Chiefs (29 page)

“Cover for a while, Charlie,” he called back. “I got to go see a man about a dog.” He switched on the ignition and kicked the machine to life.

Chapter 9.

PATRICIA’S CAR reached the top of its climb and began to descend slightly. As it rounded a curve, she could see the house, with its trees and neatly planted flower beds and lawn. Foxy Funderburke was standing on the front stoop. As they neared the house, he left the stoop and waved them around to the back of the house.

Patricia had a brief moment to watch the man as Eloise greeted him. Wiry, neat, a closely cropped fuzz of hair on a rather large head. She thought he looked a bit like Mahatma Gandhi, but with smaller eyes and a sharper nose. His nickname was apt, and not just because of his physical appearance. He seemed instantly clever, alert, foxlike. He was awkward when she extended her hand. She really must make an effort to remember that southern American men were not accustomed to shaking hands with women. She looked about and remarked on the absence of kennels.

“I never keep more than two bitches,” Foxy said. He walked to a small, low shed built onto the back of the log house and lifted the hinged roof. Inside were two compartments, both with access to the house, one containing three sleeping puppies. As he did so, their mother appeared through a flap cut into the back door of the house and approached the visitors affectionately. Foxy picked up the three puppies and set them on the ground.

Two of them immediately began to worry their mother for milk. The third, who was smaller, sat and looked expectantly at them. Patricia laughed and picked up the puppy. “He’s the last male I’ve got left. The other two are bitches. Were you wanting a male or a female?”

“A male, I think. My, he looks the way I feel when I wake up.”

“Oh, he’s perky enough when he gets going. I think he’ll be small, more like the breed in the British Isles. Ours are bigger.”

“I don’t mind that. He’d fit into the car more easily.” She held him up and looked at him. He licked her nose. She put him on the ground and walked away. He quickly tottered after her. Memories of other puppies briefly made her homesick.

“He’s cute as a bug,” Eloise said, laughing. “He reminds me of the one you gave us a long time ago, Mr. Funderburke.” Foxy nodded. “We sure got to love that dog. He lived to be fourteen.”

“I came prepared to bargain with you Mr. Funderburke, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pay whatever you’re asking. I’m smitten.”

“Well, I guess fifteen dollars’ll do.”

“Isn’t that a bit low, now?”

“Well, he’s the runt of the litter, after all. Seems to take to you.”

Patrica wrote him a check, made her good-byes, and turned toward the car. She stopped with a start. The policeman Sonny Butts was standing at the corner of the house. He tipped his hat.

“Sorry to scare you Miz Lee, I just coasted down the hill, and I guess the cycle didn’t make much noise. Miz Eloise, how’re you?”

“Fine, Sonny. You scared me, too.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll have to start making more noise, I guess.” He shot a look at Foxy and noted that he, if anything, looked more surprised than either of the women. Worried, too. “I’ve just got a little business with Mr. Funderburke. I can come back if I’m interrupting anything.”

“Oh, no, Sonny,” Patricia replied, “I’ve just bought myself a puppy, and we’re on our way home now. You go right ahead.”

The women drove away and left the two men staring silently after them. “How you doing, Mr. Funderburke?” Sonny made a point of not sounding overly pleasant. He wanted to see how Foxy would continue to react. He had purposely cut the engine of the motorcycle and coasted the last, downhill part of the road.

‘Just fine.” Foxy was perspiring, which wasn’t too odd, considering the warm day, but he was breathing a little fast, too. “Uh, what can I do for you?”

“Well,” said Sonny, stretching it out, watching Foxy, “I just need a little information, and I thought you might be in a position to help me.” He waited for a beat, then turned to the motorcycle and slowly unbuckled the saddlebag. He removed the bundle and walked back to where Foxy stood. He kept his voice flat, toneless. “I thought you might be able to tell me something about this.” Foxy looked at the oily rag nervously. Sonny unwrapped the pistol and handed it to Foxy, butt first.

Foxy took the pistol as if it were a rattlesnake. Then he suddenly relaxed and licked his lips. “P-38. Walther. Good weapon.” He removed the clip and worked the action to be sure it was unloaded. “Nice example. Want to sell it?”

“What do you reckon its worth?”

“Well, there’s Lugers all over the place these days, but you don’t see many P-38’s. I’ve got one, but it’s the only one I’ve seen up to now. I’d give you forty dollars for it.”

“Well, no, sir, I didn’t really come out here to sell it to you. I just wanted to get your opinion. From what I hear you’re the authority around here.” Sonny was smiling now, turning on the charm.

Foxy grinned slightly. “Well, I’ve owned a few handguns in my time.”

Sonny looked around. “Nice place you’ve got here. First time I’ve been out here.”

“Oh, well, let me show you around. I’ve got a few weapons around the place you might like to see, too.” Foxy was completely at ease now.

“No, sir, thank you, I appreciate it, but I’ve got to get back to the station and spell Charley.” Foxy seemed relieved, he thought. Sonny thought he liked him better nervous. “I’d really love to see your place some time, though. Tell you what, one day when there aren’t too many speeders coming over the mountain, I’ll just drop in and surprise you.”

That did it. Foxy was all tight again. “Well, uh, I’d appreciate a little notice. I, ah, get pretty busy around here now and then, and I’d ‘predate it if you’d give me a call first. Be sure I’m available.”

“Oh, yeah, sure Foxy, I could probably do that.” Sonny switched to the first name easily. He felt he was on top in this conversation, and he wanted to stay there. He wanted to keep Foxy nervous, too.

“Fine, that’s just fine.” Foxy put his hand on Sonny’s shoulder and walked him toward the motorcycle. “Be glad to have you out here sometime. Just give me a call. I’m in the book.”

Just before Sonny cleared the little rise and started down the mountain, he glanced over his shoulder. Foxy would be watching him leave, he knew it. He was right. There was something going on with that guy. Nothing urgent; he’d just check on him now and then, ask around, maybe drop in again, unannounced. Maybe he was connected to those old murders. That was a long time ago, though; why would he be nervous about something that far back?

Then Sonny felt his skin crawl, remembered something, something in Chief Lee’s notes. What was it he said? “How many more?” That was it. He had underlined it. More murders? But there weren’t any more murders, not in the files, not that anybody knew about.

Not that anybody knew about. Jesus.

Chapter 10.

BILLY LEE was just leaving for work when the phone rang in the trailer. He sank down in the dinette seat, where he could have a view of the house. They had moved the trailer out here as soon as the electricity and phone had been hooked up, so Patricia could be there all the time during the finishing work. He picked up the phone on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Is that Colonel Lee?” A man’s voice.

“Yes, this is Billy Lee.” The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“This is Marshall Parker, Colonel, at the garage. How are you today?” Billy laughed at himself. He hadn’t recognized a familiar voice, because he had identified it as white instead of black.

“Morning, Marshall, I’m just fine. How’s business?”

“Just fine, just about all I can handle. I’m putting on some help next week.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

“Yessir. Uh, Colonel, I think I’ve got a problem. I wonder if you could stop by here on your way to town for a minute?”

“What’s the trouble, Marshall?” He looked at his watch; it indicated 7:45. He had a board-of-directors meeting at the bank at 8:00.

“Well, sir”—Billy noted an odd caution in Marshall’s voice— “I think it’d be better if I explain it here. Can you come by?”

“Is it urgent, Marshall? I’ve got a meeting at the bank at eight. Could it wait until a little later this morning?”

“Well, ah, if you could just stop by here for just a minute you might be a better judge of that than me. I, uh—” He stopped talking, and Billy could feel tension in the silence.

“Sure, Marshall, I can stop by for just a minute. It’s right on my way in.”

“Thank you, sir, I sure appreciate it.” The relief in his voice was obvious.

On the drive into Delano, Billy wondered about Marshall’s reluctance to talk on the telephone. Was somebody there with him who inhibited his conversation, or was he worried about the operator? Delano still didn’t have dial phones, and all calls were placed by operators. As he pulled up in front of the garage, he was relieved to see that everything appeared normal. The front doors were wide open, and Marshall came out to greet him.

“I’m sure glad you could stop by here, Colonel.” Marshall pointed to the rear of the building. “Could you step back here? There’s something I want to show you.”

They walked out of the main building into a small storeroom at the back. Billy immediately noticed that a window pane was broken. The frame was new wood, unpainted, and stickers still covered the other panes. “You had a visitor in the night, Marshall?”

“Yes, sir, I believe I did.” He indicated two cardboard boxes on the floor.

“Have you called the police? What did they take?”

“Well, sir, it’s not what they took; they didn’t take anything as far as I can tell.” He walked over to the boxes and pulled back the flap of one. “It’s more like what they left.”

The box was a container of twelve Mason jars. Their shiny new tops gleamed in the morning light. “You taking up canning, Marshall?”

Marshall removed one of the jars from the box. It was filled with a clear liquid. He handed it to Billy. “No, sir. I’m not taking up canning. I’m not taking up this, either.”

Billy unscrewed the top of the jar and sniffed the contents. “Whew! That’s powerful stuff! You a drinking man, Marshall?”

“Well, my brother-in-law gets down here from Atlanta ‘bout once a month, and he always brings me a bottle of Early Times. That’s the only drinking I do.”

Billy leaned against the door jamb and scratched his head. “Well, it looks like somebody’s made you a gift of about a two-year supply. You know somebody in this business who might be using your place for some temporary storage?”

Marshall looked at him and shook his head. “No, sir, I sure don’t.”

“Well, why would—” Billy froze in midsentence. “Uh, oh.” He looked at his watch. “Listen, Marshall, let’s get this stuff in my car—you do that, will you? Just stick it in the trunk. I want to make a couple of phone calls.”

Billy found the phone book and called a number. “Melvin? … This is Billy Lee. How you doing? … Good… . Yes, she’s fine, working hard on the house. Listen, I wonder if you could meet me down at the station? There’s something I need to talk to you about… . Right now, ‘bout five minutes… . Good.” He called Holmes and explained that he would be a little late for the board meeting; he’d get there as soon as possible. Then he started for the car. “You’d better lock up, Marshall, then come on and ride with me.”

On the way into town Billy asked a few questions. “Marshall, anybody got anything against you?”

“I don’t think so, I really don’t.”

“Haven’t had any arguments with your neighbors or customers or anybody?”

“No, sir. I’ve been getting along real good.”

“Nobody unhappy about the way you fixed his car, anything like that?”

“No, sir! When I fix something I guarantee my work!”

“Course you do.” Billy thought for a minute. “You had any problems with any white folks?”

Marshall started to speak, then stopped. “Well—”

“Better tell me about it, Marshall, we haven’t got much time.”

“Sonny Butts might still be mad at me, I don’t know.”

“Sonny? What’ve you had to do with Sonny?”

Marshall told him about the incident with Sonny’s car. “I would have been glad to work on it; I even offered to come get it when I was through with Smitty’s car, but he wouldn’t listen; he just went off. You reckon this is something to do with Sonny?”

Billy said nothing. They were at the police station, now, and he parked his car and got out. “Come on in with me, Marshall.” The two men entered to find Charley Ward all alone. He seemed startled to see them.

“Hey, Colonel, you’re up early.” He looked quickly at Marshall. “What can I do for you?” Before Billy could answer Chief Melvin Thomas shuffled into the room looking sleepy.

“Morning, Billy, Marshall. Well, what’s the problem, Billy?”

Billy walked him out to the front of the building and opened his car trunk. He pulled out a jar and handed it to Thomas. “Looks like somebody broke into Marshall’s garage last night and left two dozen bottles of the finest moonshine, Melvin. What do you make of that?”

Thomas took the jar and laughed aloud. “Well, that’s sure a new one on me. Folks usually take stuff when they break in, not leave it. You’re sure a honest man, Marshall.” He winked at Billy. “If somebody had left that at my house I’m not sure I’d of turned it in. You could have yourself quite a party with that much shine.” He laughed again. “You serious about this, Billy? That really what happened?”