An Unmarked Grave (27 page)

I didn't know exactly where I was going with all this, but
my choices were growing fewer and fewer. I decided to open
up a little. "After Justin Chester came back here, he called
and told me he had found what he was looking for. After his inheritance, he had the money to exhume the coffin. Of
course, he would have gone through the legal process, which
would have taken him some time, but I think that's what he
had on his mind." I rose and stood at the window, looking
out into the gathering darkness. I sipped my Budweiser and
turned to face the sheriff. "He found the grave"

Perry's eyes narrowed skeptically.

I pulled the copies of Justin's papers from my briefcase
and rolled them out on the table before him. "Here is a plat
of the cemetery, and the spot he marked up here is where
we found the grave. The other papers are notes, inventory,
that sort of thing." I paused and chuckled. "By the way, those
are copies. The originals are in my office safe in Austin" I
glanced at the originals lying in plain sight in my briefcase.
As soon as he left, I planned to get those papers where they
would be safe.

Just in case.

Perry grinned up at me. "You're not one to take chances,
huh?"

"Believe me, I've had more than my share of misfortune
because I foolishly took an unnecessary chance."

Rolling his massive shoulders, Perry smoothed the plat
of the cemetery with his large hands. He jabbed a meaty
finger at the circle. "That's where you dug, huh?"

"It wasn't that easy, Sheriff. Barton told us to look for a
metal rod below the surface of the grass. He and Justin had
put it there."

Perry sneered. "Barton? But he was nothing but an old
drunk always fighting the DTs"

"Maybe so, but he steered us to the right place." I hesitated, then pulled out the folder of snapshots and thumbed through to the ones in the grave. "Take a look" I handed
them to Perry.

He studied them for several moments, his face concentrated in a frown. "What am I looking for?"

I pointed to the bones in the casket. "This casket is about
three and a half feet long. These remains were cut in half to
fit into the casket. Take a look at the femur, the left leg above
the knee" I pointed it out. "See how it's bent? Newt Gibons
told me that years ago, Jim Bob broke his leg. He took him
to the hospital, but they didn't set it right. Left leg. He hobbled around on it."

Gus Perry nodded. "I don't remember which leg, but he
did limp after that"

I leaned back. "There it is. And with your authority, we
can get a DNA on the remains in the grave to positively
identify them as Jim Bob Houston"

He looked up at me. "So what happened? How did he
end up in that grave?"

For a moment, I hesitated. With information, a person has
leverage, and I was giving it all away. Still, I was beginning
to trust Perry. His explanation about not recognizing Justin's
name made sense. He knew that Jim Bob had supposedly
gone to Chicago and had tried to run him down. Otherwise,
how would he have known the name of Homer Talley? His
explanation of the death certificate made sense, however
inappropriately handled.

He prodded me. "Well?"

I gathered the pictures and stuck them back into my briefcase.

"I suppose you have the negatives for those somewhere
else, huh?"

"Yep. In my office safe in Austin." Which was another lie
on my part.

He shrugged. "Fine with me. What else do you have?"

I studied him carefully. "I can tell you who I think is involved in Jim Bob's disappearance. I'm not sure why, but I
think I know at least one, maybe two individuals."

Sheriff Perry downed the rest of his Budweiser and
crushed the can in his hand, a feat of no consequence today
when compared to the cans of yesteryear. "Who?"

Without hesitation, I replied. "Marvin Lewis!"

don't know what reaction I expected from the sheriff, but
his casual acceptance of my accusation surprised me, making
me wonder if perhaps he had his own suspicions regarding
Marvin Lewis. Calmly, he asked, "Mind telling me why?"

"As I understand events around here, Sara Ann Houston
left Jim Bob around eighty-three or four. A love triangle. In
eighty-six, Houston vanished and supposedly rented an apartment in Chicago. No one seems to know who the third member of that love triangle was" I stared at Perry for a response.

He rose from his chair and pulled another Budweiser from
the ice chest. With a grin, he quipped, "Your buddy better get
back with a fresh supply if this keeps up." He chugged several long swallows, then said, "There was a bunch of wild
guesses about the other guy-that's all" His red face turned
crimson. "I was even brought into it, not that Sara Ann wasn't
a looker. She was, but I was just like the others around here.
I couldn't believe it when word got out"

"Marvin Lewis was the third leg of that triangle," I announced simply.

A baffled frown contorted Sheriff Perry's face, but not
for the reason I thought. He stammered. "W-What?"

"Sara, Jim Bob, and good old Marv. And for your information, I got it from the horse's mouth"

"Marvin told you?"

"Sara Ann."

He sat back in the chair, shaking his head and muttering
a soft curse. "That I never would have believed. Why, Marv
is twenty years or more older than her."

I couldn't resist wisecracking, "You've heard the old
saying about snow on the roof, haven't you?"

Perry laughed. "Yeah. When you get to be my age, you
hear a lot of those old stories. Unfortunately, some might
be true, but most aren't."

We both laughed, probably to keep from crying.

"And, second," I added, "Nora Talley, the widow of the
man you talked to in Chicago, identified Marvin Lewis as
the man who rented the apartment in Jim Bob Houston's
name"

The smile fled Perry's face. "You're kidding me."

Unsmiling, I shook my head slowly.

For several moments, he sat staring at the beer in his hand.
Finally, he looked up. "You said maybe two. Who's the other
one?"

"Buck Ford. He lied about seeing the pickup in the creek.
From where he was, it's impossible to see down there. And
according to Sara Ann, he and J. B. hated each other, especially after Houston won the judgment against Ford"

Perry blew through his lips. "Well, sure looks like-"

At that moment, Jack popped back in, halting in the doorway. "All right? Or do I need to get some more beer?"

I looked at Perry. He shrugged. "Come on in, Jack," I said. "Now, Sheriff, I think you were going to say something
when Jack interrupted"

He eyed me narrowly. "You seem to have this pretty well
figured out"

"Not really. I've got some ideas, but just as many questions"

He leaned forward. "Such as? Maybe I can fill some in."

"First, Houston's wife and Lewis had a thing going. She
left, and Houston sold out to Lewis two or three years later.
Why?" I paused, then added, "If my wife had an affair with
some guy, he'd be the last one I'd want to deal with. How
about you?"

He frowned, contemplating the question. He shook his
head. "Money has a way of changing a guy's perspective.
You know what I mean?"

"Yeah" I knew exactly what he meant. Money can buy
just about anything, which is a chilling indictment of our society today.

"What about the contract? Was it legal?"

I rummaged through my briefcase and handed him a
copy of the deed on record. "See for yourself. Here's the
deed they filed back in eighty-six. Fully notarized and filed
accordingly in the county clerk's Office"

He skimmed the document and shrugged. "Looks legal
to me"

"It is"

With a shrug, he returned the contract. "Looks like money
made Jim Bob forget what happened"

I continued. "Now, as far as Houston's disappearance,
the only link is the fact that Lewis was the one who rented
the apartment in Chicago. Everything else is a matter of
conjecture, one person's word against another's. But, if you
will authorize DNA testing on the remains in the grave,
then we can find out if the remains are Houston's. If they
are not, I'm full of bull, we're back to square one, and I'm
waltzing on down to Austin"

He pushed himself to his feet. "You've given me a lot to
think about. I don't know as I agree with you or not, but I'll
sure look into a DNA test on those bones. You come up with
something concrete we can use, let me know" He offered
his hand.

I shook it, then added, "One more question before you go"

"Shoot"

"Harlan Barton saw two men, he didn't know who, bury
Houston twenty years ago. He couldn't identify them. Why
didn't he tell you about it?"

Perry pursed his lips. The wrinkles in his face folded like
an accordion. "Probably because he knew I wouldn't believe
him. Back in the seventies, he must have called me out to
the cemetery a dozen times, each time swearing he had found
the grave of the spaceman and wanted me to dig it up" He
shrugged. "That's the best answer I got"

And it made sense in a screwy sort of way.

I stood on the gallery watching the sheriff drive from the
parking lot. While I had revealed to him a great deal, I had also picked up a few choice pieces of information. I drew a
deep breath and let it out slowly.

I just hoped I had not made a mistake in trusting him.

As usual, Jack was hungry, so we headed down to the
restaurant. I had not eaten since breakfast, and I was hungry enough to tackle one of the restaurant's highly advertised sixteen-, thirty-two-, or forty-eight-ounce broiled rib
eyes with sides of cream gravy, French fries, buttered rolls,
and topped off with hot apple pie smothered in Blue Bell
homemade vanilla ice cream.

I gained five pounds just reading the menu, but that's
what I ordered, specifying, I might add, the sixteen-ounce
steak. Jack, naturally, opted for the forty-eight.

Texas truck stop dining is a world of its own, filled with
unimaginable and delectable delights that would never occur
to the average man. T-bones, sirloins, ribs, chops, chicken, and
even the hamburgers were all man-sized, daring a diner to
put it all down and walk out without staggering.

I had learned the hard way, but Jack was still trying to
climb that hill. His rib eye filled one platter, his fries another, and they were accompanied by a bowl of steaming
white cream gravy and a platter of yeasty rolls soaked with
butter.

It was a glutton's dream.

I could have eaten on it for a week and then had some
left over.

Halfway through our meal, Mabel Hooker walked in with
a large man bundled into a brown nylon parka and wearing
a western hat. She spotted us and waved. I returned the gesture, and they made their way over to us.

She had to be the smilingest woman I've ever known.
Freezing cold outside, and she was smiling. Burning hot, and
she was smiling. Raining frogs, and she was smiling. She
never quit. "Hi, boys. Heard about the accident. Glad you're
okay"

"Not as much as we are" I glanced at the man beside her.
He was a head taller than Mabel and probably ten years
older. His eyes were the clearest light blue I had ever seen,
somehow reminding me of the eyes of all of those western
plainsman I had read about as a kid.

She introduced us. "This is Gabe, my husband. Gabe,
this is Tony and Jack, the city boys from Austin I told you
about"

Gabe grinned, revealing a set of teeth with half a dozen
gaps in them. "Howdy, boys"

"By the way, Mabel, I've been wondering. Harlan Barton. When's his funeral?"

"Tomorrow. The Christian church. Next door to the feed
store right across the highway from Cemetery Road"

For a moment, I hesitated, unsure how to approach the
subject. "I'd like to contribute to any expenses, but I don't
want to create any problems. I know Harlan wasn't all that
well off."

She grinned. "It's taken care of. Old Buck Ford, he's
paying for it all"