Circles in the Sand (13 page)

“We brought some small items back…things we could get in the carryall.” Elsas said. “ Most of it we put in Q-2 for Jewel to inventory.”

Clint looked around. “All in all, things are picking up around here.”

“Yeah, unless your name is Donkin,” Kline mumbled.

Early the next day, A Montana State Police cruiser and a civilian car arrived together and parked in back of Gilman’s. Inside two men in civilian clothes identified themselves as Detectives Jones and Smith, and immediately asked for  Sergeant Greybull.

“That’s me,” Clint said.

The detective who spoke frowned when he looked at Clint. “You’re a Sergeant? Are you off duty?”

“No, we’re all on duty.” His wave encompassed the seated airmen. “Special assignment. We wear civilian clothes while here.”

“Okay, we’ll we need to talk to all of you…and a lot of other people around here.”

Listening, Dorris said, “Do you need a private room, detective? Maybe our dinning room would do. We don’t use it much during the day.”

After getting a written statement of all he knew about the Jeep and Donkin from Clint, the lead detective, Jones,  said, “Own a rifle, Sergeant?”

“Yeah, a thirty-o-six deer rifle.”

“Can we see it?”

“Sure. It’s in my truck camper out back.”  Clint started to walk outside.

“Just a minute Sergeant, Detective Smith will go with you.”

Clint shrugged and led the way. He dropped the tailgate to his truck, unlocked the door with a key and crawled inside. Smith remained at the entrance watching him. Opening a cabinet under his bunk, Clint pulled out a rifle case. He opened it and said, “What the hell…?” It was empty. He turned a bewildered look on Smith.

“I can see it’s not there, Sergeant,” Smith said. “Where is it now?”

“Wherever who stole it took it…the sonovabitch.”

“Okay, don’t handle that case anymore. We’ll want to check it for fingerprints.  Anything else missing?”

While Clint rummaged around, Smith examined the door and lock. “This thing looks so flimsy you couldn’t keep a serious Cub Scout out. Anything ever stolen from you before?”

“Naw. I don’t see anything else missing. Not much else to steal.”

Back inside, after Smith’s report, Jones said, “When’s the last time you saw your rifle, Sergeant?”

Clint sat down and scratched his head. “For sure, probably when I put it away after last deer season. I cleaned it before stowing it.”

“Where were you then?”

“Back in Grand Eclipse. On the Air Base.”

“And you haven’t seen it since then, not since you’ve been here?”

“No. I’ve had no use for it.”

“Got any idea who might have taken it, or when?”

Clint looked pained. He should have checked on it more often. “No to both questions. I left my truck behind at the Air Base on my first trip here. Could have lost it then, or anytime since I’ve been here.”

“We found the slug…in the Jeep. Mashed up, but looks like thirty-o-six. Big wound. Could have been your rifle.”

“Sure it could have been,” Clint said. “But I bet you can find dozens of similar guns everywhere around here. What man doesn’t own one?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jones said. “We know that. How about the negra? You got any prejudices against them?”

“Naw. No point. The armed forces are integrated now. Equal treatment for all.”

“Yeah sure. But right off the cuff, you are the only one we can put a finger on. How about you detailing your activities since you last saw the Jeep.”

Clint sat down and reviewed every place he’d been and the approximate times. Then Jones wanted him to write it all down. “Don’t leave the area, We may want to talk to you again.”

Clint shrugged and said, “Don’t worry. This is my happy home for now.”

Before they left West Layover, the detectives talked to all of the airman, asking each if they know anything about Clint’s rifle, or Airman Donkin. None new anything of interest except Lance. “There’s a cowboy in Chet’s once said he better not find any blacks around here, or he’d take care of em.”

“Yeah, and who was he?”

“He was probably just shootin’ off his mouth. Trying to impress us what a stud he was. He was full of shit, but it was Basil Tree.”

“Know where we’ll find him?”

“No, but he works for Fritz Deutsch. He oughta know.”

Back at Q-1 where some of the troops had gathered, Kline said, “Hey how about that? Our fearless leader may be a suspect.  His Jeep, maybe his gun. Wonder what he had against Donkin?”

“Knock off  the bullshit, Kline.” T/Sgt Patton said. “Don’t go starting any dumb ass rumors. Now, if he’d shot one of you goof offs, I could understand that.”

“Hey, don’t you be givin’ the chief any ideas, Sarge. Of course, maybe I’d rather be shot…than dig any more useless holes.”

“If you think that was tough, Kline, you’ve never used a posthole digger…neater holes, but harder work…particularly when you get deep with one.”

Through with his interview, Clint went to the hotel desk to borrow the telephone. When he finally contacted Lt. Pearsall, he explained the Jeep and Donkin situation. “I figure I ought to let you know. I’ve no idea what kind of channels the locals have for notifying you. Surely some one from Air Force will want to look into his murder, if not about my stolen Jeep.”

“Oh yeah,” Lt. Pearsall said. “I’ll buzz the Office of Special Investigations and Air Div Commander. So that’s what happened to Donkin. We put him on a bus to join you.”

“Lord knows I can use some bodies, but what skills did that Private have?”

Pearsall hesitated. “Well…we expected you could use some muscle.”

“Don’t tell me…somebody’s  problem child. Why not send him to the boondocks?”

“Yeah…Air Div kinda forced us to take him. He wanted out of the Air Force and it was too soon to court-martial him again.”

“He sure got out the hard way.”

“True, but now he’s one problem you don’t have.”

“Small blessings. What’s the latest word on some more supplies?”

“Good news on gas. You can get it from Fort Peck, and they even have some fifty-five gallon drums you can cart it away in. Oh yeah, next time we can get a plane down there, Colonel Jenner has arranged for a courier to bring you some payroll cash.”

“Hey, that’s the best news yet. Any idea when?”

“No. We have to beg, borrow, steal and pray to break loose an aircraft for our purposes.”

“Cash reminds me. Considering recent events, seems like we ought to have some weapons. Now that my rifle is missing, the only gun we got, that I know of, is Lance Werner’s twenty-two target pistol. How about some forty-fives for the NCOs at least?”

“I can only look into that. I have no idea.”

Having overheard some of Clint’s telephone conversation set Dorris Gilman to thinking. She was vaguely upset about Clint’s involvement with a possible shooting.
But how could he really be connected to it if someone stole his gun? But it was his Jeep and an airman killed. What if he had some unknown reason to shoot that man? What if that airman was involved in Clint’s past somehow? What if he knew something despicable about Clint? Something that made Clint think it was necessary to kill him…to shut his mouth?

These thoughts tumbled around in Dorris’ mind until she felt sick. Sighing and wringing a handkerchief, she felt overcome with depression. Lorena came in from the cafe and saw her Mother’s pained look. “What’s the matter, Mom? You don’t look so good.”

“Oh, I’m just down in the dumps. It’ll go away.”

“I bet I know. Are you worried about Sergeant Greybull too?”

“Oh no.” Very perceptive of her daughter. “Why should I be? Are you too?”

“I was at first. Then I got to thinking about how well we know him, and what a fine man he is. He couldn’t have shot another airman. He doesn’t say much. But I believe he’s proud of his ‘troops’ as he calls them.”

Dorris felt so much better she stood and hugged her daughter. “You’ve sure got a cool head on your shoulders, Lorena. I was worried, but you’ve cheered me up.”

When Radecker’s news about the Black body reached Fritz at his desk, he had fits.  “Jesus Christ, Basil, are you crazy, killing someone, a negra airman at that?”

“Hey, what you talkin’ about? I ain’t killed no one. A negra airman? I ain’t seen one. Maybe I would kill one if I seen ‘im. But I didn’t. What’s goin’ on here?”

“Sheriff found a dead negra airman in Greybull’s Jeep. An’ you don’t know anything about it?”

“Hell no. Wasn’t anyone in that Jeep when I left it. An’ I din’t see anyone else around.”

“Damn.” Fritz  stood  up and pointed a finger at Tree. “You better not be shittin’ me. An’ I’ll tell you something else. You better cook up a good story. The county mounties, and maybe the FBI are going to be all over your ass. Over all our asses. I damn sure didn’t want anything like this goin’ on.”

“Wellll…the body ain’t my fault.”

I’m beginning to wonder if Tree isn’t more of a problem than a help
. “Yeah, well if I was you, I’d think about camping out of the way for a while. Relieve Sid and Boykin out on the herd. Can’t find you, they can’t ask you anything,”

Good thing I saw that negra drive off with the Jeep. Shit, thought sure as hell they’d pin it on Greybull.
Basil hid Clint’ rifle under his bunk.
Now how can I get it to the state police, so they know it’s Greybull’s…without connecting it to me?
  

After lunch, Clint told the troops about payroll and gas at Ft. Peck. “They’ve got fifty-five gallon barrels we can store the gas in. The immediate problem as I see it, is moving those containers and getting the gas out of them.”

Elsas said, “Surely they have at least a hand pump to do that. We may have to leave them on the truck until we can get a fork lift. There’s no easy way to manhandle a full fifty-five gallon drum.”

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do this afternoon. Sergeant Patton, I’d like you to stay here in case the telephone or electricity people show up. Airman Jewel, you stay here and get our supply records in order. The rest of us will take the deuce and the carry-all to Fort P.”

Kline said, “How about we check out the WAC barracks while we’re there”

“You  probably can’t get near their quarters,” Clint said, “but if we got any extra time we’ll see if they have a on-limits day room.”

“Rats. If there’s girls about, I want to go too.”  Jewel’s complaint caught everyone by surprise. His apple cheeked face flushed red.

Kline said, “Hey baby face. What would you do if we found some? You know what to do with a girl? You sure it’s not a boy you want?”

“You sorry shit head!” Jewel jumped up and pushed Kline over in his chair. “I’ll take care of a girl better than you will…any day of the week.”

Clint shoved his way between the two airman. He pushed Jewel away from Kline who struggled to get up. “Knock off the horse shit, you two. Any more of this stuff and you’ll be doing some guard duty with a sack of sand on your back. Any more horseplay in this restaurant and you’re going to be eating C-rations at Q-1. That clear, everybody?”  After Clint stared at each man, they all mumbled a positive. “Kline, your kidding got out of hand. Jewel, you’re still staying here. You got work to do.”

At Fort Peck, Elsas, Priebe and Kline went straight to the salvage yard with the carryall. Clint and the rest drove to the fuel depot in the deuce. Along with ten barrels, the Army supplied a hand pump to the airmen. “That thing’s a lot of work, but I don’t know how else you can get gas out of the fifty-fives without spilling a lot of it,” the supply supervisor said.

“We’ll make it work,” Clint said. “Until we get a fork lift, the full barrels will have to stay on the deuce. Ties up a vehicle. We’ll figure out a better way later.”

On the way back to the fuel depot, Clint dropped off  Werner, Alcocke and Hooper near the WAC area. “Lance, go straight to the orderly room and make sure they have a unrestricted dayroom, or some other place men can meet the girls. I’ll be back here to pick you up not later than sixteen hundred.”

“Got you, Chief. Only legal fraternization.”

Loaded with fuel, Clint drove the deuce back to the salvage area. Priebe sat in the cab of the deuce with the Jeep engine in the bed. Kline sat in the passenger’s seat. Elsas was talking to the yard NCO. “So, what’s going on, Priebe,” Clint asked.

“We’re all set to haul ass with this vehicle. Elsas is getting some word on that fire engine.”

Seeing the other three airmen missing from Clint’s deuce, Kline hollered, “Don’t tell me those other jokers are at the WAC barracks.”

“Don’t sweat it, Kline,” Clint said. “Elsas will be picking them up again at sixteen hundred. That’s in only  twenty-five minutes.”

The carryall riders arrived last back at Q-1. Kline pounced on them as soon as they entered the door. “Hey, I want to know how you lucky stiffs made out with the WACs?”

“Me too,” Jewel piped in. “Except you guys don’t look too happy.”

Lance threw his cap down on a desk. “No, we’re not too happy. Just inside the orderly room, a WAC E-6 jumped up from her desk and shooed us right back out the door. Since she followed us, I asked if they had an on-limits recreation area.”

“Not in this area…strictly off-limits to males.” Stood in the door looking like a tank. A bad tempered tank. “You can meet the girls at the service club, or in town, but not here.”

“The way she said, ‘the girls,’ I wondered if she didn’t include herself.  We ended up standing around in the sun waiting for our ride.”

Jewel said, “Didn’t you see any other females around there?”

“Naw…probably most were still on duty,” Lance said.

Smiling, Kline said, “Sarge, if you were a real leader, you’da tried to date the tank. Sacrifice yourself to get an in for the rest of us.”

“You can go piss up a rope, Kline,” Lance said with a smile.

Sergeant Patton had some good news. “We got electricity in, and Monday we get phones. The state police have released your Jeep, Clint. The bad news is you have to go to their Glasgow headquarters to get it.”

“I can do that tomorrow. I’m taking Mrs. Gilman to dance over there. One of you can ride along and drive the Jeep back.”