An Unmarked Grave (10 page)

I stared at the receiver after I hung up, wondering just
how many rocks Vanessa Chester had had to turn over before finding this particular snake. I moved her to the top of
my suspect list.

That night, I booted up my computer and went online with
Eddie Dyson, my savior on more occasions than I could remember.

At one time Austin's resident stool pigeon, Eddie Dyson had become a computer whiz and wildly successful entrepreneur.

I've always heard that all one must do to be successful in
life is to find his niche. Well, instead of in sleazy bars and
greasy money, Eddie discovered his niche for snitching in
the bright glow of computers. Any information I couldn't
find, he could. There were only two catches if you dealt
with Eddie. First, you never asked him how he did it, and
second, he only accepted VISA credit cards for payment.

I never asked Eddie why he only accepted VISA. Seems
like any credit card would be sufficient, but, considering
the value of his services, I never posed the question. As far
as I was concerned, if he wanted to be paid in Japanese
yen, I'd pack up a bushel and send it to him.

Failure was not in his vocabulary. His services did not
come cheaply, but he produced. And in my business, usually the end is indeed worth the means.

I was hoping it would be this time. I wanted background
information on all three of the Chesters.

Sometimes my boss, Marty, frustrates me, but he is an experienced PI, and his ever-present caution to "mistrust everyone" has proven more than once to be an unimpeachable
tenet of our business.

The next day, just after lunch, Eddie responded to my
queries.

Usually his information provides details that point me in
the direction of the guilt of a particular individual, but this
time, all three of the subjects had motives for wanting to
see Justin dead.

Money.

I rolled my eyes. What else?

Frank, while sitting on about a $30,000,000 business,
not counting his inheritance, was in hock up to twice that
amount.

Vanessa Chester was down to her last hundred thousand,
with bills three times that much coming due.

And not to leave Tricia Chester out, she not only was
broke, but three banks were carrying her personal notes in
the amount of $800,000.

Whistling softly, I shook my head. Old man Chester had
kicked off just in time.

I dug deeply into the Chesters' backgrounds. I asked
Danny to see what he could learn through his channels. He
found nothing, which in turn just about convinced me that
if any of the Chesters were involved in Justin's death, Vanessa
was the most likely.

Taggart had not located Justin in Elysian Hills the first
time, but Vanessa had known that Justin was returning to
the hamlet. She could have sent Taggart after him.

I pointed out the flaws in my theory to myself. Vanessa
never left Austin, and I was certain Taggart would have
an ironclad alibi for his whereabouts at the time of Justin's
death. Besides, why take a chance for only three million
when you had just come into ten?

Obviously, avarice, greed, gluttony.

Talk about divine intervention. Well, not exactly divine.
Mobster is probably a better adjective, for at that moment
the telephone rang. It was Danny. "What day did you say
that Chester dude got himself killed?"

"November 28. The pickup wrecked about eight or eightthirty that night"

He grunted. "I thought that's what you had told me. Well,
I'm afraid I've got some unpleasant news for you, Tony. Two
of my boys were celebrating Red Davis' birthday at The Red
Rooster down on Sixth Street that night. Our friend Taggart
was there until closing time."

I felt as if someone had kicked me in the face. So much
for my Vanessa theory. "You're certain?"

"Yep. These are two of my best boys. Hardly drink. If
they say Taggart was there, he was there"

"Okay, Danny. Thanks. See you when I get back"

"Anytime. But look, you be careful up there. Maybe I
ought to send one of my boys with you"

"Thanks, but no, thanks"

"I think I should. I got one of those feelings"

I laughed. "Probably gas. Thanks anyway."

He chuckled. "Probably."

To my frustration, I had been unable to find any ominous
connection between the siblings and Justin. I had called
every snitch, every goon I knew, and nothing was floating
about. Who else would have a reason to kill him?

No one.

I was puzzled as to my next step. I felt I was overlooking
something, but what?

The human brain is an amazing device of which only a
small percentage is truly utilized. It assimilates and synthesizes in ways we have yet to comprehend. That capability
was demonstrated to me that evening.

That night, December 7, I watched a documentary on the
bombing of Pearl Harbor. According to the commentator,
one of the tactical ploys of the Japanese attack was to hope that the Americans believed the incoming aircraft were
their own.

That stuck with me. Their own. Then a crazy idea popped
into my head.

"Maybe," I muttered, staring at the TV, "maybe the killer
isn't from Austin, like Tricia thought, but from Elysian
Hills" I knew I was reaching, but if Justin had been murdered, and if his brothers and sisters were not involved,
then the answer had to be in Elysian Hills.

Closing my eyes and leaning back, I shook my head. "No.
That's impossible" What in a small, backwoods community
like Elysian Hills could precipitate murder?

Then another idea struck me. Why couldn't Justin have
been drinking? When he talked to me, he was excited about
some of the evidence he had uncovered. Why couldn't he
have had his own little celebration despite his feelings about
drinking? Hey, we all backslide.

Next morning, I called Tricia to inform her I was pulling
out for Elysian Hills to pick up her brother's belongings. I
added, "It looks like your fears concerning your brother
and sister are unfounded"

In a puzzled tone, she replied, "But what about the man
at the barbeque place?"

I had expected her to ask that question, so I told her what
I surmised. "Obviously, Vanessa wanted to know what you
were up to. His name is Taggart, by the way" I paused,
then continued. "At first, I thought there might be a connection, but I have definite proof that Taggart was in Austin the
night your brother had his accident. He could not have been
in Elysian Hills"

She paused, then replied, "I'm really confused now"

With a chuckle, I replied, "Maybe you ought to ask
Vanessa to straighten you out."

To my surprise, Tricia replied, "I might do that very thing,
although I still don't trust her. I still don't know how she
found out I was meeting you at the County Line."

I chuckled. "Ask your maid."

he weather grew colder the farther north I drove.

During the drive to Elysian Hills, I replayed all I knew
about Justin Chester. In a way, I felt guilty. If I had never located him, the poor guy might still be alive. From what I had
seen, he was as content as a new kitten with his janitor's
salary and his room behind the museum and his mission
to discover the spaceman. I couldn't help remembering
Narelle's wisecrack at the bar back in San Antonio. "Some
guys have all the luck."

Some luck!

By the time I reached the small community, I had convinced myself-probably because that's what I wanted to
believe-that the wreck was exactly what the justice of the
peace had ruled, an accident caused by an inebriated driver.
But that posed another question. Was Justin's discovery exciting enough to coax him into taking a drink, even though, according to him, alcohol made him sick? I shook my head.
It was times like this that I wished I were smarter.

Despite the sunshine, the day was brittle cold with a chilling wind sweeping down across the prairie, cutting clean to
the bone.

Sheriff Gus Perry looked up at me in surprise when I entered. He snorted. "Heard you was coming up" He grinned
apologetically. "Sorry I wasn't more help when you first
got here. I didn't recognize the picture, and I'd never heard
his name. Most around here called him UFO"

I shrugged. "No problem. I'm here to pick up Justin's belongings, all his stuff."

He pushed back from his desk. "Then I got something
for you" Opening the top drawer of the file cabinet behind
his desk, he pulled out a small accordion folder and handed
it to me. "This is all the stuff that was in his pickup" A
crooked grin played over his rugged face. "I left the empty
bourbon bottle on the floorboard. Didn't figure the family
would appreciate it." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
"The rest of his stuff is out at his room at the museum" He
shook his head and grunted. "Living in a dump like that after coming into all that money. It don't make sense"

I could see no reason to try to explain Justin Chester to
the sheriff. I agreed. "No sense at all, Sheriff. Did anyone
see the wreck?" He frowned, and I explained. "The report
you and the JP filed was very thorough" A smug grin played
over his lips as I added, "His family appreciated it, but they
asked me to see if I could find out anything else. You know,
maybe who found him, that sort of thing. Personally, I don't think I would want to know, but-" I gave an indifferent
shrug. "But you know how it is"

I suppressed a sigh of relief when he nodded.

"Yeah? Well, if that's what they want. It was old Buck
Ford who called me. I'd gone home a couple hours early to
tend to a sick heifer. He's the one what found Chester.
Seems the man lost control of his old Ford pickup on Cemetery Road. Bounced off a tree and rolled down into a gully.
The JP, George McDaniel-he runs the feed store up the
road-well, he said Chester was drunk" He wrinkled his
nose. "Smelled like a still in the pickup"

"He, uh, have any sobriety tests run?"

Perry shrugged. "No need. It was obvious."

I had to remind myself I was in the middle of good-oldboy country. They approached just about everything much
more casually than did the boys in Austin. "This Buck Ford.
He live close by?"

The sheriff hesitated a moment before replying. "First
road past Hooker's. Take a right. His is the first place you
see, about half a mile up" He paused and chuckled. "It's
the only place on the road"

"Thanks" I paused and nodded in the direction of the
UFO museum. "Justin was pretty deep into that UFO stuff,
wasn't he?"

Perry eyed me suspiciously. "Like I told you before. That's
all it was, just stuff and nonsense. It was all one big hoax.
Everyone knows it." He rose and headed for the coffeepot.
"Care for a cup? This time of day, I need a pick-me-up."

"Might as well"

He set out an extra cup. "Sugar and cream if you want it." He poured two cups and continued. "I didn't know
UFO-I mean, Chester-all that good. He was a strange
bird, but maybe if he hadn't took that UFO nonsense so serious, he'd still be alive. I tried to convince him, but he paid
me no mind"

The coffee was strong, almost as strong as the brew served
back in Louisiana. "Did he ever tell you what he was looking
for?"

"Some. He was convinced the hoax really happened. That
it wasn't no hoax"

I knew the story, but the sheriff seemed to be loosening
up. I cleared my throat. "I never heard it all, just the bits and
pieces Justin told me on the way back to Austin last month"

He sipped his coffee and fished a cigarette from his pocket.
He offered me one, but I declined. "Gave it up years ago"

Perry grinned ruefully, the freckles on his face all scrunching together. "Wish I could. Bad for a feller." He touched
a match to his cigarette. "Nothing to the story. Like I said,
it's one big hoax" He chuckled. "Even got some newspaper
coverage. But that's all it was, just a hoax"

"Newspaper coverage, huh?"

He nodded emphatically. "Yep. Dallas Morning Telegram. Got a bunch of write-ups for a month or so until it
sort of died out. About fifty years later, it popped up again.
Well, the mayor at the time, Jim Bob Houston, whose pa
had been one of them what made it all up to begin with,
wrote the Dallas paper a letter telling them about the hoax.
In fact, Mabel Hooker over at the gas station has the letter
framed on her wall. It's right next to the original newspaper
article. We get a big kick out of them"