Champagne for Buzzards (20 page)

I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold. “Are you sure he's well hidden?”

“Oh, yeah. We can only hope he has enough good sense to stay there until Styles comes for him, but this boy knows better than us what's waiting for him if they take him.”

“I'm worried about the dogs.”

“We closed up the end doors downstairs; going to be hot as hell in there for Ramiro but at least they can't drive right in there with the dogs. Long as we keep the dogs out of the barn, we're doing fine.”

“There were a lot of men with the sheriff. Are you sure anyone is still waiting at the end of the lane?”

“No, but just because the sheriff called in all these men it doesn't mean he hasn't got someone waiting for us to make a run for it. I bet he has more men coming onto Clay's property the way Boomer came, trying to panic Ramiro into running. They're hoping to scare him, or us, into running, flushing him out. That's what all this is designed for. The sheriff may not be as dumb as he looks.”

“Well, it would have worked with me. I would've run. Who are those other guys with him?”

“My bet is he called all the men who have been using this illegal labor. They've all got a stake in seeing Ramiro doesn't stay free.”

“What about the deputies who are with them, think they're part of this?”

He gave it some thought. “Not necessarily. He might just send them elsewhere if they find Ramiro. There won't be any witnesses to what happens. But those other guys?” his shoulders went up in a shrug. “Hard-looking old boys.” “Do you think they'd kill Ramiro? Surely not.”

“Kill him or put him back in chains on some farm while saying he'd escaped custody, either way Ramiro wouldn't likely get another chance. This is it for that boy in the barn. We're the only ones standing between him and real bad news.”

“I still can't believe they're prepared to kill.”

“What's your freedom worth? They're going to prison if Ramiro lives to tell his story. 'Sides, maybe there are other dead men.”

“Shit. I hadn't thought of that. They belong in prison. We can't let them get Ramiro.”

“No telling how it will end for him if they catch him. These guys have a lot to lose.” Dog raised his head and yawned, looking up to Tully with eyes that asked, “Why did you stop scratching?” Tully's hand went back to Dog's head.

I said, “I've been thinking about what Ramiro told us.

There were four men in that house. I think it was the three Breslau men plus Lucan. One of those three men — Harland, Orlin or Boomer — killed Lucan because of what happened that night.”

“My money is on that mean little bastard.”

“Yeah, that would be my first guess. Killing wouldn't be a stretch for Boomer, except—” I started to tell him something else, “well, I'll tell you about that later. That night with Ramiro, the two men who were fighting, that was Boomer and Lucan, wasn't it?”

“Sounds right to me,” Tully agreed.

“When Lucan came into the Gator Hole, he had already been drinking, maybe started before Ramiro got away. April said he wasn't afraid of anything when he was drinking. I figure when they took those guys out to lock them in the truck he was telling Boomer to stay away from his daughter, Kelly Sweet. April said Boomer had been bothering her, and you and I know that Boomer doesn't take real kindly to the word
no
. I figure after Ramiro escaped, the Breslaus looked for Ramiro but Lucan didn't. It was too dark to have any hope of finding Ramiro. Howie said Lucan came into the Gator Hole first, later Harland and Boomer, and later still Orlin came in. I figure Orlin delivered the captives in the truck while the other two came looking for Lucan. Maybe Lucan was willing to tell everything he knew to save his daughter by sending Boomer to jail. If Lucan threatened to tell the authorities, they'd want to shut Lucan up. It explains why he died that night.” “You've given this some thought, haven't you?”

“Yeah, a little.” I had thought it all through while waiting in the kitchen. “Strange that Lucan did such awful things but also such noble things. He loved Lovey and his daughter right to the end.”

“Have you figured out where Red Hozen comes into it?”

“Nope, but he's involved somewhere. He's just as eager to find Ramiro as the rest are.”

“Well, just pray Ramiro doesn't get put in the back of Red Hozen's car or that's the last anyone will see of him. He'll be dead or back at work in a field.”

There was something bugging me. “Yesterday, Harland Breslau was with Boomer searching out back. Where do you suppose he is now?”

“If it was me,” Tully said, “I'd have armed men I could trust cruising up and down the next concession making sure the guy I'm hunting doesn't get out of the net. Those guys waiting for Ramiro to break cover would have to be prepared to shoot. Bet that's where Harland and Orlin Breslau are.”

“So there may be more guys than we can see. All of them can't be dirty.”

“A fair number of those guys may have been using slave labor.”

“Yes, but would they go any further than that?”

“I wouldn't want to go to jail for that crime, especially not here in Florida.”

“They can't all be prepared to kill.”

“Which ones you going to trust?” His words echoed my own thoughts.

Tully added, “Sheriff Hozen has told the deputies they are looking for a wanted man. Seems to me if they caught Ramiro the sheriff would take over. Even if the guy that caught him wasn't in on it he's never going to know what happens to the prisoner. The sheriff would see to that.”

I got to my feet. Dog raised his head to see if I might want him to come along. “I'm going in and send an e-mail to everyone I know telling them what's going on here. People have to know what's happening out here, what's happening in Florida. However this ends, too many people will know about it to shut it down.”

Tully looked up at me. “You think that's wise?”

“It's the only thing I can think of. I want his story to be out there so they can't deny it.”

“You're afraid something's going to happen to all of us, aren't you?”

“I don't know. That's the problem.”

“Why don't you and Marley go? There's nothing you can do here. If you go into Jacaranda, you can tell the police. Bring help.”

“Or maybe they'll just call Hozen and tell him about the crazy woman standing in their office accusing him of crimes. Tell Hozen about the fugitive in the barn. That would work well, wouldn't it?”

“Even so, there's no reason for all of us to stay.”

“Well, I'd go, you know I'm all about looking after number one, but Marley has decided to be a martyr and she'd never let me live it down if I left without her.” I picked up the papers. “I'd hate to let her have that to hold over me.”

“Yeah,” Tully said, “I can see that would be a problem.” He reached down and stroked Dog's head. Dog settled down again. “We got to find a name for this animal. Why don't you think on that for a while?”

I opened the screen door but before I stepped inside I turned back and said, “Styles will come. He'll come tomorrow. We have to hold off until tomorrow.”

Inside, the land line was ringing. I picked it up without thinking.

“I'm going to get you, bitch,” Boomer hissed down the line. “I'm going to kill this guy and then I'm coming for you.”

I hit End and then I unplugged the telephone. My cell phone was on the counter. I switched that off as well but then I put it in my pocket just in case.

Looking out the kitchen window I tried to see Boomer. He was out there with a cell in his hand, able to reach out for me as he searched for a man he was going to kill. It was time to run. Maybe we'd already stayed too long.

The rain stopped and the sun came out and cranked up the heat and humidity, just to hold our attention.

After I sent an e-mail to everyone in my address book, I paced the kitchen waiting. Waiting was the worst. I had to do something useful or I was going to freak out. I pulled out some apples and began peeling them for a crumble. Crazy thing to be doing, but I couldn't sit and wait.

I heard Marley's feet on the front stairs, heard Uncle Ziggy's heavier tread following her. I already knew what it meant before she flew into the kitchen and said, “Here they come.”

From the kitchen window I saw the last of the machines break out of the woods. I dropped the apple and knife into the sink and followed Uncle Ziggy and Marley out to the porch. “What do you think?” Zig asked Tully.

“I think that boy better keep his head down,” Tully replied.

“Get rid of the gun, Tully,” I said. “It will just complicate the issue.”

He looked up at me set to argue but changed his mind, getting to his feet and going into the house.

“Where's the shotgun?”

“In the junk room with the binoculars,” Uncle Ziggy said. “But I'd feel better if I had it with me.”

“Look how many there are of them, all armed, let's just take it easy, make sure nothing stupid happens.” Tully and Ziggy were not men that took to being pushed around and weren't always given to thinking before acting. Having to turn away to get their weapons might just slow them down a bit.

Tully came out of the house and said, “The rifle is in the cupboard under the stairs if we need it.”

“Maybe they'll just load up their machines and leave.” I opened the kitchen door and put Dog inside. No telling how he'd react to all this.

The world was soaked and dripping, the heat cranked up by the humidity, and the men riding the machines looked grim, sodden and unhappy. Some encircled the barn while others headed for the bunkhouse. None of them headed for trailers to load their ATVs.

The dogs jumped off the machines where they'd been riding, sniffing the ground and setting up a racket. Everyone had a gun somewhere in sight.

“Apes with badges,” Ziggy said softly. “Psychotic rednecks, just trash that don't know no better. Stay close to the house and the girls, Tully. I'm going to the barn just to make sure they don't get any unfortunate ideas, don't decide to take those dogs inside.” He limped down the steps, favoring the leg crushed when a trailer came off its hitch, and step-hopped towards the barn.

Sheriff Hozen spoke quietly to the two deputies beside him. They nodded and stayed back as the sheriff peeled off towards the house. Behind him some men were getting off their machines while others stayed put, their weapons ready.

Boomer followed the sheriff. The sheriff heard Boomer behind him. Sheriff Hozen stopped and started to argue with Boomer. Their raised voices carried over the engines to the house. “I'm in charge here and you'll do exactly what I tell you,” the sheriff yelled. “Now get back.”

This Red Hozen, sitting astride his machine, was a different man than the one who first came to Riverwood. In less then a week he'd aged years, like he'd been pushed beyond the breaking point, not a good place to be when making life and death decisions. I waited to see if Boomer was going to explode, hoping they'd get to fighting each other and forget about us. Boomer spun his ATV and headed for his truck.

“Wait here just a minute,” Uncle Ziggy yelled, seeing two guys headed for the small door into the barn, dogs at their side. For a big man with the aches and pains of aging he still moved pretty fast, like the high school halfback he'd been. He blocked the small door set in the large barn door. “You ain't taking them dogs in the barn, we got a pregnant mare in there, no way you gonna upset her.” The men started to argue with him.

“Hold it,” Sheriff Hozen yelled at the men facing Uncle Ziggy. He turned to us. “We're going to search the house and barn.”

“Now wait here,” Tully said. “You ain't got no call to do that. Like Zig says, we've got a mare ready to foal in there. Clay's going to be suing your ass off if she drops early.” Sheriff Hozen stood up on his machine. “Don't spout rights at me. We're going to search the premises and you're going to stay out of it.” He peeled off his yellow slicker and tossed it onto the back of his machine. What had once been a neatly pressed shirt now clung to him like a wet rag. “Stay out of it,” he roared. His hand went to the revolver at his waist. He stared at us, daring us to defy him.

The confrontation at the barn was turning nasty. Ziggy had a shovel in his hand. Beside me, Tully moved restlessly forward but hesitated.

“And if we say no?” I asked. “What are you going to do, arrest us?”

“You don't really want to go there, do you?”

“There's no one here but us,” I told him. “I don't know exactly who you're looking for or why, but whoever you're looking for it's a waste of time.”

“It's for your own safety.”

“We're doing fine,” Tully answered.

“Two elderly men and two women?” The sheriff's disgust was barely contained.

I said, “I think you better come back when you've got some paper to show us.”

“We're in hot pursuit of a felon, we don't need any paper. We can enter any property we need to.”

“Hot pursuit? Well, it's true you look pretty warm. What did this guy do?”

“It's not necessary for you to have the details, you already know there has been a murder and you know that we are in hot pursuit, that's all we need to tell you.” A shout went up from Ziggy. He had his arm out pushing off the guy trying to go into the barn. A second man peeled around Ziggy and was just about through the door when Uncle Ziggy hit him with the shovel. It was a footrace for the barn.

A deputy I hadn't seen before was lying on the ground and another man had pulled his gun and was pointing it at Uncle Ziggy. Uncle Ziggy was red in the face and puffing, glistening with sweat, a heart attack about to happen. Even so, Ziggy stood spread-legged at the door holding off the others with the shovel.

Sheriff Hozen pulled out his gun and yelled, “Drop it.” Marley shoved through the men and ran past the deputy with a gun straight to Ziggy and planted herself in front of him. The sheriff yelled again, “Drop that shovel.”

Zig ignored him. Marley took the shovel out of Uncle Ziggy's hands. “It's okay. It will be fine,” she soothed. The shovel dropped to the ground.

It was a no-win situation. “Okay, Sheriff Hozen,” I said. “Just keep the dogs out of the barn, that's all we're asking. No point in hurting the mare.”

“You men get these dogs out of here,” the sheriff roared. The men started moving away with the dogs. I punched Brian Spears' number. My lawyer and friend, one of the guys that hung out at the Sunset every night, Brian was always my first resort in times of trouble. And he knew Ziggy, had acted for him when Ziggy had been forced out of his junkyard. Assaulting a deputy was serious. Zig would need a lawyer.

“Come on,” I said to the phone as Sheriff Hozen used plastic bindings to cuff Uncle Ziggy.

Uncle Ziggy didn't look like the only one who might have a coronary before this was over. Sheriff Hozen was a man close to melting down.

Brian answered and I explained the situation. The men were in the barn, spreading out and searching the empty stalls. One man picked up a pitchfork and began spearing a pile of wood shavings used for bedding. Anyone hiding in there would have been riddled with holes.

Only the one stall was occupied. The pregnant mare had been restless for the last day so we'd decided to keep her close so we could watch her. All of the other horses were still outside in fields, standing under the shade of a tin-roof shelter or resting in the shade of oaks that dotted the paddocks. It didn't take long to search the main floor.

“Let me talk to the sheriff,” Brian said as men started to climb the stairs.

“It's for you,” I said and handed the sheriff the phone. I ran for the stairs.

“Stay here,” the sheriff ordered. He had a gun in one hand and a phone in the other. No way to stop me unless he was prepared to shoot me.

Marley and Tully were already on the stairs, following the deputies.

“I'm ordering you to stay down here,” the sheriff shouted after us.

“Not likely,” Uncle Zig answered, his hands tied behind him, and charging at the stairs. I leaned aside and let Uncle Ziggy push past me, reasoning that even Sheriff Hozen wouldn't shoot with an innocent bystander in-between him and his target. Head down and puffing, Uncle Ziggy barreled straight ahead.

Whatever happened in the loft there was going to be witnesses. No one was going to lie about this and get away with it unless they killed us all. Not a good thought.