The room reeked of blood, gunsmoke, and released bowels. Trying not to look at the dead men, Samantha grabbed the suitcases from the corner where the gangsters had pitched them. Anthony collected all the guns, especially a drum-fed Thompson lying on the bed, and stacked them on the table by the door. He hadn’t seen one of those Chicago Pianos in years, and knew it might come in handy somewhere down the road.
“We were lucky. If one of them had gotten to that killing machine, it would have been all over but the crying.” He peeked outside. Half a dozen sleepy tourists milled uncertainly in their doorways, looking for the source of the noise.
They were quickly running out of time.
Anthony struggled to raise the body of the man with his arm in the safe. Holding it upright, he grabbed the thick forearm and tugged it out of the triangular hole, peeling dead skin in the process.
With a grunt, he pitched the gangster aside, rolled up his own sleeve, and carefully reached into the safe. His thinner forearm passed easily through the opening. At first he couldn’t feel anything, making him wonder if he was wrong and they’d already cleared the safe’s contents, but then his fingers tickled the edge of a thick envelope lying in the corner. He knew it had to be money. He gripped it between his middle and index fingers, carefully drew it into the open, and stuffed it into his coat pocket.
“I can’t believe this is all there was in that heavy sonofabitch.”
Samantha had the suitcases and guns in the damaged trunk by the time Anthony rummaged through the goons’ clothes and emptied their wallets. Their cash came to more than two thousand, enough for travel money. Giving the room one last look, he hurried outside. Samantha had already slammed her door by the time he slipped behind the steering wheel.
A siren shrieked in the distance.
“We need to go.” Anthony gave the room’s closed door one last look before pushing the clutch and shifting into first. They gunned it onto the highway and sped away from the siren.
Moments later they came to a four-way intersection in front of the Conoco. He took the highway leading south out of town and accelerated smoothly. Once they were past the city limits, he floored it and the engine roared as they shot down the highway, using the full moon’s glow to drive headlights.
For the next two hours they zigzagged their way across the state line into Oklahoma on a skinny two-lane road. The dry high plains air was chilly under a starry night punctuated by streaks of meteorites. They passed through dark farm towns and continued to follow tiny rural highways running east until they reached El Reno, not far from Oklahoma City. The horizon was glowing yellow when Anthony passed a closed Stripes gas station and stopped in front of a local café not far from the Owl Courts motel. There was an Open sign on the door.
Samantha was deep asleep, curled up on the seat, her head on his leg. He gave her a little shake. “Wake up.”
It took her a second to get oriented, then she sat upright. “Where are we?”
“Not far from Oklahoma City.”
She looked over her shoulder. “We made it?”
“Looks like it. This time. Want some breakfast?”
She rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “We aren’t very presentable after spending all night in the car.”
He watched a farmer in overalls push the door open and go inside. “I think we’re fine.”
“Breakfast sounds good. I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” Anthony reached for the thick envelope from the safe. “We’ll use some of your old man’s cash for ham and eggs.”
They were both surprised when he tore the seal to reveal the envelope’s contents.
Anthony’s eyes widened. It wasn’t stuffed with cash, but thick with clipped pieces of paper. He shuffled through the sheaf, and realized they were all recipes. He laughed, tilting his hat back. “Look at this!”
Samantha took the envelope. “These are my mother’s recipes. They’re all Daddy kept after she died. He loved her cooking.” She selected a slip. “This one is for German chocolate pie. It was his favorite.”
“We have a little cash, but not what I expected to get from the safe. Those guys died for recipes.”
“It doesn’t matter. I have money.”
“A few thousand won’t get us far with your old man’s goons chasing us.” Anthony shook out a fresh toonie from a pack of smokes he’d picked up off the table back in the motel room and lipped one from the deck. Camels weren’t his favorite, but they’d do. He pushed in the lighter on the dash.
Samantha flashed him a grin and reached into the backseat. She pulled a blue grip into her lap, one he thought was full of makeup and stockings. She unzipped the hard case, opened it, and angled it toward him. It was packed full of money, and the bills he saw were all hundreds.
“Dad has another safe…”
“…in his den. I know about that one in the wall.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “I know the combination. I took this when I knew you and I were leaving for Los Angeles. There’s enough here to hide out and buy that house we’ve been talking about.”
The lighter popped out and Anthony held the glowing end to his cig, then hers. “They would have had us if they hadn’t gotten greedy.”
“I bet that’s not the first time it’s happened.”
“And it won’t be the last, Doll.”
Wide awake, they found a table in the middle of a café full of farmers and truck drivers. The experienced waitress was fast. After ordering, Samantha extended both hands across the table. “Where are we going now?”
Anthony reached out and took them. “A couple of years ago I met these newlyweds in the Flamingo. They were real hicks, but I liked ’em both. She was a redheaded looker and he was some kind of sheriff or something not far out of Dallas.” He let go of her hands and pulled a highway map from his back pocket. He unfolded it on the empty table and after a moment, pointed a finger at a tiny dot on the Red River. “This is it. Center Springs.”
Samantha peered at the upside down map. “It sure is small.”
“Yep. That’s what we want. From the way that guy…Cody was his name…described it, the place is perfect to settle down and get married. Besides, if it’s too small, we can live in Chisum.” He pointed again at a much larger dot. “He said it’s an old cotton town with grand houses and white picket fences.”
“That’s what I want.”
“I know it, Doll. We’ll live somewhere around here and have kids.”
Her face clouded. “Do you think they’ll find us again?”
Anthony shook his head. “The only reason they showed up in Shamrock is because I told Pinocchio about Center Springs once.”
“We could have gone anywhere, like back to California. But he found us in…”
“Shamrock. Think about it. Only one good highway leads this direction, and that’s Route 66. It made sense that he followed it right behind us. All he had to do was check the motels until he found us. There aren’t that many between here and there.”
“We could have taken any little road heading east, like we did last night.”
Completely wrong, he shrugged. “He knew me well enough. I’m a city boy, and I don’t like those roads. I was stupid and Pinocchio put himself in my shoes. We needed some place out of the way to lay low and he put two and two together, but he’s gone now, so we don’t have to worry.”
“He didn’t know which car we were driving.”
“It’s not hard to stop in a motel office and ask about us. We’re pretty recognizable out here in the sticks.”
Someone behind the counter dropped a stack of plates, startling everyone in the café. Samantha held her chest and laughed. “Do you remember his wife’s name?”
“Pinocchio’s?”
“No, silly. Your friend Cody.”
“Her name is Norma Faye.”
“Norma Faye.” She let it roll off her tongue. “That’s country all right. I’d like to have a friend like that.”
The waitress brought steaming coffee in thick mugs and they sipped and talked leisurely about a quiet life in a small town.
It was the perfect place to settle down and raise a family.
Chapter Ten
A thick stand of persimmon trees looked golden in the warm sun. Gene Stark and a crowd of men milled not far from his dead brother’s truck when Ned pulled up on the dirt track.
Ty Cobb and Jimmy Foxx stood near the tree line with Gene beside his old beat-up Ford truck. Isaac Reader was there also, cleaning his fingernails with a penknife. Conversations with Isaac Reader always made Ned tired. He shut off the engine and caught Gene’s eye.
“Yonder he is,” Gene said to himself and waved him back toward the car in the hope he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else for a few moments.
Cody coasted to a stop behind. He slammed his door at the sight of so many people stomping around the crime scene, and joined Ned at his door. “I’ll go over there and run them off from the truck, but I doubt there’ll be any tracks we can use after they all get through traipsing around here looking in at him.”
Ned stepped out and watched Gene approach. Eyes downcast, the square, good-looking man walked through the weeds as if carrying a great weight on his shoulders. “He’s gone, Ned.”
Cody gave him a sympathetic pat as he passed without stopping.
Ned stayed where he was, intending to avoid the crowd as long as possible. “What happened, Hoss?”
Gene wiped his eyes with a blue bandana. “Tommy Lee left early day before yestiddy mornin’ to go huntin’. He always likes…liked…to get out in the woods ’fore daylight and set up on the creek down there.”
“That’s where I’d go for fox squirrels.” Ned was a squirrel hunter from way back, and always looked forward to the first day of the season. The lawman portion of his brain worked on the problem at hand, but another part thought it would be a good idea to take Top hunting some morning soon.
Gene looked uncomfortable. “He, uh, he wasn’t after no squirrels. Said he was going deer huntin’.”
“Deer season ain’t open. He was poaching, then.”
“He never paid much attention to seasons. You know that.”
“Yeah, I suspect he didn’t pay much attention to anything except what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it.”
Tommy Lee Stark led a troubled life that existed solely inside the swirl of a tornado. No matter what he did or touched, it always fell apart. He wasn’t a true bad boy, but he’d been in and out of trouble with the law more times than most folks. Tommy Lee even served a short term in the Huntsville state pen, too, but six months in a Louisiana lockup cured him of hardcore meanness.
Frequent arguments with his ex-wives over money often resulted in a call to Ned’s house in the middle of the night. He’d lost count of how many times Tommy Lee was married, but it was more than a few.
“Any idea why somebody’d want to shoot ’im?”
Gene shrugged, his face vacant. “He didn’t owe money to anybody as far as I know of. He’s been working pretty hard lately, mowing the Methodist cemetery and cutting fence posts to make ends meet. You know, that little house of his ain’t got no electricity nor water, so his bills is low. He ain’t been messin’ around with nobody that I know of neither, and for sure nobody’s wife, not since he got caught across the river with Bill Adkins’ ol’ lady. Bill damn near beat him to death with an axe handle out in the parking lot of the Western Club, and he’s shied away from married women ever since.”
Ned wondered if he was fooling around with Wade Reidel’s wife, Karen. In his state of mind, it would make perfect sense for Wade to take revenge on Tommy Lee, or anyone else he took a notion to punish. Now he had two people to question.
“I’d steer clear, too, after that. I’ll talk to Bill. I doubt he did it, but it needs lookin’ in to. Was Tommy Lee meat hunting?”
“Yessir.” He blew his nose in the bandana, folded it, and put in the back pocket of his khakis. “Beef costs, and deer’s cheap when it only takes one bullet.” He waved an arm. “He likes to hunt up thataways, just up a piece from us.”
“I haven’t seen him in a while, not since Miss Lina called and said he was peeking in her winder one night last year.”
Gene flushed red. “I believe besides drinkin’, that’s the only vice he had. He couldn’t help himself, and that’s why we moved out of Chisum when we was kids, to get him out of the neighborhoods. Dad said the only thing he knew was to get him away from as many winders as possible.”
“You think he mighta peeked in somebody’s winder-light and they caught him at it? Maybe they came out here to settle up.”
Gene shrugged and studied his shoes.
“Did he owe any gamblin’ money? You know, he spent a lot of time across the river.”
“Nossir. Like I said, things have been quiet.”
Ned recalled his recent battle with a gang of outlaws who tried to establish a drug pipeline thought Lamar county. “Did he start messin’ with drugs, that marijuana?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, somebody killed him.” Cody rejoined them beside the car. “I can’t tell what he was shot with, but it was big enough to blow out the side of his hea…I’m sorry, Gene. I didn’t mean to say so much.”
“That’s all right. I done seen him.”
“He wasn’t killed here. There ain’t no blood on the seat, and there’s leaves and trash in the wound. He was killed somewhere else and then somebody put him in the cab.”
“That makes a sure ’nough murder, then.” Ned watched John Washington arrive and get out of his patrol car. “Who found him?”
Gene waved a hand toward a cluster of men. “Isaac Reader. I went up to the store after dinner, because I was worried Tommy Lee hadn’t come in. Him and me were going to Hugo for a load of feed this morning, and he didn’t show up. Being gone two days wasn’t like him. I went to the house and he wasn’t there, so I came up to the store. The Wilson boys showed up, so me and them and Isaac took different roads and went looking.”
“All right.” Ned motioned for John and tugged on Cody’s sleeve. “Y’all come here a minute.”
They left Gene’s body, and walked back to John’s car. Ned absently studied a cluster of sandburs stuck in the side of the tires while John crossed his thick arms and leaned against the fender. “Mr. Ned, from the looks of all these folks trampin’ around here, I think the only evidence might be that hole in his head, and I doubt we can tie that to anyone in particular.”
Ned used the sole of his shoe to scrape the stickers off the tire. “John, I can’t explain why, other than I dislike the man, but this looks like a murder that Griffin might have something to do with. Tommy Lee never was no angel, and he might have got tangled up in some of them drugs coming up here. He may even have been helping him move that marijuana. We need to be careful how we handle this. It might be the thing we need to connect it all with Griffin.”
“It looks like a herd of horses came through here.” John scanned the beaten grass. “You can’t even see where he drove in from all the cars and feet, and the bullet went plumb through.”
Cody saw the game warden’s truck bumping down the dirt track. “Here comes Roland, and I called to get someone out here to pronounce Tommy Lee, not that we don’t know.”
“Good.” Ned waved an arm. “You men come away from the truck and leave Tommy Lee alone. Y’all stay back here and let us do our work.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Tommy Lee wasn’t no angel, that’s for sure. I know for a fact he’s run whiskey for Doak Looney who’s back at it again. For all I know, he might have something to do with it.”
Isaac Reader paced up and down in the grass, fit to be tied and almost busting with the need to talk.
Any amount of time with Ike always sapped Ned’s energy, but he didn’t have any choice. He crooked a finger and called the jerky little farmer over. “Ike, come over here and tell me what happened.”
As fast as a calf released from a squeeze chute, Isaac hurried over. “Listen, listen, I was up at the store with the Wilson boys there when Gene come and got us to help him find Tommy Lee. We split up in our trucks, and I run acrost him there, all shot up and dead.”
“Yep, he’s dead all right. Did you see anything when you pulled up?”
“Him dead in the truck. There wasn’t nobody running off or nothin’. He’s been dead a while, I can tell. He was already cold.”
“No, I mean any other tire tracks coming in and out of here?”
“Weren’t looking for that. I’s driving and looking to find him. His truck was setting right there and him dead in it. Half his head’s gone, you know.”
“Cody, did you see Tommy Lee’s rifle?”
“Yessir, muzzle down in the floorboard.”
“What is it?”
“Looks to me like a lever action Winchester thirty-thirty, but I ain’t picked it up.” Cody pointed toward Roland and went to speak with the game warden.
Ned nodded an answer. “Ike, did you touch anything?”
“Naw, I learned my lesson when I found Onie Mae and them dead last year.” It was Ike who discovered the murdered family when he went by for a dinner invitation. Josh’s body was still in his chair on the porch. His mama, Onie Mae, and his wife, Beth, were carefully positioned side by side on the living room rug.
“Yes you did. You already said he was cold. You wouldn’t know unless you checked.”
“Well, I mashed on his neck to see if I could feel his heart beating, but he was stone dead. Listen, I think I got a curse on me. I keep finding too many dead people. This here’s three times in the last three years.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
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