The Devil in Maryvale

by Jackie Griffey

  "Must have been the original old home place, he thought. Not much left of it now."

  He decided to investigate and went down a sharp decline at what must have been the back of the house, holding onto branches and outcroppings of rock on his way down. He stood at the bottom wiping his hands on his handkerchief and noticed a path he couldn't see from where he had looked down.

  "I'm glad there's no one here to see how dumb I am. I could have gone a little farther up there and come down that path."

  He turned his attention to the ruins of the old house. What was left was very little of the first floor and a cellar built before the rest of what must have been a large house. He went on down carefully, looking at the natural drain outside the native stone wall.

  It took both hands and muscle power to open the old warped door. Discouraged at the first try he noticed marks in the earth where it had been opened recently and gave it another try.

  This time it moved but made a loud protest. It creaked on its rusty hinges, groaning like a soul in torment. It opened on almost total darkness which repelled him for some reason.

  He stepped back. "Guess I'm still sort of afraid of the dark." He hurriedly got out his flashlight.

  The light played across a stone floor. Not very well set, he noticed. But native stone none the less.

  "Must be awfully old," he said. "And look at the size of this thing! It must be as big as the house above it was."

  He turned back before going farther and decided he didn't need to prop the door open. He used the flashlight before using his feet, flashing it around the dark interior. The place was bigger than it appeared from the outside.

  There were benches and a few crates to sit on around the wall and some in the middle of the space. His flashlight could only show him small areas as he moved it around.

  "Crude looking things. Looks like someone put them back together to make them usable. That board and a couple of others look like new additions, raw wood for legs. What's that?"

  The light fell upon a table about seven by three feet standing a few feet from the wall he was facing.

  "Looks like an old door. A discard from a second hand store. Humpf. Painting it black sure didn't help the looks of it."

  There were several candles in odds and ends of holders grouped on each end of the table. There was something on the wall above it that caught his peripheral vision as he turned away. He looked again, flashing the light upward.

  "A goat's head! A skeleton goat's head. Probably smells. That's why I had the weird feeling when I opened the door. I smelled death." He shivered and squinted, going closer to examine the goat's head in the light.

  "The horns look like they've been polished with something to make them shine. Looks like I've found one of the club's meeting places and somebody's missing goat, too."

  Cas continued around the wall with the light until he had covered the cellar.

  "This is the meeting place Casey told me about right down to the cold, damp stones. Just the way he described them. And that awful looking goat's head." He examined it a few seconds in the beam of his flashlight.

  Moving the light downward, he bent to look at the floor. There were many prints in the moist silt. Most of them were only partials, as if the place had been full of feet milling around. He shook his head.

  "No chance of getting any identifiable prints from these old stones, even if they weren't so mixed up."

  Finishing his inspection Cas stood in the door flashing the light on the cobbled floor and the walls again. Both were stone, and just as Casey had described them. It had to be the place where Darrell and his officers took the club members for their meeting on the 'dark and stormy nights'.

  "Looks like a good place to tell the group about an upcoming orgy." Cas snorted in disgust. "Must have really sounded impressive, to be planning to meet with other groups in other counties."

  Casting the light around for a last look at the old black painted table and the sinister looking goat's head, Cas turned off the flashlight and emerged again into the light of late afternoon.

  Unconsciously, he breathed a deep sigh of relief getting out of the place. He carefully shut the noisy warped door before going to the path he'd sighted which led back up to the old barn. As he followed it back up he examined the ground and brush along the way.

  "Partial tracks here and there like the ones in the cellar but even the ones that would have been plain are obliterated or partially obliterated by so many others there are none we can use. It looks like most of the upper classmen must have been here and a lot of others too. Darrell caught their interest all right but couldn't keep it. And my taking out his officers had its effect. He must have wanted to put some kind of a hex on me!"

  Cas laughed to himself, picturing Darrell trying to put a hex on him. Just then he heard the sound of a car approaching.

  Doug pulled his car up close to the barn and got out. Cas went to meet him.

  "I'm sorry to spring this on you so late in the day." Cas greeted him. "I found this and thought we'd better get a cast while we have the opportunity and can see."

  "Yes, sir."

  Doug was looking at the tracks where the truck had been backed into the barn. "I see where he turned around out there to back it in." He nodded, "These are good prints."

  "They are. They look to me to be the same size as the ones we found on the shoulder of the road. If it turns out to be a wrong idea, we don't have to tell anybody," Cas pointed out with a confidential grin.

  "Oh, are the Spruces gone?"

  Cas nodded, "Till Wednesday."

  "Good. I stopped on the way out and looked at the casts we have. These are the same size."

  "Wish I'd done that. What do you think?"

  "See that thing in the tread there?"

  "Yes, looks like a little piece of gravel to me."

  Doug nodded. "I was looking at where it is. There's one about the same size in the same place in the cast we have. Of course, that's not much to go on, as many gravel roads as we have around here."

  "The same size and the same place is promising, what are the odds on that? Let's get on with this. We can look closer when we've got it next to the other one. The main thing is where the prints were and the truck being here where Darrell could have used it. I'm going to have to talk to Darrell Spruce again as soon as they get back. As sure as God made little green apples, the judge is not going to be happy about that. I want to be dead sure about these tracks. Right now we don't have much else."

  They worked quickly and silently then went to sit in the car while the casts dried.

  "You think it looks bad for the Spruce boy, then?"

  "It does. The trouble with that is I don't have anything concrete I can hold up as proof. There's this so-called club of his. The fact that Muriel didn't put his name on the list of Denise's friends, in spite of his being seen with her at least twice, and a gut feeling. But there's no tangible evidence at all to point to him or anyone else. His so-called alibi is he was at home at the time she was killed. And of course the Judge and his mother will back him up."

  "Depending on his influence to save his son,." Doug's expression disapproved.

  Cas nodded. "The judge went through the roof about my asking Darrell questions the first time. He wanted me to let him know if I talked to him again."

  "Are you going to tell him?"

  "Yes. I said I'd probably need to talk to him again and that I would let him know."

  Doug didn't offer an opinion. He sat trying to remember anything he could about Darrell. "I think I'd recognize him when I see him but that's about all. Blond kid, stout looking?"

  "Yeah, that's him. Looks like he should be playing football instead of thinking up mischief like this."

  Cas frowned. "He also had Todd Kelly and Sid Norton beat up Casey Taylor. We could have nailed him on that if there hadn't been so many other things to consider. May have to use it yet. Darrell looks like the bad apple in the barrel to me."

  "What about th
at trouble with Casey Taylor's car?"

  "The brake line was cut and we know who did that, but proving it would be something else. Casey doesn't want him and his mother involved unless it's a have to case."

  "I didn't know you were sure about the beating the Casey boy got. But the brake line on the car, that could have got someone killed. And they and Darrell are responsible for that, too, could be two people dead." Doug's face held no compassion for Darrell Spruce nor was there any in his voice.

  "We have no proof about the brakes. And though I've talked to Todd Kelly and Sid Norton and their parents there were no charges brought against them. The brake line incident is the reason Casey finally told me the truth about who beat him up. He said he would bring charges if it was the only way to stop them but the club has about breathed its last now. It's dead. But so is Denise Davis. Who is responsible for that is what we've got find out about and prove. If we can."

  "We'll find something. Something will turn up. He won't get by with this. Are you sure about this, one hundred percent sure he killed her?" Doug's eyes met his. "It will be hard to get a conviction with his dad running interference for him, even objecting to your talking to him."

  "I know that. But one of his weak spots is his alibi for the night Denise was killed. Judge's son or not, that's his weak spot right now. I'm going to look into that and talk to some people. And I'm going to talk to him again as soon as they get back to town."

  "I know I ask a lot of questions," Doug said self-consciously.

  "It takes every member of the team, that's why it's so important to have a team you can depend on." Cas reminded him.

  Doug glanced toward the barn. "I'll go check on the casts, I want to ask you something else, too."

  "They ready?" Cas asked as he joined him.

  "Just a couple more minutes. What I wanted to ask you is if you've had a chance to look at the applications we've got in to replace Raines when he retires? My cousin applied... is why I'm asking."

  "Your cousin?" Cas was interested. "It would sure help to know the person I'm hiring. Or as much about him as possible. We've got a good group who works well and gets along well together. I want to keep it that way. What's his name?"

  "Ah, no, not his name. Her name. Her name is Shirley Dalton."

  "You've caught me," Cas admitted. "I piled the aps up in a stack as Gladys brought them in to me and haven't taken the time to look through them. Your cousin. You say she wants to be a deputy?"

  "She's got her heart set on it, all right. In fact she's taking post graduate courses now that will help her. She can get night classes if she does get the job."

  Doug smiled proudly. "She's already looked into that just in case she might get on."

  "Tell her to come in to see me sometime next week and I'll make time to look at all those applications between now and then."

  "Thanks. I'll tell her."

  "Think we can handle these casts now?"

  "Should be able to."

  The casts were good ones. They put them in Doug's trunk and left.

  Back in the office Cas reached for the file as Doug tagged the casts and stood looking at them.

  "They're the same even to the little chunk of gravel I noticed. Size and tread's the same. Wear pattern too," Doug said over his shoulder.

  Cas went to look. "Yeah, they're the same, no denying that. The truck was there where someone took Denise's body into the woods, that's established. Now, all we've got to do is prove the tracks were made when he killed her and took the body into the woods."

  "We'll do it," Doug said confidently.

  * * *

  Turning into his driveway always relaxed Cas no matter what kind of day he had.

  Sanctuary. Cas was home. He turned the wheel to enter the driveway.

  The scent of cinnamon greeted Cas as he opened the kitchen door. He closed his eyes and pretended to drift toward the stove and the wonderful aroma.

  "You'll get a blister if you kiss that stove," the Keeper of the Goodies informed him. "Besides, I'm the one who made the pie!"

  "Oh." Cas opened his eyes. "Well, in that case," he put his arms around her. "Here's your kiss then, and a bonus." He gave her another peck on the cheek. "I'll go wash the county off me."

  Over dinner, Cas brought up the subject of possibly hiring Doug Freeman's cousin as a deputy to take Raines's place when he retired. He glanced at Connie. "We'll have us a female deputy if I do."

  "Daddy! That's neat!" Missy promptly held up both hands. "I vote yes for that. Twice!"

  "Don't get too excited yet. I haven't even looked at her application, not to mention the others I've got. And there's a stack of them. I told Doug to tell her to come in some time next week so I've got to get on the ball and look at all those things between now and then."

  "If you do hire her," Connie advised him seriously. "See that you don't try to make a secretary out of her. Let her work the same as the other deputies."

  "I know we'll have some things to consider that we didn't have to worry about before." His concern showed in his face.

  "Just treat her like the other deputies, I'm sure that's the reason she wants the job. Just let her do it. Is her name Freeman?"

  "No. Her name is Shirley Dalton. I'll be able to tell a lot more about whether she'll fit in or not after I've talked to her. I'm going to make time to look at the applications I've got before she comes in, in case we've lucked up on a street smart Dudley Do-right or some other kind of genius. So we'll see."

  He went back to serious at a look from Missy. "All the people who turned in applications deserve to have them read and considered. I've got to read and evaluate them all."

  He couldn't help but add with feeling. "I'd rather be shot out of a cannon!"

  Connie laughed even though she sympathized with him. "I'd already figured out replacement isn't your favorite thing. How old is she?"

  "Just out of college. And I know you're going to point out that's good." He anticipated her and Missy's feelings.

  "Remember, dad, having a female deputy will give you a different angle to see things. She might think of things that wouldn't occur to a man."

  "I'll keep that in mind, that and your two votes for a lady deputy." He reached for a roll. "If my conscience would let me I'd hire her just to get out of looking at all those other applications."

  * * *

  True to his word, the next morning Cas pulled the stack of applications toward him on his desk. Before he started reading them he took a number from his billfold that Hannah McLaughlin had given him and dialed it.

  There was no answer. He glanced up at the clock. "Must be the library's number. They don't open till nine o'clock. I'll look at a couple of these applications and try again."

  He read carefully through the top two applications. The first was from a handicapped youngster about to graduate from a business school.

  "As near as I can tell from this, he's applying for Gladys's job, wants Rhodes's salary, and doesn't have the necessary qualifications for either one. But then, when it comes to Gladys's job anybody would be handicapped just not being Gladys." He smiled and put it aside.

  The next one was a female applicant. It was an impressive resume, but not for law enforcement.

  He decided she'd be more useful at home or in a personnel department somewhere. He tossed it aside.

  The next time he looked up it was after nine. He called the library again and someone answered on the second ring. It wasn't Hannah.

  "Nelson Mansion, County Library," a bright young voice informed him.

  "May I speak to Ms. McLaughin?"

  "Of course, may I tell her who is calling?"

  "Certainly." Cas searched his imagination for a name. "Tell her it's her Cousin Horace."

  "Just a moment, please." Cas decided the young voice must belong to one of the students who worked at the library part-time.

  After the promised moment, Hannah's voice said a little uncertainly, "Hello?"

  "Hannah, it's me. Cas Larki
n."

  "Oh, how nice to hear from you, Horace." Cas could almost swear she was smiling.

  He pictured the young helper listening and continued in a low voice he hoped only Hannah could hear.

  "I know you don't want anyone to know you're helping me but I've found another location that I'd like for you to see as soon as you can find the time."

  "Would it take more than an hour?"

  Cas gave it a second's thought. "It might, counting traveling time. And I don't want to have to hurry."

  They talked, Hannah choosing her words carefully, and got together on the time to meet feeling like undercover FBI agents.

  "Fine. Just as you said," Hannah chirped into the phone. "I'll see you then."

  "Thanks, I appreciate your help." He felt a twinge of guilt, remembering how distressed Hannah had looked before.

  "That's all right, I'm glad to." Hannah couldn't stifle a laugh, "And do give Cousin Alice a big hug for me!"

  Gladys came in with the mail as Cas replaced the receiver and wondered what he had to laugh about so early in the morning.

  Cas glanced again at the clock. Plans for the rest of the day were beginning to gel.

  A quick look through the mail revealed nothing that couldn't wait a while and Cas went back to his applications. He pulled Shirley Dalton's toward him to read last.

  The stack was a long, dull, waste of time for the most part.

  "It's beginning to look like if she has the normal number of arms and legs and the proper attitude, she'll be a shoo-in." Reading applications would never be on his list of fun things to do and he hated turnover anyway.

  Gladys came in and set a cup of coffee on his desk. "I'm going over to The Smithy to get some of their good stew. I see you're in the middle of all those applications, would you like me to bring you some stew or a sandwich?"

  "Some of that stew would hit the spot." He took out bills and handed them to her. "And a couple of rolls. I didn't realize what time it is."

  "There's no one out front. I'll put the answer phone on till I can get back."

  "No problem. I can hear it with the door open, in case there's an emergency of some kind." He grimaced at the applications he had left out to reread. "These things might look better on a full stomach."