A Deadly Affair at Bobtail Ridge (17 page)

“You interested in snakes?” I say.

“Not especially.” His eyes get a glint of mischief. “Although there's something about a rattlesnake that I like. They have pretty markings. You ever noticed that?”

“You by any chance get up close and personal with a timber rattler lately?”

He strokes his belly, looking pensive. “I don't believe I'm familiar with the look of that rattlesnake. I'm more thinking of the diamondback. If I recall my snake lore, however, I believe we don't get timber rattlers around here. You'd most likely find that kind up around Nacogdoches.”

I'm pretty sure he's having a little fun at our expense, but that's okay. I wasn't expecting him to admit to anything today. The idea is more to warn him that I have an eye on him. “Any chance your boy Jett has had occasion to go up to east Texas recently?”

“You know, I just got out of prison and I can't really vouch for what that boy might have been up to while I was gone. Why don't we ask him?” He turns his head toward the house and yells, “Jett! Come on out here. Somebody I want you to meet.”

“Hold on a minute,” a voice yells back.

“He'll be out directly,” Borland says. He tilts his face toward the sun “I'm surely enjoying this fine weather. I can't get enough of the sun since I walked out of prison. I'm going to have to get me some of that suntan lotion. Wouldn't want to ruin my skin.” He gets a good laugh out of that one.

Jett doesn't look much like his daddy. His hair is dark and his eyes are black pools that seem to suck up the light. “Cops?” he says to his dad. “You brought me out here to meet cops?”

“These fellows are mighty nice,” Scott Borland says. “You know, I've had occasion to meet some awfully unfriendly police, but these two are as polite as they can be. I believe it's because they're older gentlemen. I didn't think you'd mind answering their questions. It won't take much of your time, and then they can be on their way.”

Jett sneers. “I get what you're saying. Sure. What can I do for you?”

I say, “Somebody has been threatening the horses that belong to one of my neighbors, Jenny Sandstone, who happens to be acquainted with your dad.”

“Somebody overheard you threatening to get even with her for putting your dad away,” Lyndall puts in.

Jett snickers. “Threatening horses? Why would I do something like that?” Then his voice turns cold. “No, if I was going to make good on any threats, I wouldn't bother with horses. I'd go straight for that nasty lady lawyer who made a monkey out of my daddy's defense lawyer. She cheated every which way. Daddy never should have been convicted of those crimes. He was innocent.”

“I'm sure he was,” Lyndall says. “So you're claiming you didn't mess with the horses in any way?”

“You're damn right I'm claiming that. And nobody can prove any different.”

“How about ramming her car with yours? Did you do that?”

Scott Borland has been contemplating the yard, but at those words, his head snaps up. “Was Ms. Sandstone hurt? Bad, I hope?”

“She was hurt. She'll be okay.”

“Well, damn. Jett, if that was you, I'll give you a medal,” Scott says. “Fess up, now.” He tosses his empty beer can out into the yard.

Jett punches his daddy on the arm, smirking. “You old fool. You're going to get me in trouble if you don't look out.”

Scott ruffles his son's hair. “Like father, like son.” As if they're getting into trouble is special. And then his eyes go dark. “What makes you think you can come here and accuse me and my son of anything?”

“I'm pretty sure I saw your car out in front Jenny's place, for one thing.”

“Jett, did you go to that lady lawyer's house? Did you take her some flowers?”

I've had enough of their comedy routine. “I want you to know, I've got my eye on you. If I catch you anywhere near Jenny Sandstone's place, I'll arrest you.”

“You can't just arrest me for lawfully being outside her place.”

“Believe me, I'll think of some good reason.”

Scott starts to say something, and I raise my voice. “Don't give me any b.s. about it being a free country. My guess is, your activities won't stand up much to any scrutiny, so if I were you I'd give up on the idea of messing with Jenny.”

“Oh. Knight in shining armor!” Scott says. “We'll most certainly take heed to your warning.”

When we drive away, Lyndall says, “People like that make me tired.”

“You have much problem with meth here in Bobtail?”

“More than we used to, but not as much as some.”

Which doesn't tell me a whole lot. I keep wondering when it's going to crop up in my neck of the woods. Probably already has and I just don't know it.

I'm on my way out of town when my cell phone rings. I pull over when I see that it's an unfamiliar number.

“This is Eddie Sandstone. Am I talking to the man I met with my sister Jenny last week?”

“Yes. This is Samuel Craddock.”

“I understand you had a conversation with my wife.”

“I was hoping to find you at home, but since you weren't there, she and I had a nice chat.”

“If you have anything to say to me, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave her out of it.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“I'm on a job. But I can drive down to Bobtail and meet you? Tonight maybe?”

“Unfortunately, I've got business tonight. Can we meet tomorrow around lunchtime? I can come to Temple.”

“No need. I'll meet you at my mamma's house.”

“Do you have a key?”

He hesitates. “Get Jenny to come with you and I'll get a key from her. I didn't want to bother her with that yesterday.”

“That isn't going to work. Jenny is still recovering from her accident and she isn't up to the drive. I'll get a key from her and meet you there.”

“You can tell her for me that she can't avoid me forever. We're going to have to meet one way or the other.”

“I'll see you at noon.”

CHAPTER 22

Ten years ago, I don't think a wine party would have been possible in this community. Could be TV or the Internet, but our little town seems to be easing into the modern age. Some of the men aren't too excited about wine—I'm sure they'd rather be at a beer tasting—but the idea was to get these parents out of their kids' hair, and that part is a success.

I leave the party early, and by midnight I'm sitting outside the high school gym with Bill Odum, my chief deputy, watching for kids who might try sneaking out of the gym. If they do, our job is to escort them home and let their parents take care of the rest. Bill tries to get me to go on home, but if I'm going to be chief, I intend to be chief all the way. The prom doesn't end until two o'clock, and I practically have to prop my eyes open by then.

I'm barely settled into bed when I hear a car driving slowly down the street, stop, and then doors being closed quietly. I don't know why it takes my attention. I'm sure cars come by all the time when I'm sound asleep. Maybe I'm still keyed up and not able to drop off to sleep the way I usually do. But whatever the reason, I slip out of bed and go into the living room to peek out the shades. What I see puzzles me.

Two young boys are walking toward Jenny's side gate. They slip along the side of the house, and then I lose sight of them. I hustle to the window closest to the gate and hear them muttering. I put my ear to the window in time to hear one say, “I don't like this. That old police chief lives next door. If he hears us, we're toast.”

“He's not going to hear anything. Old people can't hear, and besides he was at the gym until the dance let out. He's asleep by now.”

“How do you know he was at the gym?”

“I saw him there.”

I hear clanking noises and then scuffling. I wish I could see what's going on, but it sounds like one of them has climbed over the gate leading to Jenny's backyard. There's more scuffling, and I hear one of them say, “Grab my hand.” And then I hear a thump, like someone jumping to the ground. I don't know what these boys are up to, but I imagine it has something to do with the mischief that's been going on with Jenny's horses. Maybe Scott Borland isn't the culprit after all. I can easily picture boys cutting a lock and letting the horses out onto the street. But where would young boys get a snake like that rattler? And why would they take a pipe to Truly Bennett? And the biggest question is, what do the boys have against Jenny—or her horses, for that matter?

What they don't know is that Alvin Carter is sleeping in the barn and is surely going to catch them sneaking in. I throw some clothes on and head out my back door and down to the gate between my pasture and Jenny's. My cows stir as I go through the pasture. They're huddled up near the fence, a few of them lying down.

I slip through the gate between our properties and start up the back of Jenny's pasture, straining to hear the boys. I hear the creak of the barn door opening. I hope Alvin stays quiet until I get there.

Suddenly I hear the soft whinny of one of the horses, and then a scramble of footsteps. “Oh, shit!” one of the boys says in a loud whisper.

Then I see a beam of light from the open door, and Alvin says, “Stop right there unless you want to get a buttful of buckshot.”

“Run!” one of the boys says.

I'm close enough now to see the play of their shadows. “I wouldn't,” I say. “I'm right outside the door and you're not going anywhere.”

The shadows freeze. “Chief Craddock?” Alvin says.

“Yep.” I step inside and flip on the light. Alvin is holding a shotgun at his side, and the two boys are standing in front of him looking like rabbits trying to figure out which way to run. They're high school boys, both slim and lanky. The taller one has a thatch of dark hair and a jutting chin. The other one is chunkier and looks soft in every way.

“Buster Mitchell! What the hell are you two boys doing here?” Alvin says.

“None of your business,” the dark-haired kid says. Of the two, I'd say he's the ringleader. His eyes are darting this way and that, full of calculation. He hasn't given up on the idea of being able to get past me. The other one's shoulders have slumped and he looks scared. He runs a hand through his wheat-colored hair. “I told you!” he says to the dark-haired boy.

“Hush, Jimmy,” the dark-haired one says.

“You know these boys?” I say to Alvin.

“I know that one,” he points to the dark-haired one. “Buster's from Bobtail. His daddy has a fishing shack out at the lake. He rents a boat from my daddy sometimes, and the kid has come with him once or twice.”

“We weren't doing nothing,” Buster says to me.

“I don't want to hear it,” I say. “I'm tired and I'm not in any mood to hear your excuses.”

“If you're tired, you can let us go. We won't come back.”

“I'm not that tired,” I say. “Jimmy, what's your last name?”

“I'm not telling,” he says.

“Suit yourself. We'll clear it all up in the morning.” I walk over to an empty stall, open the door, and look inside. It will fit my purposes. “Get in there,” I say.

Buster looks like he's ready to protest, but Alvin says, “You ever been hit with buckshot? It won't do you any permanent harm, but you won't like it. Do as the chief says and get in the stall.”

They stumble into the stall, and I close both the doors. The two of them peer out through the slats on the front. “Keep an eye on them while I find a lock.” I go into the tack room and find a big padlock and a board and take them back in to secure the stall.

“You can't keep us in here,” Buster says.

“Sure I can. In the morning I'll find out what I need to know, and then you can go.”

“What if we need a toilet or something?”

“There's a bucket in the corner and plenty of straw for comfort. Lie down there and sleep until the morning. Then we'll sort this out.”

“I'm thirsty,” Jimmy whines.

I spy a hose coiled up at one end of the barn attached to a faucet head. I feed the hose in between the slats. “Here you go. Room service.”

“You got us in a fine mess,” Jimmy says to his partner in crime.

“Don't be a sissy,” Buster says. “My daddy will have this old guy's hide.”

Alvin laughs. “I wouldn't count on it, Buster. Your daddy's not going to like finding out you were sneaking in here.”

I hear sniffling and I know the smaller one is tuning up for a cry.

“Alvin, you going to be all right? These boys may whine for a while, but you ought to be able to get some sleep.”

“I'll be fine. You go on back to bed.”

It seems clear to me that these boys didn't come up with whatever they planned on their own. I'll find out tomorrow who put them up to it.

Before I turn in, I call the Bobtail Police Department and tell them I've got the boys tucked away in a safe place in case their parents are looking for them.

CHAPTER 23

I'm never one for sleeping late, although after being up until three o'clock this morning, I wish I could force myself to sleep past seven. But that's what time I'm up. I can't help thinking of what I heard some youngster say, “Party now. Sleep when you're dead.” I'll have to go with that for today, although the party part of the equation doesn't sound appealing at the moment.

I call Loretta and ask her if she can bring some extra sweet rolls this morning, figuring it won't hurt to show a little mercy to the boys in the barn. When she comes by, I tell her I can't explain what the extras are for because I'm in a hurry, but that I'll fill her in later.

“You look tired,” she says.

“I may be tired, but I'm satisfied,” I say. “I'll sleep tonight.”