Murder Takes to the Hills (26 page)

“Right,”
Jeffie
agreed. “The problem was most farmers, most current summer people and just about all of the retirees were against it. I don’t think Branch had got more than three or four releases. And Advantage was losing money by the day. So they sent McCurry up to be their closer. In all honesty, I don’t think they knew what kind of man McCurry really was. He was supposed to up the ante a little bit, explain all the benefits and money it would bring into the village, and tell them how sorry they would be if they missed out on it.”

“Instead they got some psycho drunk—and maybe a druggie.”
Jeffie
lit a cigarette and continued. “Ever’ body I’ve talked to said he was threatening—but not in a way you could call the cops over. Like he might say, ‘Now, Ms. Peres think how much better for your car to have a nice paved road instead of this rutted track.’ And you still wouldn’t sell your right-of-way. So next morning, you got up to four flat tires and no clue who did it.”

“I think he loved hurting animals,” Cindy added. “And I’m sure he was thrilled when someone mourned an animal they loved, like Sara or Mrs.
Lauter
. I would not be surprised if he got some kind of sexual kick out of it.”

“I would not argue with you, ma’am. And the thing that scared me bad, was I was afraid he was
workin
’ up to people, not animals. I know he had it in for Clay and Sara and the two of you, and, maybe not quite so much, Peter Minot, since Minot was
workin
’ for Clay, you might say.”

“How did you know that?” I asked.

“Mickey hung out at the Dew Drop Inn, and he had a big mouth when he was drunk. A gal named Mildred clued me in. She’s a…well, she
kinda
hangs out there, too, and she don’t miss anything. She was worried he was going to hurt someone, and she named Clay and Sara and you two, plus Peter Minot.”

A chill went over me, and I took a swallow of my drink. It didn’t hurt at all. I wished Cindy hadn’t heard him, even though McCurry was no longer a threat. An unbalanced man was one reason we were on vacation here in the first place. But she was not down for the count. She asked him a toughie.

“Sheriff, you’ve been in the law business for some time. I’m sure you know that most of us are fairly peaceable and rarely break any laws of consequence. But I’m equally sure there are little legal no-
nos
that we all commit which would let you arrest us on some far-fetched old law. Couldn’t you have done that with Mickey? You could have safely locked him up till somebody either sued him or Advantage got him out of town. You didn’t do that, and many bad things happened, including, actually, his own death.”

“Yes, ma’am I admit to that.” He paused and poured himself and me a small dividend. I added lots of Coke and ice. Cindy just covered her glass. “Why, we’ve got a law on the books that I can arrest you for not attending church on Sunday. There’s another that prohibits social contact with people of dubious morals, whatever that may be these days. But I didn’t enforce none of them. I knew he’d be out on bail in an hour or so, and likely to be more violent than ever. Unless I could have proved something serious, I thought it was safer to just watch him…or try to.”

I believed there was some truth in what the lawman said, but I still wondered if the person he most wanted to protect from Mickey’s wrath wasn’t himself.

“Sheriff.” Cindy had had enough of this waltz. “I know you are a busy man. Is there something you wanted to ask us?”

He took a deep breath, like one finally facing something he had thus far managed to avoid.

“Not ask, ma’am: tell.
 
First of all, I looked through Mr. Willingham’s bills and canceled checks for anything which might have indicated blackmail or even an attempt to buy off McCurry once Ken heard what all he was doing. And second, I want to apologize about your cousin’s nightgown. You looked so pale and sad, I thought maybe it would look silly and you’d get a laugh out of it. I’m sorry.”

Cindy looked as if she couldn’t make up her mind whether to lace into him or burst into tears. I thought I’d better rescue her from either choice.

“I must say,
Jeffie
, you did look a sight. You might keep that getup in mind for Halloween. Now what’s really on your mind? What can we clarify for you?”

He gave me a serious, almost paternal look. “It’s what I need to
tell
you, Ms. Peres, not
ask
you. Please let me finish; then we can talk about any disagreements you have. Okay?”

“Okay,” we chorused.

“Doc Ellis says Mickey died between two and five a.m. It’s hard to pin it down. The night was chilly, and he was lying partly in the creek, which was also cold. I doubt if twenty people in
Beulaland
have an alibi for that time. Most of them would say they were asleep with their other half—and who’s to say nay?”

He smiled and continued.
“
For example, your coat check from the Bromfield Inn was time-stamped for 12:03 a.m. Assuming you came straight home, you were here in no more than ten minutes, so you would probably tell me you were sound asleep between two and five.”

We both nodded, although the phrase “
sound
asleep” would hardly describe our restless night.
 

“Now, Doc Ellis is doing an autopsy as we speak, but earlier this morning he told me something interesting. He says that many times a person with a serious head wound will remain semi-conscious, or will regain consciousness. Sometimes for hours, usually for maybe half an hour or less. During this time they may carry on intelligent speech with another person, although usually they babble to themselves. Sometimes they remain where they were struck—or fell—other times they may wander or walk with a purpose, such as returning to their home. Eventually they lose consciousness again, or die.
 
Now bear that in mind for later.”

Cindy and I gave each other a look that passed for a shrug. Very interesting tidbit, but hardly anything to do with us. But our sheriff was far from finished.

“Now here’s how I think your evening ended. You arrived home a little after twelve, to find McCurry waiting nearby. He attacked you, Ms. Peres, wanting to get even for the morning at the
Delly
, and you two fought. He was stronger than you, and when he hit you in the face, you went down. Meantime, however, Ms. Hart had spotted the river rocks and picked one up. His back was to you, ma’am, and you hit him in the head with the rock, hoping to stun him until the two of you could get in the house, or perhaps back to your car. You got up, Alex, and looked at Mickey. He was obviously much more than stunned. In fact, you thought him dead.”

This would have made a
helluva
TV story if Cindy and I had not been starring in it. And I was having trouble staying quiet. Cindy looked mesmerized.

Jeffie
took a drink and lit a cigarette. Inspired, I followed suit, as he went on with our presumed actions.

“You didn’t want a body on your doorstep, and you didn’t want blood on your clothes. Between Miss Cindy’s probable efforts and the heavy rain, we found no blood on or near the house. We’ll never know for sure if it was there or not. But we
will
know about the gray fibers all around where you dragged his body and laid it down by a tree, up where the trail turns, won’t we, Alex? You even remembered to take the rock and place it near his head, like he fell on it. And we found your footprint there also, probably shielded by his body from any rain still falling, so we got a good print...good enough to see if you either have a worn place on the side of one shoe or you slipped in the mud.”

“Gray? I thought you said green. The blazer they found earlier wasn’t gray. Not the one I saw. And I’ve been up and down that trail half a dozen times in the last few days. If it’s my footprint, it isn’t new. What are you pulling here?”

I had sort of fallen for his gentle approach, but he was trying mousetraps again.

And
Jeffie’s
mild avuncular attitude was fading fast.

“I’m pulling damned hen’s teeth
tryin
’ to get you two to tell me
exactly
what you did. You keep
sayin
’ I’m wrong, but you ain’t come up with anything you say is right.”

“Let’s try once more, then,” Cindy said reasonably. “We did not kill or injure him. The last time we saw him was at the
Delly
the morning he threw me against the table—and Alex took lovely pictures of the bruises. Peter Minot will have a set in his mail Monday.”

She picked up her drink, sniffed it and put it down. “To continue, we have already told you—McCurry was not here when we arrived home shortly after twelve. The dog ran around the yard and found no one and no odors of interest. Once in the house, Alex collared the dog and I picked up the fire tongs and we went from room to room. McCurry was not here, and from Fargo’s reactions, had not been here.”

“We had some brandy to calm down and went to bed. So, Sheriff.” I shrugged. “If McCurry was killed near this building, it was before we got home. Had we been here,
we
might have slept through whatever kind of fight went on, but Fargo would not. And just for the record, my gray blazer is in Provincetown. The only blazer I have here is navy blue wool. To the best of my knowledge, Cindy has no gray blazer anywhere.”

“Oh, it’ll turn up somewhere, I’m not worried about that. But just to finish our little play here. Alex, I think you about got back to the house, when you heard something behind you. I think Mickey had woke up—like Doc Ellis says they sometimes do—and was staggering down the trail. In his mind he might have been trying to get to his car, or might even have been coming here for help,
forgettin
’ it was one of you who had hit him in the first place.”

He lit his last cigarette and winged the crumpled pack into the wastebasket.

“You couldn’t let him just go on, so you yelled for Cindy’s help. And she gave you that old green coat she was wearing, which she had found, probably tossed by who knows into the mudroom. You pulled it on and supported Mickey on down the hill, hoping to get him into his car. But we saw a badly mashed shrub about halfway there and guessed he finally fell. After that, you carried him to a level spot near the road and laid him out again, like he fell. Either you put his face in the water to make sure he stayed put, or he moved and accidentally did it himself. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Doc will find he drowned. Then you went back to the first place, walked around until you found a log where you could hide your coat, then got your rock, and put it by him. Case closed.”

I was almost tempted to laugh, and to cover it turned and asked Cindy to make some coffee.

“Case crazy.” I told him. “
Jeffie
, I am in fairly good shape, but Mickey was a heavy man. Not fat, muscle.
Maybe
I could have dragged him up the trail. But he’s my height and solidly built. I’m not at all sure I could do it. And I can tell you, I could not carry him from here to the back door! And then trot a half-mile up the trail to get the rock, run down again to put it near him and come
back
up the trail to the house? Next you’ll have me leaping tall buildings in a single bound! And after all this, you are saying he drowned? If you got this as far as a courtroom, the jury would be rolling on the floor.”

The bastard just smiled and looked smug.

I thought of another point to burst his thick balloon. “You’ll have to send a bunch of stuff to your county forensics people. That will not only take time, it will prove you wrong.”

“Oh.” He gave me a sweet smile. “It won’t take long at all, our own forensics department will have it put together in a day or so, and Doc Ellis is doing the autopsy.”

“You have a forensics department?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Yep. One of our girls is pretty darn good at stuff like this.”

Cindy carefully handed me a mug of coffee and got back into action. “One of your
girls
? How old is she, fifteen?”

“
Fif
…oh, I see. Pardon me. The young woman is thirtyish. Have to have a couple of female deputies
 
these days or we’d be in trouble. Anyhow, Gloria is fascinated by it and has read a lot on the subject.”
 
He actually looked proud.

“Oh, God,” Cindy murmured. I about choked on my coffee.