Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel (48 page)

Lester blinked his eyes. “Since when you start gettin’ all legal on me?”

“Since we might be close to finding out what really happened to Melissa
, that’s when
.”

The
S
heriff scratched the back of
his
head “I suppose you got a point but just how do you propose I get any information out of this kid if I can’t ask him any questions.”

“There might be a way around it. I thought you should know before we go any further with this. I was reading about a case on the Internet a
while back, similar to what we got here. It had something do with what the courts called a
rescue doctrine
. It basically said that if there is imminent need to save a human life, the rescue doctrine can be argued as an exception to the Miranda rule. Since we don’t really know if Melissa is alive or dead, well…”

“You found this on the Internet?”

Billy Ray shrugged. “Well, yeah. I read about Oklahoma law whenever I can. I don’t want to be a deputy all my life you know. I just might take your job one of these days.”

Lester grinned. “Fine with me boy, I’ll even vote for ya.”

*****

It was a completely different set of conditions from an hour ago when Boomer was in the familiar surroundings of his own bedroom and holding a gun.
Sixty minutes
ago, he
was the one in charge. But, here, in the cell, the Sheriff’s voice had lost its good-old-boy, I’m-just-like-your-grandpa, tone. Instead, a lawman with a hard face and a stained cowboy hat stood over Boomer like he’d just roped a calf and was about to hog-tie him.

“Son, I’m gonna tell you that we are recording this conversation, just so you know.”

Billy Ray pushed a button on a black box he’d brought from the office.

“Now, my deputy and I made a long drive to Oklahoma City yesterday. Would you like to know why?”

“My dad
told me
not to say anything
,
”
Boomer replied.

“Well your daddy ain’t here now. It’s just you and me and Deputy Ledbetter here. You can say anything you want. Understand?”

Boomer slumped and looked at the concrete floor.

Lester said, “We went to Okie City to see a friend of yours at the OU Medical Center. I believe he’s on your football team, a boy by the name of Carlos Sanchez. You do know Carlos
,
don’t you
,
Boomer?”

Lester waited a second for a confirmation, didn’t get it, but continued anyway.

“Carlos had an automobile accident and was in a coma up until yesterday morning. He hit a deer, racked him up pretty bad. Did you know anything about that?”

Lester moved closer, leaned down, and lowered his voice. “Son, you’re in enough trouble already. Don’t make it any worse. You need to talk to me. You’re in over your head here. Mr. Sanchez tells me that you were the last person to see Melissa Parker alive.
He said you left the Pirate’s Den last Thursday night with Melissa in your car. She’s been missing ever since. I’m going to find that girl
,
Boomer, dead or alive, and I’m going to stay on your ass until you tell me what happened that night. Got it?”

“I want to call my dad.”

“
DID YOU KILL HER
?”
Lester shouted.

“No!”

Lester straightened, felt the
old familiar
twinge of
chronic pain in his lower back and stretched, hoping for a little relief. A wooden straight back chair sat just inside the short hallway and Lester drug it to the cell, turned it backward, sat down with a plop, and folded his arms across the back.

After a few minutes of intense staring, “Do you want to be called
Greg or Boomer?” Lester asked
, his voice now soft.

The boy interrupted his study of the floor and looked up. “I like Greg. It’s my dad that wanted to call me Boomer. Stupid name if you ask me. I hated it but it stuck.”

“Okay, Greg. Tell me what happened after Melissa got in your car that night.”

“Can’t. Can’t do that,” Greg
moaned
, his eyes back on the floor.

“Did something bad happen Greg
,
something
you didn’t intend
? Did
things g
e
t out of hand?”

The talented young quarterback drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Almost imperceptibly, his head nodded once, then again.

“Did you two
have an argument?” Lester aske
d.
“Did it get physical?”

“We… uh, oh hell. Damn it
!
D
amn it
! D
amn it
!
I was drunk. So was she. Bad drunk, we all were. It
should have never
happened. I’m so sorry. Oh Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“Go on
,
son.” Lester said.

Silence; broken only by a noisy truck with a bad muffler headed home on 412.
A telephone from some policeman’s desk buzzed, unanswered.
Three or four minutes passed before Lester turned to Billy Ray who pointed at his watch. The unspoken message:
Not much time before a lawyer gets here.
Lester shrugged.
What else can I do?

Chapter 39

Across town, attorney
-a
t
-
law John
R. Masters was holding the phone a good two inches from his ear while Big Bill Kingston ranted.

“Johnny, quit arguing with me and get your ass down to the courthouse right this fucking minute
!
Did you not hear me say that our goofy Sheriff has my son Boomer in jail? What part of jail don’t you understand? What the hell is your problem?”

Lawyer Masters was not accustomed to bearing the brunt of such a tirade.
Under normal circumstances and had he not needed the business, would have told Big Bill to take his problems elsewhere.
Truth
was, other than a few property disputes and a speeder or two waiting to plead not guilty to traffic tickets and keeping the violation off their insurance, John Masters, despite being the only lawyer in Cimarron County, wasn’t all that busy and needed the work.

“Big Bill, you know I don’t do criminal law. If it’s serious, and your tone of voice tells me that it is, you should call
over to
Enid or better yet Oklahoma City. What exactly is our quarterback in jail for? He steal a six pack of beer from the
Merry Mart
or something evil like that?”

Kingston’s voice grew even louder causing Masters to wince at the volume blasting through the earpiece.

“You don’t
need
to know what he’s in for. All you got to do is go down there, announce that
my
kid has a lawyer, and tell that little shit to keep his mouth shut.”

“Boomer’s too big a boy to be calling him a little shit don’t you think
,
Bill?”

“Goddamn it, Johnny
! A
re you gonna help me out here or not?”

“Yes, Bill. I’ll go down to the courthouse
, let the authorities know your son has a lawyer,
and talk to Boomer. But like I said, if it’s as grim as I think it might be, you would be wise to call in the big guns. I’ll dig around and get you a couple names, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just do it and do it now
!
” A click followed.

Masters looked at the phone. “Jerk!” he said aloud and hung up. The lawyer reached for his suit coat, thought better of it, and ambled back to his den and the well-stocked bar he kept there. He poured a glass half-full of Jack Daniels—no ice—sat back in his leather chair, put his feet up, and took a sip.

“Screw Big Bill and the dusty horse he rode in on. Him and his hotshot son can wait.” Another sip and John felt the problems of the day soften a little. “Wonder what that boy has done to get old Bill all fired up like that?” he said. The lawyer laid his head back and closed his eyes.

*****

Greg Boomer Kingston spoke without looking up. “Sanchez was drunk on his ass, passed out on that raggedy old couch. The girl, Melissa, and hey, I hardly knew her, she was staggering around, laughing too loud, smashed out of her mind. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t used to drinking the hard stuff, especially that damn tequila. I hate it when girls get sloppy drunk. Man, she was embarrassing. I decided it was time to take her home and tried to rouse Carlos but he didn’t so much as wiggle, so I piled her in the Mustang and took off. I told her she’d have to give me directions, but she was so wasted…we drove right by her turnoff and she didn’t even notice.

We kept driving,
three, four
miles, maybe more
, and I’m about to decide there’s no way she could have walked that far and I’m getting pissed. One minute she’s singing
Me and Bobby McGee
at the top of her lungs and the next minute she’s bawling about something and mumbling about her no good daddy. I keep as
king if we’re getting close yet
. F
inally she looks around with this blank look on her face and says nothing looks familiar and she doesn’t know where the hell we are
.
I can tell she’s about to crash and burn. About then, I come up on this old house place, an abandoned farm that my father owns.
He took me out there once, showed me the land. Said he had big plans for it someday. Something to do with horses or cows, I don’t remember.
He
told me he’d
bought it cheap from
some
old man that couldn’t make a go of
farming
it
.
You guys might know
of
it
, has a
little house
on it,
boarded up and the floors are rotted through. Any strong wind could blow it over. Got one little tin shed still standing. Ya’ll seen it?”

Billy Ray and Lester looked at each other. Both shook their heads.

“So I pull
onto the property
and start to turn around and by now Melissa is leaning against my shoulder, her long hair hanging down my
chest
. She was wearing this little ol’ skirt, so short it almost showed her monkey. I just did what any red-blooded boy would do;
turned the motor off and eased
my hand up her dress. She didn’t say anything or move my hand or nothin’. Looked to me like she was ready to play.”

Lester’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying Greg, that she told you that she wanted to have sex?”

“Well not exactly in those words but…she didn’t say no either.”

“Then what happened?”

Greg took another breath.

“So I got out of the
car
and went around to her side and opened the door. I swung her legs out and
pulled her panties off
. That was when
she got all crazy with me, beating on my head and chest, kickin’. Started yellin’ and carryin’ on.

“Uh huh,” Lester said. “Did you hit her?”

“
I might have slapped her once
. God, she was squealin’ like a pig caught under a gate. Hurt my ears.”

“And?”

“And I pulled her out
, g
ot
her
on the groun
d
, and spread her
. But she kept on yelling and trying to kick me in the balls. I don’t
know
why she was fighting so hard. She’s just a silly ass cheerleader for God’s sake. I done busted the cherry on a couple of those bitches already. They left with a smile on their face, but not this one.
She wanted
to make a big deal out of it. Made me mad.”

Lester asked “What happened then.”

“
Nothin
, absolutely nothin
’.
Like I said, she pissed me off.
That was it.
She had her chance.
I
don’t
need that kind of crap. There
’s
lots of girls
around
that
like
nothin’ better than puttin’
out
for
the
quarterback.
”

“So
? I
s that when you took her home?”

“Hell no.
I left her there. I figured if she could walk to the bar, she could walk home.”