[Shelby Alexander 01.0] Serenity

by Craig A. Hart

  He walked into the main room and crossed to the door. He opened it to find Norman Evans on the porch, hugging his coat and looking peeved.

  “I thought I’d freeze out here,” he said, his breath misting around his head. “I’ve been knocking for what…seems like hours.”

  “It seemed like hours for us too,” Shelby said. “Come on in. We’re not ready yet, so you’ll have to wait.”

  Evans came inside and stood nervously. “I’m eager to get out to…the trees.”

  “I know, I know. But Mack and I kept drinking for a while after you left. We’re a little sodden yet, not being as young as we once were. Have a seat.”

  The bathroom door opened and Mack staggered out wearing nothing but a pair of white briefs.

  “Goddamn, we must have really tied one on. How the hell did we get home?”

  “One of us drove, apparently.”

  “And after all the drunk drivers I’ve seen. Shit. I could use something in my stomach. Got any eggs?”

  “I did. Carly tossed them.”

  “Shit.”

  “We may have to make do with cold, milkless cereal.”

  “Whatever. Maybe it’ll soak up the acid in my stomach.” Mack moved toward the kitchen but caught sight of Evans. “Who’s this?”

  “Evans. You met him in the bar last night. We’re supposed to take him out to his trees this morning.”

  “Shit.”

  Shelby’s phone began ringing in the bedroom and he went to answer it. It was Carly.

  “You still sound drunk,” she said after his gruff, croaking greeting.

  “I think I am.”

  “You and Mack drank enough. You two aren’t in your twenties, you know.”

  “I know it now.”

  “Poor thing. I called to make sure you made it home. You promised you’d text last night to let me know, but of course you didn’t.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It was expected. Now eat something and go back to bed.”

  “Can’t. You took all my food.”

  “Then go buy something greasy.”

  “Right. I’m planning on an egg muffin and a hash brown from a drive-thru.”

  “You’ve been down this road before.”

  “I wasn’t always an old fogey. That happened recently.”

  “Aw. But you’re my old fogey. Bye now.”

  “Ugh.”

  24

  After Shelby showered and Mack ate most of the cold cereal in the house, they bundled themselves and Evans into the Jeep and headed toward the maple stand.

  “So what got you into the syrup business, Evans?” Mack asked. Shelby suspected the question was more an effort to break the awkward silence than honest curiosity.

  “It’s a hobby,” Evans said. “Gives me something to do and gets me out into nature.”

  “Gotta love that nature,” Mack said.

  Shelby had to smother a laugh. He could tell his friend hated Evans and he didn’t really blame him. He didn’t think Evans was dangerous, but the little man was certainly an odd duck.

  The Jeep had little trouble with the path back toward the maples. The ground wasn’t nearly as thawed as Evans had said it might be. In fact, now that most of the snow was gone from the trail, he probably could have gotten his car in with minimal difficulty.

  Shelby stopped the Jeep and they got out. While the snow was melted from the open areas, there were still decent sized patches where the trees shaded the ground, making Shelby grateful he’d worn his boots.

  “Lead the way, Evans,” Shelby said.

  Evans began picking his way forward. After a few minutes, he stopped and cursed.

  “Something the matter?” Shelby asked.

  “I left my new spiles in the Jeep. Last time I was out, I saw one that needed replacing. I’ll be right back.”

  After he left, Mack looked at Shelby. “His spiles? What the hell is a spile?”

  “I think it’s what goes into the trunk to move the sap from the tree to the bucket.”

  They heard Evans crashing through the brush back toward the Jeep and then everything went quiet.

  “I really wish you hadn’t signed us up for this,” Mack said. “I could use a big meal, a glass of tomato juice, a cold compress, and a nap. God, we’re old. If I ever decide to drink that much again, I hope—” His voice cut off and Shelby looked over to see him staring at the ground.

  “Mack? What’s the matter?”

  “Shut up and get behind those trees.”

  “The hell?”

  “Just do it.”

  Shelby knew his friend well enough to know he wasn’t much of a prankster, so despite feeling foolish, he moved behind the nearest tree. Mack followed suit and pulled a pistol from inside his jacket.

  “You brought a gun?”

  “I always carry. And so should you, in your line of work. How many times have you been shot at lately?”

  “What’s going on?”

  Mack didn’t answer, but instead pointed at the patches of snow that lay around them.

  “The snow?”

  “Not the snow. Jesus, how are you not dead yet?”

  Then Shelby saw. Their footprints were in the snow. His prints, Mack’s prints…and Evans’ prints. And wherever Evans had moved, he had left the same unique track as the one left by the shooter at the house and that had followed Jenny Ellis on the night she died.

  “Shit,” Shelby said. “Evans. And I’ve been out in the woods with him before. How did I not notice this?”

  “I told you that guy’s a creep. I told you.”

  “Save your gloating for later, like after we don’t die.”

  “Oh, we’re not dying at the hands of Norman Evans. I can promise you that.”

  There was movement in the trees back toward the Jeep and, as they watched, Evans moved slowly into sight. In his hand, he carried a handgun at the ready. He crept along, moving with exaggerated stealth, as if imitating something he’d seen in a movie. He halted, realizing his targets weren’t where he’d left them, and a confused expression spread over his face. Mack stepped out from behind his tree.

  “Hold it, Evans.”

  Evans started. “You…startled me.”

  “What’s with the gun?”

  Evans looked down and Shelby almost laughed as he watched the man try to appear surprised to see it there.

  “Oh, this? I…well…I went back for my spiles and thought I…heard something in the brush. Thought it might be a wild animal.”

  “It was,” Mack said. “You.”

  “I don’t think that’s…necessary.”

  “Spare us, you creep.”

  “You seem to have…anticipated my intentions.”

  “Damn straight,” Mack said. “One more step and I’ll put a bullet in you.”

  “I think I’ll…kill you now.” Evans brought up the pistol.

  “Don’t do it,” Mack said.

  The little man leveled his weapon at Mack. It fired once and bark exploded off the tree by Mack’s head. Then Mack fired three measured shots, each of which hit Evans’ torso. Evans jerked with each impact, and then went down like his legs had been cut in two with a scythe, dropping the pistol into the snow.

  Mack moved forward, keeping his weapon pointed at Evans. He kicked the gun aside and bent to check for a pulse.

  “He’s dead, Shel.”

  Shelby walked over and looked down at Evans. The man’s eyes were open, staring upward, and his mouth gaped.

  “I’ve killed before,” Mack said, standing up, “but it doesn’t really get easier.”

  “He was going to kill us,” Shelby said. “I’m glad you noticed those tracks. I completely missed them. If you hadn’t been along, I would have ended up with a bullet in my back. Let’s get out of here.”

  “What about him?” Mack asked. “You want to take him in?”

  “The hell with that,” Shelby said. “I don’t want to get any of his blood in my Jeep. We’ll let Wilkes know and have
him deal with it. It’s time for him to earn his money.”

  25

  Kylie claimed Sheriff Wilkes was out of town when Shelby called to report the dead body. He offered to keep Mack out of it and say he had found Evans’ body while checking out his favorite fishing spot.

  “No thanks,” Mack had said. “I’ll be fine, no matter what this Wilkes tries. He may be a big wheel up here, but where I come from, he’s a podunk sheriff. Besides, it’s my gun that killed him. If we covered it up and someone found out, it might cause a stink even I’d have a hard time washing off.”

  “You still have those damn scruples,” Shelby said.

  “Be careful. You tend toward the reckless, that’s all.”

  “Does it seem strange that Wilkes is out of town?”

  “Strange how?”

  “The timing. This county is about to erupt in a drug war and the sheriff happens to be absent.”

  “You saying he timed his absence?”

  “It would certainly relieve him of having to do anything about it. The Ellises and the new dealers fight it out, but by the time Wilkes hears about it and gets back to town, it’s all over. History is written by the victors, so whoever wins the shootout gets to tell the story.”

  “You realize what this means.”

  “I think so.”

  “This would mean Wilkes has connections with one side or the other.”

  “Not necessarily, but I wouldn’t doubt it. He may not want to get involved. But I wouldn’t put it past him to have his fingers in the pot. He’s never been a fan of the Ellis family, so my money would be on the new kids on the block.”

  “You know, it’s funny,” Mack said. “I recall Wilkes saying something about spending some time in Detroit. Wouldn’t it be something if these new dealers had a connection with Detroit as well?”

  “Now you’re spinning conspiracy theories.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Shelby’s mind spun. Things were falling into place. He needed to see Shepherd Ellis before too much lead started flying around.

  They pulled up to the Ellis family compound and were met by the same taciturn guards as before. Gannon Ellis came out the front door as they parked, but the big man looked a great deal less congenial than he had during the last visit.

  “This guy gives me the creeps,” Mack said. “I’ll take Shepherd any day.”

  “You didn’t have to come. In fact, I wish you hadn’t. If I’m right, there’s a distinct possibility we won’t get out of here alive.”

  “Eh, what the hell,” Mack said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m coming down to the end anyway. Shit, I may not even be a married man this time next year.”

  “Not if you’re dead, you won’t be. It’s not too late.”

  “Shut the hell up and get out of the car.”

  They both got out. Gannon gestured to the guard, who moved in and patted them down. They both had pistols that were quickly confiscated.

  “Comin in armed, huh?” Gannon said. His eyes, normally small, were now positively piggish. He stared at Shelby, unblinking. “I gotta admit. I’m surprised to see you, Alexander.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, I figured Evans woulda taken you out by now.”

  “You knew about Evans?”

  “Knew about him? The little shit worked for me.”

  Shelby looked at Gannon, and a cold chill shot up his spine. Gannon was dumb, but he wasn’t this dumb. The only reason he was volunteering this information was because he wasn’t planning to let them leave.

  “You hired Evans to kill me?”

  “Gave him the same as Harp gave you to find Jenny’s killer.”

  “Ten thousand. But why?”

  “Because Harp hired you, mostly. And because we couldn’t be sure Jenny hadn’t said nothin to you.”

  “We?”

  “Me. I couldn’t be sure.”

  “You and Evans.”

  “Yeah. Me and Evans.”

  “Not you and Wilkes?”

  Gannon stared at Shelby. “I don’t know nothin about Wilkes.”

  “So you were responsible for Jenny’s death? Your own sister?”

  “She weren’t my sister. Ma done got knocked up by some drifter, that’s what. That retard never belonged to us.”

  “You’re an ignorant man, Gannon.”

  “I guess you know you’re gonna die, Alexander. Otherwise, you wouldn’t talk to me like that.”

  “I only know men like you deserve what they eventually get. Your sister wasn’t only killed. She was raped. Raped by Norman Evans. Did you know that?”

  Gannon shook his head. “Nope. But it don’t surprise me none. Evans was crazy as hell.”

  “Was? So you know he’s dead?”

  “Figured he must be, since you’re not. I knew he was plannin on gettin in close this morning. The fool’s done nothin but screw things up. He was supposed to kill Jenny, but he let her escape and had to track her to your place. Then you found her before he could make sure she was dead. So you had to go, because we didn’t know what she told you. He was gonna kill you that first time he took you out to his maples, but we rode up. I woulda let him do it, but Shep was along and he wouldn’t have stood for it. Then he tried to get you from afar twice. I swear he’s the worst killer I ever did see. It’s kind of a relief that he’s dead.”

  “And what about Harper? Was that Evans too?”

  “Evans never woulda had a chance with Harp. I had to help. I got Harp distracted while Evans snuck up behind him and got him with a rifle.”

  “Was Evans the one who took his face?”

  “No, I done that myself.”

  “You? You cut off your brother’s face?”

  “With this very knife,” Gannon said, withdrawing a large hunting knife from his belt, the same he’d played with the time Shelby and Mack had shared beers inside the house.

  “I don’t get you, Gannon. Why kill your brother?”

  “Harp was too smart for his own good. Real smart, for an Ellis. He figured out I was workin with them new dealers from downstate. Said he was goin to kick me outta the family, maybe kill me. So you see, it was kinda self-defense.”

  “You betrayed your family?”

  Gannon’s face darkened and he started forward, his knife clenched in one big hand.

  “The hell I did. I’d never turn my back on the Ellis name. I did what I had to do to keep it goin. Our time here as dealers is up. Even I could see that. Harp was the only one who couldn’t. Kept on like it was the old days. But these new ones, they got better product, more money, better guns, more men. There was no way we could win. It was either make a deal or get wiped out.”

  “I’ve been out to the cabin,” Shelby said. “There didn’t seem to be that many.”

  “There’s more comin,” Gannon said. “An army of folks up from Detroit. If there’s a fight that breaks out, the Ellises are gonna be on the side that wins, I can tell you that. Harp was leadin us astray, didn’t want to change. He got what was comin to him. Always thought he was better than me. I guess I showed him.”

  The idea of Gannon Ellis advocating a progressive line of thought seemed ridiculous, but Shelby had to admit there was a thread of sense in it. Whether Gannon had come up with it on his own or parroting what someone else had told him was an entirely different matter. Shelby still wasn’t convinced Wilkes was in the clear.

  “Where’s Shepherd, Gannon?”

  “He’s out back.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “If he ain’t, he’s wishin he was.”

  “What did you do to him, Gannon?”

  “Same as Harp. Except Evans weren’t here to shoot him, so I had break him.”

  “Break him?”

  “Snapped his back.”

  “You do anything with that knife?”

  Gannon grinned. “Why don’t you go on back and see for yourself.”

  “No thanks,” Shelby said. “One faceless Ellis will do me f
or a good long time.”

  “Yeah.” Gannon laughed. “I reckon it would.”

  “How does Wilkes fit into this?”

  “I told you before. I don’t know nothin about Wilkes.”

  “He’s not allied with you and Evans?”

  “I don’t know nothin about him.”

  “You know that isn’t the truth, Gannon.”

  Gannon stepped forward again, the move bringing him close enough to stretch out the knife and rest the tip on the end of Shelby’s nose.

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to call folks liars, Alexander. Unless you want the same thing I gave Harp and Shep, I’d suggest you not talk no more.” Gannon ran the point of the blade around the outside of Shelby’s face. “I killed Harp first, bein that he was my brother. But I think I’d do you while you was alive, just to see how loud you screamed.”

  Shelby stood there and took stock of Gannon. The man was big, strong, and at least half crazy. But Shelby thought he could still take him. He clenched and unclenched his fist. The pain in his fingers wasn’t bad today. What would happen once his fist crashed into flesh and bone was unknown. Shelby yearned for the chance to find out. But the two guards were still at attention, their weapons pointed directly at Shelby and Mack.

  A shout came from toward the road. Gannon reluctantly removed the knife from Shelby’s face and put it back in his belt.

  “Pig wagon comin up the road,” a man yelled.

  “Wilkes?” Gannon yelled back.

  “Nah. It’s that deputy of his.”

  “Shit.” Gannon waved to the other men standing around. “Get these two inside and down to the basement. Take their phones. I’ll get rid of the deputy soon as I can.”

  Shelby waited for his chance to either break for freedom or launch an attack, but it never came. The guards never relaxed or got too close, and within a minute, Shelby and Mack found themselves being marched down a set of dark, creaking stairs into the basement from hell. The cold dampness immediately caused an aching in Shelby’s hands and wrists. It was murky throughout, the only light cast by a naked, low-wattage bulb hanging from the ceiling.