HIGHWAY HOMICIDE (21 page)

Chapter Thirty Two

The t
rap Carl had set for the killer was an extremely simple one. More like an ambush than a trap really. The man driving the Jeep had taken no action on the previous day other than checking David was still in the store.

Carl
figured he’d be back again on the following day, but this time with the stolen rifle. His ambush relied upon excellent and reliable communications as much as anything else. Plus some luck and, of course, perfect timing.

With his local volunteer lookout team posted all over town, the Jeep was soon spotted. Carl didn’t know and hadn’t been able to find out either, where the guy had stayed overnight. If he had, he may have tried to take him out there instead.

Even so, he had faith in his hunch the killer would return to town today. It was most probable he wasn’t even aware he’d been spotted on the two days previously. He’d certainly not shown any awareness.

The lookouts steadily reported the Jeep’s location in to Judy, who relayed the information to Carl and Almost by radio. Consequently Carl, Almost and David were expecting the Jeep as it came slowly down the street towards the appliance store.

No sooner had it passed an alley between two stores, a large white van pulled out of the alley and straight out into the street. By coming straight out instead of turning, it had effectively blocked that end of the street. No sooner had the van pulled out, than Carl and Almost drove their patrol cars, one behind the other, out of another alley further down the street, just past the appliance store.

Their cruisers had been concealed in the alley with just the hood of Carl
’s car being visible. At a signal from one of the ‘watchers’ across the street Carl immediately drove out of the alley.

Almost, with David in the passenger’s seat
, followed close behind in the second cruiser. Between them they blocked off the other end of the street. There was now no way out for the Jeep, with the van behind and the two patrol cars in front of it.

The Jeep’s driver pulled to a stop, realiz
ing too late that he’d just driven into a trap. Carl got out of his cruiser holding a bullhorn and he rested his arms on the roof of the car. David and Almost climbed out of the other cruiser, with David exiting on the passenger’s side.

The Jeep drove slowly forward again until it was no more than ten or twelve feet from the police cars, which were now broadside across the road. It stopped again.

“Get out of the car. Put both of your hands in the air where I can see them,” Carl called out on the bullhorn.

The driver didn’t respond, other than turning the Jeep’s engine off.

Carl called out again. “Leave your vehicle
now
. Put your hands in the air. This is your final warning.”

Very slowly, the driver’s side door of the
Jeep opened. Carl could see the man was getting out, but because he’d driven so far forward to set the trap, his view of the man was partially blocked by the hood of the Jeep.

As the man got out he raised his left hand into the air, but Carl’s view was still partly blocked by the Jeep itself. Carl saw a look of surprise on the driver’s face as he looked over at them.
Carl realized the man wasn’t looking at him; he was looking straight at David! The Jeep’s driver had recognized him in spite of the deputy’s uniform.

And David, deputized even though he was, was unaccustomed to police work, like Carl and Almost were, and he also hadn’t been trained either.

Consequently he was standing on the passenger’s side of the cruiser in full view of the other driver. Carl and Almost had the bulk of their cars to offer them protection, but David had nothing at all between the killer and him.

Just as David realized the t
erribly vulnerable position he was in, the killer suddenly stepped away from the Jeep. He lifted the rifle he’d been holding inside the car with his right hand, and fired it point blank at David.

Even though they’
d been expecting something to happen, they were taken completely by surprise. Reaction times in Cooper’s Corners were considerably slower than those depicted in the cop shows on T.V.

Carl had been about to warn David to get behind the cruiser, but before any of them could react at all, the killer’s rifle exploded and he fell heavily to the ground beside his Jeep.

Almost rushed forward and rather unnecessarily kicked the shattered rifle out of the way as Carl checked the downed man. It was pretty obvious to Carl that, with half of his face blown away, that the man was dead. But Doc Wayland had been asked to be on hand just in case everything went off the rails, and anyone, other than the killer, got themselves hurt. Doc had been observing the action from a nearby store and came straight out to join them.

Carl had advised all of the owners of the stores within the immediate ambush area to lock their doors. He didn’t want to give the killer an escape route on foot through one of the stores. Doc knelt down beside the fallen man and checked him out. He was quite dead, he told Carl.

“You sure, Doc?” Carl said, giving him a long and meaningful look.

“Yes, Sheriff, I’m quite sure. This time, at least, I’m
absolutely
sure, okay?”

Carl nodded, “Just checking, Doc,” he said and then breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Its over, guys, and we didn’t even have to take him down. He did it all by himself.”

He walked back over to his cruiser as the store owners and others came out of the stores to ogle the scene. Almost and David did their best to keep them as far away from the body as possible.

Carl radioed
through to Judy to tell her the ambush had been successful and asked her to thank each of the lookouts and to tell them to stand down. He also asked her to put in the usual calls to Burlington and also for an ambulance.

Then he walked back over to where David, Almost and Doc were standing. In spite of their curiosity, the onlookers were being considerate, well behaved and were keeping their distance. Carl shook hands with David and clapped him on the back.

“Thank God that’s all over with, Dave,” he said, looking back down at Jason Wells, lying dead beside the Jeep. Then he stood, embarrassed, in front of Doc. He held out his hand.

“Sorry about that, Doc. My comment just now was completely uncalled for and I apologize, but before we could call an end to this thing
celebrate and our victory, I had to be certain. I’m really sorry if I hurt you.”

David and Almost looked at both of them with puzzled expressions. Neither of them could see where Carl had said anything that warranted an apology to Doc.

Doc shook Carl’s hand. “I understand, Carl. If you decide to do a reenactment of the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral in the middle of our little main street, you have to expect things to get a little tense, don’t you? Anyway, I wasn’t offended. You did well, Sheriff, congratulations.”

Carl just nodded. He wasn’t
too sure he wanted to be congratulated for having another man lying dead there in front of him in the street. Not even if he’d just being doing his job and doing it very well. But he had to admit to himself he was pleased now that it was all over.

Perhaps Cooper’s Corners could now get back to being that beautiful and peaceful little place in rural
Vermont where nothing ever happened. Nothing as bad as this had ever happened before, and Carl fervently hoped that nothing like it would ever happen again.

It was the following morning and Carl sat at his desk with his head in his hands as he hung up the phone.

“Jesus
Christ!”
he said. “I can’t believe it. Goddamn it all to hell, it can’t be true. It just
can’t
be true!”

“What’s wrong, Sheriff?” Almost asked.

“What’s
wrong
, Almost? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Our
supposed
killer,” he snarled. “That’s what’s wrong, goddamn it.”

“But he’s dead now, Carl,” Judy said soothingly, “It’s all over now.”

“Like hell it is!” Carl retorted angrily. “We’re right back where we started. Even further back now, for Christ’s sake.”

“Carl, what could you possibly mean?” Judy asked in a frightened voice now. “The man is dead, for God’s sake,”

“Yeah,
that
one is. But we got the wrong guy, Jude, that’s what I mean. We got the
wrong
goddamned guy, for Christ’s sake, Jude!”

“How, Carl. How do you know that? He was the one who was trying to shoot David, wasn’t he?”

“He was. But the thumb prints we have don’t match up to the dead guy, that’s how I know,” Carl said bitterly, rubbing his hand wearily across his forehead. “Shit, what a bloody mess.”

“But we checked and they did match,” Almost said.

“Oh, we matched the thumb prints of the two murders alright,” Carl went on. “A perfect match, in fact, except those prints don’t match this guy’s prints. We trapped and nailed the wrong guy.

“But you said
he was about to shoot David.” Judy protested.

“Maybe he was, Jude. But this Jason Wells character didn’t kill either Forrest Appleyard or Erica’s sister.”

“Alright, Carl, simmer down. For what it’s worth, we didn’t kill
him
either. So don’t beat yourself up over it. You, or we, weren’t responsible for that rifle exploding. And if it hadn’t blown up, David here, would have been dead instead of him, wouldn’t he?”

Carl shook his head angrily.

“But I should have known, Jude. As soon as he brought the rifle up to fire it, I should have known he wasn’t the real guy we were after. A bad guy, sure, but not the main one. There were two of the bastards.”

“I’m curious, Carl” Almost said. “Why should you have known when he brought the rifle up that he wasn’t the right guy?”

“If I’d been thinking straight at all it would have told me the guy was right handed. And we already knew our killer was a
lefty
, so this guy couldn’t have been him.”

Chapter Thirty Three

Before Jason Wells had gotten out of the Jeep, he had chambered a round into Ellis Perrin’s rifle. Then as he had fully emerged from the Jeep, bringing the gun out
with him, he’d raised it and then fired it point blank, at David Gates.

When they were in University nearly all of them had tried drugs, to one degree or another. Except for the pristine and squeaky clean David Gates, of course.

Some had tried a joint or two of Mary J, while others had progressed steadily into the harder stuff. One of those had been Jason Wells. He was now a long
term junkie, a guy who’d do just about anything to get a hit for himself. Whoa, correct that! Not just
about
anything.

Jason Wells would do absolutely
anything;
even kill his own mother, if his need was great enough. And especially, if the amount of dope offered was sufficient to last him a while or the amount of money was enough to buy it. He no longer had any qualms or scruples where the support of his habit was concerned. He’d already stolen his father’s brand new Jeep.

B
ut it wasn’t Jason’s mother the man wanted Jason to kill for him, was it? Of course not, what would that do for him? If he killed David Gates though, that would be a different matter altogether. A horse of a completely different color in fact, as the saying goes.

After a great deal of haggling, the killer had agreed to pay Wells $10,000 for the job. Naturally Wells had demanded half of it in advance, up
front, but the killer knew if he even gave Wells only a fraction of that amount, Wells would be stoned out of his mind for weeks. So he’d refused to pay anything in advance at all. He didn’t plan to pay him anything afterwards either!

Wells had baulked at no advance payment for a while, but the promise of such a huge score convinced him to go with payment in full on completion of the job. The killer had given him instructions as to where to obtain the weapon, but Wells had to steal it himself. After all, the killer thought, why buy a dog if you had to do all the barking yourself.

However, when he saw Wells’ rifle explode, killing him instantly, the killer was furious. The stupid junkie couldn’t even fire a rifle without blowing himself up in the process. He felt neither sympathy nor remorse for the man at all. At least he hadn’t paid him anything. He was just angry that he had to start all over again, to look for another patsy to do the job for him.

After thinking for a while about whom else he might be able to recruit, and also
the fact it wasn’t the kind of thing you put a want ad in the paper for, he remembered an old adage.

‘If you want a job done properly, do it yourself’. Hell, he thought, I’ve even got current experience!

At least he now knew the local cops were on to him. That was why he’d set the scene himself and had switched to Wells in the last couple of days. As part of their deal, the killer had insisted they both use Wells’ father’s Jeep while driving in the area so that, if the cops checked it out, the Jeep would be associated with Wells and not to himself.

The killer knew
Wells had been arrested for DUI several years back, but was still driving anyway. He just needed to keep Wells off the drugs until the job was done. After that, he didn’t care what happened to him. He fully expected the cops to kill Wells as soon as he shot Gates anyway. And if the cops didn’t do it, then he would.

Wells had done one thing that would have been worth paying him something for. He had located Gates for him. Purely by chance, as it happened but nonethel
ess, he’d found him. From that point on it was supposed to have been easy. But the local Sheriff was a lot smarter than either of them had given him credit for and Wells had been neatly ambushed.

The man had watched with interest as the Sheriff’s trap had c
losed on his hired killer. He’d followed the Jeep into town, a safe distance back, and had stopped behind the cube van blocking the street. He’d gotten out of his car and had peered around the back of the van, just as any other curious onlooker might have done.

From his vantage point, he’
d watched Wells make his stand against the Sheriff and his armed deputies. He also saw Wells had recognized Gates as being one of them.

He looked on eagerly as Wells raised the rifle, no more than ten feet
away from Gates. And then he’d gasped in amazement as the rifle barrel had blown apart in Wells’ hand. As Wells fell, the watcher realized the blast from the exploding rifle had killed him instantly.

When Wells had stolen Ellis Perrin’s rifle in order to accomplish his murderous task, he knew
nothing about the accident Ellis had been in. How Elsie Hicks had slammed into the back of his pickup, smashing Ellis’s rifles down on to the floor.

Ellis had been both concerned and furious about the possibility of having bent barrels on his rifles, caused by the impact. In actual fact, only one of them had been damaged, and even that could have been avoided if Ellis had cleaned his guns promptly and properly. Unfortunately for Wells, the damaged one
was the one he was holding. He’d had a fifty-fifty chance and he’d chosen the wrong one.

The one he’
d chosen didn’t have a bent barrel or any other kind of structural damage to it either. But because of the elapsed time, something had happened to it that was far worse. Something bad enough to instantly kill the person who was unlucky or stupid enough to fire it.

When it had been slammed forward out of the rack and had pierced the tube of industrial adhesive on the floor, a fair amount of the glue had been forced up inside the barrel by the impact.

A furious Ellis Perrin had wiped the mess off the
outside
end of the barrel and had just put both guns back up in the rack. He either didn’t realize or just didn’t care that some of the glue had gone up into the barrel. As far as he was concerned, he fully expected Elsie Hicks’ insurance company to pay for at least one, maybe two, brand new ones for him.

The heavy duty adhesive
Ellis used for doing odd jobs around the community would glue pretty well anything. Ellis used it for repairing stonework, gluing down loose tiles, bricks or flagstones, even to repair eavestroughing.

In the time that had passed between
Ellis’s ‘accident’, Jason Wells stealing the rifle, and actually having the opportunity to fire it, the adhesive had set inside the rifled barrel as hard as concrete.

Consequently, when Wells pulled the trigger, with the end of the rifle barrel blocked solid, there was nowhere for the bullet to go. The expanding gases had shattered the rifle’s barrel and most of the breach as well. With a rifle in that ki
nd of condition, the moment Jason Wells had squeezed the trigger, he was a doomed man!

The end resu
lt of all this, though, was David Gates was still very much alive. The cops had fooled both of them with the deputy outfit, but it wouldn’t be so easy for them the next time. The killer started to think about another plan.

One thing
he should have been thinking about had happened on the previous day. Irene Fox had called Carl and had reported that, based upon his request at the poker night; she thought she’d spotted the suspected killer.

She said she’
d served coffee in her donut shop to a stranger. He’d parked a Jeep outside answering Carl’s description of it. When the man had seated himself at a table, she’d noticed that he’d put several Triple A brochures on the table in front of him.

Carl asked her if he was still there now and Irene said yes. “But
I hope you’re not going to come in here shooting my place up, are you, Sheriff?” she asked him nervously.

Carl assured her he wouldn’t but
asked her to call him again when the guy left. He also asked her to very carefully, by holding it at the bottom, to set the man’s coffee mug down somewhere out of the way. He explained it was critical that he obtained a set of clear finger prints from it.

Dammit, he said, after he’d hung up. He’d forgotten to ask Irene which hand the guy had used. Anyway, she’d be calling back.