The Blight Way (17 page)

“You think Vern might have kilt those fellas!” Batim burst out in a cackling laugh.

“No, I don't think Vern killed them. I just thought you might know something, and that for once in your life you might be of a little help to the law.”

“I appreciate that, Bo, I really do. But Vern Littlefield and me ain't exactly buddies. He has been acting a little strange, though. That expensive bull of his, for example. It jumps the fence onto my property and he don't even bother to come over and get it. Now the dang beast has run off again. Probably it's halfway to Denver by now.”

“I bet it is.”

“I sent the boys out to look for it, so they could return it to Littlefield, but you know how boys are.”

“I've got a lot more to worry about now than Little-field's bull. Or yours either, for that matter. When was the last time you talked to Vern?”

“I don't think we've actually talked since about 1956, but I did say howdy to him a week or so ago. He had those city folks with him.”

“What did the city folk look like?”

“Two guys in their mid-thirties or so, maybe forty. Vern's apparently got some business going with them. They live out at his ranch.”

“Yes, probably the same two I met at his house the other day.”

“I expect so.” Batim threw another handful of grain out to the chickens.

“I hear your boys are doing pretty well for themselves.”

“How's that?”

“They've got more money than usual.”

“Shoot, I'd have more money, too, if I lived off my pa all the time. The boys drive off in one of my pickups occasionally. Maybe they're robbing banks. They're out most every night, but they was home the night those fellas got killed. I don't know what they do when they're out. They get cross if I ask too many questions, and it don't pay to get them two fellas riled. You want to arrest them, Bo, be my guest. You'd be doing me a favor.”

“It isn't against the law to be mean and nasty. I wish it was, but it isn't.”

“You want to take a look around, help yourself.”

“I don't think so. Besides, I thought the boys were away.”

“Yup, they is. They took my cattle truck. I guess they figured that if they found the bull, they could haul it back to Vern.”

“They're such good boys.”

“Ain't they?”

“By the way, do you happen to have any ATVs?”

“Of course I do. Got three four-wheelers. Everybody in Blight County has an ATV, I imagine. We use 'em for hunting and things like that. Why, you interested in buying one? I could let you have it real cheap. Hardly been used.”

“Sorry, not today, Batim. I've been thinking I should get one, though, just for show. Blight County folks have been looking at me a little odd lately, and I imagine that's why, my not having an ATV.”

“It's more likely them pitchers you paint.”

“That, too.”

Chapter 30

Tully got to Dave's House of Fry a little before noon. Dave was seated with Pap and Buck at the usual table.

“What's good?” Tully said as he walked up.

“Everything,” Dave said. “Business gets any better I may give up on my casino idea.”

“I'd recommend the chicken-fried steak again,” Pap said. “It'll probably kill you but not right away.”

Deedee came over to take his order. “Thanks for what you did the other day, Sheriff. That was nice.”

“Anytime, Deedee.”

“You're a real gentleman, Bo. If there's anything I can ever do for you, just let me know, okay?”

“Sure,” Tully said. “For right now, though, how about bringing me anything but one of those chicken-fried steaks?”

“How about a fried chicken breast?”

“Perfect.”

“The cook fries them in half grease, half butter.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“It will be on the house, too.”

“Thanks a lot, Deedee!” Dave said. “Now I got my waitresses giving away food. No wonder the place is packed.”

Tully smiled. “I appreciate Deedee's generosity, but you can put all our meals on the county tab.”

“Good,” Dave said. “I planned to, anyway.”

Pap and Buck were digging into their chicken-frieds with all the gusto of persons on the brink of starvation. Tully studied them silently for a few moments. When he looked up, Dave was watching him and smiling.

“You should feed these boys more often, Bo.”

“I suppose,” Tully said, “but I'd kind of like to lean them down a bit.”

“Ha!” Pap said. “I weigh exactly the same as I did in high school—one sixty-five.”

They looked at Buck. He shook his head in refusal to comment on his weight.

Pap wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You ever hear anything from Paul Cooper at Central Electric, Bo? Besides fishing?”

“Yeah, I got some interesting information. Back during one of the country's fuel shortages—I think it was back in the seventies—Congress passed a law that said the electric utility companies had to buy any power produced by private dams, solar panels, windmill farms and whatever. When Vern and his dad heard that, they went out and dammed up Last Hope Creek, one of half a dozen streams that run down out of the Hoodoos and through their property. He hooked up a generator—don't
ask me how, but Vern can do practically anything mechanical—and started selling electricity.”

“I guess it didn't pan out for him,” Dave said.

“Oh, he has had some good years,” Bo said. “In a normal year, with the usual amount of rain and snow, he could make a hundred thousand off the dam.”

Buck almost choked on his last mouthful of chicken-fried steak. “A hundred thousand!”

“Sounds like a lot to us poor working stiffs, doesn't it, Buck? But to Vern it was little more than a hobby.”

“Yeah,” Pap said, “I expect any year he didn't take in at least half a million on the ranch, he was slipping farther down the drain.”

“Well, maybe he'll do better on his grapes and winery,” Buck said. “At least grapes don't eat.”

“Or jump fences,” Tully added.

Chapter 31

As they were leaving the restaurant, Tully pulled Dave aside. “I need your services again.”

“Same rate of pay?”

“Yeah.”

“I may have to open that casino after all.”

“See, Dave, I've got this theory that the three dead guys were set up by someone riding in the right rear seat. When the car came up to the berm, one shooter opened up on the front seat. The second shooter hesitated a couple of seconds to let the person in the right rear seat jump out. That hesitation gave Holt, the fellow who made it to Batim's fence, time enough to get out the left rear door. He had his gun out and was shooting wildly. That pool of blood we found back in the woods could mean he may have hit somebody standing back there, maybe not another shooter but an observer. I've got a bad feeling that person was Vern Littlefield. He
supposedly went off to his elk camp that night, but I suspect he didn't.”

Dave peeled the foil off a stick of Doublemint gum, wadded it up, poked it into his mouth and began to chew. “Cindy had me go up to Vern's hunting camp and look for him, but all I found was his pickup truck. No Vern. There weren't any signs he had even been there. I did have a problem figuring out how Holt could have got out of the car alive with all those bullets ripping through it. But you're saying the rear seat wasn't shot up until Holt was out of the car?”

“That's what I'm saying. We didn't find any shell casings from Holt's gun. So maybe he was using a revolver. Or maybe one of the shooters picked up the casings afterwards. I suspect it was just a matter of chance his random shooting connected with the person in the woods. But what I want you to do is go out to the scene and see if you can find any trees he might have hit. Maybe we can retrieve some of the slugs. If we do, that will help prove my theory.”

“Phew!” Dave said. “This is a tough one. A bullet in a tree!”

“Do what you can.”

“So where do you want to meet? You could have supper back at the restaurant?”

“No, I've brought some steaks and potatoes and stuff, and we're going to camp out up along the river. You're welcome to join us. I suspect there will be some sipping of whiskey around the campfire.”

“Sounds good. But I don't think my old back is up to
sleeping on the ground. What do Pap and Buck think of your little plan?”

“I haven't told them.”

“I didn't think so.”

Chapter 32

“We're gonna do what?” Pap shouted.

They were sitting around in chairs back at Ed's gas station. Ed was out front servicing a car.

“I knew you'd like it,” Tully said.

“Nights get down to freezing,” Buck said. “I've got some big tarps, three good sleeping bags and a bunch of food in the back of my rig,” Tully said. “Plus a fifth of Bushmills to keep us warm. Of course, we could always go stay at the hotel.”

“I ain't never going back to that hotel,” Buck said. “I don't care what nobody says, the place is haunted.”

Pap started rolling himself a cigarette. “You ever figure out who you jumped in the hotel, Bo?”

“Not for sure. I think it was Lem Scragg, though.”

Pap paused in the act of licking his cigarette paper. “Lem Scragg! What would he be up there for? Figuring on killing us?”

“I don't think so. He seemed startled to find anybody else in the hotel.”

“How about all the ghosts I saw coming down from the cemetery?” Buck said. “How about them?”

“There weren't any ghosts!” Tully said. “You dreamed them!”

“They looked real enough to me. Gives me the creeps just thinking about 'em.”

Ed came in wiping his hands on a rag. “What secrets you boys passing behind my back?”

“No secrets,” Bo said. “I was just telling Pap and Buck my plan for us to camp out up along the river.”

“Getting mighty cold these nights for camping out,” Ed said.

“You hear that, Bo?” Buck said. “Even Ed thinks it's too cold to be camping out.”

“You ever see such a bunch of pantywaists in your life, Ed? No, we're going to camp out, and that's the end of it.”

“You change your mind, Sheriff, I think me and my wife could manage to put you up at the house.”

“Appreciate the offer, Ed, but the fellas and I are going to camp out. I don't want to drag you any further into this investigation than is necessary.”

“May already be too late, Bo. This station used to be the main communication center for Famine. Now all the gossip has suddenly all dried up. I haven't picked up a single juicy rumor all week. Maybe it's just my imagination, but it seems like the whole town is afraid something real bad is about to happen.”

“Something real bad has already happened,” Tully said. “We've got three men shot to death.”

Pap lit his cigarette. “You know, that was my impression, too, while Buck and me was out canvassing the town.” He picked a speck of tobacco off his tongue. “It seemed as if these people were scared to death of something, afraid anything they might say could get them involved in whatever this is. We didn't find a single person who claimed to know anything, did we, Buck?”