Stillborn Armadillos (John Lee Quarrels Book 1) (23 page)

Chapter 44

Stephen Atterbury was drenched in sweat, his hands and face were streaked with black from the ink on the old newspaper pages, when John Lee checked up on him late the next afternoon.

"You look like you could use something cold," John Lee said, handing him a milkshake from Dairy Queen.

"Thank you, that sounds good."

"Any luck so far?"

The boy shook his head. "No, but I'm only back to 1962. Miss Dixie said to just look through the front sections where the news was. We were wasting a lot of time going through every page, where there was a lot of stuff about weddings and funerals and advertising and stuff like that. And with Herbie gone, it's not real fast."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," John Lee said.

Stephen shook his head. "Sometimes I wish I never met Herbie, to be honest with you, John Lee. I mean, I'm not trying to blame him for me being involved with that stuff the other night. He didn't have to try too hard to talk me into it. But he always wants to do something like that. His dad's a nice enough guy, but he's kind of pussy... uh, I mean..."

"Were you gonna say pussy whipped?"

Stephen's face was red, but he nodded. "Yeah. Mrs. Matthews orders him and Herbie around all the time and they both just do whatever she says. I think sometimes that's why Herbie gets into some of the stuff he does. Like it's his way of fighting back or something."

"You know something, Stephen? Everybody's got to follow their own path in life. Why does someone like Mr. Matthews let his wife walk on him like that? I don't know. But the fact that you're willing to stand up on your hind legs and take responsibility for what you did, and not try to say it was all Herbie's idea, that tells me a lot about the kind of man you're going to be. Makes me proud of you."

"I know what we did was wrong, John Lee. But I have to tell you, it was kind of funny, too. Up there on the roof of the school we could hear Obie yelling, "Don't shoot! I surrender. I give up!"

John Lee laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. "That
is
funny, but if you ever tell anybody I was laughing about it, I'm gonna have to kick your ass."

"I promise, I won't tell," Stephen said, holding up his fist to bump with John Lee's.

"I tell you what, it'd take forever to go through all these, and you probably wouldn't find anything anyway. When you finish your milkshake, go ahead and clean up and go home."

"But I've still got like eleven hours to go to work off what Sheriff Swindle said I needed to do."

"How about we call it early release, credit for good behavior and all that?"

"No sir," Stephen said shaking his head. "I made a deal with the sheriff and I aim to keep my end of it."

John Lee looked at the boy and then slapped him on the shoulder as he stood up. "You know what, Stephen? Once you get a few more years behind you, if you ever decide to become a deputy, I'd be damn proud to ride patrol with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Thanks, John Lee!"

He left the boy there amid the piles of newsprint, chatted with Dixie for a few minutes on his way out, and then went back to the courthouse for a staff meeting and briefing on the investigation into Ray Ray Watkins' murder.

All of the deputies were disheartened that no progress had been made on the case. The State Crime Lab and the FBI had exhausted every avenue available. The best pieces of evidence they had were the bullets and empty cartridge cases found at the earlier shooting scenes, and the tire tracks that had been recovered when Greg Carson had come under the sniper's fire. But they all led to nothing. The FBI said the tire tracks were from a very common Goodyear model of tire that could be found on hundreds of pickup trucks and sport utility vehicles in the region. Ballistic tests had determined that the bullets had been fired from the same rifle and the cartridge cases were all from the same lot and had been sold at least a decade earlier.

"We don't want this case goin' cold," Flag said. "Ray Ray deserves more than that. I know you've talked to everybody you can think of, but go talk to 'em again. Somebody out there knows somethin' and it's our job to pry it out of 'em."

"Flag's right," D.W. said. In spite of their personal animosity, the Sheriff and the Chief Deputy tried to put on a good front for the troops. Not that any of them were unaware of things happening behind the scenes. "I heard a sayin' one time that nobody lives in a vacuum. What that means is we all know and talk to other people some way or other. Whoever did this ain't braggin' 'bout it, but maybe somebody recalls somethin' and they don't know how important it might be. Could be somethin' as simple as somebody askin' about it, askin' if anybody heard anything new. Now, I know people been talking about it all over the place, but that's startin' to die down. So if somebody's still askin' if anybody's heard anything, that might be one of them indicators that he's takin' more interest in it than others. Makes you wonder why. Or maybe somebody recalls seeing somebody out target shootin' with a rifle with a scope on it. Anything at all."

Maddy raised her hand. "Has anybody thought to check the tire shops?"

"Pretty common tread. Three places in the county sell those kind of tires. And accordin' to the FBI they weren't new."

"But could it be possible that whoever did it changed tires? Like, they wanted to get them off their vehicle, even if they weren't worn out?"

"Don't know if we ever thought about that," D.W. said. He looked at Flag, who shrugged his shoulders.

"You and Bob make a list of every tire shop around and start contactin' them. Not just in Somerton County, but every place within a hundred miles of here. That's good police work, Maddy."

"Has that reward that Somerton Forest Products put out done us any good at all, or just brought in a lot of dead ends and nuts?"

"Not yet, but you never know. We keep followin' up on everything we get. Okay, anything else? No? Well keep at it, people. We're not goin' to give up on this. Sooner or later we're goin' to find this guy, and when we do, we're goin' to come down on him with both feet.

As the meeting was breaking up, John Lee approached Flag. "Got a minute?"

"What do you need?"

"We need to talk in your office."

Flag didn't say anything, just turned and led the way upstairs and then down the hall to his office. He sat behind his desk and asked, "What do you want?"

"Stay away from my family."

"Say what?"

"I didn't stutter, Fig."

"You talkin' about me chewin' out your grandfather the other day?"

"Don't do it again."

"You need to watch yourself, Deputy. You're steppin' over the line."

"No,
you
stepped over the line. Don't do it again."

"You think just because that old hippie is kinfolk to you means he don't have to obey the law? I'm supposed to turn my head the other way and ignore it when he's creating a traffic hazard? Hell boy, I was lookin' out for his own good! Somebody could'a come down that road and run him over. You ought'a be thankin' me for lookin' out for him 'cause he damn sure needs someone to keep an eye on him. Probably fried his brain with psychedelic mushrooms or some shit like that fifty years ago."

"First and last warning, Fig. You got a problem with me, let's you and me handle it, whenever you're ready. In the meantime, don't be going after Paw Paw because you don't have the balls to take me on directly."

The Chief Deputy shot out of his chair and started around his desk. John Lee braced himself, fists balled and ready to fight. Flag had a couple of inches and at least 75 pounds on him, but John Lee wasn't worried. In fact, he was looking forward to settling things between the two of them, once and for all.

"Both of you, stand down right now!"

They had not been aware of D.W. coming to the door of Flag's office, drawn by their shouting.

"I'm done takin' shit from this mongrel," Flag said. "I'm goin' to mop the floor with him, and I'm goin' to do it right now!"

"If you two want to fight it out, I got no problem with that at all," the sheriff said. "But you ain't doing it here. We can all go out in the garage where there ain't no citizens watchin' and you can beat each other to death for all I care. But not here."

"Let's do it. I'm ready," John Lee said.

Flag looked at the younger man like he wanted to tear him limb from limb, but after a moment he backed down.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you D.W.? Then when I whip his ass you'll use that as an excuse to fire me."

"Ain't gonna do no such thing. You're both grown men, go settle it like men."

"That's what you say now. But as soon as it's over with you'll forget all about that."

Flag was backpedaling and all three of them knew it.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll let you throw the first punch," John Lee said. "Because you're gonna need it."

"Fuck you, you little maggot. Fuck both of you. I ain't got time for this shit."

"Yeah, just what I thought," D.W. said. "You ain't got time. You got your chance, Flag. It's put up or shut up time. What's it goin' to be?"

"Why don't you go kiss ass with some reporter somewhere, D.W.? And you, why don't you find one of his daughters to stick your dick into? That's all you're both good at." Flag shouldered his way past the sheriff and walked down the hall.

Looking after him, D.W. said, "You're goin' to have to kick his ass or kill him one of these days. You know that, don't you, John Lee?"

"Yeah, I do. And I'll tell you something D.W., at this point I really don't care which one it is."

Chapter 45

Stephen Atterbury had long since put in his twenty hours of community service, but he continued to go to the newspaper office every day to spend time searching through the old stacks. John Lee wasn't sure if it was dedication, a desire to help find something that would be useful in solving the mystery of the three dead men, or the obvious crush he had developed on Dixie Landrum.

The deputy couldn't blame him. Dixie was in her mid-20s, and though she carried a couple of extra pounds, she was a good looking woman, confident, intelligent, and with a great sense of humor.

"He's a good kid," she said. "Says he's fascinated by all those old newspaper stories. Maybe we've got a new journalist in the making. What do you think?"

"I think maybe he's more fascinated by what he sees up here in the front office than all of that dusty stuff in the back," John Lee said.

Dixie smiled and looked toward the back room. "You noticed that, too? I was thinking it was just my imagination."

"Fifteen year old boys are not exactly subtle," John Lee said.

"And the sad thing is, he's one of the nicest guys in town, present company excepted," Dixie told him. "I wish he had an older brother."

"Are you saying the pickings are slim?"

"Oh, there's some nice guys. Problem is, most of them are married. And I just haven't clicked with any of the ones who aren't."

"Give the kid two or three years and he'll be legal," John Lee said "Meanwhile, you can train him right."

"Don't think I haven't thought about it," Dixie said with a laugh. "Unless you've got any brothers."

"Not that I know of. I guess I could do one of those Ancestry search things and see if I can find one for you that I don't know about."

"Well if you do, send him my way."

"I'll do it," John Lee promised.

"Hey, John Lee, come look at this."

He went into the back room, where Stephen had an old newspaper laid out on top of a stack.

"This don't say nothing about those skeletons you found, I just thought it was interesting because it's about one of the Somerton's."

The yellowed newspaper, dated March, 15, 1962, had a black and white photograph on the front page of two dump trucks parked alongside the road, along with a police car. The bold headline in 72 point type stretched across the top of the page and read "Standoff on Turpentine Road".

John Lee read the story with fascination:

Yesterday Sheriff William Allen and his deputies were involved in a three hour standoff on Turpentine Road when Richard E. Somerton accosted workers involved in the widening project of the road. According to Sheriff Allen, Mr. Somerton claimed that the construction crew was trespassing on property owned by the Somerton Lumber Company and threatened to shoot them if they continued. The Somerton Lumber Company has extensive landholdings in the county and had resisted the road widening project in court until the county prevailed under eminent domain laws. The newly improved road, when finished, will be blacktopped and run all the way to Live Oak. County Supervisors have said the thoroughfare will greatly improve traffic and be a boost to commerce throughout the county. The standoff ended when Mr. Somerton was taken into custody and later released after paying a $50 fine for disturbing the peace. Mr. Somerton, age 35, is a World War II veteran and the assistant manager of the Somerton Lumber Yard. When questioned about the incident, he said that he felt it was important for citizens to stand up for their rights and that the Somerton family does not believe the county's confiscation of a right-of-way through their property is legal.

"That's pretty cool, isn't it? I mean like, not cool that he was out there with a gun, but still pretty neat, don't you think?"

"What I think, Stephen, is that you may have found something that's going to help us figure out where those skeletons came from after all!"

John Lee slapped the young man on the back, then took the paper out front to show it to Dixie.

***

It had been fourteen years since John Lee had been to the Somerton family compound seven miles from town, and a lot had changed in that time period. The big house was still there in all its glory, a true antebellum mansion complete with four white columns in front. But off to the side there was now a sprawling ranch house, which he assumed was where Troy lived with his wife Melinda, who had been a year behind them in high school.

John Lee stopped the Charger in front of the main house and got out, memories flooding through him as he walked up the three steps to the porch and crossed to the huge door. He pushed the doorbell and heard chimes sounding inside. A moment later a tired looking black woman in a formal maid's uniform opened the door.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes ma'am, is Mr. Somerton in?"

"Which one?"

"Grandpa... I mean Mr. Somerton, senior."

"He's resting. He takes a nap about this time every afternoon."

"Okay, how about Mr...."

"John Lee? Is that you?"

The woman was nothing short of striking; tall, with thick, long chestnut hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and perfect skin. The years had been very kind to her.

"Hello Ashleigh."

"Well come in! Mary, would you get us some tea? Or would you prefer lemonade, John Lee?"

"Neither," he said, stepping through the door.

The maid left them there in the wide foyer and Ashleigh said, "Look at you, all handsome in your uniform and everything. How long's it been?"

"Not long enough," he told her.

She feigned a pout on her face. "Don't be mean."

"I came to talk to your grandfather. Or your father, either one."

"Come and sit with me, John Lee. We need to catch up after all these years."

"I've got nothing to say to you, Ashleigh. Like I said, I'm here to talk to your father or your grandfather."

"You used to have lots of things to say to me back in the old days."

"Yeah, I did. And you never listened."

"Come on, John Lee. That's ancient history. Don't dredge up the past."

"It may be ancient history to you, but I don't forget."

She frowned at him. "Be nice. You're going to hurt my feelings."

"I don't give a damn about your feelings."

"There was a time when you cared a lot about my feelings."

"You're right, there was," John Lee told her. "That was before you killed our baby."