Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 10 (17 page)

I finished scribbling all that and said, “Did you hear a shot right before you encountered Kevin?”

“Yeah, but way off from where I was.” He leaned back, clearly proud of his recitation. “Bring me some coffee, Barry. Three sugars, no milk.”

I sketched a crude map of the area and pushed it toward him. “Make a mark where you were when you heard the shot,” I said.

He sneered at my effort, then took the pencil and drew an X indicating he’d been just inside the woods. “Here, I guess. Hell, I wasn’t worried where I was. I was more concerned about where Dylan and the kid were and how I was going to get off a decent shot.”

Barry came back into the room, handed a mug to Reed, and put one down on my desk. “You can probably use this, too,” he said to me.

“Thanks.” I looked over what I’d written, then glanced up at Reed. “And at any time did you have a weapon with live ammo?”

He shrugged. “I got my rifle and some thirtycaliber bullets in the truck in case I decide to do some huntin’ after the retreat. I got fired on Thursday, so it ain’t like I have anything better to do. Let that dumb-ass process server come find me out here.”

“Process server?” I said.

Barry rolled his eyes at me. “Reed’s experiencing marital difficulties difficulties, and some guy has been chasing him all over Farberville. He stayed away from work because of that, which is why he’s currently unemployed.”

“Damn that Bobbi Jo,” said Reed between noisy slurps of coffee. “It’s her own damn fault. If she hadn’t bitched at me for coming home drunk, I wouldn’t have had to teach her a lesson about who wears the pants and who wears the panties.” He leered at me. “What about you, baby? You got black silk panties on that firm little ass of yours?”

I considered getting out my gun, but I didn’t want to squander one of my precious bullets on him. “Give me your address and phone number, then get out of here,” I said levelly. “Someone at the sheriff’s department will type this up and bring it to you to be signed in a couple of days.”

He rattled off the information, then added, “I’ll be over at that dumpy bar, Barry. I guess we need to find out what Sterling wants to do.”

I waited until he left before I dared reach for the mug. After a couple of sips, I said, “Your comrade’s a real jerk, isn’t he?”

Barry took the vacated chair. “He’s under a lot of stress because of the divorce. Usually he’s a real sweetheart.”

“Sure he is,” I said dryly. “You have anything to add to what he said about arrival times?”

“No, as far as I know, that was pretty much it. I had to work Friday, so I was the last one to show up.” I gave him the map. “Where were you when you heard the single shot?” He studied it for a long while, as if the scattering of lines held some mystical significance. “I guess I was over that way,” he said as he drew an X. “I wanted to work my way below the ledge, but I had the same problem Reed did with the open area. I heard the shot, and maybe three or four minutes later, I saw the flare that meant something was wrong.”

“You couldn’t see the ledge where Dylan was standing when he was shot?” I asked, retrieving my masterpiece to compare Reed’s and Barry’s marks. One was large and lopsided, the other small and precise.

“No, the bluff juts out and I was coming around from the far side. I couldn’t even see the clearing at that point.”

“What can you tell me about Dylan? How long has he been a member of your group?”

Barry gave this question as much consideration as he had the map. “He drifted into town about two weeks ago, got a job at the garage, and ended up crashing at Reed’s apartment. He claimed he’d been living in Denver.”

“Claimed? Did you doubt him?”

“I had some misgivings. I don’t know how to say this without making us sound like a gang of desperados. We’ve never done anything illegal, but groups like ours are often under investigation by certain federal agencies. It’s not uncommon for agents to attempt to pose as disciples in order to infiltrate.”

My pseudo-professional veneer evaporated. “Are you saying the victim was a federal agent?”

“It occurred to me,” he said, shrugging. “It was almost as though he knew ahead of time that Reed was the one to approach, since the rest of us are quite a bit more reticent when discussing … our activities.” He put the mug on the floor and held up his hands. “Which are legal, as I said a minute ago. You may not agree with our philosophy, but you have to admit we have the constitutional right to embrace it.”

“Which amendments cover racism and paranoia?” I asked sweetly.

“You’ll have to ask Sterling. He’s our specialist in matters of law.” He set the mug on the corner of my desk. “I suppose I won’t be buying you a beer on Monday, right?”

“That’s very perceptive of you.” I stood up so he couldn’t look down at me. “I suggest you and your comrades go find some other place to make fools of yourselves. If I have to, I’ll declare the entire acreage from the county road to the bluff a crime scene. It’ll take a lot of yellow tape to make it off-limits, but I have plenty of free time. That means if you all return, you’ll be trespassing, and also that Kayleen can’t proceed with the remodeling. I have a feeling that won’t sit well with her.”

“Probably not. I’ll tell Sterling what you said, unless you prefer to tell him yourself.”

“Go ahead and tell him whatever you wish. After all, the Constitution guarantees freedom of speech, doesn’t it?” I wrote down his address and telephone number, then told him to leave. I still had six more statements to take, but I’d already heard most of Kevin’s story and I figured Earl Buchanon and Jeremiah McIlhaney would have little to contribute. For that matter, none of them would if the shooting had been an accident, as Harve believed.

But if Dylan Gilbert had been exposed as a federal agent, it might be a whole ‘nuther ballgame, I thought as I reread the notes I’d taken while interviewing Barry. The logical agencies were the FBI and the ATF, but I wasn’t at all sure I could call Washington and politely ask them to confirm the identity of an undercover agent.

I gave up worrying about it, and was halfway to my car when Dahlia came pounding up the road, her massive arms flopping like prehensile wings. “It’s Kevvie!” she yelled at me. “He’s disappeared!”

“No, he hasn’t,” I said calmly. “He was out at that gathering on County 102 and then at the PD, but I sent him home half an hour ago.”

She huffed and puffed until she caught her breath. “I was over at his parents’ house when his pa got there. He told us what happened and said that Kevvie had gone back to the SuperSaver for what was left of his shift. I went right over there to chew him out, but Idalupino said he never showed up. He ain’t at home, neither. What if it’s time for the baby and I cain’t find him? What am I gonna do …?”

I didn’t have an answer.

I drove Dahlia back to her in-laws’ house. After she’d been settled on the sofa with a quilt and a diet soda, I asked Eileen to drive to Kevin’s house and make sure he wasn’t hiding under the porch. Then, without enthusiasm, I asked Earl to join me in the kitchen.

“Okay,” I began, speaking quietly so Dahlia couldn’t overhear us, “what the hell were you, Kevin, and Jeremiah doing out there this morning? Do you honestly believe this country is going to be invaded by a bunch of Swiss paratroopers armed with pocketknives?”

He hung his head. “Jeremiah and I went because we were curious. There was this pamphlet being handed out all over town that said we didn’t have to pay taxes, and I sure could use a new tractor.”

“No, Earl, you don’t have to pay taxes. It’s entirely your decision whether to send a check to the IRS or go to prison. Just bear in mind that tax evasion’s a federal offense, so you might end up sharing a cell with Raz and having Sunday afternoon visits from Marjorie.” I flipped the pad to a clean page and poised my pencil. “Tell me what happened from the time you arrived at the Wockermann place.”

“We got there at ten, listened to Pitts carry on about something or other, and then agreed to participate in this military exercise around eleven. I dunno why we said we would, except I used to love to hear my pa talk about being in France during the war. I would’ve signed on to go to Vietnam, but our troops pulled out before I turned eighteen.”

“I get the picture,” I said. “Tell me about this morning.”

“Fifteen minutes after Dylan and Kevin went up the hill, Pitts told us to scatter on our own. Jeremiah and I weren’t sure about that, so we stayed together.”

“And?” I said, perhaps a shade impatiently.

“We got to thinking that we should wait near the gully in case they doubled back to sneak behind our line. We were gonna find a place to sit by the tents, but we heard somebody coming, so we went to Jeremiah’s truck.”

“Where it was dry,” I said. “Did you see anybody after that?”

Earl nodded, although it’d be a stretch to say he did so thoughtfully. “Pitts scrambled across the gully and used a phone in that tank of his. I guess he called for an ambulance, ‘cause it and the sheriff turned up within half an hour. You came pretty soon after that.”

I didn’t bother with notes. “Did you and Jeremiah hear any shots?”

This time he shook his head. “We had the windows rolled up and were listening to the radio. Don’t go telling Millicent, but Jeremiah has the hots for this little blond-headed country singer with enormous tits, and he wanted me to hear her new song.” Eileen hurried in through the back door. “Kevin’s not at home,” she said grimly, “and neither is the car. I stopped at the supermarket, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of him since nine this morning.”

Earl scratched his head. “Jeremiah and me dropped him off in back of the store less than an hour ago. He was mumbling to hisself, but he was almost to the door when we drove away.”

“I can’t imagine where he is,” said Eileen. “He may be a few dips short of a sundae, but he couldn’t get lost between the dumpster and the door.”

I had reservations about that, but I kept them to myself and said, “He may have decided to go to the Flamingo to beg forgiveness for his self-perceived dereliction of duty. If I spot him, I’ll send him home with his tail between his legs. Is there anything else you should tell me, Earl?”

“Not really,” he said, “unless it was that figure I saw come out of the woods way up by the fence at the back of the Assembly Hall. All I caught was a glimpse, and Jeremiah swore I was seeing things.”

“Was this before or after Pitts made his call?” I asked.

“Oh, I’d say about fifteen minutes before. I wasn’t paying much attention on account of Jeremiah’s favorite song coming on. It was something about knockers and knickers, and I told Jeremiah it didn’t make a lick of sense, but he said-“

“Let me know if you hear from Kevin,” I said. I tiptoed past Dahlia, who was snoring, and let myself out the front door. I suppose suppose I should have been more concerned about Kevin, but he was capable of almost anything, including driving into Farberville to enlist in the army (as if they’d take him).

It was doubtful Jeremiah would have anything to add to Earl’s account, so I left him for later, swung by Kevin’s house on the off-chance he’d popped up like a fever blister, and then went to the motel behind Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill. Only three more statements, I told myself as I parked, and I’d be rid of the militia once and for all. Kayleen would still be around, but my threat to tie a yellow ribbon around her property was probably adequate to send everybody else away, including the insufferable Reed Rondly. It was kind of a shame about Barry Kirklin, though. I wasn’t in the market for a steady beau, much less a husband, but it might have been nice to have a beer and a conversation.

Les got out of his car. “Nobody’s so much as poked a toe outside,” he reported. “I take that back. Estelle Oppers came out of her room and asked me if I was here because of the toilet seat.”

I had a pretty good idea why Estelle was holed up at the Flamingo, although I was getting tired of cryptic messages regarding this nefarious toilet seat. “I don’t know what she meant, Les. Maybe plumbers are in such demand these days that they’re running around with badges and sidearms. Has Kevin been here?” He shook his head. “Which units are whose?”

Once he’d told me, I decided to give myself a break and start with Kayleen, and then beg a couple of antacid tablets from Ruby Bee before tackling Sterling Pitts and Jake Milliford. Kayleen must have seen me coming, because she opened the door as I approached. She’d changed into a cashmere sweater and slacks, but her face, devoid of makeup, was sallow. “I know, I know,” she said as I went into her room. “You tried to tell me and I wouldn’t listen. I’ve gone deer hunting most every year since I was twelve, and nothing like this ever happened, but-“

“This time it happened.” I sat down on the bed and opened my pad. “You didn’t go to the campsite until this morning, right?”

“That’s right. We got there shortly after six. Judy made breakfast while the rest of us unloaded some things from Sterling’s Hummer and prepared for a gathering to share our beliefs with the local citizens. The turnout was disappointing, particularly to Sterling, but he went ahead and gave his talk, then invited them to participate in an exercise.”

“Were Dylan and Kevin supposed to be the insidious foreigners or the heroic defenders of truth, justice, and the American way?”

“Oh, I don’t think roles were defined,” Kayleen said as she sat down on the opposite side of the bed. “We synchronized our watches, waited for fifteen minutes, and then headed out on our own. I thought I’d try to get above their position, but I ended up where it was as steep as the side of a barn.”

I handed her my increasingly wrinkled map. “Show me where you were when you heard the first shot.”

“Whose marks are these?” she asked.

“Why does it matter?”

She made a vague gesture with her free hand. “It doesn’t. Let me see if I can figure out what these lines mean. Is this a tree?”

I pointed out all the relevant landmarks, then watched her as she ran a manicured fingertip up the page.

“I came this way,” she murmured. “I spotted Reed ahead of me and shifted over this way. Then I made my way over this way and ended up behind a thicket about here.” She drew an X on the opposite side of the map from Barry’s. “I guess that’s about right, although I wouldn’t testify to it in court.”