be working at the concession stand at the golf course until seven, maybe later."

“If he kidnapped the boy, he's not likely to be at work,” Cranfield said.

“Then he would be at home,” Greta continued. “He built a place behind the furnace where he was going to keep the boy. He calls it his torture chamber."

Cranfield summoned another detective as Borders said, “Greta, Eddie killed Bobby and Adele Elliott, didn't he?"

She nodded.

“Miss Dominick, I must tell you that it might be in your best interest to say no more until you are represented by an attorney,” Cranfield advised.

Greta was crying hysterically and screamed, “Yes! The bastard killed them! The Elliotts and Mrs. Dollar done something to Eddie when he used to be the preacher in Dot. He came back to kill them all."

“Pete,” Cranfield said to the deputy he summoned. “Read Miss Dominick her rights and take her in for questioning. Borders, you get rid of the volunteers.” He pulled the radio from his belt and barked into it, “This is Cranfield. I need to see all officers on duty at the Dollar home immediately."

Cranfield winked at Borders and said, “Hot damn, we have the bastard now."

“Maybe,” Borders replied, “but Greta is so terrified of Eddie she may refuse to testify against him in court. If only we could find that missing bullet."

“What bullet?” Frank asked.

“On the night Bobby Elliott was killed in front of his house, he was hit with two rifle shots. We found only one slug and it was too damaged for a ballistics test. If we could find the other slug it might prove the shots that killed Bobby came from Eddie Crow's rifle."

“Bobby Elliott lived where Maggie lives now?” Frank asked.

Borders nodded.

“Maggie, you haven't thrown out the trash, have you?"

Maggie shook her head.

“Mr. Borders,” Frank explained. “Maggie found a piece of lead while digging in the flower garden in front of her house. She saved it as a curiosity. I tossed it in the trashcan last night, but I know right where it is."

Borders broke into an uncharacteristically big smile. “All right, young man!” he said. “You go get that slug right now!"

“Where is Sandy?” Maggie asked.

“Inside with Tim,” Borders said as he jerked his head towards the house.

Maggie went in search of Sandra and Tim as Borders mounted the porch steps and faced the crowd of concerned volunteers. “Folks,” he said when a hush descended, “I have bad news. We now have reason to believe someone kidnapped Tim Junior. We think we know who did it and we think we know where Junior is. I thank you all for coming out this afternoon, but there is no longer any need for a search of the Dollars’ farm. I cannot tell you any more right now. Please go about your business and pray for Tim Junior and the law enforcement officers as they search for him."

Tim was sitting on the sofa with his arm around Sandy when Maggie found them in the den. As Maggie told them of the latest development, Sandy clutched Tim Junior's teddy bear more tightly to her chest. “It's not John Baxter's revenge,” Sandra said. “It's God's punishment."

“Sandy,” Maggie said softly as she knelt before her employers’ knees, “God does not cause bad things to happen to good people."

“We're not good people,” Tim said bitterly.

While the other officers headed for Schoolhouse Road, Borders and Cranfield raced to the golf course. They had a clear view of the concession area through the plate glass windows. There were several golfers sitting in the dining area and Louise Donaldson was behind the counter, but there was no sign of Eddie Crow.

“I'm wearing body armor, Borders. Better let me do this alone,” Cranfield said.

“No way, Bud."

“You're retired now, Borders. I give the orders. You stay just inside the door and cover me."

Without waiting for a reply, Cranfield pushed through the plate glass door, his hand on his holstered weapon. He edged along the outside wall and motioned to Louise Donaldson.

“Where's Eddie Crow?” he said quietly when Louise approached him.

“He didn't come in today,” Louise said with a look of disgust on her face. “He called. Said he came down with a bad case of diarrhea and was throwing up."

“Then you think he is at home?"

“Who knows?"

When he was again in his patrol car Cranfield barked into the radio, “Parker, this is Cranfield. Crow didn't show up for work today. Is his truck parked at the house?"

The radio crackled. “Yeah, Bud. It's here. We've got the place surrounded."

“The kid's probably in the basement."

“Doesn't seem to be an outside entrance, but there's a couple of dirty basement windows behind big bushes in back of the house. Anderson got to them, but he can't see anything. The basement's dark."

“Any sign of life inside?"

“No."

“Hang loose ’til I get there."

Cranfield shut off his siren and flashing lights as he passed the Korner Kafe.

“Damn,” Cranfield said as he turned onto Schoolhouse Road and spotted the numerous patrol cars parked in front of the Crow house. “So much for the element of surprise."

He parked his cruiser in the driveway facing the house and dislodged the bullhorn from its holder under the dash. “Get to the rear of the cruiser and stay there,” he instructed Borders.

Cranfield stood behind the open, driver side door and raised the bullhorn to his lips. “Eddie Crow. This is Deputy Detective Bud Cranfield of the Mecklenburg County Sheriff's Department. Your house is completely surrounded. Come out with your hands on top of your head."

There was no response.

“Let the boy go,” Cranfield said, turning up the volume on the bullhorn.

Silence.

Cranfield stepped in front of the cruiser. “Don't make it any worse than it already is, Eddie,” he said through the bullhorn. “Come out with your hands in the air."

The front door swung open, but Eddie remained hidden from view. “I haven't done anything,” Eddie shouted. “I'm sick. I've been at home all day."

“If you haven't done anything then you have nothing to fear. Come out with your hands where we can see them."

A flash of light blinked from the open doorway. The crack of Eddie's rifle seemed instantly echoed by the simultaneous return fire from half a dozen deputies. Cranfield flew back against the grill of the cruiser and slumped to the ground as Eddie Crow's body pitched forward onto the porch. Half of his face was missing.

Deputies stormed the house as Cranfield picked himself up and fingered the hole in his uniform shirt. “Gonna have a hell of a bruise in the morning,” he muttered as Borders approached.

“You're a damn fool, showing yourself like that,” Borders said.

“Only chance we had, Borders,” Cranfield replied. “I had to make myself an easy target before Eddie got the idea of using the boy as a shield."

The two men slowly approached the house. Borders knelt beside the body and checked the neck for a pulse. When he realized Cranfield was staring at him he said, “Making damn sure the bastard's dead."

They moved on into the house, carefully stepping over Eddie's rifle.

A deputy emerged from the kitchen. “He ain't here, Bud."

“What do you mean he isn't here?"

“I mean he ain't here. We've searched the main floor and the basement. The kid just ain't here, but there's a gruesome sight down those steps."

Cranfield descended the basement steps two at a time with Borders following as fast as he could.

“Over here,” a deputy called out.

Cranfield rounded the furnace and gasped as he glimpsed the scene inside Crow's torture chamber. “For God's sake, get her down!” he bellowed as he stared at the motionless form of the nude black woman.

“She's dead, Bud,” the deputy said.

“The hell she is,” he hollered as he rushed to her side and lifted her off the brutal horse. “She's bleeding, so her heart's still beating. Get those damn weights off her ankles."

“Oh, my God!” Borders moaned when he saw the woman.

“Know her?” Cranfield asked.

“Her name's Sewana. She's a waitress at the Korner Kafe."

Leora sat in a porch rocker holding the cordless telephone. Sandra slowly rocked back and forth, still clutching the teddy bear to her chest. A platter of sandwiches Maggie prepared sat, untouched, on an iron table. Frank sat on a porch step staring into the distance. Maggie leaned against a porch support and watched Tim, propped against the porch railing, take a final drag from his cigarette and flip it into the front yard.

All eyes watched the cigarette burn itself out.

“There's nothing you can do here, Frank,” Maggie said. “Why don't you go on with your date."

“Not in the mood,” he replied. “I called June and explained things."

“Looks like they would call and let us know what's happening,” Maggie said.

“Or come in person,” Frank added. “Hell, Mr. Borders was so excited about us finding the slug. You would think he would come and get it."

“I just hope everybody's okay,” Leora said.

Tim lit two cigarettes and handed one to Sandra, who held it absentmindedly in her right hand.