The Shining Badge (36 page)

“Helen, I’ve done some wrong things in business.”

Helen Wheeler gave a gasp of relief. “In business? I thought it was—”

“You thought it was what?”

“When a man comes in and tells his wife he has something to confess, it’s almost always something about another woman.”

“Oh no, not that! Not ever that, Helen! I’ve always loved you. There’s never been anyone else.”

Joy came then to Helen Wheeler, and as he reached over and pulled her close, she hugged him fiercely. And then when he released her, she said, “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together, Mill. Now, tell me.” She listened quietly and intently as Wheeler began to speak. He did not spare himself but told her about his secret gambling when he had lost money that should have been hers and the children’s. Then he told her how he had fallen in with Hightower and Vito Canelli. Tears came into his eyes and said, “That’s the bad news, Helen. I’ve been nothing but a criminal.”

Helen reached over and took his hand and held it up against her cheek. “But you can get out of it, Mill. You can leave.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“No. How could I do that?”

Millington Wheeler took a deep breath. “I don’t see why you don’t. I hated myself. But let me tell you what happened two days ago.”

Once again Helen Wheeler listened as her husband told her about his experience with God. He spoke slowly, and she could see a light in his eyes she had never seen before. And finally he said, “ . . . and so, Helen, that was two days ago, and I’ve been praying and waiting to see if it was real. And it
is
real, my dear. I know that I belong to God now.”

“Oh, I’m so happy, Mill! I’m so happy for you!”

The two embraced, and then Wheeler shook his head. “I thought I was a Christian. I tried to be, but I was wrong. I’ll have to go before the church.”

“People will understand. You’re not the first person to make this mistake, but now it’s all right.”

“No, my soul’s all right, but we’re going to have a hard time. I’ve got to let the sheriff know what I did, and it may mean—” He broke off and looked at her straight on. “I may even have to go to prison.”

“Surely not if you get out, and you tell them what’s happened.”

“That’s called turning state’s evidence.” A grim expression swept across Wheeler’s face. “I don’t want to involve anybody if I can help it, especially Hightower. I’ve thought of him as a friend. He’s a hard man and shrewd, and he was the one who got me involved, but still I don’t see how I can confess his crime.”

“You’ll have to do as you think right, Mill.”

“Yes, and the first thing I’ve got to do is call the sheriff and tell her what’s happened.”

****

When the phone rang, Jenny picked it up. “Sheriff’s office. Sheriff Winslow speaking.”

“Sheriff, this is Millington Wheeler.”

“Why, hello, Mr. Wheeler. What can I do for you?”

“Could you come out to my house, Sheriff? I have . . . I have something you need to hear.”

“Why, of course, Mr. Wheeler. I’ll be right out.” Putting the phone down, Jenny turned to Ruby and said, “I’ve got to make a run. I’ll probably be back in thirty minutes.”

“Where you going in case I need to find you?”

“Millington Wheeler just called. He wants to talk to me.” Ruby stared at her employer thoughtfully. “I wonder what he wants.”

“Somebody’s probably on his property or something.”

“You know where he lives? It’s out in the country.”

“Yes, I know his place. I’ll be back soon.”

Leaving the office, Jenny pulled her coat tightly around her and pulled her hat brim down over her face. The wind had died down, and the sun was shining, making the snow that still lay on the ground glisten so brightly it hurt her eyes. Getting into the car, she put on a pair of sunglasses plucked from her pocket and left town.

The Wheeler place was only fifteen minutes away, but it was part of a large farm that had belonged to Wheeler’s family. Most of it he had sold off, but he had kept thirty acres and his home, a tall two-story place with four huge white pillars in front. It reminded Jenny somewhat of her own house, though Wheeler’s was larger and more grand. She pulled up in front of the house, got out, and mounted the steps. She was stamping her feet preparing to ring the bell when the door opened, and she found Wheeler standing there. “Hello, Mr. Wheeler.”

“Come in, Sheriff.”

Jenny entered and scraped her feet on the rug. “Hard to go anywhere without making a mess with all this snow.”

“That doesn’t matter. Here, let me hang up your coat and hat.”

Jenny handed them to Wheeler; then when he motioned to her, she followed him down a polished oak hallway and turned off to the left. She had never been in the house and was impressed at the size of the parlor. A huge fireplace made of native stone dominated one end. A bright fire crackled and popped in the fireplace, and one wall was nothing but windows, allowing the sunshine to come in. Helen Wheeler got up, and Jenny greeted her. “Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Hello, Sheriff.”

Something about the woman’s air touched off an alarm in Jenny, and she sat down at Wheeler’s word, but he did not take a seat. He went over to stand before the fireplace and
looked down at it for a moment, saying nothing. Jenny looked at Helen Wheeler and saw that she was looking down at her hands, which were not entirely steady. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wheeler?”

Turning from the fireplace, Wheeler came over and stopped in the middle of the room. He said, “Sheriff, I’m going to have to confess that I’ve been involved in criminal activities.”

The alarm that had touched Jenny now increased. “Do you want to have a lawyer with you? You’re entitled to one.”

“No. I want to tell you, and then you can tell me what comes next.”

“All right, Mr. Wheeler. Go ahead.” Jenny sat there listening as Wheeler began to speak. She had never admired Wheeler, for he had seemed rather cold, but now as she listened, she saw that there was a brokenness in him that had not been there before. She listened alertly, shocked by what she heard. Wheeler was a deacon in his church and a leader in the community, yet by his own admission, he had engaged in activities that were disgraceful and illegal. Much as her own brother, Josh, had, she realized.

Finally Wheeler threw his hands up in a defeated gesture and said, “That’s what I have done. Now you’ll have to tell me what’s going to happen.”

“Tell her the rest of it, Mill,” Helen Wheeler said quickly. She turned to face Jenny with tears in her eyes. “He’s a different man, Sheriff. You must believe what he says.”

Jenny turned to face Wheeler and got to her feet. “What is it?” she asked quietly. She listened as Wheeler told her about his experience outside the church, and finally he shrugged and said, “I hear there’s such a thing as jailhouse religion. That criminals often pretend to have religion in order to get special favors. I wouldn’t blame you if you thought the same of me.”

That thought had been lurking in Jenny’s mind, but she took one look into Wheeler’s face and saw something that had never been there before. Something in his eyes and the simplicity with which he spoke, making no claims for himself
at all, and indeed suggesting that what he was doing seemed suspicious. For some reason Jenny, who did not often make snap decisions, knew the conversion of this man was a fact. She stepped forward and put her hand out, and he took it with surprise. “I’m so happy for you, Mr. Wheeler. It came late, but it
has
come.”

“You believe, then, that I’m telling the truth?”

“Of course I do. Others may not, but I do.”

Tears filled Wheeler’s eyes, and he turned away, muttering huskily, “Don’t know what’s the matter with me. I haven’t cried since I was six years old, and now I’m nothing but a . . .” He did not finish, for his wife came over and put her arm around him. The two embraced, and then they turned to face Jenny.

“What’s going to happen to him, Sheriff Winslow?” Helen Wheeler asked.

“It’s not going to be pleasant, but the fact that he’s come forward and confessed voluntarily helps. And if you’ll cooperate, I think the worst thing that can happen to you would be a suspended sentence.”

Wheeler studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll do anything I can. I hate to involve anyone else, but I’ll tell you all I know, and you can do with it what you will.”

“I think it would be best if we went down to my office, Mr. Wheeler.”

“Of course.”

“This isn’t an arrest,” Jenny said quickly. “But I need to get this down on paper.” She hesitated, then said, “It’s going to be hard on you, I know.”

“Not as hard as what I was facing without God,” Wheeler said and found a smile. “Helen is with me, and I’m determined to do whatever I can to make restitution.”

“I think you can do a great deal,” Jenny said. “This won’t take long. Perhaps an hour or two until I get all the facts. Then you can come home.”

“You’re not going to arrest me?”

“Not now, though I may have to later. But you’ll be a material witness in the case that’ll follow.”

Wheeler turned and embraced his wife again. She kissed him and said, “Hurry home, dear. I’ll be waiting.”

“I will. I’ll be right home as soon as I can.”

Jenny watched the scene between the two and felt a sense of gladness. She was sorry that Wheeler had stepped outside the law and had betrayed his profession as a Christian, but she believed firmly in his conversion, and as the two left the house, she said with reassurance, “It’ll be all right, Mr. Wheeler. You wait and see.”

The two got into the car, and Jenny started the engine. She pulled out and took one last look at the house, where she saw Helen Wheeler standing on the front porch. “Wave good-bye to her.”

Wheeler waved and turned to Jenny. “Not every woman would have been as understanding.”

“I’m glad you realize that.”

They had not gone more than a quarter of a mile, barely off of the man’s property onto the county road which was unpaved, when suddenly they saw a car slanted across the road and two men beside it, waving at them. “I guess they slid off the road and can’t get going,” Millington said. “You got a rope or a cable? Maybe we can pull them around.”

“Yes, in the trunk.” She stopped the car, and the two got out. “Having a little trouble?” she said cheerfully.

The two men were both wearing long, dark overcoats and fedora hats. They were large men, one of them with a sharp face like a ferret, the other blunt and battered, obviously an ex-prizefighter. The sharp-faced man suddenly pulled his glove off, reached inside his coat, and came out with a gun. “Hello, Sheriff, we’ve been waiting for you. Take her gun, Ollie.”

The blunt-faced man called Ollie moved toward Jenny, who stood absolutely still. She did not even glance back at Wheeler, who had gotten out of the car. She felt the gun leave
her holster and saw it stuffed into the side pocket of Ollie, then Ollie turned and said, “What about the guy, Mikey?”

The thin man smiled unpleasantly. “Just frisk him. He’s probably not carrying, but we wanta make sure.”

Jenny kept her eyes fixed on the tall man called Mikey. “What do you want?” she said.

“Why, we want you, Sheriff. You and Mr. Wheeler there. Come along. Put ’em in the car, Ollie.”

Jenny turned to see the thickset man seize Wheeler by the arm and pull him along. Wheeler’s face was pale, but he did not say a word. Jenny’s own arm was seized then, and she was hustled to the car, a long black limousine. Mikey opened the door, and Ollie shoved them in. The two men got in the front, Mikey driving and Ollie turning in the seat, holding a pistol on them. “You be nice,” he said, “and maybe you’ll live a little longer.”

“What do you want?” Wheeler said, staring at the driver.

“Like I said. We want you and the sheriff. You’ve been givin’ us some problems, so we came down from Chi-Town to take care of it.”

Instantly the situation was clear to Jenny. She had known for some time that she was the target of the criminal element, and now she suddenly turned and said, “Did you tell anyone what you told me—besides your wife, I mean?”

Wheeler’s face was set in shock. “Yes. I told one person.”

“And I guess that one person made a call, so here you two are,” Ollie said. “Now, sit back and don’t try nothin’ funny.”

Jenny watched the road, but they made so many turns she was lost. Finally they pulled up in front of an old house that looked abandoned. As they got out, she heard the sound of running water, and looking to her right, saw a small waterfall not over six or eight feet high, but the water made a loud gushing sound as it fell.

“This is the old Franklin place,” Wheeler said suddenly. “It hasn’t been lived in for years.”

“That’s enough talk. You two get in the house!” Mikey snapped.

He nodded to Ollie, saying, “Lock ’em up good, Ollie, and if they try anything funny, put ’em down.”

Ollie was holding the pistol in his right hand. He tapped it against the palm of his left and grinned. “A pretty thing like that? It’d be a shame. She could be a lot of fun.”

“You do what I’m tellin’ you, Ollie. I’ll be back as soon as I go use the phone.”

Ollie then shrugged and waved the pistol at the front door. “Come on. No funny stuff, or you’ll be sorry for it.”

Jenny stepped up on the porch and walked inside, followed by Wheeler.

“You can cook up some grub. I’m hungry. You make a fire in that wood stove.”

Jenny gave a cautioning look to Wheeler and said, “All right,” knowing that only God could save them now. The two men were obviously killers, and she had no doubt, nor had Millington Wheeler, that they would be victims unless God intervened.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Clay Finds the Way

Raymond Briggs did not look like an FBI man—at least not the way most people envision agents of the bureau. He was small, not over five-six, had a pale bland face, nondescript brown hair, gold-rimmed glasses, and was mild mannered. When he had first appeared, Clay had instantly judged him to be incompetent. He was more accustomed to big men with a decisive manner, and he had been so buried in his own misery that he made a snap judgment. Now as he sat across from Briggs, he squeezed his hands together and tried to concentrate on what the man was saying. “You’ve got to remember, Deputy Varek, kidnapping carries a death penalty. The kidnappers wouldn’t have anything to lose if they killed the captives.”