Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel (51 page)

“We will,” the woman assured him.

Doors slammed and moments later
,
in the midst of more flashing lights and another siren,
Melissa was
gone.

Lester and Billy Ray stood in the parking lot, each with their thoughts, as the ambulance blared into the distance. When the siren faded out, Billy Ray said, “You realize don’t you, when Melissa comes out of this, the first thing she’s gonna ask for is her mama.

“I know.”

Nothing more was said for a while. A couple of cars went by, one was speeding until the driver noticed the star on the side of Lester’s pickup, and hit his brakes. The sky turned orange, then purple-gray. There were no clouds and no chance of rain in the forecast.

The Sheriff walked off to be by himself. He kicked a few rocks, occasionally picking one up and tossing it at a fence post
,
but mostly he stood with his hands in his back pockets, watching what was left of the sunset. Billy Ray was content to stay near the truck, leaning against the door, feeling good at having found Melissa alive. Greg Kingston didn’t know what the hell everybody was waiting on, but was in no hurry to go back to jail and said nothing. Lester made a complete circle of the lot and came back to the truck.

“B.R., I’d like you to call Dora and Becky Wilson, fill them in on what’s happened, and ask them to meet you at the hospital. Mrs. Wilson knew the Parkers and she seem
s
like a level head to me.
Melissa needs to hear the news about her parents from someone she knows. Becky being there will help.”

“Sure, but what are you going to do?” Billy Ray asked.

Lester hesitated.
“I’m not sure yet. I need to think on it some more.”

*****

Back at the courthouse, the Sheriff said, “Billy Ray, take the sedan to the hospital while I check young Mr. Kingston here into the crossbar hotel. Give me a report after the doctors look at Melissa if you would.”

Billy Ray nodded and drove away. Lester took Greg by his throwing arm. “You come with me.” As they entered the building, a uniformed policeman approached. “Sheriff, there was a guy here a little earlier that was looking for you.
Demanded to see his son
. That the boy there?”

“It is.”

“Well, the man seemed a little irritated with law enforcement in general. Was especially upset to find that his boy was not on the premises.”

“We went for a little ride and some fresh air,” Lester said.

“Hmm,” the cop said, looking for bruises on Greg’s face. “Your prisoner seems none the worse for wear after your ride.”

“Wasn’t that kind of ride,” Lester said and jerked on Greg’s arm.

At the cell, Lester shoved Greg inside and slammed the door as hard he could for emphasis as to what just happened. The clang echoed down the narrow hallway and through the doors to the outer office of the Boise City Police Department. Two curious city cops looked up from their paperwork and shrugged.

Chapter 42

The straight-backed chair was where he’d left it
outside the cell.
Lester pulled it
close
to the bars.
Unlike the movies, the Cimarron County courthouse didn’t have an interrogation room with video and sound recorders. Lester leaned forward, his
hat almost
touching the steel. “Greg, I’d like have another chat, man to man, okay? Do you recall earlier, when my Deputy read you your rights, the Miranda warning? Did you understand it?

“Sure. You think I’m stupid?”

Lester let that one pass.

“Greg, you can play this a couple of different ways. You can call your daddy. You can demand a lawyer. You can decide not to say another word. But son, I’m telling you, your best bet is to talk to me. You see, with Melissa alive, you won’t be charged with murder and if what you’re saying is true, probably not kidnapping, although I can’t rule it out. Yeah, there’s the rape
or
as you claim, an
attempted rape
,
to deal with.
I’ll know more about that when the doctors check her out.
You might have to man up for that one. There’ll be other charges of course, but if you can cooperate with me
now
, I’ll do what I can for you.
You play your cards right, ther
e’s an outside chance
that somewhere down the line,
you can
still play
a little football
for
the University of Oklahoma
.
You help me, I’ll help you. Make sense?”

Greg
dropped his head and
slowly nodded in the affirmative. The mention of the words
murder
and
kidnapping
scared the crap out of
him
. It seemed his once
glorious future
was going up in smoke like he’d seen coming out of that cellar
. His muscular body seemed to shrink in size, withdrawing into itself. Lester waited. When the teen looked up, tears were streaming down his cheeks. With a quivering voice and nearly unintelligible,
“What do you want to know?”

Greg Boomer Kingston was ready to deal.

*****

It was just past ten o’clock a
s Lester made his way down Main
. It was a
typical weekday night in small town
America
. A few carloads of kids cruised the street, using the roundabout at the courthouse to change direction for yet another pass; girls waving at friends, the boys yelling insults to known adversaries, hoping for a response and some excitement
, anything to break the boredom
. The sidewalks were mostly dark and in shadows, the stores long closed for the day. Although the streets were as safe to walk at night as going down the aisle of a church, there were no citizens out to enjoy the cooler temps and the zephyr of wind.
Street crime
in Boise City was practically non-existent.
A
s a
city police car
neared from
the opposite direction
, both he and Lester
raised an index finger off the steering wheel long enough to acknowledge each other.

A single light burned at the home of Big Bill Kingston. It was on the second floor, the master bedroom if Lester remembered the floor plan correctly. Lester parked behind Greg’s Mustang, went to the door, and started to press the bell when he got a whiff of
what smelled like cigar
smoke. He retreated down the steps and followed a walkway bordered with landscape lighting. He circled the house and found an unlocked gate leading to the backyard and swimming pool. A dog from two houses down detected the intruder and gave out with a couple warning barks, then decided his home was not the intruder’s target and shut up. At the far end of the pool, Big Bill lay back on a chaise lounge, his cigar tip glowing in the darkness. He still wore the dress slacks and w
hite shirt from the business da
y,
but his shoes were off. His tie shared room on a plastic coated
table with a bottle of Gray Goose vodka
and a glass half full of ice. Lester
lifted the latch on
the gate and let himself in. Without looking at his visitor, Big Bill
Kingston spoke.
“What took you so long?”

“Had some things to attend to,” Lester said and took a seat at the table.

“Humph.”

The Sheriff removed his hat, ran his hand though his thinning hair, and leaned back, checking out the stars. “Nice night,” he said.

“It is, isn’t it? I enjoy nights like this, not too hot, not too cold, sitting by the pool.” Kingston took another sip from his glass. “You know, my wife and son almost had a conniption fit when I told them we were moving out here. Truth is, I had some reservations myself. But now…well…different story. I love the pace here in this part of the state, this town, slow, no hurry. Most folks are kind and friendly, easy to get along with. I didn’t realize how annoying the traffic, and loud music, and airplanes, and all those city noises could be until I found out what real quiet sounded like.”

Lester nodded but said nothing.

“I was going to use the Ford dealership here as a stepping stone, to put me in position for something in the big time. I was gonna be on TV every night during the ten o’clock news, plugging my latest deals. I pictured myself on
high
billboards smiling down at the public, bringing in the suckers right and left. I was gonna make a boatload of money, winter home in Florida, maybe another in the mountains.”

A floodlight at the back of the house snapped on and Marlene Kingston looked out a window. She studied the men for a moment and disappeared. The light went off.

Big Bill continued, “But somewhere along the line, my priorities changed and that boy of mine became my life. Selling cars and
making
money took a backseat to seeing that kid mature and grow into greatness. He’s a natural you know. I’ve seen a lot of football players and quarterbacks
in my time
, but Boomer has it all!
Fast, arm like a canon.
Accurate too.
I’ve seen him throw balls at a swinging tire from thirty yards and zing ‘em through the middle 9 out of 10. He’s fast on his feet, got good strong legs
under him
, probably grow another inch or two before he’s ready to start college. Couple of years experience in the Big 12 and the pros will be all over him. You notice how tall he is? The pros like tall quarterbacks. Makes it easier to see over the heads of the linebackers and pick the receivers out of a crowd. I’d bet the farm he could go number one when he declares, probably at the end of his sophomore year. Hell, maybe when he’s a freshman. Course, in the light of recent events, that might not happen. Damn shame too. Hey, you want a drink Sheriff? Excuse my manners, had a lot on my mind today.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Supposed you would. On duty
‘n
all that.”

In the background, the drone of the pool pump and filter carried across the lawn.

After a while Lester said, “I been talking to Greg this evening.”

“We call him Boomer these days but I figured you did. Pretty sneaky move you pulled
,
w
hisking him out of the jail like that before my lazy-ass lawyer could get down there. Not sure that was
entirely
legal. One thing for sure about Boomer though; he may be the most natural football talent you’ll ever lay eyes on, but he does have one major liability.”

“What’s that?”

“The boy ain’t too fuckin’ smart.”

“Melissa Parker’s alive,” Lester said in the same manner he might comment on the moon coming over the horizon.

Big Bill’s head snapped sideways.

“True,” Lester said. “We found the cellar.”

Big Bill took another hit off the vodka.
Not just a sip
this time
, but a long pull, the ice rattling in the glass.

Lester said, “Don’t know if you’re aware, but Melissa’s mother, Imogene, killed her husband with a shotgun. She called it in to dispatch. Told our girl on the desk that her husband Albert had killed Melissa. Then Imogene went and took her own life, used the same gun. It was ugly.”

The underwater floodlights in the pool had activated at sunset and Big Bill’s eyes glowed blue in the reflection, focusing on the man at the table.

“What with all that going on, it threw me off for a bit,” Lester continued. “We looked for a body on the Parker farm, but we were searching the wrong farm. All those OSBI people were out at the Parker’s place kicking up clods and pokin’ around.
All that time, I kept thinking there was something wrong with the picture. You see, the timing wasn’t right for Albert to have done it. But it was
possible
and that’s what we were goin’ on as that’s all we had. But
t
hen Greg’s teammate Carlos Sanchez tells us that Greg was the one to take Melissa home from the Pirate’s Den on the night she disappeared.
Well, you can see how that complicated things.”

Big Bill
half rose from his chair
. “I need more ice.”

“Sit down!” Lester said with the authority of his badge behind him.
The big
man
hesitated but
did as he was told.

“About a half hour ago, Greg told me…”

“Boomer!”
Big Bill
said, “His name is Boomer!”

“
Greg
told me,” Lester repeated, “that when he came home that night, late and drunk, you were waiting on him. He said you got all over him like you’ve done all your life whenever he screwed up. He told me about
all
the times you chewed him out when he missed a receiver or fumbled a snap. No matter how well he played the game, you always found fault
somewhere
. Always something, some
little mistake, no matter how insignificant,
where he
didn’t
perform to your standards. Well, last Thursday night, he screwed up again, didn’t he? Only this wasn’t such a simple
matter
as a
dropped
football
or
throwing an interception
was it?