Fallout (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 2) (3 page)

“Don’t. The only reason I wanted to go was to see that sum’bitch planted in the ground
and
out of respect for my aunt and other cousins. I can’t believe Aunt Bea would act like that toward you, knowing what Tom did. I can’t wrap my brain around it.”

“Well, you have to put yourself in her place, Hook. What if it hadda been one of your boys. If I had to shoot one of them-”

“You know, I really don’t have to think on that very much, Hoss. If one of my boys molested a woman, stabbed and killed her, and then killed a man that was trying to protect her, then his ass needs to fry because he is sick in the head! Tom
was
you know.”

“Yeah, I think so, too. It wasn’t just arrogance he suffered from, although he was one of the most arrogant, bastards I ever knew. Those ill winds we were talking of earlier are still a blowing. I look for trouble out of Leonard. I don’t know just yet what he is gonna do, but he’ll do something I’m sure; that fucker is sneaky.”

“Yep, always has been.” James agreed. “You better watch your back Cuz, and if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

“You watch yours too, James, and we may need to keep check on Emma too. I saw how Leonard looked at her when she was going back into the cemetery.”

“Yeah, I saw that, too. If looks could kill, she’d be dead. He has always been shifty as hell, and that shit eating grin of his,” James shook his head. “As my daddy used to say, I wouldn't trust him in the shithouse with a muzzle on.”

“I haven’t heard that expression in years,” Joshua chuckled at the thought of a muzzle on Leonard. “But your daddy is right. I don’t trust Leonard no further than I can see him either.”

“He might try to retaliate on her for kissing you on the cheek,” said Hook, his tone serious. “Don’t he realize you saved that girl’s life? Nah, he ain’t smart enough to figure that out or don’t give a shit; one track minded son-of-a-bitch.”

Joshua wondered if maybe Leonard was a molester too.

“You want me to get another bottle out?” Joshua asked when he saw James pour the last of the whiskey into his glass.

“No, Hoss, not unless you want some more,” James replied. “When I finish this I need to head toward the home place.”

Joshua sighed, dropped his feet from the railing and stood. “Maybe later, I think I’m going to ride up to the Four-Mile and get me some supper.”

“Well, I would ride with you, but Ilene is already gonna have a list of honey do’s a mile long waiting on me when I get home and I know she’ll have supper ready. I better head on to the house,” James turned up his glass and finished the whiskey. “Next time you run across some of that prime homegrown, be sure and save us some,” he grinned.

“I will,” Joshua replied. “Could’a used a good toke or two on one today.”

“Me, too, see ya later Hoss,” James said as he walked off the porch.

Joshua heard Hook’s old truck crank up and travel out the driveway. He walked to the end of the porch and took a leak. He could taste the grit of the sand left by the dust devil still in his mouth. He decided he needed to shower and change before he went anywhere. He also needed to shave he thought to himself as he walked inside.

When he stepped into the kitchen, he saw her, the old woman ghost that occupied the cabin with him. He stopped and watched her. She was standing in front of the wood stove as if cooking. Her dress was of a period that had to have been in the late eighteen hundreds, maybe even earlier. She walked from the woodstove to the cellar door and then disappeared through the closed door.

Joshua could not resist opening the door to see if she was going down the stairs into the cellar, but when he flipped the switch, nothing happened. He got a flashlight out of the junk drawer and a light bulb and then walked down the stairs. He had not opened the cellar door in probably two years, not since he started talking his laundry to the Hi & Dry Laundromat on Airport Blvd. They washed, dried, and folded it for fifty cents a pound. It was a lot more convenient than trying to do it himself.

Joshua changed the bulb and then looked around. Spider webs were everywhere. I need to get someone out here to give the place a good scrubbing, he thought to himself, as he went back up the stairs. He did have an old Negro woman by the name of Margaret Moffett that used to come once a month to wash and iron, mop and clean, change linens, and air it out, but she had passed away several years back; it had not had a good cleaning since. He put the flashlight back where he got it from and then went to shower and shave.

His reflection in the mirror was still a bit haggard looking. There was light bruising around his eyes from the broken nose he received in the wreck.

“You’re looking ragged these days, Sheriff,” he muttered to the face in the mirror. He was glad that Buck the barber had set his nose straight after the accident, otherwise it might be pointing to his left ear; he would sure enough look ragged then. After showering, he changed into fresh jeans and shirt and splashed on some Old Spice.

Just as Joshua pulled his boots on, he heard a vehicle engine racing outside. It sounded as if someone was sitting in one spot revving it up and then letting off. He strapped his holster on; made sure his revolver was loaded and then walked into the kitchen. He grabbed his hat, beat some of the dust off it before putting it on, and then walked out onto the back porch. He knew they were in the front yard, but he did not want to exit by the front door. He wanted to be able to see them, before they saw him.

As he stepped onto the back porch, he saw a Red-tailed Hawk perched on a limb of a popcorn tree near the edge of the porch. The hawk seemed to be staring at him. It surprised him that it was just sitting there, especially with the vehicle revving up in the front yard. Loud as it was, it should have scared him away. Joshua wondered what the significance of it was… it made him even more wary.

It did not surprise him at all that it was Leonard in his yard and it appeared to be Tom’s oldest boy with him. Leonard kept revving up and letting off, rocking the truck back and forth. Lord have Mercy on my soul for having to deal with these idiots, thought Joshua as he walked toward Leonard’s truck.

“Looks like you ain’t got Hook’s shirttail to hide behind now,” Leonard observed.

“I don’t need nobody’s shirttail to hide behind, Leonard,” Joshua responded quickly “but it appears you need a boy to hide behind. Now, why would you want to get this here boy involved in grownups business?”

“You involved me when you shot my daddy!” the squeaky voiced boy exclaimed. Joshua saw much of Tom in the boy’s features. They even shared some of the same facial expressions. The sneer on the boy’s lips made Joshua want to slap the piss out of him, but he retrained himself from doing so. There’s no hope for the human race, as long as idiots keep having young'uns, he thought to himself.

“You need to just keep quiet, squirt, and let us grownups talk,” Joshua said flatly. “And Leonard, if you got a bone to pick with me, you come back by yourself and we’ll settle it like men.” Joshua heard a car coming up his driveway; it was Deputy Cook.

When he pulled up and stopped, Cook stuck his head out the window and asked, “Is everything alright here, Sheriff?”

“Yep, Cookie, they were just leaving. Ain’t that right Leonard and
little
Tom.”

“This ain’t the end of it, Stokes. I
will
be back,” Leonard said grittily.

“Anytime you’re feeling frisky, Leonard. Just leave the little ones at home next time,” Joshua replied, staring Tom’s boy in the eyes since he was the one closest to him. The boy sneered some more and Leonard revved his truck up and spun a rooster tail of dirt behind him as he circled around and headed out the driveway.

“Them boys is up to no good, Sheriff,” Cook observed. “You better watch that one. Do you want me to stop him and give him a ticket?”

“That would be just adding fuel to the fire, Cookie,” he responded, then said, “You didn’t ride all the way out here for nothing. What’s wrong?”

“Our dispatcher, Ida Mae, says she has been fielding calls all day about an offensive odor coming from the little house down yonder behind the First Baptist Church. She tried to call you on your land line, your radio, and she said she paged you.” When Joshua did not respond, Cook continued. “It seems they haven’t seen any activity around there in a few days. It’s the one right there by the railroad tracks; Mr. Vices place.”

Joshua knew where Cook was talking about. It was the home of Hook’s uncle Jesse. I hope nothing has happened to him and his wife, thought Joshua as he headed toward his patrol car. Supper at the Four-Mile would have to wait.

“You follow me,” he told Cook. “We’ll go do a wellness check on them; they’re both up in age. I’m surprised no one has checked on them.” After he said it, he thought of Tom; Tom was Jesse’s kin. Jesse’s family had probably been dealing with Tom’s death, wake, and funeral. They probably had not been in the right frame of mind to check on them. Maybe they just plumb forgot about them in the confusion; it was possible. When he and Cook pulled up to Jesse Vice’s house and got out of their patrol cars, they could smell it; the stench of decomposition. Rotting human flesh has a distinct odor.

“Damn it to hell!” Joshua mumbled as he got his pry bar out of the trunk. “We’ll probably have to bust the door in,” he told Cook. “Put some gloves on, just in case something has gone on that shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, sir,” Cook replied solemnly, slipping his gloves on.

When they walked up onto the porch, Joshua took out his kerchief and held it to his face, covering his nose. He told Cook to walk around back and check the back door just in case it was unlocked. He did not want to bust the doorframe unless he had to.

Cook came straight back and told him the back door was slightly ajar.

Joshua held to the pry bar, walked around back, and entered through the kitchen door. The last time he saw Jesse was Saturday morning a week past when he had gone to the barbershop for a haircut. It was the same day the Blackwell boy out of Biloxi broadsided him as he left the barbershop.

Lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of dried blood was Jesse’s wife, Ola. A bloody butcher knife lay on the kitchen table. Joshua held up his hand and told Cook to go to his patrol car and radio for them to send the coroner and Metcalf’s Crime Scene Investigation team. When he did not hear Cook move immediately, he turned toward him. Cook was just standing there, mouth agape and bug-eyed, staring at Ola Vice’s body. If alive, the poor woman would be mortified. Her nightgown was hiked up around her waist.

“Cook!” Joshua shouted, “Get a move on, damn it,” he spat as he removed an apron from a hook by the back door and draped it over Ola’s lower body. He then eased from room to room until he found Jesse Vice. Jesse was still in bed. It appeared he had been bludgeoned to death. His head lay on a blood soaked pillow. A steel bar was on the floor atop of Jesse’s overalls. The pockets of the overalls were turned inside out; a wallet lay nearby. Damn’it to hell, thought Joshua as he walked back toward the kitchen.

Ola must have gone to the kitchen to make coffee and the killer caught her off guard and killed her before she could alert Jesse. Many folks in the country never locked their doors; they never needed to, until now.

He hoped they could get some prints off the wallet, the knife, or the steel bar. Many of the cabinet doors were standing open as was several drawers. It was as if someone was searching through them for something.

Joshua saw a smeared, bloody handprint on the sink. Lying next to the sink on its side was an empty coffee tin; the top was off. He walked over and saw that the can contained half of a dollar bill and a few pennies. There was blood residue in the basin. Whoever done this must have washed up afterward then searched through the cabinets. They stole what they could find and then left. When John Metcalf and his team arrived, Metcalf looked around and immediately pulled Joshua to the side.

“This perpetrator’s Modus Operandi looks like that of the Train Track Killer.”

“The what -”

“Mo-”

“No, Damn it! I know what an M-O is. What the hell is the Train Track Killer?”

“Sheriff, I know you’ve been busy and haven’t been downtown in a while so you might not be up to par on this case,-”

“No, I’m not up to par on shit, John. Hell, I don’t remember the last time I even went to the office, so I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There’s been a man riding the rails, hopping off in different towns, attacking women in their homes. He rapes, robs, and murders them. If the husband happens to be home he murders them too.”

“Damn, when did all this shit start?”

“About a mouth ago - up around Albany, New York, He has killed eight people already, six women and two men, across about as many states. When they got an idea of where he was headed by the locations of the murders, they contacted us here in Alabama. They think he is working his way south to Texas. The last known murder was in Georgia, near Atlanta. He stayed in Atlanta the longest. He left one survivor during his spree so far, and that was in Atlanta too. He beat the woman in the head with a tire iron, and raped her, repeatedly from what I heard. She was lucky to survive. The woman described him as a non-English speaking Hispanic. She lived adjacent to a train track.”

“Good Lord, what is the world coming to. It seems to be full of psychos these days.”

“Yes, Sir, it does. We think he was also the same man that raped and murdered a woman up in Atmore a few days ago. Her house was isolated and near a train track, but until they are sure, they haven’t tagged that one as one of his. The lone survivor, the woman near Atlanta, is supposed to be working with a sketch artist up there to try to get a good likeness for law enforcement to go by. From what I heard, he stayed there in her house for hours… They are processing his fingerprints across states, trying to get an ID on this fellow. The profilers figure he did not just start out raping and killing at this stage of his life. The woman that survived said he appeared to be in his early thirties. Most criminals start their illegal activity at a much younger age than that.”

“Well, the sum’bitch was probably doing it in Mexico, so they let him slip across the border just to get rid of his ass!” Joshua spat. “Profilers… Is that those FBI fellas you was telling me about that like to put themselves in the mind of the criminals?”

“Yes, Sir, and they’ve been doing good work these days. I -”

“You think mighty highly of those Federal Bureau of Investigation boys don’t you.”

“Yes, Sir, I respect what they do.”

“Well, the ones I dealt with back in ‘70 didn’t impress me much.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I sent several deputies to the depot over there to check around for blood and such.” Joshua said, nodding his head in the direction of the small depot across the dirt road from Jesse’s house. “He may not have hopped a train yet, but I doubt it. His ass is probably long gone by now. Jesse and Ola appear to have died several days ago.”

“He’s on the Glory Train for sure,” Metcalf stated. “It came through morning before last, about 7 a.m. Just in time for him to make his escape. The Glory train is the only one that still stops at the depot. Many of the nurserymen get their supplies delivered there.”

“It’s probably how they get their illegal Mexicans delivered to work their nurseries too… heck, he could have been one of the ones that just got off the train from Mexico.”

“Maybe,” Metcalf replied, however he was not ready to give up on his original assessment of the scene. “Or he could be the one that has been doing all the raping and murdering and is on that train bound for Glory. The train doesn’t make any more stops between here and there you know.”

“Well, you can bet your ass,
his ass
ain’t bound for Glory,” Joshua replied stonily. “He is bound for Hell by way of the electric chair. He will fry when we catch him.”

“Sheriff, do you want me to make inquiry at the local nurseries to see if they’ve hired any new Hispanic males the last couple of days?” Paul Calvert asked as he walked up to Joshua and John, who were standing in the back yard of Jesse’s house.

“Deputy, it would take a week to check them all. Just check Jimmy Page’s nursery and Seasonal Sensations first. They’re the ones that mostly use Mexicans to work their fields. After that, you can check the others.” Joshua again fell back to ‘69 when Hurricane Camille came through. After that, the entire Gulf Coast was a disaster, a melting pot of people from every occupation. It seemed that most of them turned up there to make money off the clean up, others to help those in need with rebuilding and such. Many liked it so much they stayed. He could understand why they stayed, and he could not blame them. The weather was nice and the scenery even nicer, but that did not mean he liked it very much. It just made it harder to keep up with folks.

Joshua looked up when he heard a car wheel into the yard. Suddenly he was yelling for everyone to watch out. Lorelei Vice, Jesse and Ola’s youngest daughter, turned in so fast that the little car she was driving began to tip up on two wheels. He thought it might right itself and set all four tires back on the ground, but it did not; it began flipping. It flipped several times before it landed against a pecan tree. He broke and ran toward the car along with Deputy Calvert. Before they reached the small car, Lorelei was crawling out the window of the upside down vehicle. The car was one of those foreign made micro cars he hated so much; the thing probably did not weigh a half a ton.

One time, he had seen one of them flip just rounding a curve a little too fast on the highway. He had thought the VW Bugs were bad when they came out, but the micro cars were outright dangerous! Lorelei had a few scrapes but the adrenaline she had pumped up before the wreck must have kept her from getting hurt too bad.

“Tell me it ain’t true. Please tell me it ain’t true, Sheriff!” Lorelei begged wildly. It hurt Joshua’s heart to tell her they were dead so he just took her in his arms. She began wailing and trying to go toward the house. He held her until she could gain her composure. While he was consoling Lorelei, Deputies Calvert and Cook cut the ignition and then turned her little car back onto it wheels. Other than being banged up, the car was probably still drivable. After she stopped sobbing, Joshua asked her if she thought she needed to go to the hospital to be checked out.