Authors: Jude Pittman
The short walk in the cold night air cleared some of the smoke out of Kelly’s lungs. It had been one hell of a long day and night and he was bone tired. When he reached the cabin and opened the door, Jake, who’d been stretched out on the rug, stood up and wagged a welcome.
“It looks like things have quieted down around here,” Kelly slipped off his jacket and bent down to give the dog a body rub.
Finishing the rubdown, Kelly opened the door to let Jake outside, then glanced across the room and spotted the red light blinking on his answering machine. He walked over, punched the playback button and listened to the tape.
“Got your message, Kelly,” Gus’ voice boomed in his ear. “Angelo’s sounds like a winner. I’ve got a bit of news to pass along but it’ll keep ’til then. I should make it by six but if you get there first, grab a table and order me the large mixed rack. See you then.”
Kelly let Jake back in and the two of them headed toward the bedroom while Kelly mulled over his conversation with Gus. “I wonder if he’s found out who the woman is? Wouldn’t surprise me, knowing Gus.”
Jake flopped down on the rug beside the bed and settled his nose between his paws.
“You’re right, boy,” Kelly said and chuckled at the dog. “It’s time to hit the hay. I’m right behind you.”
When Kelly opened his eyes the next morning, sunlight streamed through the window. He checked his bedside clock. It was eight—two hours past his usual hour for rising—but the flea market was closed, so other than a quick pass of the outbuildings, his time was his own. Stretching, he kicked back the covers and sat on the side of the bed.
“Bit of a nip in the air,” he said to Jake, who had risen from the rug and was giving himself a shake.
Kelly took a shower and made a pot of coffee, then grabbed a notebook and settled down at the kitchen table. Years ago his criminology professor had stressed the importance of getting your facts in order before starting an investigation. Right now, Kelly knew he needed some organization.
He started a timetable, jotting down the names of everybody who’d been in the vicinity of the flea market between midnight and two a.m. Then he tried thinking of a motive for everybody on his list. He started with Cam who owed her money. Frank’s name was next and after staring at the paper for a bit, he settled for cussedness.
By the time Kelly got to Leroy and Marty’s names, he’d already decided the list was a dumb idea but he was determined to finish. After several minutes of gnawing the end of his pencil, he finally skipped their names and moved on to Bubba. The bait-man could have had a couple of motives. Kelly wrote them down. Fish-camp, lover’s quarrel. Then he stopped, read back over what he’d written and shook his head. This wasn’t getting him anywhere.
Dropping his pencil on the table, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “Take care of the place,” he called to Jake. “I’m going to have another talk with Bubba.”
There was always a possibility Bubba had seen something he hadn’t thought to mention. Of course, he’d been drinking whiskey, so he probably wouldn’t remember a Mack truck roaring through the bar. Still, it was worth a try. If nothing else, Kelly could find out what time Bubba and Leroy left the bar.
Bubba was running around filling bait cans and handing out tackle to a group of fishermen. Kelly caught his attention, nodded toward the picnic table indicating he wanted a chat, then grabbed a cola from the machine and settled down to wait.
September was winding down and an early frost had dappled the creek with signs of fall. The leaves on the poplar trees were tinged yellow and the marsh grasses were more gold than green. There was a nip in the air, even with the sun shining and Kelly had his windbreaker zipped.
Sitting there, watching ripples lap against the creek bank, Kelly’s thoughts drifted back on his time at Indian Creek. Five years ago when he’d come here he’d been seeking a place to hide and heal his wounds. He hadn’t planned to stay more than a year or two but time had passed and now he couldn’t imagine any other way of life.
Lynda would’ve loved it down here. She’d always wanted them to move into a little house in the country where they could have a fenced yard and a couple of kids running around. Kelly had called it her picket fence syndrome. If only he’d taken her seriously and moved her out of the city before that awful night when the bikers, armed with whiskey bottles rigged into Molotov cocktails, had started the fire that took her life.
“Hey, what’s up?” Bubba’s voice broke through Kelly’s dark thoughts.
“Hi, Bubba.” Kelly pulled himself back to the present. “I’m trying to work out a timetable of where everybody was Saturday night. You know, sort of figure out if anyone could’ve seen something that might give me a lead to Anna’s killer.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean. Don’t know as I can help much though. Fact is, after Anna left, I kinda petered out myself. Leroy and I had another drink, then I told him to keep the bottle and I packed it in for the night.”
“So you left about ten or fifteen minutes after Anna and Cam went out?”
“Yep. It couldn’t have been more than that because they were still on the road arguing when I got outside. Fact is I avoided them because I didn’t want to get involved in their argument. I cut down the path and came out up by the bridge.”
“So you actually crossed the bridge before Anna and Cam ever got there?”
“Yep. Like I said, Anna was really riled about something. I figgered if she seen me, she’d give me another ration of shit.”
“When you were going across the bridge did you see any sign of Frank Perkins?”
“Nope. There wasn’t anybody around. Everything was shut down. It was dark and raining like hell.”
“So you went directly to your cabin and didn’t see or hear anyone?”
“Hey, I said I did, didn’t I? Isn’t my word good enough for you?”
Kelly shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that, Bubba. I was just making sure you didn’t accidentally leave anything out.”
“I isn’t left nothin’ out.” Bubba’s voice was sulky and he seemed agitated.
Kelly stared at the bait man, who kept fidgeting with his hat and avoiding eye contact. Finally, after several moments of avoiding Kelly’s scrutiny, Bubba darted a glance at his face.
“You know how I felt about Anna,” he muttered. “I ain’t likely to forget something that would help find her killer.”
“I know you’re not.” Kelly grinned to lighten the atmosphere. “I just wanted to get the times straight and I knew you’d help as much as you could.”
Bubba scuffed the ground with his boot. “Well, I better get back to the shop then.” He kept his head down, still avoiding Kelly’s eyes. “This weather’s bringing them out in droves. I ain’t had ten minutes to myself.”
Kelly frowned as he watched Bubba walking back to the bait house. Bubba is hiding something. It probably didn’t have anything to do with Anna’s death but that something was sure giving the bait man a case of the guilts. Bubba looked back, spotted Kelly watching him and quickly turned away. Kelly shook his head. Bubba sure was acting strange. Maybe Leroy knew what he’d gotten in his craw.
Leroy wasn’t hard to track down. Kelly found him sitting in the Hideaway talking to Darlene, just like he did every other day of the week but questioning him turned out to be useless. Leroy hadn’t a clue what went on Saturday night.
“Isn’t no use asking him.” Darlene leaned over the bar to join the conversation. “He was three sheets to the wind long before midnight.”
Leroy grinned sheepishly and nodded his head.
“Ask Cam,” Darlene continued. “He practically had to carry Leroy out to the storage shed.”
Kelly smiled. Cam had a rule that if anybody got too drunk, they went to the cot out in the storage shed and slept if off. Leroy spent more time on the cot there than he did in his own bed.
Darlene gave Kelly the names of a few stragglers who’d been in the bar at closing but there weren’t many. Most of the crowd had moved on or gone home long before two o’clock.
Cam
came in while they were talking.
“How’s it going?” He nodded at Kelly.
“Okay. I’m finding out a few things but it’s tough.”
“God, what a mess,” Cam said as he filled a couple of mugs with coffee and handed one across the bar to Kelly.
“Thanks.” Kelly took the mug.
Cam
came around the bar and straddled a stool. “I called Bill Shipton like you said and he set up a meeting with Detective Graham.” Cam took a swig of coffee and sighed clear down to his boots. “Bill agrees with you that it’ll be best if I tell them about last night before they dig it up. He figures they’ll hold me.”
Kelly nodded. “He’s probably right. But hey, you expected that. I’m meeting Gus tonight and I’ll try to find out where he stands.”
“Thanks, Kelly. At least knowing you’re digging into it gives me something to hope for.”
Kelly finished his coffee, wished Cam luck with the cops and headed back to his cabin.
Kelly stepped onto the porch where Jake was basking in the sun. “It looks like you’ve got more smarts than I have. For all I’ve found out today, I might as well have stuck with you and caught myself some rays.”
For dinner, Kelly dug a sack of frozen tamales out of the freezer and sliced a couple of tomatoes. He perched the plate on his lap and ate while watching the evening news. There’d been a fire at the Stockyards Hotel and some idiot in Dallas was holding a couple of clerks hostage in a 7-Eleven. They’d been the main events and coverage of Anna’s murder had consisted of a wide-angle shot of the flea market accompanied by a brief interview with the sheriff. He’d summarized the facts, speculated that the motive might have been robbery and assured the public the police were questioning a number of suspects.
Kelly sighed. They were questioning suspects all right and once Cam gave his statement, he’d be at the top of their list.
The phone rang and Kelly reached for it. “Hello.”
“Is this Kelly McWinter?”
“Yes, it is. What can I do for you?”
“I heard you was askin’ if anybody’d seen a stranger hangin’ around on Saturday night.”
Kelly jerked forward in his chair. The man’s voice was muffled, as if the mouthpiece had been covered with a handkerchief. “I’m listening,” Kelly said, keeping his voice steady.
“I saw some guy scopin’ out the flea market along about midnight. You interested?”
“Damn straight I’m interested. Have you called the cops?”
“Ain’t having nuthin’ to do with no cops. If that’s what you figger, I guess I’ll be gettin’ off the phone.” The voice was agitated.
“Take it easy.” Kelly attempted to calm him down. “I was just asking the obvious question. What can you tell me about this guy? Did you recognize him?”
“Nope. Can’t tell ya’ll nuthin’ about him. I got his license number though.” From the sound of the guy’s voice, he was getting a real kick out of his chance to play James Bond.
“Good job.” Kelly pulled a pen out of his pocket and reached for the notebook he kept beside the telephone. “What’s the number?”
“You gonna check it out yourself?”
“Of course,” Kelly lied.
“Okay. It’s LQY-464.”
“Got it. How can I get hold of you?”
“You can’t.” There was a click and the phone went dead.
Kelly tapped the cradle, got a tone and dialed Gus’ home number. The caller might be a crank but if he was on the level, it could be a break for Cam.