Surest Poison, The (32 page)

Sid hid behind the door again. Moments
later, Decker burst through, waving a .38 revolver. He froze when he saw the
body on the floor.

“Put the gun on the desk,” Sid commanded.

Decker’s head jerked around to see the
weapon aimed at his chest and Sid’s grim look.

“Now!”

Sid could barely hear his shout over the
deafness resulting from the .357 Magnum blast, but he sensed that his facial
expression would leave no doubts about his intentions.

With a grudging move, Decker placed his
snub-nosed revolver on the desk.

Sid gestured with Vince’s gun.
“Hands over your head and face the wall.”
A pair
of handcuffs would come in handy now, he thought.

Through the open window, he heard the
screech of tires in the parking area. Who had Decker called? It was too soon
for anybody to come from Lewisville. Could it be Pete Rackard, maybe the
mechanic called Shak? Had Decker left the front door unlocked?

That question was answered by a loud
crash at the front of the building, a sound he had heard on a number of
occasions during his police days.
A door being kicked
in.

A booming voice followed.
“Police!
Come out with your hands up, Decker.”

Sid backed into the hallway, keeping the
gun on his prisoner. “Bart! Come on back.”

He returned to the office, glanced at the
.38 on the desk, and found what he expected.

Moments later, the detective hustled in,
followed by Jaz. Both had weapons drawn.

“Meet Tony Decker,” Sid said when they
came to a sudden stop. “He’s a candidate for a pair of cuffs, Bart. If you
test fire that S&W 642 on the desk, I suspect you’ll find the weapon that
killed Gillie Younger and Larry Irwin.”

The mustachioed man on the floor sat up,
groaning, lifting a hand to his head.

Bart looked around. “Who’s he? You shoot
him?”

“No. I just banged his head against the
wall. He got what he deserved. He’s the one who clobbered me with a
nightstick outside my office last night. He stole the First Patriots file.”

“He
have
a
name?”

“Decker called him Vince. I’d guess he
works here.”

Bart cuffed Decker and turned to Jaz.
“Keep your eye on this one.”

Sid laid the .357 on the desk. He bent
down and reached into Vince’s pocket, pulling out his Sig.

“What’s your full name
,Vince
?”
Bart asked the man on the floor.

“Vincent Askew,” he said. He leaned back
against the wall.

“Don’t move,” Bart growled when he
reached for his pocket.

“I need a handkerchief,” he said with a
whimper.

“Get him a handkerchief, Sid.”

Sid found one in the man’s pocket, handed
it to him, and he wiped it against his head. He looked at the blood and
frowned.

“You’ll live,” Bart said.

He’d already called for police backup.
Now he radioed for an ambulance.

Patrol cars soon swarmed the parking lot.
The EMTs bandaged Vince’s head and pronounced him fit for jail. As Sid’s
hearing began to improve, he gave a brief account of what happened after his
questioning of Tony, alias Trent, Decker.

He turned to the handcuffed prisoner.
“Who did you talk to in Lewisville?”

“I want a lawyer,” Decker said.

“Bronson Fradkin?”

Decker clamped his mouth shut and turned
away.

When they headed out of the building, the
Dixie Seals owner stared at the battered doorway. He flashed his eyes at the
detective.

“Look at the mess you made of my
building.”

“I’ll have it fixed and send you the
bill,” Bart said. “Right now I’d say that was the least of your worries.”

Sid walked out to the car with Jaz. She
stopped beside the Lexus and glared at him, hands jammed against her hips.

“You didn’t want me going to Bobby’s by
myself Friday night, remember? Why didn’t you wait for me to come out here
with you?”

He couldn’t think of a
reasonable-sounding answer, so he shrugged. “I didn’t want to get both of us
shot.”

She gave him a short jab to the ribs. Sid
dodged backward. It wasn’t just a token tap. “I don’t care how big you are,”
she said. “If you pull that again, I’ll put you on the canvas.”

52

Back at the
Franklin Road mansion, Sid called Arnie Bailey and told him Tony Decker had
been unmasked and lodged in the Metro Jail.

“A little good news for a change,” the
lawyer said. “I trust you’ll have me a full report. This should take care of
Wade Harrington’s problem.”

“Will our testimony about First Patriots
be enough to get the state to go after Fradkin and Keglar?”

“They could go after the corporation, but
if it was dissolved or has no assets, there would be no point in it.”

“Would they have any personal liability?”

“Not unless you can prove they were
involved in the decision to dump the TCE.”

Fat chance, he thought. “I have your
report about ready.
With all that’s gone on, you’ve run
up a pretty good tab.”

“Send it along with your report,” he
said. “I’m sure Harrington will be happy to pay it.”

After Sid and Jaz told Bobby about
Decker’s arrest, and convinced him he was no longer a threat to anyone, he
left with his friend Ned to retrieve his car from the Cheatham County farm.
A short time later, Investigator Quincy called. He had drawn a blank. Pete
Rackard denied knowing anything about anything. The mechanic with the
mustache was off today, but he had a name. Nate Shackleford. So far, he
hadn’t turned up.

Sid, on an extension, briefed Quincy on
what happened at Dixie Seals.

“So you got your head-basher,” Quincy
said.

“Right.
I returned the favor.”

“Do you think Rackard was in on all of
this?”

“I’m sure he was. We know from some phone
calls that he got in touch with Decker and Branson Fradkin as soon as Jaz
left his garage last Friday. If we could get somebody to rat on
him, that
would help.”

“How about
Shackleford?”

“When you get him, give it a try,” Jaz
said. “Tell him blowing up a house thinking someone was inside is attempted
murder. Maybe that will shake something loose.”

“Where does he live?” Sid asked.

“In an apartment off
Granny White Pike.
I
checked it out. He lives with a guy named Vincent Askew.”

“Vince?” Jaz blurted.

“That’s the guy who clobbered me in the
head,” Sid explained.
“Check with Homicide Detective
Masterson.
Maybe the two of you can play them off against each
other.”

After they got off the phone, Sid
returned to the visitor’s chair in Jaz’s office. He leaned on the arm,
resting his chin on one hand.

“You look like The Thinker with a
headache. Why the glum look?” she asked. “You’ve closed your case and left
Bart in the position of owing you a big one. That’s a real plus.”

“I don’t like loose ends.”

“Oh? Whose end is loose?”

“Fradkin and Keglar are two very guilty
loose ends.”

“Did you give Bart the information you
got from Jeff Lewis about the black Chrysler?”

“Percy Pickslay’s accident isn’t a Metro
case. I read in the paper that it took place across the line in Cheatham
County. How about looking up the sheriff’s number in Ashland City? Put it on
the speaker if you want to listen in.”

They soon had Sgt. Meyer on the speaker.
After reminding him of their meeting the previous week, Sid told him about
Pickslay’s tie-in to the TCE pollution behind the HarrCo plant.

“A friend of mine in Lewisville says a
car identical to the one that ran Pickslay off the road belongs to Hank
Keglar,” Sid said. “He runs a bar down there and was a part-owner of that
corporation Pickslay set up to help start Auto Parts Rehabbers. He also
owned the building. It looks like one of his thugs in the same car tried to
burn the lawyer’s house in Centerville last night.”

“Damn, Chance, we’d better get that car
impounded before anything’s done to it. We found traces of black paint on
Pickslay’s left front fender after the accident.”

“One piece of advice,
Sergeant.
Get the Highway
Patrol or the TBI to do it. If you contact Sheriff Zachary’s office in
Lewisville, Keglar will know about it before you can hang up the phone.”

There was a peck at the door, and Marie
Wallace stuck her head in. “I just took a pan of brownies out of the oven.
I’m brewing a pot of coffee. Would y’all like something?”

Sid looked around. “Since I haven’t had
any lunch, it sounds like a great idea.”

“You didn’t eat lunch?”

Jaz shrugged. “It’s been a busy day,
Marie. I’ll settle for a brownie, too, and something to drink.”

After Marie left, shaking her head, Sid
asked Jaz to get Sheriff Emmons in Centerville on the phone. He briefed
Emmons on what he had learned from reviewing the First Patriots’ file they
found in Percy Pickslay’s basement.

“I’m familiar with both Fradkin and
Keglar,” the sheriff said. “I’m currently working with the district attorney
on a case that has some ties to Keglar.”

“What does it involve?” Sid asked.

“Since it’s an ongoing investigation, I
can’t give you any details, but your name came up in the discussions.”

“My name?
How?”

“We picked up a small-time punk who’s
been dealing drugs around Centerville. We found out he moved here a couple
of years ago from Lewisville. The DA identified him as the guy Sheriff
Zachary used to set you up on that bribery charge.”

Sid gripped the arms of his chair.
“What’s he doing running loose? Zach should have prosecuted him for dealing
and making false accusations against me.”

“Obviously, he didn’t.”

“How is Keglar involved?”

“Sorry, Chance, I’ve probably said too
much already. I’d suggest you talk to Sam Grizzard.”

Grizzard was the DA in Franklin who threw
out the bribery charge against him. “Thanks,” Sid said. “Meanwhile, you need
to know something else I’ve just learned.

He told Emmons what Jeff Lewis said about
the black Chrysler with the Predators’ bumper sticker. He added he had
already alerted Sgt. Meyer in Ashland City.

“Let me get onto that and see what’s been
done,” Emmons said and hung up.

Marie came in with brownies, coffee for
Sid and tea for Jaz. She set them on a small table next to the desk.
“Anything else?”

Jaz shook her head. Sid said, “No,
thanks.”

He pulled out his cell when Marie left.

“Who are you calling now?” Jaz asked.

“Grizzard.
I still have him in my contact list.”

He found the number and punched Talk.
He’d likely have better luck meeting with the the DA in person, he thought,
and arranged to be there in forty-five minutes.

“I’ll go along,” Jaz said. She gave him
that determined look he had learned to be wary of, the one that said cross
me and I’ll reduce you to a eunuch.

Sid eyed her with equal wickedness. “This
is my fight, not yours.”

“Who said anything about fighting? I
thought you were looking for some answers.”

“I may need to go back to Lewisville for
the final answer.”

“Then you’ll need someone for backup.”

“This is something I have to do myself.”

“It’s a guy thing, isn’t it? You have to
protect your macho image. The hero must vanquish the demon.”

Sid took a deep breath. He knew what he
wanted to say, just not quite how to frame it. He started with, “You don’t
understand . .
. ”
when Bobby Wallace walked in.

Bobby looked a bit sheepish. “Ned
reminded me that I need to thank you folks big time for what you did,” he
said. “I know I must have seemed pretty dumb, but when it involved Connie
and Little Bob—”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Jaz
dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “We realize you were under a lot of
pressure.” She turned to Sid. “Remember when Larry Irwin’s friend in
Clarksville told me he had the impression that Auto Parts Rehabbers might
have been dealing in stolen property? You said your police investigation in
Lewisville indicated that’s what Hank Keglar was involved in.”

“Right.
We didn’t find enough evidence to charge Keglar, but our informant said he
had connections to a gang of car thieves.” He finished his coffee and
glanced back at Jaz. “If you wanted a ready source of cheap used auto parts
to recondition, where would be a good place to look?”