Deathwatch (3 page)

“Let’s think this thing through, Ben,” Madec said. “If we take this old man back to town, it’s going to start a big hassle. A hassle that doesn’t need to get started and doesn’t mean anything in the end anyway. It’s just that the law has to go through all these motions regardless. They’ve got to have their trial with the judge and the lawyers and the total waste of time and money. And after they’ve obeyed all the little rules, what happens? The death is accidental; it’s nobody’s fault, not mine, not yours.…”

“It sure isn’t mine,” Ben said.

“Of course not. So after they spend weeks going through all the motions, where are we? Right back where we started with an old man nobody wanted when he was alive and nobody wants now that he’s dead. Nobody gets punished, there’s nobody
I can pay to make their sorrow less, because nobody cares. I ask you, Ben, why put ourselves through all that hassle?”

“You mean you just want to leave him lying here?” Ben asked.

“No! No! We’ll give him a decent burial. I’m a religious man and I’ll pray for him.”

Ben looked down at him. “I hope I never meet anyone else like you.”

“That’s not a kind thing to say, Ben. Believe me, if I thought this old man had any sort of family I’d find them, and I’d see to it that they never wanted for anything money could buy. Think for a minute, Ben. You’ve been in this desert all your life, but you’ve never seen this old man before. Right? You don’t know who he is, and I don’t think anybody does. Just an old derelict. So let’s don’t get ourselves all involved in a big legal tangle. You want to go back to school pretty soon, don’t you? Well, if you get tied up in this thing you’ll be lucky to get back to school
next
year.”

“How did I get into this all of a sudden?” Ben asked. “I didn’t shoot anybody.”

Madec smiled at him. “I can see that you’ve never been involved with the police. As a witness to this thing you’re involved now and, believe me, they can drag it out for weeks, for months!”

“Are you going to help me with this?” Ben asked.

Madec sat there, his back against the rock, and looked at Ben. Finally, his voice low and sad, he
said, “I see. You want me to be punished, don’t you? Well, I can understand that, Ben. Even though it was an accident, you think I should be punished for it.”

“I don’t care whether you get punished or not,” Ben said. “I haven’t even thought about it. All I know is that when somebody gets shot you tell the sheriff. That’s the way it is.”

“That’s the way they
say
it is. I’m trying to get you to see the point of this thing, Ben. The law isn’t going to punish anybody. All the law is going to do is find out whether this was a murder or an accident. Now you know as well as I do that it wasn’t murder. So why
bother?
I’m going to be perfectly frank with you, Ben. I simply cannot afford to get tied up in a legal hassle. It’s worth a lot to me not to waste all that time. So if it’s worth a lot to me, I’ll see to it that it’s worth a lot to you. How much do you need to go to school until you get your degree?”

“Not much.”

“You name it, it’s yours.”

“Give me the rifles.”

Madec picked up the .358 and got to his feet. He slung the Hornet over his shoulder. “Ben, I’m going to ask you one more time.…”

“You don’t need to,” Ben said. “The way I see it, somebody got shot, so we’re going to the sheriff about it.”

“I said, Ben, that I was going to ask you one more time to see this thing my way. If you do, I’ll make it so you get all the college you need to
get your degree and, after you’ve got it, I’ll see to it that you get a job with the oil company you choose. Now that’s a good deal, Ben, so don’t turn it down for some petty law.”

“I don’t want any deals with you,” Ben told him. “And I don’t care if you’re a little inconvenienced because you shot a man. I’m going to the sheriff.”

Madec cradled the .358 in his arm and reached into his pocket. “This is the .358 slug that killed him,” he said, holding out his hand.

The heavy bullet was just a blob of lead and brass.

“So?” Ben asked.

“Unwrap him,” Madec said, putting the slug back in his pocket.

“Why?”

“I want to show you something.”

Ben unfolded the blanket.

“He was hit in the chest,” Madec said.

“I know that.”

“He was hit in the throat, too.”

Ben saw the small, blackish wound in the leathery skin of the man’s throat.

He couldn’t believe this; he couldn’t begin to think about it.

“There’s a .358 slug in my pocket,” Madec said. “And there are two Hornet slugs around here someplace. And two Hornet empties down the hill a way.”

Ben folded the blanket back over the old man and stood up.

Madec now had the .358 in both hands, the muzzle down, the fingers of his right hand lying relaxed on the trigger guard.

“Whoever shot that old man,” Madec said quietly, “didn’t do it accidentally, Ben. You don’t shoot a man accidentally twice.”

“B
EN, MY YOUNG FRIEND
,” Madec said, resting against the boulder, the rifle still poised in his hands, “we haven’t been thinking this little event all the way through.”

“You have,” Ben said. “What are you trying to do, make it look like the Hornet killed this man?”

“You see,” Madec said patiently, “you’re doing the same thing I’ve been doing—jumping to conclusions without examining the facts. So now I suggest that we both just cool off and start right from the beginning. Go through it, step by step, and see what we come up with.”

“Why don’t we start from right here?” Ben asked. “You pick up his feet, and I’ll pick up his head and we get him out of here. Because nobody is going to believe that a .22 Hornet blew a man’s lungs out of his back.”

Madec’s voice had a chiding, teacherlike quality. “You are not list-en-ing, Ben. You’re not thinking things through. For example, it could be that, long after this man had been shot and killed, he was shot again, with a .358, to, perhaps, create a
little confusion. Or to put the blame on someone else. And, don’t forget, coyotes and vultures can do a lot of damage, destroy a lot of evidence.”

“Not if they don’t get to him.”

“You’ve got a point there,” Madec agreed. “But let’s see if I haven’t got one, too. You see, Ben, it just occurred to me that people in a small, isolated community may think differently from people accustomed to the big-city way of doing things.” He suddenly laughed. “There’s another thing, too, which you may have noticed. There’s something about me—I don’t know what it is—that sometimes irritates people.”

“I know what it is,” Ben said quietly. “You give people the idea that if you don’t already own it, you can buy it.”

“That’s probably it,” Madec said. “I guess I do throw my weight around a little. And that’s what I’m worried about, Ben. You see, if we take this old man in to town there’s going to be a trial. And it could just possibly be that the people involved might be a little prejudiced. Even a little envious because I’m better off than they are. A jury chosen from people in a little isolated desert town are naturally going to be biased against a man like me. Don’t you think so, Ben?”

“I think so.”

“So, there’s that. And—there’s this. The trial with a prejudiced jury and perhaps even a biased judge is going to hinge on whether or not the death of this old man was
completely
an accident. Now you and I know that there was no intent to
kill this man. But, in a trial, the question is going to come up whether or not the death could have been avoided. Now, if a jury decides from the evidence that, although I had no intention of killing this man, the accident
could
have been avoided, then that puts a different light on things. You follow?”

“Madec, you’ve got a lot better chance just being honest about this than trying to make people in my town believe that this man was killed by two shots from a Hornet,” Ben said.

“Ben, I’m surprised. I thought you’d have noticed by now that I don’t take chances. For example, using your rifle is what you could call a contingency, something that may or may not come in handy later. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about now. What I’m talking about is what might happen if we go along with your plan and take the body back to town. I’m talking about the trial they’ll have, the jury. Now that jury could twist things around a little, Ben. They could take what you say at the trial and make it mean more than you wanted. In fact,” Madec said, smiling at him, “you’re a little prejudiced yourself, Ben, and that might show. Your testimony about what happened would be absolutely honest, I know that. But your prejudice might just tinge it enough to make the jury think that, perhaps, this accident could have been avoided.”

Madec shifted his position against the boulder and looked over at Ben. “We did have a little conversation about seeing horns. Now if you repeated
that to a group of men who have spent their lives in the desert they might decide that it wasn’t just a casual remark you made, but that you had advised me not to shoot. Even that you had
warned
me not to shoot. Now, if your testimony made them think that that was the way it was, then they would logically decide that this was not completely an accident.”

“You’re not thinking very straight, either,” Ben told him. “Just because it’s a little town way out in the desert doesn’t make the people meaner or dumber than anywhere else. They’ll believe the truth when they hear it just as fast as anybody else. And if you think they envy you being a dude from the city you’re wrong about that, too. They like it where they live, that’s why they live there.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Madec said. “But, as I told you, I don’t take chances. Your testimony at that trial could get me put in jail, Ben.”

“What do you want? For me to forget you told me you’d seen horns?”

“I am offended,” Madec said. “I resent your thinking I’d ask you to perjure yourself in a court of law. But I’m glad you agree with me that your testimony could result in my being convicted. Convicted and sent to prison, Ben. I have no intention of going to prison. It is not convenient.”

“I wonder if this old man thought it was convenient for him to get shot?”

Madec glanced down at the rolled blanket and
then shifted the .358 a little, bringing the muzzle higher. “I don’t think I’m getting through to you, Ben. So, tell me this, is it true that people stranded in the desert sometimes get hysterical and take their clothes off?”

What Ben felt was not exactly fear, or even apprehension. It was more physical; a chill gripping his shoulder blades. He realized now that he had known ever since he’d seen the black wound of the Hornet bullet that this was going to happen.

It made him feel helpless and stupid, for the time had passed when he should have made decisions, taken action, protected himself. Now it was too late.

“I’ve heard that,” he said.

“Then you’d better give me your hat, Ben.”

Now it was fear. Acknowledging it, recognizing it, turned all the vague apprehensions into sharp, clean fear.

He had been stupid to let Madec get this far without facing this thing,
thinking
about it.

“That isn’t going to work,” Ben said.

“It will work. Give me your hat and your shirt, Ben. Your boots, too.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then you force me to make a decision which”—Madec began to smile—“of course, I’ve already made. Believe me, Ben, I don’t like doing this. It’s just something that has to be done.
How
it’s going to be done I’m going to leave entirely up to you.”

Madec’s thumb moved slowly and deliberately. Ben watched the blued steel safety catch flip up.

Madec’s forefinger went into the trigger guard and moved down to lie on the curved trigger.

It was still difficult for Ben to realize that a man could plan a thing like this; could be so coldly deliberate about it.

“Perhaps it will help you in your decision,” Madec said, “for you to know exactly what I plan to do.”

“I think I know,” Ben said. “You’re going to make this look like murder. You’ve already done that”—he nodded toward the blanket—“with him. Now you’re going to make sure I can’t deny it.”

“Good thinking,” Madec said. “Very precise. So let me tell you what my thinking on this is. Or do you care to know?”

Ben thought about the Jeep and was disgusted with himself. But how could he have known that this insane thing was going to happen?

On each side of the Jeep for at least a hundred yards and downhill for more than that there was nothing but open ground. No place to hide and the shale would trip him if he tried to run. The .358 would stop him before he got halfway to the Jeep.

“I’d like to know,” Ben said.

“It’s simply this. You’re an honest, law-abiding young man. Therefore I can’t trust you. We could make a deal here to forget the conversation about the horns. But, in court, under oath, your
honesty would be put to a severe test. I can’t risk that.”

“What you’re doing is a lot riskier.”

“No. You see, the fact must be established that you, not I, shot this old man. The way we do it I leave entirely up to you so let’s discuss the alternatives. First, I could shoot you now. That might seem the simplest and quickest solution, but the trouble with a thing like that is it takes planning. There are a lot of details that have to be fitted very precisely. There’s always the chance in a premeditated murder to make a fatal mistake. So, unless you insist on it, let’s eliminate murder, shall we?”

“Good idea,” Ben said.

“The second way is for you to take off your boots, your shirt and your hat and put them on the ground. Then empty your pockets. You can keep your trousers on, but not your socks. How far is it to the nearest highway?”

Ben looked to the west. The mountains were black now with the sun setting behind them. “About forty-five miles.”

“Good. So, with no clothes to protect you from the sun, and no shoes to protect your feet, and with no food and no water, you’ve got a long walk.”

“I’ll make it,” Ben said.

“Perhaps. It really doesn’t matter. Because, if you do, the story you tell and the story I tell are going to be quite different.”