Dry Stone Walls, page 18
Tru followed the man to his office, where he closed the door before sitting behind his desk.
“So?” Powell said. “You got ’em?”
Tru sat and said, “We got ’em, but something’s not right.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Tru said. “Something’s wrong.”
“Do you think they did it together?”
“One of them couldn’t have,” Tru said. “Homer’s too frail, Julie’s not strong enough.”
“So they did it together.”
“They planned it together, that’s for sure,” Tru said.
“Are you sayin’ they planned it and somebody else executed the plan? Like…a hit man?”
“Maybe. Right now they’re just intent on taking the blame for each other.”
“We’ll need to keep questioning them one at a time,” Powell said, “until one of them breaks.”
“I’ll leave that to you.”
“And you?”
“I’ve got to let McCullough know what’s going on, so he can call the State Police.”
“Tell him to have them call me,” Powell said. “I’ll explain what we have.”
“All right.”
Tru got up and walked to the door.
“Tru!”
He turned.
“If you’re right, and there’s someone else,” Powell said, “be careful.”
“I will.”
“Send Rocky in here, will you?” the Chief said. “I’ll have him drive you back to the house.”
“Thanks.”
***
Tru waited outside for Rocky to come out. They got in the young officer’s car and went back to the Witt house.
“Are you coming in?” Tru asked.
“Yep,” Rocky said. “The Chief said I should stay with you and watch your back.”
“My bodyguard, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” Rocky said. “He also said I should give you this.”
Tru looked at the .38 Rocky was holding out to him.
“You could get into trouble for giving me that.”
Rocky grinned. “You could get into a lot more trouble without it.”
Tru smiled, nodded, and took the gun.
SIXTY-THREE
Tru called McCullough and gave him the news.
“Well, that’s good news to me,” the lawyer said. “I actually don’t care which one of them did it, or if they did it together. The confession takes my client off the hook.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ll call the Staties and suggest they call Chief Powell. It’ll be up to them if they do.”
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“What’s next?” Rocky asked, when Tru hung up.
“To tell you the truth, Rocky, I’m not sure. Why don’t we start with a beer on the porch?”
“Suits me.”
That’s what they were doing when a car pulled up in front and Max and Hancock got out.
“Max,” Tru said. “You want to punch me in the nose?”
“Why?” Max asked. “Because my daughter and a man who was once my best friend both hated me enough to frame me for murder? Ain’t your fault.”
“I’m still sorry as hell, Max,” Tru said.
“Man, this sucks,” Hancock said.
“You got another one of them beers?” Max asked.
“Sure,” Tru said. “More than one. Pete, you want to go in and get a couple?”
“Sure.”
The four men sat on the porch and had a beer together.
“So whatta we do now?” Max asked.
“Well,” Tru said, “Pete, here, is going to go back to work, like we planned. Right?” He looked at Pete.
“Oh, right, right,” Hancock said, raising his bottle. “Just like we talked about.”
“Max,” Tru said, “we still have to hear from McCullough that the Staties dropped the charges, but if they do I guess you’ll go back to your walls?”
“Them walls is all I got now,” Max said. “No daughter, no friend. That’s what it costs to be a cantankerous old fart, I guess.”
Tru liked Max, but he wondered about a man who took the loss of a friend and a daughter in such stride.
“You workin’ with me tomorrow, sonny?” Max asked Hancock.
“Uh, I don’t know,” Hancock said, looking at Tru. “Am I?”
“Why not?” Tru asked. “It’ll probably take another day or two to get everything settled.”
“See you in the morning then,” Hancock said.
Max waved a hand black with stone dust, and Hancock did the same.
As Max walked to his car Tru said to Hancock, “I don’t think you young fellas have met. Pete, this is Rocky. Rocky’s an off duty policeman assigned to keep me safe, so he’ll be eating with us tonight.”
“Hey,” Hancock said, sticking his hand out, but Tru added, “You might want to get cleaned up before you touch anything else.”
”Oh,” Hancock said, looking down at himself, “right.” He started into the house and stopped. “Hey, wait, keep you safe? Aren’t the killer’s in jail?”
“Just in case,” Rocky said.
“Just til they’re formally charged,” Tru said.
“Oh,” Hancock said, still unsure, “okay.” He went inside.
“What’re we eatin’?” Rocky asked.
“Beats me,” Tru said.
***
They all got cleaned up and decided to go out. Rocky said he knew a good “barbecue eatin’ place” along the highway, and Tru just said, “Take us there.”
The highway he was talking about turned out to be Hwy 75 to Lexington, only they didn’t go that far. Off the highway at a little puddle stop was a restaurant called The Starlite, that Rocky said had the best buffet in the area.
“They got mutton done three ways,” he said, excitedly, “sliced, in a stew and chopped.”
“Mutton?” Tru asked. “Isn’t that from old sheep?”
“Not exactly,” Hancock said. “It’s from mature sheep.”
“There’s a difference?” Tru asked.
“A big difference,” Rocky said.
“Ain’t you never had mutton?” Hancock asked.
“Can’t say that I have,” Tru admitted.
“Well then,” Rocky said, slapping him on the back, “you’re in for a treat.”
***
Tru tried the mutton on the buffet, small bites, didn’t like it much, and stuck to the barbecued chicken and pork.
Over pie and coffee Hancock asked, “So you really didn’t like it?”
“Not much,” Tru said, “but I appreciate the introduction. And the rest of the buffet was great.”
“I think the mutton’s the best thing on the buffet,” Rocky said.
“I’m sure everybody from Kentucky does,” Tru said.
Tru paid the check and they went back out to Rocky’s car.
“Back to the house?” he asked.
“Yep,” Tru said. “It’s still early. Anybody up for gin?”
“I am,” Hancock said.
“Why not?” Rocky replied.
“Drive on, McBeth,” Tru said.
“What?” Rocky asked.
“Just drive.”
It was getting dark as they pulled back onto Hwy 75, heading south. They hadn’t gone far when Tru noticed the headlights behind them.
“Not again,” he said. He was sitting in front with Rocky, while Hancock was in the back.
“Whataya mean?” Rocky asked.
“I think we’re being followed.”
Hancock turned and look out the back window.
“There’s other cars on the road.”
“A dark SUV, maintaining speed right behind us. I think he’s waiting for a long, empty stretch before he makes his move.”
“You got that gun I gave you?” Rocky asked.
Tru touched his right windbreaker pocket and said, “I do.”
“Then he’s in for a surprise, whoever he is.”
SIXTY-FOUR
“How long to our exit?” Tru asked.
“About ten minutes,” Rocky said.
“Maybe he’s gonna wait,” Hancock said, “til we actually head for the house on sixty-four.”
“Or maybe you’re wrong,” Rocky said. “Maybe he’s just going our way.”
“We’ll see,” Tru said.
“I could try to lose him.”
“No,” Tru said, “we don’t want to do that. If I’m right, then this is the person who actually killed Andrew Wilson. Homer and Julie planned it, but this guy carried it through.”
“So we want him,” Rocky said.
“We want him bad.”
“Well,” Rocky said, “why don’t I just stop and arrest him?”
Tru was worried about that. Rocky was an inexperienced officer, and Hancock was an innocent caught in a bad situation. Tru was the only one with the required experience, but he’d been out of a game a couple of years, retired.
“What about if we speed up?” he asked. “Any chance we’ll be pulled over?”
“Truthfully? No,” Rocky said. “This stretch is about as far from a speed trap as you can get.”
“All right, then,” Tru said, “We’ve got to make up our mi —“
But before he could finish, the driver of the SUV made the decision for them. He rammed the back of Rocky’s car, which was an eight year old Volvo that couldn’t really take it.
There was the sound of crumpled metal, and then a shard of that metal pierced the rear left tire, which exploded with a pop. The car went careening out of control. Tru had never been in a car accident in his more than 62 years on this earth, but he’d heard people describe it as happening in slow motion, and he was finding out it was true. Everything seemed to slow down. Rocky fought the car, and unfortunately as the rear of the car went left into a skid, Rocky didn’t steer into it. Instead, he panicked and yanked the wheel the other way. That jackknifed the car and, briefly, it was airborne.
That’s when things really slowed down. Oddly, Tru found himself thinking he was glad this wasn’t the Witt’s car, again …
***
The driver of the SUV watched as the Volvo jackknifed into the air. It landed, bounced and rolled several times, and actually rolled off the highway at their intended exit. He turned the wheel to follow the tumbling vehicle onto the off ramp.
The car came to a stop abruptly and Tru realized he was fine and had never lost consciousness. Not an avid seat belt advocate, apparently this time it had worked for him. The same couldn’t be said of Rocky and Hancock, though.
He looked at Rocky. The young driver was bleeding from the head and was unconscious.
“Rocky…Rocky! Come on, boy!”
He turned to look into the rear seat. That’s when he realized that the car had come to a stop on its side—the driver’s side. Hancock had apparently not been wearing a seat belt, and had been tossed around. Tru was suddenly disoriented and couldn’t see him.
“Pete…Pete!”
No answer.
A moan came from Rocky, which encouraged Tru.
“Hey, Rocky? Wake up!”
Another thing Tru realized was that they were bathed in headlights. The SUV was still out there. He felt for his pockets, realized the gun was still there, but he didn’t take it out. He was going to need both hands to get out of the car.
Before moving he looked at Rocky. Because the car was on its side the young cop’s right foot was up off the gas pedal, and Tru could see the gun in his ankle holster. He reached out and took it, without being really sure why. Maybe it was just that two guns were better than one. He stuck it in his other pocket. At the very least, it balanced him out.
He had to unsnap his seat belt and stand to open his door, and he had to stand somehow without stepping on Rocky. He was able to brace one foot on the steering wheel to reach the door handle and pull it. Then he needed both hands to shove the car door open, hoping it wouldn’t just bounce right back at him. It didn’t, it remained open. Now he had to haul himself up and out. Thankful that he was in good shape for a man “his age”—and how he hated that phrase—he managed to pull himself up, bracing one foot on his head rest.
As he hauled half his body out of the car he smelled gas, but was not aware of any flames. The car did not seem to be in danger of igniting—at least, not yet.
But there was a more immediate danger.
A shot rang out, and a bullet pinged off the side of the car.
“Crap!” he swore. With a burst of strength he propelled himself out of the car and fell heavily to the ground. He landed on his left side, the landing painful, but he had no time to give in to it. There was another shot. He had to get away from the car before a bullet struck the gas tank.
He dragged himself from the car onto the shoulder and then down the embankment. It was not steep, but steep enough to offer him cover. That was when he drew the gun from his jacket pocket.
From his vantage point he could now see the entire car. He still could not see any flames or smoke, but he knew he had to get those two young men out of the car as soon as possible. A few cars whizzed by on the highway, but apparently no one was inclined to stop and help.
The car was actually not only bathed in headlights from the SUV, but also in the light from an overhead street lamp, which was acting as almost a spotlight. If the driver of the SUV tied to get to the car, Tru would be able to keep him away with a well-placed shot. But the problem at the moment was—where was that driver?
Tru was suddenly aware that his head hurt, and when he put his hand to it, it came away bloody. He had a head wound, maybe just a scalp wound, but he had no way of knowing how bad it was.
He didn’t have all night to just lie there and wait.
SIXTY-FIVE
“Lewis!” someone shouted. “Truxton Lewis!”
The voice had to belong to the driver of the SUV. Tru could only hope that the man was alone. Two or more men would be able to flank him and take him out, eventually.
“I’m here!”
“What a mess, huh?” the voice asked. “Bet I can keep shootin’ at that car and eventually hit the gas tank. Those two men in the car wouldn’t have a prayer then, would they?”
“What do you want?”
“Well, I really only wanted you,” the man said. “The other two, they’re just a bonus.”
“What do you want with me?”
“Whatayou think? I need you dead. Too bad I missed you the other day, but this car sure couldn’t take the impact, huh? Boom. Right off the road.”
“What do I have to do to get you to leave those two alone?” Tru asked.
“That’s easy,” the man said. “Just step out where I can get a good look at you.”
“What are you thinking?” Tru asked. “That with me out of the way the case again, Julie and Homer falls apart?”
“It’s a possibility. But what I’m actually thinkin’ is, you been a pain in the ass, ruinin’ a perfect plan.”
“Doesn’t seem so perfect from where I’m sitting,” Tru said.
“Well,” the man said, “I gotta say I’d rather be sittin’ where I am than where you are.”
Tru wondered if he kept the man talking long enough maybe someone would stop, or at least call 911. Maybe a State Police car would arrive.
“Come on, Lewis,” the man said. “We’re not gonna wait here for cops to arrive.” Suddenly two shots rang out, and the bullets bounced off the belly of the car, which was facing Tru. “I’m not sure where the gas tank is on this model, but if I keep firing I’m sure I’ll find it.”
“Okay, okay,” Tru called out. “Stop!”
“Are you comin’ out?”
“I’m coming!”
“First,” the voice said, “throw out the cop’s gun.”
“What?”
“Come on,” the man said. “I’m not stupid. You didn’t get out of that car without a gun, and you don’t carry one. He does. You took it from him. Throw it out! I want to hear it hit the road.”
Tru took Rocky’s gun from his pocket, reared back and tossed it so hard he swore as he hurt his shoulder.
“Stay where you are.”
The man broke cover and, as Tru watched, he went to where the gun was lying and picked it up. Then he straightened up. He was standing on the road, in the spot lights of the street lamp and beams of the SUV.
“Okay, Lewis, step out.”
Tru stood up and stepped out into view. He hoped the man wouldn’t tell him to raise his hands or put them on his head. The other gun hung heavy in his pocket. He hoped the man wouldn’t notice it.
“There you are,” the man called out. He had a gun with a long barrel in his right hand.
“What’s the plan?” Tru asked. “Shoot me right here? That’s going to look funny.”
“No,” the man said, “it’s gonna look like you got shot by somebody with really bad road rage after this accident. Happens all the time.”
“And if Julie and Homer aren’t released after you kill me?”
“That’s easy,” the man said. “I’ll kill Max.”
If he did that, it probably would get Julie and Homer released.
“Look —,” Tru said, gesturing with his hands.
“Uh-uh, Captain,” the man said, “hands on your head.”
“What?”
“On your head,” the man said, pointing his gun.
“Let’s go.”
Reluctantly, Tru placed his hands on his head. Now the gun felt a million miles away.
“Surprised I know all about you?” the man asked. “Oh yeah, once you entered the picture we did a lot of research.”
“Look, friend —“
“We ain’t friends,” the man said. “I ain’t even sorry about this. You just got in the way.”
Tru tensed for the impact of the bullet. If he grabbed for the gun now —
Suddenly, the Volvo rocked and a figure appeared in the open doorway.
“Hey!” Rocky yelled.
The man turned quickly and fired. Tru took the opportunity to grab for the gun with his right hand and drag it out of his pocket, all the while watching the man with the gun. The hammer caught in his pocket and as the man turned back to him with his gun he yanked it free.
