The Last Good Kiss (51 page)

"Mr. Traheame is perfectly all right," I said to the

deputy behind the car. "No bne's been hurt."

"On your knees, buddy," he growled, "and lace the

fingers behind your neck. " I didn't even bother to

hesitate. As I assumed the position, he moved from

behind the car and eased up the steps with his piece

aimed steadily at my thorax region. "Tighter," he said

as he stepped behind me. "I want to see white

knuckles. "

"The right hand and wrist were broken recently,

officer," I said as he grabbed my fingers and a handful

of hair. He patted me down, sighing in my ear as he

jerked the .38 out of my belt.

"Stand up," he ordered as he cuffed my left wrist. As

I stood up, he pulled it down behind me and grabbed

the right and cuffed it above the cast.

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"Easy," I said as quietly as I could. "I told you that

nothing has happened. There's no reason to rebreak

the wrist."

"Kill him!" the old woman screamed again as she

scrambled up the stairs like a wounded crab. Catherine

didn't even try to hold her back.

"Tell the old bitch to shut up," I said to nobody in

particular.

"You shut up, buddy," the deputy said as he jerked

the cuffs. "The sheriff will be here shortly," he added,

then jerked the cuffs again as if the alignment of my

shoulder sockets didn't suit him.

"Your baby boy is safe and sound, sleeping off a

drunk," I said to the old woman as she hobbled up and

bared her gums at me.

"I told you to shut up," the deputy said, then did his

act with my arms again.

"Don't do that again," I said mildly.

He laughed and did. Some people never learn.

Particularly country cops. They never get enough

action to stay in shape. I grabbed the deputy's heavy

leather belt with my left hand and tugged him closer,

then stomped the instep of his right foot and cracked

him on the nose with the back of my head and butted

him with my ass. As he staggered backward, reaching

for his holstered revolver, I turned around and kicked

him in the crotch so hard that his feet came off the

deck. He hit the floor in a fetal position, but I

untangled his arms with my feet and knelt on them and

sat on his chest.

"You didn't listen to me," I said to him. He rolled his

head sideways and spit blood. I heard grunting and

scrambling feet behind me. Catherine kept a good hold

on the old woman, though. From the smile on her face,

I assumed that Catherine had decided that after what I

had done to the deputy, I was going to be out of action

for a while. Betty Sue sat on the chair, her mouth open

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as if she had stopped in the middle of a sob. "Hey," I

said to her, "get this dummy's keys and unlock the

cuffs."

She didn't say anything, she just did it.

"He really is all right," I said to Trahearne's mother

when Betty Sue got the cuffs off me. "He just got drunk

and decided to redecorate his study with a .45. That's

all."

"Really?" Catherine asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Take his mother down to the bedroom so she can

see for herself," I said as I lifted the deputy's revolver

and unloaded it. The two women glanced at each other,

then went into the house. "Hey," I said to Betty Sue,

"could you get me a towel and a bowl of ice?" Mter

she had stepped into the house, too, I stood up and

released the deputy. "Did you hear all that?" I asked.

He nodded and crawled toward the vacant lounge

chair. "What kind of fool do you want to look like

when the sheriff gets here?"

"You're the fool, son of a bitch," he muttered. "Just

wait till I get you in a cell."

"You think you'll have a job ten seconds after the

sheriff finds out a cuffed prisoner took your piece off

you?"

The deputy sneered. "He's my uncle. "

"But Roy Berglund's no fool," I said. "Nephew or

not, he'll shuck you like a hot tamale. He doesn't get

elected by hiring kinfolk who look like fools. "

He thought about that for a minute or two, long

enough for his pride and his family jewels to stop

aching quite so badly, then he glanced up at me, asking,

"What did you have in mind?"

"Watering the grass," I said, but he just stared at me.

"It always gets those damned stairs wet and slick as owl

shit."

"Goddamned stairs," he muttered, then grinned and

wiped at the blood on his face.

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Betty Sue brought a bowl of ice and two dish towels. I

handed them to the deputy, then went to arrange the

lawn sprinklers. Afterward, we sat down to wait for the

sheriff. Everybody except for Edna Trahearne. She

went home mad.

Roy Berglund looked like a sheriff. He was tall,

blond, with crystal-blue eyes and a craggy face. As far

as I knew, he wasn't dumb or corrupt. But he was an

elected official, more interested in how he looked than

how he did his job. And he looked great in a uniform.

He had taken time to dress in a fresh one before he

picked up two extra deputies and a medical examiner.

As he strode like a giant through the sprinklers and up

the stairs, they followed like the mere mortals they

were. Roy looked great until he stepped, with a leather

boot heel, on the wet redwood landing. As he skated

across it, his huge arms windrnilled furiously as he

fought for balance, and he felled a deputy with a

backhand right. Betty Sue had to break into sobs to

cover her giggles and the deputy on the chaise lounge

snorted with laughter until his nose started bleeding

again.

"Turn off that goddamned water," he shouted at the'

deputy lying on the ground. Sheriff Roy was angry. The

most important citizen, the son of the richest woman in

the county, had been foully murdered, and Sheriff

Roy's dignity had been damaged. "Now, what's going

on here?" he demanded.

"I'm afraid it has all been a terrible mistake,"

Catherine said as she stepped out of the shadows;

taking charge with smooth assurance. "We-Edna

Trahearne and 1-heard gunshots and assumed the

worst. We leapt to a hasty conclusion." Sheriff

Roy looked both confused and disappointed. "My

husband-my ex-husband, that is," Catherine said

with a slight smile, "was cleaning his pistol when

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it accidently discharged. No harm done, I'm pleased

to say."

"Oh," the sheriff said, tugging on his thick lower lip.

"Okay," Then he turned to his nephew. "What happened to you?"

"I was going down to call you on the radio," he

mumbled, "and I slipped on them damned stairs."

"Oh," the sheriff said again. "Well, Miz Traheame,

I'm sure glad nobody W(l.S hurt, but I've got to make out

a report. If you could drop over to the county seat

sometime during the next few days, I'd surely appreciate it. "

"Of course," Catherine answered before Betty Sue

could.

"Let's wrap it up," he said to his courtiers, then, as if

it was an afterthought, he added, "Why don't you walk

down to the car with me, Mr. Sughrue?"

"Sure," I said.

The sheriff waited until everybody else had a head

start, then he wrapped a heavy arm around my

shoulder and led me down the stairs.

"Watch your step there, C.W. ," he said pleasantly.

Up close I could see that he had taken time to shave

too. "Now," he said softly when we were at the bottom

of the steps, "what happened? The old boy try to punch

his own ticket, huh?"

"I was asleep," I said.

"It's all right," he murmured, drawing me still closer.

"It's just between us�"

"Just between us, huh?"

"Absolutely. "

"Just between us, Roy, I was asleep," I whispered.

"Don't jerk me around on this, boy," he answered,

"or I'll have your ass in a sling you can't begin to

carry."

"It's your sling, sheriff."

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"How about three to five in Deer Lodge for assault

on a peace officer?" he said.

"I think it's two to ten," I said, but I didn't know

either.

"Whatever it is, you won't like it," he said, but when

I didn't answer, he tried another tack. "How come you

didn't stop by my office to let me know you were

working in my county?"

"I'm not working," I said. "I'm just visiting."

"Hope not for long, boy," the sheriff said, then

slapped me on the shoulder and laughed as if he had

just made a joke. "Don't you even throw a beer can in

the ditch, boy," he added.

"You think knowing that Traheame tried to blow his

brains out will buy you anything?" I asked.

"A man who has everything don't need no presents,"

the sheriff said over his shoulder. "I know what

happened and I don't care. I just hate to have a man lie

to me."

"Me too," I said.

He laughed as he walked away. "See you around,

Sughrue," he said, then climbed into his unit and had a

young deputy drive him home.

Back up on the deck, Catherine stood at the head of

the stairs and Betty Sue sat on the lounge chair. They

were both watching me as I climbed tiredly toward

them.

"Betty Sue, would you excuse us, please?" Catherine

said without looking at her.

"Of course," Betty Sue answered, and went into the

house.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow," I said as I lifted my

foot up the last step. "Okay?"

"Tomorrow will be too late," Catherine said. "Talk

to her now."

"I'm going to ·bed."

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