Bone Dry (Blanco County Mysteries) (35 page)

“Road narrows,” Marlin reminded him.

Garza nodded. The two southbound lanes merged to one, with a meager shoulder on the side. The cruiser crested a hill, and now they could see another semi carrying the other half of the double-wide mobile home. Clements was already on its tail, weaving left and right, trying to pass. Oncoming drivers blared their horns and swerved right as Clements tried to see around the semi.

Marlin smelled something burning and leaned to see the temperature indicator on the dashboard. Pegged on
H.
“Car can’t take much more,” he said.

Garza was riding Clements’s bumper now, speed at sixty, and Marlin wondered if the sheriff was going to attempt the PIT maneuver—a move where the pursuing car nudges the rear quarter-panel of the lead car, causing it to spin out. The answer was clear when Garza found a lull in the traffic and pulled into the oncoming lane, edging up to the Cherokee.

Steam poured out from under the hood and Marlin knew the cruiser didn’t have much longer. He craned his neck and looked back—but there were no other deputies in sight yet to continue the chase.

Just as Garza was about to use his right front fender to tap the Cherokee behind the left rear wheel, Clements jerked the Jeep onto the shoulder and began slipping past the semi on the right, picking up speed. The three vehicles were approaching a long leftward curve now, and Garza eased into the left lane to see if he could pass the semi. The road was clear for several hundred yards—except for a broken-down truck on the right shoulder, directly in Clements’s path. With the way the road curved, and the semi’s large load, Marlin knew Clements couldn’t see what lay ahead.

Garza and the driver of the semi both spotted the imminent disaster and reacted: Garza pushed firmly on his brakes and put some distance between the cruiser and the semi. The semi began to drift over into the left lane to give Clements a chance to see the truck in his path.

But it was simply too late—and Clements was going too fast now.

He finally spotted the truck and tried to accelerate and cut back in front of the semi. He almost made it, but he clipped the rear of the broken-down truck in an explosion of glass, and began to spin. The rotating Cherokee careened across the highway, bounced off a guardrail, and finally came to a stop in the middle of the highway.

But now Clements was sitting broadside in the path of the semi.

The driver was standing on his brakes, leaving trails of black rubber. Marlin winced: He could see Clements’s terrified face as the semi closed in on the driver’s-side door.

The semi finally began to lose its momentum and drop some speed. It was traveling no more than five miles an hour when it thumped into the Cherokee and pushed it for ten yards down the highway. But the sight of that massive metal grille closing in on him made Maynard Clements pass out cold.

“I know you did,” Garza said softly. “Tell me about it.”

Tears sprang from the corners of Clements’s eyes and ran down his temples. Garza passed him a tissue, which Maynard accepted with his left hand, grimacing in pain.

“It’s just like Marlin said: He was bribed, and so was I. But then it all went wrong.”

Clements quit speaking then, for so long that Marlin wondered whether he had changed his mind about confessing. Marlin followed Garza’s lead and simply waited.

Clements seemed almost unaware of the men in the room, as if he were talking to himself, when he finally continued, in a whisper: “We each got twenty thousand dollars in cash. We agreed to lie low for a while, not spend any of the money, until we were sure we weren’t gonna get caught. But Bert couldn’t do it. He got cocky, started showing off with the money…buying things, like that Explorer. He’d flash the money around, acting like a big shot.”

A nurse peeked her head in the door, offered a quizzical look, and Marlin shook his head at her. The door slipped shut quietly behind her.

“Then what happened?” Garza asked gently.

“We had arguments about it. Several times. He said I was paranoid, that we were home free.” Clements’s face contorted in despair. “Then he tried to blackmail me. Said he wanted my share of the money or he’d go to the cops and tell them it was all my idea, that he had nothing to do with it. He double-crossed me.”

Clements paused again.

“I can understand your frustration, Maynard,” Garza said. “What’d you do about it?”

Clements wiped his eyes. “I shot him. I set up near his deer blind…and then I shot him.”

Garza nodded and asked Maynard if he wanted anything to drink. Maynard shook his head. Garza then asked Maynard to give him a recap of the morning he had shot Gammel, and Clements complied.

He had driven onto the Bar T Ranch—next door to the deer lease where Gammel hunted. He had picked a day when he knew the foreman at the Bar T would be out of town at a cattle auction. In the early afternoon, he found a good spot under a cedar tree. Then he waited for Bert Gammel to show up. He didn’t bring any cigarettes because of the telltale smoke—and he was trying to quit anyway. But he was so nervous he needed something. So he had chewed some tobacco. “Guess that stuff
is
dangerous, huh?” Clements said, no trace of humor on his face.

Garza asked a few more questions until he had the full story. Then he went back to the bribery.

“What did you receive payment for, Maynard—you and Bert? What was the money for?”

An expression of pure shame crossed Clements’s face. “To look the other way on some concrete that didn’t meet code. The builder wanted to use a lower grade and pass it off as spec. To save a bunch of money.”

“Who was the builder?” Garza prodded.

Marlin tensed. His back was aching from standing still for so long.
Just a few more minutes,
he told himself.

“It was Sal Mameli,” Clements said bitterly, spitting the words out.

“What about Emmett Slaton?”

Clements looked confused.

“Was he involved in any of this?” Garza asked.

“No, not Slaton. Where did you get that idea?” Clements replied. “It was just Mameli. We met at Big Joe’s for lunch one day and he gave me an envelope with forty thousand in cash. I counted it, and then gave twenty to Bert.” Clements was beginning to blubber. “And the concrete... it’s really not a big deal. It’s plenty safe—I
know
it is—or I wouldn’t have done it.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Maynard,” Garza said. “You’ve always been a good worker for the people of this county.”

Clements gave a small smile. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Garza shifted in his chair. “Last question, Maynard, then you can get some rest: What was Mameli building? What was the concrete for?”

When Marlin heard the answer, his knees went weak.

“The dam,” Clements said in a monotone. “The dam at Pedernales Reservoir.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Darrell,” Garza said over his cell phone. “See if you can get Corey on Wylie’s phone. If you can, tell him he’s cleared. Uh-huh, we’ve got a full confession. Then pull everybody back and see if he’ll come out.”

Marlin couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but he knew the dispatcher was having a tough time believing what his boss was saying. “No, I don’t want you to go in—under
any
circumstances,” Garza said firmly. “Just pull back and let him come out in his own sweet time. We clear? All right, then, I’m heading over to the Public Works Department for a few minutes and…no…no, I can’t explain right now. Goddammit, Darrell, just do what I’m asking you, okay? I’ll see you within the hour.” Garza hung up. “I swear, just getting people to follow orders around here….”

“So, what’s next with Mameli?” Marlin asked.

“I’ll call the team at Maynard’s house and see if they find the envelope where he said it would be. If we can pull Mameli’s prints off that one, too, we’ll be in good shape. We’ll take a look at Mameli’s bank accounts, see if he had any big withdrawals prior to his meeting with Maynard. Probably interview the waiters at Big Joe’s, in case one of them can verify seeing the two of them together. I’d say it looks pretty solid, though.” He glanced Marlin’s way. “Listen, this is still your case if you want it. Just tell me how much you want to be involved.”

Five minutes later, Marlin and Garza were standing in front of Toby Gardner, who was the Public Works Director, Gammel’s and Clements’s supervisor.

“Thanks for meeting us, Toby.”

“Glad to help,” Gardner said. “But I’m not sure what I’m helping with.”

Garza turned to Marlin. “You want to fill him in?”

Marlin recapped their conversation with Maynard Clements, hitting the high points but omitting any details about the murder of Bert Gammel.

Gardner stared at Marlin incredulously. “Do you believe him?” he asked. “I mean, was he loopy on painkillers or anything?”

Marlin shook his head.

Garza said, “We have no reason to think he’s lying…and plenty of reasons to think he’s telling the truth. Unfortunately, I can’t go into them all right now. It involves a case, and I’m not at liberty to—”

Gardner held up his hands. “Say no more. If you tell me it’s true, then as far as I’m concerned, it’s true.”

“The question, then,” Marlin said, “is, can we believe Clements? Is the dam a threat or not?”

Gardner frowned. “If that concrete’s not up to code, I’d say we’ve got a big problem on our hands. See, these codes aren’t arbitrary. Certain grades of concrete can withstand higher pressures, and—”

“No offense,” Garza interrupted, “but you don’t need to explain it to us, Toby. Just tell us what we need to do next.”

Both men stared at Gardner, who stared back. “Oh, I don’t think there’s any question about that,” Gardner stated flatly. “We’ve got to empty the reservoir.”