Another Man's Ground--A Mystery, page 27
So now it was down to Lloyd. Sam brought him into the interview room and locked him into the ankle cuff. Then he leaned against the wall as Hank took the remaining chair.
“I want to talk about Purple Pass.”
Lloyd’s eyes went from bleary to alert instantly. But he insisted he had no idea what Hank was talking about.
“We’ve got your money. From under the trailer. All of it.”
Lloyd swore.
“You need to tell me how you came to know about the stuff and where you got it from.”
“Why?” Lloyd spat. “I don’t need to tell you nothin’.”
Sam straightened and took a step forward so he loomed over the much slighter Taylor. Lloyd shrank away from the look on his face.
“You don’t have to,” Hank continued. “But I do think you need to. See, your brother Jackson is the one who was murdered out in the woods. We’ve positively identified him. Somebody shotgunned him at close range.”
Lloyd snapped back like he’d been hit. Sam pressed closer.
“It seems to us like the kind of money you all had would be enough to kill somebody over,” Hank continued. “What do you think?”
Lloyd moaned and slumped forward over the table.
“And finding Jackson’s killer would be a lot easier if we knew about your operation.”
He quite purposefully didn’t bring up Jasper Kinney. He knew the video of this interview would be picked apart by defense attorneys, and he didn’t want to be accused of planting accusations in Lloyd’s limited brain.
Several minutes passed as Lloyd, again remarkably similar to a possum, stared at the table. Finally, Sam cleared his throat—loudly. Lloyd flinched and mopped his runny nose on his shirt.
“It had to be that old bastard. The mean one that owns all that property.” More sniffling.
“Why do you think it was him?”
“Because he’s the one we was stealin’ from.”
A smile spread slowly across Sam’s face. And the pain in Hank’s head suddenly eased. He kept his expression neutral and motioned for the possum to continue.
All four brothers had been stealing tree bark and other plant junk for more than a year. The brothers would follow the growers home after they dropped off their deliveries to Lloyd. It was so easy. Nobody paid any attention that far out in the middle of nowhere. And then one day, Jackson and Boone had seen that old guy in the woods. Pulling up these little purple flowers by the roots. And nobody’d bother doin’ that if it weren’t worth some money, right?
So they’d started stealing that plant, too. Just kept it in sacks, until Jackson figured out that it was like that ginseng or goldenseal stuff, where the valuable part was the root all ground up into powder. And a powder was gettin’ sold all over the place, making it so you could pass a drug test even when you were using. People were payin’ hundreds for it.
And there you had it. Sheila came in with a six-pack photo lineup and Lloyd picked Kinney out immediately. Hank almost thanked him. Instead, he let Sam ask about Ned Bunning, who Lloyd said owed money for a delivery of Purple Pass but hadn’t been home when Lloyd showed up to collect. Sam’s satisfied smile was a great thing to see. Hank thanked him again for his hard work, then sent both his deputies home. He spent a half hour making sure no one was going to show up soon for the 6:00 A.M. raid that was no longer necessary, and then placed two very difficult phone calls to Patty Alton and Calvin Holm. He ended his conversation with Calvin blinking away tears and trudged out to his car just as dawn broke over the eastern hills.
He pulled into the driveway just as Dunc and Guapo came back from their walk. They were both breathing heavily.
“Trying to wear him out,” Dunc panted. “I figure we got a better shot at him behaving himself if he’s all tired and—wait, you’re just getting home?”
Hank nodded, got out of the car, and limped toward the house, mumbling something about a nap.
“Don’t sleep too long,” Dunc called after him. “We got the animal-shelter thing at noon.”
The only response was the slam of the front door.
He didn’t feel any better five hours later when Maggie gently shook him awake. He groaned and rolled over.
“You have to get up, babe. We’ve got to go to the shelter fund-raiser.” More groaning. She lay down next to him. He threw an arm over her and closed his eyes.
“Come on.” She kissed him and rolled out from under his arm. “It’s the last one. Your last campaign event. Then it’ll all be over, one way or the other.”
He sighed and sat up. She ran her fingers through his hair and gave him a kiss. “I love you.”
He kissed her back. “I love you, too.” He heaved himself out of bed and headed for the shower. “Oh. We got ’em. All of them. The two murderers and Ted’s shooter.”
He shut the door to the bathroom, leaving his wife staring after him, her mouth hanging open.
* * *
He wasn’t sure what he was more worried about—small talk with strangers, his untrainable dog, the two-year-old who’d be missing his regular nap time, or the business mogul willing to spend any amount to defeat him. “You should probably smile.” Dunc eyed him as they stood in the parking lot. “You look like you’re going to throw up or something. And that swollen lip isn’t helping.”
Hank glared at him. “I told you—”
“Yeah, that you got beat up by a seventy-six-year-old. I remember.” He shot Hank a rascally smirk and turned to get Guapo out of the minivan.
Hank tried a smile, but it felt awkward and probably looked even worse. Then Maggie grabbed his hand and gave him a look that melted his worries and settled his stomach all at the same time. He might be able to do this. He certainly didn’t have a choice, he thought as he watched Darcy double-time it across the parking lot. She gave them all a once-over, nodded her approval, and herded them into the facility.
Guapo entered like a conquering hero. His swayback was remarkably straight, his good ear perked up, and his stubby legs started high-stepping on the hard linoleum. He wasn’t even pulling on the leash. They all paused for a picture by the Daily What’s-It photographer, and Hank gave thanks it happened when they were all fresh and pretty, instead of melting down at the end of the day. Darcy gave him a wink as she thanked the photographer. She’d obviously thought the same thing. The woman really was a marvel.
They mingled their way through the crowded hall, which had Henry Gallagher’s name plastered on every available surface. Kids cuddled kittens and puppies, and there was already a line at the adoption paperwork table.
Dunc grabbed him and pulled him over to a tall, trim man in a Branson Valley High School polo shirt. A local celebrity.
“Tom, meet my son-in-law. He’d appreciate your vote on Tuesday. Hank, this is Tom Barstow, the football coach.”
They chatted briefly about the upcoming season, and then Barstow turned to Dunc.
“We all sure do miss Marian. The school hasn’t been the same. She was the best principal we’d ever had.”
Duncan nodded briskly, which Hank knew meant that he couldn’t speak without tearing up. Hank quickly thanked the coach and steered Dunc into a quiet corner. He knew better than to say anything, so he gave the old man a pat on the shoulder and left him alone with Guapo.
He made his way outside onto the grassy dog play area, which today had picnic tables, umbrellas, even a lemonade stand. And a group of people bunched together around a computer tablet. As one, they all turned to look at him and then went back to the iPad. Several snickered.
Great.
A mane of gray curls detached itself from the back of the group and casually meandered toward him. Lovinia turned before she reached him and went back into the hall. Hank let a family with two new calico kittens pass in front of him and then followed her.
“They’ve got pictures,” she said as soon as he caught up to her. “Of a smashed-up squad car. What happened?”
And there was the department leak again. Hank sighed. “What are they saying?”
Lovinia rolled her eyes. “That you destroyed a police car during a wild-goose chase last night. That you don’t know what you’re doing.”
That was it? He laughed. “That’s no big deal. It won’t hold. I made the arrests. Two murderers in custody, plus the Taylor brother who shot Ted Pimental.”
Lovinia gawked at him. She hadn’t heard anything about it. Hank shrugged. No one had, he said. He’d decided taking a nap was a higher priority than writing a press release. Lovinia rolled her eyes again, this time at him.
“You’ve got a lot to learn about this politician thing,” she said, and walked off, shaking her head.
He turned around to find Darcy bearing down on him with Guapo in tow. She handed him the leash and a scolding. The dog wasn’t doing him any good if people didn’t see him with it. Now get back to socializing.
Hank looked down at the mutt, who had lost his regal bearing and was back to his usual slovenly, scent-driven self. He let Guapo lead him back outside as the dog tracked a smell onto the grass and started to roll in it. Hank used the moment to take another look at the group around the iPad, which had grown even larger. The only thing garnering as much attention was—damn it—Gerald Tucker. He’d commandeered the cutest puppies and was holding court in the shade of a giant hickory in the middle of the yard.
The jerk didn’t even own a dog, and Hank would bet money he had no intention of adopting one today. He was wondering how he could point that out to people when a cell phone was shoved in his face.
“You … you destroyed county property. You ruined a police car. Do you have any idea how expensive those things are?”
Edrick Fizzel snatched the phone away and scrolled through more pictures of the poor cruiser.
“I’m sure you’ll let me know how much it costs,” Hank said with a smile he didn’t feel.
Fizzel jerked his attention from the phone to Hank, his prickly hair quivering. His finger waved way too close to Hank’s nose.
“You are going down, Worth. You destroy property, and you can’t solve your cases. Hell, you couldn’t solve a jaywalking, let alone a murder.”
Maybe he should have written that press release. He started to speak, but Fizzel wasn’t done. He moved even closer.
“And this doesn’t relate to our previous … discussion. That wasn’t about your election. There’s no deal for that. I’m coming after you.”
Fizzel was exactly right. They had no deal for that. He batted away the commissioner’s hand.
“Go for it, Edrick.” The man would look like an idiot when the arrests did become public. Which was a happy by-product of his delay in releasing the information, Hank thought as he walked away.
He spent the next half hour parading Guapo around the facility, drawing a mixture of admiring and pitying looks. But no matter what they thought, everyone wanted to ask about him. So Hank had more conversations than he would have thought possible. Darcy, hovering in the background, was ecstatic. And Guapo, through some miraculous intervention, kept control of his behavior and his bladder.
He moved from the lawn to the hall and back, where he saw Gallagher working the lemonade stand, complete with crisp straw hat and noblesse oblige smile. He averted his eyes before he got sick at the sight, and his gaze fell on Tucker, who was talking to the kid from the newspaper.
Jadhur asked a question, and Tucker turned purple. Jadhur, standing in front of him with his notepad at the ready, began to back away. Tucker’s mouth opened and closed but Hank was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything. Then his opponent spun around and disappeared into the administration offices at the back of the facility. Well.
Jadhur scribbled madly in his notebook and then spotted Hank near the hall. He hurdled several adoptable puppies on his dash across the lawn.
“Can I help you with something, Jadhur?”
“Oh, yeah. You sure can, Sheriff. I was just talking to Mr. Tucker, and it occurs to me that you might not know, either.” His pen and pad assumed the ready position. “Are you aware that former sheriff Darrell Gibbons has endorsed you?”
Hank stared at him. And then burst out laughing. He laughed so long, Guapo started pawing at him. He finally was able to gasp an apology and catch his breath.
“No…” he told the clearly nonplussed Jadhur, “I was not aware of that. When did you hear about it?”
Jadhur had gotten an emailed press release that morning, about nine. He’d called to confirm and spoken to Gibbons himself. “He said that after careful consideration, he’d decided that keeping you at the helm would be best for Branson County, and he was happy to endorse you for election.”
“Do you know if he sent that press release to anyone else? And if so, when?”
Jadhur shrugged. “If he did, it was this morning. I know nobody knew anything about it before then.”
Hank thanked him and excused himself to take Guapo off to the sandy side yard to pee. That was where Dunc found him. In a low voice, Hank told him the “good” news.
“Well, in one way, that’s great. It means you’re going to win the election. I told you Gibbons has never backed a loser.”
“Yeah, but why is he finally confident that I’ll win? Because he knows. He knows I’ve made arrests in both murder cases. He knows Taylor is in custody. That’s got to be it.”
Dunc pondered that.“And you haven’t made any of that public yet, have you?”
Hank shook his head.
“You’ve known you had a mole, though.”
Hank shook his head again and started thinking out loud.
“It’s not the same one. The person who leaked that”—he pointed toward the people passing around the iPad photos of the wrecked car—“wants to embarrass me and help Tucker. The one who leaked the arrests isn’t out to hurt me … necessarily. But they are out to protect Darrell.”
Dunc let out a low whistle. “That could be bad—in the long run. That man is the serpent in the apple tree.”
Hank nodded, gave him Guapo’s leash, and started to walk back to Jadhur, who was waiting with more questions, probably about a certain pulverized squad car. He’d been oddly relieved to see the photos. It meant that he knew who was in Tucker’s camp and had been feeding him information. Only one person had been present at both the discovery of Charlie Miles’s skeleton and the processing of the wrecked car.
He really liked Bill Ramsdell. But now he couldn’t trust him. He’d have to think about the best duty to assign him. Or maybe he’d just leave him be and not let on that he’d figured it out.
He reached Jadhur, who was trying to access something on his phone.
“Don’t bother,” Hank said. “I’ve seen the photos. And yes, the car was wrecked during a pursuit last night. But that pursuit resulted in the arrest of Boone Taylor, the fugitive wanted for the shooting of Deputy Pimental.”
Jadhur almost dropped his phone. He stuttered for a second and then started scribbling madly. Where? How? Who was involved?
As Hank answered his questions, people started to drift over. By the time he’d explained Boone’s capture, a decent crowd had gathered around them. Someone in the back raised a hand. Surprised, Hank pointed.
“What about the other Taylor brother? Weren’t there two of them on the loose?”
Excellent.
“Actually, no. We”—he paused, hearing Darcy’s voice in his head telling him to take personal credit—“me … my department and I have determined that the other Taylor brother, Jackson, is the man found deceased in the woods two weeks ago. And we made an arrest in that case last night as well.”
A murmur went through the crowd. More and more people started to gather. Jadhur was having to fight for his spot at the front. People were jostling him, pressing forward, thrilled at the unexpected opportunity to get close to a police investigation. Gallagher was left with a dozen cups of lemonade and no line. Hank fought back a smile.
Emboldened by that first audience query, other people started calling out questions. Jadhur sighed in resignation and moved off to the side. Hank started to speak and then stopped. How was he going to explain a drug war involving a never-before-known herb that technically wasn’t even illegal, a long-running family feud, and a cancer death that was really fratricide?
“I am not at liberty to say too much today,” he began. “But I can tell you that the murder of Jackson Taylor was prompted by a … business dispute. We have arrested the owner of the land where Taylor’s body was found. He will be charged with murder on Monday.”
He could tell by their shocked gasps which people were from that part of the county and knew who he meant. The formidable, fearsome Kinney had finally been brought low. He didn’t think he’d ever felt such a surge of professional satisfaction. He continued.
“I’m also pleased to announce that we have arrested the person responsible for the death of the child whose skeleton was also found in those woods.” He stopped, not for effect, but because he suddenly realized how many kids were listening. How many families could hear him. People who were there to choose a pet, not hear about the murder of a seven-year-old at the hands of his sister. “More information about that case will be available next week. I’ll be here for a while if anyone wants to talk about the sheriff’s department. Right now, why doesn’t everyone go and get some lemonade?”
Gallagher had just abandoned his drink stand and stomped off toward the administration building. He jerked around at a little boy’s shout and gawked at the stampede of kids headed his way. He stared over their heads at Hank, who saw the loathing on Gallagher’s face and gave up the fight with his smile. He added a casual wave and turned toward the folks waiting to shake his hand.
CHAPTER
40
As the returns came in, Hank finally allowed himself a beer. He had just won an election.
The Springfield news station had just called it for “appointed, and now elected, Sheriff Hank Worth.” He’d beaten Gerald Tucker fifty-two to forty-eight percent, give or take.
