Jason Deas - Cameron Caldwell 01 - Private Eye (22 page)

Reaching in his pocket he grabbed a few loose dollar bills and slammed them on the counter.

“Having a bad day?” the clerk asked.

“Bag of ice,” Cam said, slapping three dollars on the silver surface.

He turned and walked out of the store as the clerk called after him saying he forgot his change. The freezer with the ice was in front of the car. Cam opened the cooler door, grabbed a ten pound bag of ice, and slammed the door shut, still fuming. Back in the car he rested the bag of ice in the passenger seat next to him, put the car in gear, and sunk his aching knuckles into the top of the bagged cubes. Cam mashed the gas pedal, lurched forward, and slammed on the brakes as his mind flew through the vision of him killing Billy. Thoughts told him alcohol would ease the pain and bring some sort of sense to the situation. He looked in the rear view mirror at the gas station before he cursed and pushed the gas pedal with faith.

As he traveled home the memory of what he’d seen spun around his head. After several revolutions he began to add memories he owned to the spinning. When the radio dial found in Billy’s mouth entered into the cycle the turning came to a halt. Claude.

Chapter Thirty-four

Rowdy studied a Georgia map trying to figure out how far he was from Miner’s Bluff. He planned to spend the night just outside of town and surprise Cam the following morning when he knew he’d be hung over. He had decided not to call their Chief of Police to tell her he was coming in case Cam had befriended her. Rowdy formulated a plan to find out where Cam lived.

About fifteen minutes from town he found a motel and checked in. The room was sparse but clean. Dell was enthralled because they had Magic Fingers, a device in which one could deposit a quarter and the bed would vibrate.

“Can I have a quarter, Rowdy? Please?” he begged.

Rowdy reached into his pocket and offered him all the coins he had. Dell picked out three quarters. He popped one into the mouth of the device and dove onto the bed, flipping over to his back. The quarter clicked in the bottom of the machine and the bed began to hum.

“It feels so good, Rowdy.” Dell’s face filled with wonder as he heard his voice vibrate. “Hello. Hello. Hello,” he said, as he laughed with the quivering of his voice.

“Would you please say something else?”

“I love my brother. I love Rowdy. I love Rowdy even though he doesn’t love me back,” Dell continued. When the timer shut off, Dell sat up to find Rowdy inspecting his gun.

“Why are you looking at your gun?”

“I’m making sure it’s ready for tomorrow.”

“Why would you need your gun tomorrow?”

Rowdy dropped his head. “Do we have to go over this again?”

Afraid to answer, Dell nodded his head in the affirmative.

“As much as you would like to think we are on some sort of vacation, we are here to apprehend a killer. We are here to kill a killer.”

“But Cam didn’t kill Clarence, you did.”

Rowdy raised his arm, gun at the end of his hand, and pointed it at his brother’s head. “If you ever say that again I will not only point my gun at you, I will also shoot you.” Rowdy pulled the trigger and the gun clicked. Dell clenched. The gun was empty.

“There you go again,” Dell said.

“There I go again doing what?”

“Being mean,” Dell screamed. He had never screamed at his brother before. Dell was hysterical. “I don’t know how much more of your mean I can take, Rowdy. I hope when this is all over you will find some way to get rid of your mean and find a fluffy white cloud for your head.”

“When Cam is dead, my entire head will be full of fluffy white clouds.”

“I doubt it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you’ll never be happy again. Not until you get to heaven and hug Mom.”

Rowdy sniffed, turned away from his brother and dropped lead into his weapon.

Rowdy pulled back the heavy curtain from the motel window to find darkness. Dell was vibrating on his bed with a smile on his face. Rowdy watched, amazed by his brother’s simplicity. When the Magic Finger’s timer ended, Dell sat up and looked at Rowdy.

“For some reason, this machine makes my penis feel very happy.”

Rowdy laughed. “Do you think your penis can take a break from the Magic Fingers and take a ride with me?”

“Can I come too?”

Rowdy shook his head in dismay. “I guess if your penis is coming with me, you should come along as well.”

Rowdy packed his gun, just in case, and the brothers headed toward Miner’s Bluff in the name of surveillance.

In the car, Rowdy grabbed Dell’s arm and pinched. The force he used left a red welt which began to rise.

“What’d you do that for?”

“While we’re searching for Cam I want you to look at that before you speak. Let it be a reminder that if you say anything stupid, and people catch on to what we’re here for, I’ll put those all over your body.”

“Mean,” was all Dell said.

“Do you remember our cover story?” Rowdy asked.

“Yes. We tell people we were passing through town a couple of weeks ago on business when we saw an antique car going down the road.”

“Good.”

“What kind of car does he have again?”

“I’m not sure. I think Cam might drive a 1956 Mercury Monterey, but don’t quote me on that.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me quoting you on that. That would probably get me pinched like a hundred times.”

“Good,” Rowdy said, cutting his eyes. “That was a test and you passed.”

“Yay!” Dell clapped his hands. “I never passed too many tests in my life. Mom would be so proud I passed the test.” Looking down to the floorboard, he saw the Dr. Pepper bottle and picked it up. Holding the glass opening to his mouth he asked, “Do you want me to play you a song?”

“No.”

“Is it OK if I hold the bottle I gave you? Something about it feels good to me.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I didn’t mean to really knock yourself out with the bottle. It’s just an expression that means do it if it makes you happy. Or something like that.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?”

“I may be about to change my mind about you knocking yourself out. Or maybe I’ll do it for you.”

Their conversation was cut short as Rowdy saw the lights of a gas station come into view. He pressed the brakes hard and threw both of the men forward.

“Let’s start our search here. Do I need to pinch you again?”

“No. I’ll be good and won’t say anything stupid. I do have a question though.”

“What is it?”

“Can I get some beef jerky?”

“Give me that Dr. Pepper bottle,” Rowdy growled as Dell hurriedly exited the car with the bottle.

Hank stood behind the counter. He immediately pegged Rowdy as a cop as he walked through the door. He wasn’t so sure about the man who walked behind him.

“Good evening,” Rowdy said, as he made eye contact with Hank.

“It is indeed.”

“Where’s the beef jerky?” Dell said, filling the uncomfortable silence that followed the brief exchange.

“Have you ever had buffalo jerky?” Hank asked, walking out from behind the counter.

“No. Does it taste like buffalo wings? ‘Cause if it does those are too prickly on my tongue.”

“Don’t like hot wings, huh?”

“Sure don’t.”

“Well, buffalo jerky isn’t spicy. Just delicious. And I imagine you’ll want a refill on your Dr. Pepper?”

Dell hadn’t realized he’d been carrying the Dr. Pepper bottle.

“Yep, me and Rrrr,” he stopped before he said Rowdy and said, “Rick here loves Dr. Pepper.”

“This is an old bottle,” Hank said, reaching for the glass so he could admire it.

Dell pulled it back. “You may not want to touch it. I peed on it a little before I found it in the woods.” He looked at Rowdy who made a pinching motion with his fingers. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Shoot,” Hank said, “you’re the most interesting person I’ve had in here all day. Give me that bottle and let me take a look. I’m sure you wiped it off and even if you didn’t it wouldn’t kill me.” He held it up in front of his face and said, “I think you got yourself a real 1950’s bottle here. A real collector’s item.”

Rowdy inched up on them and joined the conversation by saying, “Speaking of collector’s items, my brother and I are looking for a certain car to buy for our father as a surprise gift.”

“Yeah? And what kind are you looking for?”

“I think it may be a 1956 Mercury Monterey.” Hank didn’t say a word. “We were on business this way a couple of weeks ago. We were seated at a little diner down the road from here when we saw one go past on the road. Both of our eyes lit up at the same time as the same thought sprung into our minds of how we had to somehow get the car for our father.” Rowdy thought about going on about his father was on his deathbed, but decided to stop before it sounded too fabricated.

“There are a couple of guys around here who drive old cars. Couple of gals, too. They all look the same to me,” he lied. “My son will know if there is one of those in town and who owns it. What did you say your name was?” he said to Rowdy.

“Thomas,” he said without missing a beat.

“And people call me Rick,” Dell said, hoping the name would cover up Rowdy’s blunder.

Hank looked at both of them and said, “Gotcha.” He paused. “Let me call my son and ask him about the car.” Hank pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed.

“Turner?” he said, when the voice on the other end answered. “I’ve got a little situation here at the station that I need your help with.” He listened. “Yes. I need you to come now.” He listened again. “See you then.”

Hank looked at the brothers and said, “He’ll be here in just a few minutes to help settle this.”

Chapter Thirty-five

 Not knowing how, Cam knew Claude was somehow responsible for something. He wasn’t sure what he was responsible for, but he was certain he was on the hook for some part of the murder. Pushing his foot harder on the gas pedal and his hand further into the bag of ice he headed toward Claude’s house. He hoped he was home.

He was.

The lights on the front of the house were out. Cam drove around to the studio side to find the lights beating against the studio windows. Claude’s truck was parked outside.

Cam exited his car and peeked into one of the windows. Claude was dancing around a sculpture. It looked to Cam to be some sort of Indian rain dance. He made his way to the studio door and knocked.

A few moments later Claude opened the door. He didn’t seem surprised to see Cam.

“Your eyes look different,” Claude said, as he turned and walked back into the studio and his sculpture.

“How so?”

“Last time I saw you, you seemed unsure of me. The fear’s gone from your eyes. There’s something else there now, though.”

“Cut the artsy BS talk and be real with me, Claude.”

“OK then,” Claude said, putting down the torch he’d just picked up. “As the wise man on daytime television says, ‘Let’s get real.’”

“You know what happened, don’t you?” Cam said, taking a step toward him.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know what happened to Billy Prescott.”

“Oh. I knew this day would come. I just didn’t plan on it being today.”

“What were you waiting on?”

“I was waiting on you. I was waiting on you to remember or figure it out or pin it on somebody else.” Claude paused. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Why?”

“For a lot of reasons. For one, I like you and think you’re good for my sister. Two, Billy Prescott was evil and he deserved what happened to him. Three, Darren was too.”

“Why are you speaking of Darren in the past tense?”

“Oops.”

Cam walked across the room to an old 70’s couch and plopped down. He grabbed his face and shuffled his hands up and down his cheeks. He tousled his hair.

“I’m confused,” Cam said. “How did you know? How did the radio dial get into Billy’s mouth?”

Claude walked over and took a seat next to Cam on the couch.

“I tried to call Daphne the night it all happened and she didn’t answer. That wasn’t like her so I continued to try every half hour or so. When I never heard from her I went looking. Just as I got to your place I saw you stumble into your garage and fire up your old car. I followed you. At a distance, but I didn’t think it really mattered as you were all over the road. I could tell you were incredibly drunk. I was actually surprised you made it to where you were going.

“When you turned down Evergreen Drive I knew where you were going. I figured you’d given the map to Billy and were going to see if he’d check it out. I didn’t know why, but I assumed that was the case. When you parked, I did the same, hiding my car in some brush a hundred yards or so away from yours. I watched you fall asleep and was about to wake you when Billy’s four-wheeler came through the woods. I witnessed the whole thing. It’s hard to shock me, but I was shocked. When you grabbed his hand and knife and took off stumbling back to your car I felt my own pocket for my keys and found the radio dial. I’d been working on a sculpture earlier in the day and was going to use it but forgot about it. I knew at that moment that I had to save you from yourself. I moved the dirt over Billy’s body until I found his face. Holding my breath I pulled his mouth open and popped the radio dial inside. I covered him back up, drove by your house to find your car back in your garage and went home.

“The next morning I surprised you and Daphne and stayed just long enough to find out if you remembered anything. I could tell you didn’t. I’ve had enough moonshine to know it happens. When your mind is boggled on shine you can do all sorts of things you don’t remember. So, I took in the scene, decided you had no clue, and I left. You’re a good person, Cam. I didn’t want you to take the fall for something that had to be done, and I took the liberty of setting up someone just as evil.”

“You murdered Darren.”

“And you murdered Billy. And if we’re going to point fingers, you chopped a man’s hand off. I just poisoned one.”