The Devil in Maryvale

by Jackie Griffey

  "Looks like they might be trying to graduate into a higher paying kind of thievery. Good thing you came upon those prints when you did."

  "How come it's luck when I find something and it's good detective work when you do?"

  "That's the breaks," Harlan laughed. "Let me know if you get lucky again."

  "Yeah. Luck or not, I'll let you know if and when I get any more solid evidence. I want to be sure of my case when I charge them. Don't want them getting off for lack of evidence. They might decide to stop bugging you and move over here." Cas chuckled at the thought. "I'll be in touch." He hung up without giving Harlan a chance to answer.

  Cas took the Davis file home with him that weekend along with the one on the cattle thefts. He wanted to look at the notes he had made and the list of things to do next week where he could think and not be interrupted by the phone.

  At home he floated in the kitchen door on the aroma of smothered steak.

  "Hi, we're having steak smothered in mushrooms." Connie gave him the menu and the news in the same breath. "Missy has a date with Casey and I'm supposed to remember onions are out for date nights."

  Dinner was uneventful since the cook was so well trained.

  After reminding Missy and Casey to be in by eleven-thirty, plus all the other instructions Missy could now recite blindfolded and backwards Cas settled back in his den to look at the files.

  "Sanctuary," he sighed from the depths of his recliner. "It's another world."

  Quiet or not, he wasn't making much progress. He had read the notes in both the files so many times he could tell which ones they were from looking at the back of the paper and still hadn't come up with any new ideas to follow up. He kept hammering at the few facts until his eyes hurt, trying to come up with something. Anything.

  Leaning his head back against the chair, the ghost of a smile played around his lips. He wished he was as lucky as Harlan thought he was.

  Sunday afternoon Harlan Glover called him. He took the phone from Connie, raising his eyebrows. "Must have something to be calling on Sunday."

  Connie held up her crossed fingers by way of encouragement and left him to talk.

  "Harlan? You got something?"

  "Yeah. I watched for the Crow boys to start their whoopee Saturday night since I know most of their bad habits now, and got lucky. You know where the Starlight Bar is here?"

  "Yes. I don't think I'd swap you the Roadhouse for it, either."

  "Shucks!" Harlan voiced his disappointment at that. "What I did, I took my truck and parked out there. Waited for nature to take its course. To make a long story short, I picked up two of the brothers for drunk driving. John and Jerry."

  "Drunk driving." Cas repeated the charge. He wasn't too impressed.

  "Like shooting fish in a barrel. We took them in and put them in uniforms to sleep it off in the jail. We got a good cast of that shoe of Jerry's before brother Jake could come down and get them out. It's tagged and identified as Jerry's. I've been afraid he'd buy new ones and discard it before we could use it for evidence."

  "That's great, I'm proud of you. It's the best thing we've got so far. I'll let you know what I find out when I talk to Lorenzo tomorrow."

  "I almost hate to ask, have you got anything else on the Davis case?"

  "Only that we're sure now she wasn't killed where we found the body. Nothing yet to point to where it did happen. I'm ninety percent sure who did it, but have no way to tie him to it yet. I've got some things to check out about where he was at the time she was killed and one or two things that don't add up right to look into the first of the week. Maybe they will lead to something."

  "Yeah, your gut feeling is usually right. Keep digging. And let me know if you get anything else on this flock of Crows."

  "I'll do it."

  As Cas hung up he heard the doorbell, then Casey's voice. He went to meet him.

  "Casey, there's something I keep forgetting to ask you about."

  Casey and Missy stopped. They were on their way to the swing in the backyard. "What is it?"

  "This club of Darrell's, did he have you put signs on yourselves? Like a star or something like that?"

  "Yes, he did. I'd forgot about it. I thought it was silly. They were just ink that washes off. Some of the members did and some didn't."

  Casey stood still, thinking back. "It was supposed to be in a hidden place, like the sole of your foot or up under your hair where it wouldn't show. One boy I know of had a little star on the under side of his wrist and I suppose some of them put the signs other places. I don't know. All I know is I didn't."

  Casey stopped short of asking questions, but shot Cas a puzzled look.

  "Denise had a little ink star on her forehead. Up under her bangs," Cas explained. "I thought it probably had some connection with that club. That's not to be discussed."

  "No, sir, I won't. But, if she had one, that's what she put it there for. Darrell told us to do it."

  "Has he said any more about this 'orgy' as he called it? The big to-do with people from another county coming in?"

  "I haven't heard any more about it, since I don't go to the meetings. In fact, I don't know if they're even having the meetings any more. I know that Todd and Sid don't go to them now. News about that got around fast." He grinned. "And of course, I haven't heard anything from Darrell, so I don't know."

  "Maybe they've come to their senses then. I talked to some of them. Let's hope it did some good. I thought I'd ask about the star while you were here and I was thinking about it."

  Casey and Missy went on out to the swing and Cas sat picturing what Hannah had told him she saw.

  Age, height, blond hair, the description fit. And the star Denise had put on her forehead was his idea. Darrell Spruce. Everything about the club and the people close to Denise came back to involve him.

  "He's the one I'm after, he killed her. But, why? It wasn't a sex crime. Todd said he thought she was smart, 'one of the good brains in the school.' So, what was the motive?"

  * * *

  Monday morning saw Cas trying to get everything lined up to get out and call on Cortez Lorenzo. The morning routine and the phone made such inroads into the time available he wasn't able to get out until almost eleven o'clock.

  On impulse, Cas swung by the high school. He didn't have much but hunches to go on. But something in one of the school's files he'd helped himself to while Janice monitored the gym class had left a question in his mind.

  Janice saw him coming in and waved to him. "Hi, can we help you with something?"

  "Thought I'd stop by and ask Darrell Spruce something I forgot to ask him last time I talked to him. Is he available?"

  "He's not here. He got excused from school Friday to go somewhere with his parents and won't be back until Wednesday. I think it was a family funeral in another state. I'll try to find out for you if you want me to?"

  "No, it's nothing that won't keep. By the way, I saw Margaret Avery's file has her middle initial as D. Was Denise named for her?"

  "No," some of the natural brightness went out of Janice's face as she remembered the popular young student. "I don't know what her middle name is. The D is for Margaret Avery's maiden name."

  "Oh well, just a thought. Don't say anything to Darrell. I'll contact him when I need to. You say he will be gone until Wednesday?"

  "That's right."

  "Okay. Thanks."

  Cas looked at his watch as he got back into his car. "I hope Lorenzo is not one of those who locks himself up during his lunch hour, or leaves."

  Again, Cas parked at the back of Lorenzo's store, not wanting to take up his customer parking space out front. He glanced down to the end of the building where he'd seen the Crow boy's footprints as he picked up the picture.

  Over his customer's shoulder, Lorenzo saw Cas coming in the back door. He finished as soon as he could and came to talk to him.

  Trying to hide the mischief in his eyes, Lorenzo smiled ruefully. "Always, I am gladder to see Connie. She is th
e good customer," he eyed Cas. "And she is prettier, too."

  Cas was affronted. "I can claim credit for that good customer compliment. It's my healthy appetite that sends her in here, just you keep that in mind."

  "Oh. Then, I keep you healthy and happy," Lorenzo's smile wrinkles deepened. "What can do for you today?"

  Cas got serious again. "I want to show you some pictures to see if you've seen any of these men, or all of them maybe, hanging around here."

  Cas unrolled the paper. "I think it was one of them who made those prints we found back there in the alley."

  Lorenzo reached into his apron pocket for his reading glasses and took the fax sheet. He peered closely at the three pictures a few seconds.

  "Madre de Dios! Los hombres?"

  "Lorenzo, I can't understand you. Have you seen them?"

  Lorenzo nodded, looking unhappy. He beckoned Cas back behind the meat counter. They sat on a rude bench behind the butcher's block where Lorenzo cut his meat.

  "These men you look for. They are criminals?" Lorenzo asked, studying Cas's face.

  "Yes. They're always in some kind of trouble," Cas confirmed it. "That's why we checked all the windows and the door locks here when I saw those prints out back."

  Lorenzo looked sorrowfully at the picture once more before handing it back to Cas. "I see them, yes."

  "You have seen them? When was that?"

  "I see them when they come here." Lorenzo shrugged, still looking unhappy. "They are the meat men."

  "Meat men? I hope you don't mean? Did they come here and sell you some meat? Is that why you called them the meat men?"

  "Yes." Lorenzo nodded. "Three, no, I think four times now. They go to the Prime Cut Packing Plant to sell, they tell me. And if they don't take all the meat, they come back to other places and sell the meat they have left. I buy meat from them three or four times now. The meat is always good. I sell it to my customers at a low price and they like it, so I buy from them when they come."

  Lorenzo's big brown eyes looked intently at Cas. "Meat was stolen? I am in trouble?"

  "I'm not sure it was stolen, Lorenzo, but it looks that way. As for your being in trouble you didn't know it was stolen, and I need your help."

  "How I can help?"

  "When do you expect them, the meat men, to come back?"

  Lorenzo frowned. "I never know they are coming. They come here late in the afternoon and I put a sale sign in the window. The senoras come the next day and buy all of it at the good price."

  Lorenzo smiled, thinking of his customers. "They are happy to get it."

  "You mean these men show up here with no warning at all that they'll be here?"

  "They call. This one," Lorenzo pointed to the youngest one. "He told me they call from the junction of the highways to see if I want the meat. If I do not want it they will go the other road and sell it to someone else. I don't know who else, but the times they call, I take the meat myself. Three times now, I am sure of, they come."

  "Lorenzo, you can't buy any more meat from them. I'm more than ninety percent sure it's stolen. What I want you to do is when they call you again, say you will take the meat then call me. No matter what time it is, call me. Will you do that?"

  "Si. I call when I hear from them." Lorenzo sighed, "It was the good meat...." His voice trailed off, remembering the meat sales he'd had, the enthusiasm his meat sales had met.

  "Yes, it certainly was good meat. My stomach agrees with you, and grieves with you!" Cas made a comic face. "But we've got to catch these men and stop them from stealing cattle."

  "They have stolen from the farmers here?"

  "Here and neighboring counties as well. They steal a little at a time, maybe one or two head from each farmer, hoping they won't get caught. Caleb Martin has had some of his cattle stolen. Others here and in Marble County have been missing cattle too."

  "Senora Martin, she is my customer." Lorenzo's eyes widened, "I may have sold to her some of this meat these men have stolen!" He bowed his head, looking miserable.

  "We'll get them. We'll catch them and put a stop to the stealing. You call me as soon as you hear from them."

  "I will. I will call, si."

  Cas started out but stopped and turned back before he got to the door. "Lorenzo?"

  "Si?" Lorenzo's worry wrinkles deepened again, fearing there was something else wrong.

  "I'm not going to have time to stop anywhere to eat, will you make me a sandwich?"

  Cas reached into his pocket in search of money. "Say, about two dollars worth?" He felt around in both his pockets for money for his lunch.

  "Oh, I make you one, no charge." Lorenzo was relieved at having a problem he could handle so easily. He looked into the meat case and grinned with all his strong white teeth showing. "Beef?"

  Cas cracked up, shaking with laughter at his expression. "Better make it ham, I guess, and here's the money for it." He laid the bills he'd found and change for tax on top of the counter. "We've got to stay honest."

  Cas drove slowly, eating his sandwich, a drink in the holder on the floor. He stopped at the edge of the woods where he and Hannah had gone in to look at the scene where Denise's body was found. He went in from the angle Hannah said the murderer had, finishing his sandwich as he watched for any tell tale signs. There was nothing but a few broken places in the brush like the ones he'd been looking at from the other direction. He squatted down to look closer and was rewarded with what seemed to be part of a footprint where the weeds had been ground into the mud.

  "Not plain enough to do us any good, but it's a track, and it's deep. He was carrying her just as Hannah said. She was heavy, so heavy he didn't make it when he tried to ease her down. I believed her, but this clinches it. I'll figure out how to get him."

  He went back to his car, pausing to glance at the place they had got the casts of the small truck's tire prints. He peered down the empty road. "The print would have been made by someone who came from that direction and pulled off, and the Spruce's cabin is out that way. It's all pointing to Darrell. That print, the description of fair coloring and blond hair, muscular build. It all fits. And he's certainly been up to no good with that so-called club of his."

  His features twisted into a disgusted mask, "Trying to con his friends into thinking he's got some kind of power."

  He eyed the faded tracks. He had seen Darrell driving a little utility truck the judge had bought. "Haven't seen it around town but once or twice. They must keep it out there at the cabin. But it would make a track like that."

  Cas started driving out the road before his plans were set on anything definite. Curiosity about the little utility truck and instinct guided him.

  "I'm sure the judge took his family to the funeral in the Lincoln, might as well look around out there and if that truck is there, look at the tires on it. If it's got some kind of tread that couldn't fit that track, I won't have to upset the judge's blood pressure by asking about it. He's got a mighty low boiling point when it comes to my questioning Darrell."

  Pulling off the road, Cas checked in. "Gladys, is anyone looking for me? Obscene, upset, or otherwise?"

  Gladys laughed. "No, it's been a quiet day here."

  "Is Doug or Rhodes around there?"

  "Doug is here. He's got some paperwork he's catching up on. Do you want to talk to him?"

  "No, I was just wondering. I'm out the highway past where we found the Davis girl. I wanted to know if one of them was there in case I want someone to come out and make another cast of a track or something. But I probably won't get that lucky. Don't bother him now. I'll let you know if I need him."

  Cas felt he was getting closer to Darrell Spruce all the time, even if most of the corroboration of his theory was not useable in a court of law.

  "Arrogant as he is, I still hate to think he's capable of murder. On the other hand it hurts to think that Denise Davis is dead, her young life ended in such a way. It's bad any way you look at it." He stifled every emotion but dutiful determination
as he turned in toward the cabin.

  The Spruce's cabin was large and comfortable looking. Cas admired the stone chimney, thinking the place must have been awfully expensive to build.

  He went around it, checking windows and doors as he went. Everything was clean, neat, and well kept, including the grounds around it. There was a cleared area for extra parking. When he got to the back he gave a low whistle, his hand on a locked gate to the back area. There was a patio with expensive cook-out equipment and lawn furniture around an Olympic sized pool.

  "Good thing he keeps the gate locked, with all that left out there." Looking away, he saw an old barn not far away and walked up the slight hill toward it.

  Though the old wooden building didn't look too sturdy, the little utility truck was parked inside it. One of the weather beaten old doors was pushed closed, the other gaping with no way to fasten it.

  "Looks like someone might have had the idea of hiding the truck. As if that would help if we were looking for it. That's immature thinking for you. Backed it in." Cas smiled to himself. "Ready for a quick get-away? Comic book mentality."

  He bent down in front of the little truck. The tracks were recent, easy to see. Cas squinted at the tracks where the little truck had been backed into the old barn. He hoped Doug was still at the office.

  In the truck he sat down to rest while he called in. Gladys affirmed Doug was still there.

  "Ask him if he knows where the judge's cabin is. I need him to come out here and make a cast of some tire tracks."

  Doug took the phone. "Yes, sir, I know where it is, I can leave now. I'd rather do that than paperwork anyway." He laughed.

  "All right," Cas mentally agreed with him. "Don't stop to play marbles. You'll need good light to get the cast made. I'll wait here."

  "Yes, sir. I'm coming."

  Chapter 17

  Cas began pacing as he waited, looking around the area surrounding the old barn to pass the time. He could see some ruins beyond it on the other side of the hill and went to investigate. He looked down on the remains of an old house.