The Double-Jack Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) (14 page)

“I tell you, Bo, this little guy is the best friend I ever had. Can’t imagine how you ever thought to give him to me.”

“Like I said, two peas in a pod.”

“You was sure right about that. By the way, Lucas Kincaid stopped by again, not long after you was here. He got hisself a nice new Humvee.”

“Must have struck it rich, Batim.”

“Must of stole it, I figured. I did think about killing him for you, Bo, but he was kind of wary and it didn’t seem worth the try. I did let slip that you was going to the campsite up on Deadman. You didn’t let on like it was a secret of any kind, and I figured you know how to take care of yourself.”

“No problem, Batim. I wasn’t making any secret of it. I always feel I can keep one step ahead of the bad guys. Otherwise, I’d give up sheriffing.”

“That’s what I figured, Bo. I didn’t want to cause you any problems.”

“No, you did just fine. Mostly I wanted to see how you and Clarence were getting along.”

“Oh, we’re doing great, Bo.”

“Glad to hear it, Batim.”

Tully and Pap got back in the truck and headed toward Blight City. Pap rolled himself another cigarette, pulled the string on the bag of Bull Durham tight with his teeth, licked the edge of the paper, sealed the crooked little cigarette shut, and punched in the lighter.

“How many years you been making those hand-rolleds, Pap?”

“Since I was about eight. You do the math, Bo.”

“I was just wondering how come with all that practice your cigarettes still turn out crooked as a snake.”

“’Cause I like them like that. What do you care anyway?”

“Just curious. Seems to me that after seventy-some years you would get practiced up.”

“I’ll tell you something
I’m
curious about, Bo. How come you let that Susan get away? I thought she was a little fancy for you and way too educated but she’s mighty beautiful.”

“I like her, too. But she found herself an airline pilot she liked better than me. He was handsome and made a lot of money and owned a big ranch and flew all over the world and his family and girlfriends could fly free all over the world too, but despite all that, she still liked him better than me. A man just can’t figure women anymore. Airline pilots are like a plague of locusts. They swoop down and glom up every good-looking woman in sight.”

Pap grabbed the lighter and lit his cigarette. As was his practice, he blew the first plume of smoke in Tully’s face. “The one thing I didn’t like about Susan was her occupation.”

“Medical examiner?”

“Yeah,” Pap said. “You never wanted to ask Susan what she did that day. That murder victim we found hanging over Batim’s fence, you see her take the body’s temperature?”

“No! I shut my eyes first!”

“I mightily regret I didn’t have the good sense to do that. Other than her job, though, I can’t think of another drawback. I’d take another run at her if I was you, Bo.”

“You think so?”

“Can’t hurt.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

TULLY WALKED INTO
the office, his three-thousand-dollar boots
clok
ing nicely on the marble-chip floor. Herb Elliot was back to sitting on the edge of Daisy’s desk, chatting her up. Daisy was laughing! Didn’t Herb realize that Daisy was now divorced? The man was a fool!

“Bo!” Daisy yelled. “You’re back! I was so worried about you!” She leaped up and gave him a hug.

Herb stuck out his hand. “Glad you’re back safe and sound.”

Tully gave his hand a couple of shakes. “You two held down the fort, I take it. At least I didn’t get any panicky phone calls from Daisy.”

“Daisy and I kept the department running like a fine-tuned engine,” Herb said.

“Solve any crimes?”

“Naw, we worked mostly on fine-tuning. Oh, we got one nut running around holding up convenience stores every night at eight o’clock. The newspaper and radio have started calling him the ‘Eight O’clock Robber.’”

“Probably just what he needs, a little publicity.”

“We got the convenience stores staked out. There are twelve in all. We’re trying to outguess him, but he’s been beating us. He hasn’t hurt anybody.”

“Yet!” said Tully. “Sooner or later these jokers blow somebody up. Or somebody blows them up.”

“So what about Kincaid?” Daisy asked. “You kill him, Bo?”

“Afraid not. Any word from Pugh, by the way?”

Daisy said, “No, not since he checked out that murder scene up at Woods Lake. I thought he was joining up with you.”

“Yeah, I’ve got him busy. I thought he might have called in though.”

Daisy gave him a puzzled look and shook her head.

Herb said, “Lurch tells us you’ve pretty much solved those old murders up in Angst.”

“Part of it anyway. At least we know it was murder and who was murdered. We don’t know who did the murder, though. It’s a picky thing, but you can’t count a murder solved until you’ve found the murderer.”

“He would be dead now anyway,” Herb said.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. And that’s the problem with
the death penalty, too. The murderer gets the same sentence as everybody else in the world. We’re all under a death sentence, same as a guy who murders ten people.”

“There’s a thought to cheer my day,” Daisy said.

“Gee, I never thought of it that way,” Herb said.

“I expect not, Herb. Anyway, we’re going to hold a little burial service up at Quail Creek Ranch for Tom Link and the O’Boyle boy. I guess there’ll be only six or seven of us there, which is kind of sad. Their lives were cut off just as they were about to become rich. Anyway, I’ve got to make a phone call.” He walked into his office.

Daisy called after him. “You need me?”

“Remains to be seen.” Tully closed the door.

He dialed Susan’s work number. She answered. “Bo! You’re back!”

“Yeah, just made it in. Hope I’m taking you away from some of your work.”

“Actually, you are. I’m doing that nice old couple from Woods Lake. Apparently, it’s the work of your friend Kincaid.”

“How do you know they were nice?”

“They’re nice now. Death improves a person’s character enormously.”

Tully started doodling a cartoon of Susan on his desk calendar. He put little horns on the side of her head. “You’re starting to sound like me. Anyway, I was just wondering how you and the flyboy are getting along, Susan.”

“You interested in him, Bo?”

“Not unless he can get me free airline tickets.”

“Well, he’s history.”

“You broke up with him!”

“Yes.”

Tully scribbled in some dark hair that covered up the horns.

“Does this mean I still have a chance?”

“Bo, the only reason I broke up with you is that you’re rude, crude, obnoxious, arrogant, egotistical, inattentive, insensitive, inane, and gross.”

“I’m not inane! So how about dinner at Crabbs tonight?”

“I’d love to! I thought you’d never call. Why I ever gave you up for a jerk of an airline pilot, I’ll never know.”

“Free flights, all over the world.” Tully gave the cartoon big eyes with long curling lashes.

“Well sure, there’s that,” Susan said. “Let me think about this. No, we’re still on for dinner.”

“Great!” He gave the cartoon a tiny nose and a big beaming smile.

He hung up and opened his door. “Get in here, sweetheart,” he yelled at Daisy. “I’ve got a bunch of things I want you to take care of.”

Daisy bustled in, her high heels clicking smartly on the floor. She sat down in a chair across from him, all business now, her back ramrod straight.

Tully said, “First thing is, find Judge Patterson and get me a search warrant for Mr. Teddy Finch’s home up in Angst.”

“What’s Finch’s address?”

“How should I know? Find it. Where’s Lurch?”

“Probably home sleeping. He’s hardly slept since he got back.”

“Call him up and tell him to get his butt down here. I want those bullets from the mine identified right now.”

“Right.”

“See if you can get ahold of Pugh and tell him he’s got two weeks off. I’ve had him working night and day for the past month.”

Daisy frowned. “Two weeks?”

“Oh, right, one week is enough.”

“I don’t know how to get ahold of Brian. We haven’t heard from him and haven’t been able to reach him. He must have his cell phone turned off. I thought you knew where he was.”

“You mean he isn’t back?”

“Back from where? You’re the only one who knows what he’s up to.”

Tully stared at the wall behind Daisy.

“What’s wrong, Bo?”

“Nothing. If you hear from Brian, you call me first thing, okay?”

“Okay. Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset. What were we talking about?”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “The search warrant. What shall I tell the judge you’re searching for at the Finch place?”

“A gun.”

“What kind of gun?”

“You’re worse than our old judge! I need Lurch down here to find out what kind of gun!”

“Anything else?”

Tully tugged on the droopy corner of his mustache. “Yeah. Call up Ernie at Agatha’s and tell him there’s a red Humvee hidden back in the brush about half a mile south of Dead-man Creek. Have his friend Bunny drive him over there. Take the Humvee back to Agatha’s. Keep everybody out of it, especially Bunny.”

“Does Ernie have a key for it?”

Tully gave her The Look.

“Right. He’ll know what to do if he hasn’t.”

Tully drove over to his mother’s. The department mechanics had already replaced his window. The broken glass next to where his car had been parked a week before still littered the gutter. It made him think of Pugh again. Maybe he would give Brian two weeks off anyway. He went up the walk and pounded on the door.

“It’s unlocked, Bo!” Rose shouted. “Come on in!”

“How did you know it was me, Ma?”

“You’re the only one who almost knocks down the door.” She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “Besides, Daisy called and told me to expect you. I guess she thought I might shoot you by mistake.” She pointed to her .45 automatic on the table.

“I’m glad she called,” Tully said. “So how did the two of you get along?”

“Oh, Daisy is such a lovely girl! But I’m afraid I was getting on her nerves.”

“No, Ma! I can’t imagine such a thing!”

“It’s true, Bo. She did seem to enjoy my stories about you as a little boy.”

“I was afraid of that. You didn’t by any chance tell her about your own wild youth?”

“I may have mentioned one or two things, but Daisy found them amusing. She isn’t one of those prissy women that irritate me so much.”

“The ones with good taste?”

“Yes. Now tell me about Lucas Kincaid.”

Tully sighed and slumped into an overstuffed chair with little white doilies on the arms. Rose frowned at him. He sat up straight.

“Not much to tell. Daisy won’t be sleeping over here anymore, but you might want to keep your gun handy for a while. I’m back in town for tonight but have to get back up to Angst tomorrow. I’m putting the remains of a man and a boy in two coffins and hauling them up to Quail Creek Ranch for burial.”

“Oh my. That is so awful. But it’s good you found them. Is it legal to bury them on the ranch?”

He gave her his little smile, the one that said, do you really need to ask that question?

“Oh, right, I forgot, it’s the Blight Way. I hope you don’t mind my mentioning it, Bo, but you look terrible. You better get to bed early tonight and get some sleep.”

“Can’t. I’ve got a date with Susan.”

“Susan! Wonderful, Bo, wonderful! What happened to
the airline pilot? You mean she’s giving up the pilot for you?”

“What’s so odd about that?”

“Nothing, dear, except for all those free flights.”

Tully drove to his log house. Nothing had been broken into, and he was glad about that. The grass had started to grow back over the fire pits scattered about the meadow. Freezer Day was kind of a pain, but it beat campaigning. There wasn’t a politician in all of Blight County who didn’t wish he had thought of his own Freezer Day. The house was cold and empty. He turned off the double burglar alarms and looked around for something that seemed to be missing. Then he remembered—Clarence! He couldn’t believe he had become attached to the little dog. Well, Batim could keep him. He remembered the shrimp man, too, Sid Brown and his Giggling Loon restaurant in Boise. He’d have to give the restaurant a try on his next trip to the big city. He remembered also Sid’s mention of Jean Runyan, the art dealer, and that she wanted to give him a one-man show at the Davenport Hotel in Spokane. He was finally making enough money as an artist to give up his day job, his twenty-four-hour-a-day job. Maybe if the Bo Tully art show turned out well he would do just that.

The phone rang. Tully picked up. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

“Lurch! I’ve been looking for you. What have you found out about the bullets?”

“The closest I can come is the Spanish Reformado. It
was a .43-caliber bullet used extensively in rolling-block rifles by the Cubans during the Spanish-American War. Because of the humidity in Cuba, the brass-coated bullets had a tendency to turn green. American troops thought the green made them poisonous. The bullets may have been poisonous, but because of all the germs in that moist climate. Anyway, over a million rounds of this ammo and a lot of the rolling-block rifles were captured by the American troops and brought back to the U.S. So it’s possible one of them could have been in use here in 1927.”

“Good work, Lurch. Now go back to bed.”

“I’m awake now. I might as well go down to the office.”

“That’s even better.”

Tully tried to remember something he had heard about the Spanish-American War. Because it involved history, his mind had automatically shut off. Back in high school, a teacher might say, “Now, the ancient Greeks—” Tully’s mind would instantly beep off.

He showered and shaved, trimmed his mustache, put on clean underwear, shirt, and pants, rubbed on a little aftershave, and then rummaged in his closet for a suitable jacket, finally settling on a black leather sport coat. He thought for a moment about switching his three-thousand-dollar alligator-skin boots to a pair of oxblood loafers but then decided to stick with the boots. Susan was tall and the boots gave him a few more inches on her.