Ghost of the Karankawa (The Bill Travis Mysteries Book 10)

by George Wier

  The trailer sat thirty feet off the north-south roadway that defined the western extent of Anahuac. Three blocks north was the intersection where Julie and I had stopped our first night in town, held our brief counsel, and decided which way to go.

  We couldn’t have missed Purcell Lee’s trailer if we had wanted to. The mailbox didn’t have a number on it, but instead bore the name ‘LEE’ in sun-faded gray letters. The trailer was an older one—I estimated that it as at least thirty years old. It sat up on cinder blocks and the woods had grown close around the back and ends of it and up over the roof as if the thing sported a natural hoodie.

  The three of us got out in the bright noon sun.

  “Maybe it’s locked,” Wolf said. “By the way, just what the hell are we doing here?”

  “Did you hear that there was a guy in town that was turned into a mummy?”

  “Ha! Yeah, I heard that bullshit,” Wolf said.

  “This is where he lives.”

  Wolf rubbed his jaw. He may have showered, but he had neglected to run a razor across his face. Then again, I suppose he had been...occupied.

  “Are we breaking and entering, or what?” he asked.

  Franklin was already wandering beneath the shad of Lee Purcell’s front yard, checking things out.

  “The guy’s supposedly dead. Also, the Sheriff knows I’m looking into this whole affair. He did take me to see the mummy down at the funeral home—which, by the way, the funeral is today around four o’clock. I was thinking of going to it. So, to answer your question, yes, we’re breaking and entering.”

  “Good,” he said. “Let’s get it over with.”

  I nodded and we stepped from the sun into the shade. “While we’re getting this over with,” I said, “can you fill me in on what Evanston hired you to do?”

  “Sure.”

  We walked around the yard and finally the whole house while I listened to Wolf talk. He explained that he hadn’t been hired by Evanston at all. Wolf had filled out an online entry to a crowdfunding website where he was looking for enough money to fund his journey into finding the Bigfoot he had seen outside his East Texas home. For two weeks he’d gotten not so much as a dime. Then Evanston had contacted him. He was interested and wanted to help. He wanted to help so much that he offered to fully fund the project. When I gave Wolf a frown, he spilled the beans. Five thousand bucks. That’s how much it would cost to track and find a Bigfoot.

  “You weren’t suspicious of him?” I asked.

  “Maybe. But when we met, he put me at ease. Also, the check didn’t bounce. Wonder of wonders.”

  We had come back around to the front door and stood looking at it while Franklin’s tail thumped Wolf’s leg.

  “Where did you meet?” I asked.

  “I had to drive to Austin. He lives on the west side, up in those high hills. He’s got a swanky place with a view of...everything.”

  “I’ve heard. Haven’t been there, but I’ve heard. So, the check was good. Then what happened?”

  A car passed by on the roadway—the Sheriff’s car. He knew where I was.

  “I’ll tell you. But let’s get this part done, okay?” Wolf asked.

  I nodded, took two steps, went up the short, rusted stairway, and pulled up on the front door latch. It opened.

  I stepped inside and Wolf followed.

  The interior of Purcell Lee’s trailer wasn’t much to write home about. There was an unwashed odor about the place. An ancient television set stood atop a much older, likely non-working one. Bad reproductions of equally bad artwork donned the walls and hung out of true. I dismissed the lot and began looking for photographs and found what I was looking for along the wall leading to the bathroom. There was an old Polaroid with a twenty-something Purcell Lee holding a bowling trophy and smiling for the camera, and a whole smattering of what I took to be family photos. Then I came to the only one I was interested in. It showed a large man in denim overalls over a red tee shirt standing outside Dixie’s Diner. He had his arm around a young girl with an apron and was holding her a little too tightly for the camera as he grinned from ear to ear and showed his dentures. The girl had a nervous, pained expression on her face. The photo was tucked into the top of another one, so I lifted it free and put it in my shirt pocket.

  “Bingo,” I said.

  “Found it?” Wolf asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

  We were climbing in the car when Sheriff Renard turned the corner and pulled up beside us and stopped. His window slid down. I lowered mine.

  “Find anything?” he asked.

  “Found what I was looking for, yeah,” I said.

  “What was it?”

  I pulled the snapshot out of my pocket and held it up.

  “That’s him,” he said. “Why did you need his picture?”

  “To know what he looks like. I want to know him for when I see him. You see, he’s still alive.”

  Sheriff Renard gave me a long look. “You’re sure?

  “I’m about ninety-five percent sure. I was just coming down to your office. I’d like to know where he’s got a hidey-hole. A piece of land or something in the country. Maybe a friend or relative not far away. Guys like Purcell Lee don’t get around much, so it’s got to be close to Anahuac. I was going to ask you, but just in case you didn’t know, I was planning on asking Deputy Feltheimer.”

  “Harley’s at home where he’s supposed to be. Asleep, I hope. If you’re right, Mr. Travis, I know where he is. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

  “You’ve had bigger fish to fry. Also, the whole mummy thing was pretty convincing. Have you gotten a line on Randy Marshall yet? Or Evanston Cooper?”

  The Sheriff frowned. “You knew I was looking for Dr. Marshall, but how did you know about Cooper?”

  “He’s in town,” I said. “Of course you’re looking for him.”

  “Yes, he is in town, and I am looking for him.”

  “Let’s get Lee first. Then, I think I know where Cooper is hiding. There are only three places I can think of, but I’m sure you’ve already checked in the trailer at the dig.”

  “I have,” he said. “Say, let’s go down to the station. I don’t like talking through a set of windows.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Please lead the way.”

  *****

  Wolf and I each had a cup of black coffee in our hands. Franklin was walking around the Sheriff’s Office and checking out every nook and cranny of the place as if he belonged there. No one seemed to mind.

  One of the deputies led someone I recognized past Sheriff Renard’s office.

  “That was one of Marshall’s grad students,” I said.

  “Yeah. He posted bond and we’re letting him go.”

  “What’d you charge him with?”

  “Assault, for now. The charges might end up being dropped, however. It depends upon the witnesses.”

  “Who are the witnesses?” Wolf asked.

  “You two,” Sheriff Renard said.

  “Well,” Wolf said. “He was part of the crew out there. I’m not going to say I didn’t see him with a gun shooting at us, but I’m not going to say I did. That is, unless he was willing to say something...important.”

  “He said plenty,” Renard said. “Two of the others I was able to round up have already been released. No charges, because they both put a gun in that guy’s hand. What I wanted to know was who he was taking orders from, and what the whole setup was.”

  “Was he helpful?” I asked.

  Franklin came into the office and sat down in front of Wolf, who reached out and began scratching him behind the ears.

  “He didn’t know much, but what he knew was enough, and I’ve got it in writing, just in case there’s any further proceedings in this matter. Marshall’s dig was funded by Cooper. On the surface of it, the whole archaeological dig-thing appears to be on the up-and-up, but somewhere along the way the batting order changed up.”

  “If I may, Sher
iff,” I said. “Cooper used Wolf to find the Bigfoot. He used Marshall in an attempt to catch him because he knew Wolf would never go along with that.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking.” The Sheriff tilted back in his chair and put his hand behind his head.

  “I’d like to go and find Purcell Lee,” I said.

  “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll tell you where I think Lee may be hiding—if, that is, he’s really still alive—and you tell me where I can find Cooper. I’d like to get Cooper before he leaves town.”

  “There are only two places to look, then,” I said. I turned to look at Wolf, measuring. I decided not to go there. “But the one I suspect is down on the list. You’ll almost undoubtedly find him on the second floor of the Library.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” I said. “That’s where Lee heard the shriek. If I’m right, the Old Man—that’s what Wolf an I call our sasquatch friend—was trying to put the fear of God into Cooper. He knew where he was hiding out. I think Lee may have been on Cooper’s payroll in some way as well. But Lee got scared. He ran all the way here, made his report, then went home. After that...”

  “What about the mummy?” Wolf asked.

  “I have an idea about it, but we won’t know until we have Lee. Can you give me directions to Lee, Sheriff? If I find him, I’ll bring him back here.”

  “Sure.” The Sheriff leaned forward again, grabbed a pen and started scribbling.

  I took another sip of coffee and cleared my throat. “When you surround Cooper—that is, if I’m right about where he is—you’d better have every available deputy and police officer on hand. He collects guns. Also, he’ll be upset.”

  “Do you think he would shoot at a law man?” he asked.

  “Not if he’s smart. But right now, my estimate of the man’s intelligence has taken a bit of a plunge.”

  The Sheriff folded the paper over and handed it to me.

  “Another thing, Sheriff,” I said. “My wife and Cathy Baha are over at the hotel. Could you check on them? I mean, personally?”

  “I’ll do it. All right, fellows, let’s get moving. It’s a fifteen minute drive up to Lee’s place. Good hunting.”

  “Same to you, Sheriff,” I said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  According to Sheriff Renard, Purcell Lee had a cabin outside of Winnie, Texas on the property of a fellow named D.L. Pickett. It was a twenty-mile drive to the East, and the directions were fairly succinct.

  We stopped at a service station on the edge of town and I gassed up the SUV while Wolf went inside to forage for food. I had yet another powerful hunger worked up, and I had admonished him to bring back something edible. I quickly discovered Wolf’s criteria for what classified as food. He came back with a bag containing a couple of cokes, a large bag of potato chips, a fistful of long, plastic-covered beef jerky sticks which I was certain would be heavy on the nitrates, and a box of dog-treats. Franklin refused the treats. I dug my hand into the bag of chips and told Wolf to give my portion of the jerky to Franklin. He offered me the dog treat instead and I lobbed it out the window. Wolf grinned so wide I thought his face might get stuck that way and he could play the Joker come Halloween.

  We rolled past the town limits of Anahuac.

  “You were going to say something back there to the Sheriff, but you decided against it because you thought I might not like it. What was it?”

  I glanced over at him, then decided to tell him the truth. “I thought there was an off-chance that Evanston is hiding out at Cathy’s. Just a chance, mind you.”

  “You don’t trust her.”

  “I don’t not trust her.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Right now I trust Franklin here.” Franklin stuck his head up between us and tried to lick my face.

  “You don’t trust me,” he said.

  “I guess I do. Recall please, that I was there when we performed surgery on the Old Man.”

  “Yeah. How’s the memory of him going?”

  “I confess I don’t have much of one. Like you said, I remember that fact that it happened. I can’t for the life of me recall his face. Except...”

  “Except what?”

  “Except when I smelled my shirt and got his scent in my nose. Then I recalled every detail. Now I can only remember that I recalled it.”

  “That’s the trick. When you’re thinking of him, you have to relive it the best you can. You have to close your eyes and get the smell or as close an approximation as you can. You have to get the sounds, the position of your body, the temperature. All the perceptions. You have to fill the kettle full. Then you might get something.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  “That’s all I know how to do,” he said.

  It was another fifteen miles to Winnie, Texas and to our turn-off. Now that I had Wolf talking, it was time to get everything out of him I could. There might not be a chance later.

  “How did you know how to find him?” I asked. “The Old Man.”

  “You mean, when I finally got Cooper’s check cashed and went looking?”

  “Yeah.”

  Wolf folded his arms in front of his chest and stared out the window and watched the countryside go past.

  “It’s like this. I know this isn’t going to make a lot of sense, but it’s how I did it. You know how when you want to remember something, you can never do it as long as you’re trying?”

  He looked at me and I nodded.

  “Well, I couldn’t for the life of me begin to track him as long as I was trying to do it. You see, I’ve spent a lot of years reading everything I can get on Bigfoot. I’ve seen all the short film clips and even a few of the documentaries. Most of them are just a load of bullshit. But I managed to find some common themes among them. First off, they have the smell. It scares every living creature that comes anywhere close to them. Second, they hide. They also seem to know when people are about and when they are looking at them. From this I figured that they had some...uh, abilities, you might say, that most folks would normally say weren’t possible.”

  “Psychic, maybe?” I asked.

  “Shoot, I don’t know. Maybe. I think it’s that they have something like the reverse of that.”

  “The reverse?”

  “Yeah. On Star Trek they capture another space ship with what they call a tractor beam. I think with the Old Man and his kind that it’s less of a beam and more of, like, an area.”

  “Like a field,” I said. “An area-of-effect, thing.”

  “Right. But instead of a tractor, to pull...”

  “A pressor. To push.”

  “Right. So when I decided to go looking, I always went the opposite direction from where I thought he might be. When I left Waverly—that’s my home town—I felt like I should go north. There had been a Bigfoot sighting up south of Dallas a few months before. Everything I knew told me to go north. So, instead, I went south.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll buy that. How did you end up in Anahuac?”

  “I was just passing through. You know, from one town to another? I was searching for a feeling. When I got here, I had an overpowering urge to keep going.”

  “So you stopped.”

  “That’s right. That’s when I knew he was here.”

  “Was that when you called Evanston?”

  “Yeah. I got a room at the hotel. I was the only guest, then. Then I left the truck there, put a backpack on my back, and went walking, figuring I’d be back before nightfall. I ended up at the Indian mound, which was where I spent the night.”

  “The Old Man,” I said. “He paid you a visit.”

  “Yeah. But it was because he was already there. You can guess the rest. I told Evanston that I had found him. I told him if he wanted pictures, he could forget it. As far as I was concerned, I had fulfilled my end of the bargain. But Evanston didn’t want pictures. He wanted to dig.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I think that’s enough for now. You
can tell me the rest later. Hand me one of those cokes, please.”

  *****

  The Pickett place was right where Sheriff Renard had pegged it for us. A long double-rutted dirt lane with grass growing down the center led from the mail box at the highway—which gave the address number and the name PICKETT—half a mile over the fields to disappear into a clump of trees.

  The gate was locked. We got out and scaled the gate while Franklin found a place to come through the barbed wire. And we walked.

  “I get the feeling that this is not going to be nearly as exciting as what’s happening back in Anahuac about now,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Wolf replied, “but we’ve already been shot at. It’s someone else’s turn.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly.

  When we stepped into the shade of the grove of trees, I could see the cabin off to our right, the front of it facing away from us.

  “Hopefully, he’s not looking this way,” I said. “And he’s not armed.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  We got to the front of the cabin without incident. We moved up beside the house and peeked through the windows. The shades were drawn, but at my window there was a sliver of space through which to see on one side. I moved my head from side to side until I could get the full picture. A large man lay on a couch, his cap covering his face. I waited to make sure he was breathing, and when I was satisfied, I motioned to Wolf.

  Wolf moved over to the font door, put his hand on the knob and gave it a slow turn.

  He nodded to me.

  We crept up the front steps and Wolf opened the door slowly. We stepped inside. There was a fan going in the room, which created enough white noise that Lee didn’t wake up right away.

  We stood looking down at him. His hands were interlaced over his ponderous stomach. Franklin came over and began licking his cheek.

  Wolf bent over him and said, “Purcell Lee!” quite loudly.

  Lee startled awake in a good imitation of a grand mal seizure, jostling with his hat until he finally caught it in a meaty paw.

  “What? What? What?” His eyes were wide and nearly goggled out of his head. Also, he was missing his dentures.