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Death at the Black Bull

Page 9

by Frank Hayes


  Virgil started to respond but a sudden catch in his throat stopped him. He swung open the door to the cell. It was never locked when Harry was inside.

  “I’m fine, Harry. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere just yet.” He had stepped inside Harry’s cell and grabbed the solitary chair that stood in the corner. “Here, Harry, but what about you? How come you ended up in here in this nice warm weather?”

  Virgil could see Harry working his mostly toothless gums between his thin lips, trying for an answer.

  “I remember, Virgil. I remember. It was Margie. She wouldn’t let me in. Wanted some food and Margie wouldn’t let me in. I was mad, Virgil.”

  “Now hold on, Harry. Margie wouldn’t give you food? Doesn’t sound like Margie. She’s been feeding you for years.”

  Harry’s eyes widened. Virgil could see a spark amid the yellow-tinted pupils. Harry waved one hand and accidentally hit the bars of the cell.

  “No, no. Wouldn’t let me in the front door like the other people.”

  “But, Harry, Margie always gives you food around back.” An image of Harry sitting on the bottom step at the back of Margie’s restaurant popped into Virgil’s head. “Those people going in the front door, Harry . . . they’re Margie’s paying customers.” Virgil could see Harry was getting more agitated. “Take it easy, Harry, you’re getting yourself all worked up.”

  “But, Virgil, I had money.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Harry stood up from the chair unsteadily and started fishing through his pockets.

  “See?” He held up a twenty-dollar bill in front of Virgil. “I had money just like those other people. Wanted to give it to Margie, for all them other times, but that kid that works there wouldn’t let me in. He pushed me down the stairs, Virgil. Wouldn’t listen. Tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. I got mad . . . Picked up a stone.”

  “Okay, Harry. It just sounds like a misunderstanding.”

  “Sorry, Virgil. I like Margie, almost as much as you. Didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

  “I’ll explain it to Margie. It’ll be okay.”

  Virgil could see Harry’s breathing was labored.

  “Come on, Harry. Sit back down.” He walked him to his cot, feeling his thinness through his shirt as he held him. Harry sat down heavily. “I think you should rest now.”

  “I am a little tired, Virgil.”

  “Sure you are, old-timer. Why don’t you just lay back and think how you’re going to spend that twenty dollars.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. It was nice of Wade to give it to me.”

  “Wade . . . Are you sure Wade gave it to you? Wade don’t seem like the generous type to me. At least not twenty dollars’ worth.”

  “No, it was Wade, Virgil. He give it to me that night outside that nice restaurant when I saw him with Buddy.”

  “You saw him with Buddy? Buddy Hinton?”

  “Yeah. It was Buddy. It was kinda dark but it was Buddy.”

  “Do you remember what they were doing?”

  “Well, they weren’t doing much of anything. Jist sitting in that white truck. I noticed them ’cause they was kinda loud. Maybe they was arguing. Wade saw me and he got out and come over to me. I thought I was in trouble . . . And Wade . . . Well, he wasn’t always friendly to me, but this time he give me that twenty-dollar bill. Whaddya think of that, Virgil? Ain’t that something? Just outta the goodness of his heart. Imagine that.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do, Harry. Imagine Wade giving out a twenty-dollar bill from the goodness of his heart.”

  * * *

  “Rosie, I’m going over to Margie’s, maybe make one more stop, then I’ll be back. Just for the record, you guys did a great job while I was gone.”

  “We aim to please, Virgil. Why don’t you head home and put your feet up? Call it a day.”

  “This isn’t heavy duty, just a couple of calls. Don’t worry.” He picked up his hat from the chair next to his desk. “Be back soon.” Before she could make another attempt to dissuade him, he was out the door.

  Virgil stood next to the opened car door as the heat rushed out, then changed his mind and shut it. Margie’s was only a ten-minute walk and he figured the exercise wouldn’t hurt. It had to be close to a hundred, he thought. He wasn’t surprised when he walked around to the front of the building to see Main Street deserted. It was like one of those movies where a last survivor wanders a desolated landscape looking for another human being. He turned left on Main and headed for Margie’s. By the time he was halfway there, he was sorry he hadn’t taken the car. Every time he inhaled, he felt like he was in a blast furnace. Margie’s sat at the end of the next block and he quickened his pace. When at last he stepped through the front door and the coolness hit him, he actually felt weak in his legs and he grabbed the first seat he could. Before a minute went by, Margie herself had put a glass of water in front of him.

  “Virgil, drink this.”

  He didn’t argue, but put the glass to his lips and swallowed.

  “You look like you’re about to explode. I saw you coming down the street. Where’s your car?”

  “I thought I’d walk.”

  “Virgil, it’s one hundred and nine degrees out there! Are you crazy? You just got out of the hospital a week or so ago. When they cut open your skull, did they take out your common sense?”

  “That’s the second time someone’s asked that same question.”

  “Did you see all the other pedestrians out there? Wait’ll Rosie hears this.”

  Virgil held up his hand. “You tell her, my life won’t be worth spit. I’ll never eat another meal in this place.”

  “Okay, calm down. What do you want to eat?”

  Virgil told her and she left him, after filling his glass again. By the time she returned, he was feeling almost normal.

  “Thanks, Margie. I wanted to speak to you about Harry.”

  “No need.” She sat down opposite him as he started eating. She gave a quick look around to make sure everyone else in the place was being taken care of, then turned to look at Virgil. “I spoke to the busboy. He should have just walked Harry around back, but he didn’t know, and for some reason Harry seemed adamant about coming in the front door.”

  Virgil explained the reason to Margie.

  “I’ll be damned. Harry wanted to give me his twenty dollars. Well, that old man doesn’t know it, but he just bought himself a meal a day for the rest of his life.”

  Virgil smiled. “You’re a good woman, Margie.”

  “Not so bad yourself, Virgil. Hell, you been taking in strays for years, beginning with Jimmy.”

  “What about the window Harry broke?”

  “No big deal. I already traded a free meal to Silas over at the hardware store and he fixed it. I must say the one thing in this whole story that shocks me is Wade giving Harry twenty dollars. I might have to reevaluate my opinion of him.”

  After Margie left, Virgil finished the last of his lunch. When he stood up, he was feeling a lot better. As he got ready to leave, Viola Hinton came up to him.

  “I hear you need a ride, Sheriff.”

  Virgil looked over at Margie, who just smiled.

  “Why thank you, Viola, that would be nice.”

  He followed her out the door to her car. She asked how he was feeling and commented on the heat.

  “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to Buddy,” he said. “How you all doing?”

  “We’re good.” They had just pulled into the parking lot. “By the way, Virgil, I wanted to tell you before that Buddy was seeing one of the workers up at Hayward Ranch. I couldn’t tell you in front of Buddy’s dad. He didn’t know and wouldn’t have liked it. He has a problem with . . . Well, he’s a good man, but he has a problem with illegals.”

  “I understand. Thanks
for telling me.” Virgil got out of the car and waved as Viola pulled away. Then he walked into the office. He was starting to feel good again.

  “I have a few questions for Harry,” he said to Rosie, “but at least I took care of Harry’s problem. Margie even promised to make sure Harry never goes hungry again.”

  Rosie didn’t say anything. There was a heavy look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Harry’s never going to go hungry again,” she said, “because he’s dead in that cell back there.”

  Virgil sat down heavily into his chair. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling so good after all.

  16

  “Well, if it ain’t the law. We gotta stop meeting like this, Sheriff, or people will get the wrong idea.”

  “Can’t speak for you, Wade, but I think that anyone who knows me knows we won’t be buying furniture together anytime soon.”

  Wade had just come out of his office.

  “Looks like you’re doing well for yourself,” Virgil said as he looked around the place. He could see men working on a variety of vehicles in the two large garages adjoining the building. There was also a construction crew working on a larger building in an empty lot next to Wade’s office on the other side. “I hear you’re all lined up for the racing circuit and that you’re preparing to take a huge step up.”

  “Yeah, well I been lucky.”

  “What’s that going to be?” Virgil asked, pointing to the new construction.

  “Showrooms.”

  “For what?”

  “Cars, trucks, motorcycles . . . I got a dealership.”

  “I am impressed. You truly are coming up in the world.”

  “Listen, I got an appointment and based on your past visits, I don’t figure you came by to hear about my good luck.”

  “No, not exactly. Shame Buddy didn’t have your kind of luck.” At the mention of Buddy, Virgil thought he detected a slight tightness of Wade’s jaw.

  “Yeah, well, like the man said . . . Life ain’t fair.”

  “Well, it sure wasn’t for Buddy, but that brings me to the reason for my drop-by. You remember that last night . . . You know, when you said Buddy left the Black Bull. I think as you put it, he went to howl at the moon.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Well, you said you didn’t go with him and you had no idea where he went. That’s been kind of bothering me. I mean you and Buddy being so close and all. It got to bothering me a little bit more when I found out you and Buddy spent a little time arguing in his truck.”

  There was no mistaking Wade’s reaction this time. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Well, it happened kind of accidental-like, when Harry Stanton told me how generous you’d been to him that night and gave him twenty whole dollars out of the goodness of your heart. That was mighty nice of you, Wade. I didn’t realize what a friend of the less fortunate you were. So I guess I was wondering if you’d be able to tell me about that?”

  “There ain’t nothing to tell. That ole bum was there and he just looked kind of pathetic, so I give him a couple of bucks.”

  “Well, Harry thought you and Buddy were arguing about something. This is when you were outside, which I guess you didn’t remember when you first told me you hadn’t gone outside with Buddy.”

  Again, he saw Wade’s jaw tighten.

  “Yeah I guess I forgot about that, but we wasn’t arguing. Just having a conversation.”

  “Guess maybe I should talk to Harry some more. See if he can tell me a little bit clearer. He’s sleeping it off in one of the cells.”

  “He’s there now?”

  “Since last night. I’ll probably let him go when I get back, after we have another little talk. That is, if you’re sure there’s nothing else you’d like to add.”

  Wade looked down at his highly polished boots, stirring a little graveled dirt.

  “Well, maybe we did have a little dustup now that I’m thinking about it. Weren’t nothing big. Buddy was complaining about his job. Thinking about quitting. I told him he was crazy.”

  “Why did you care? What difference did it make to you?”

  “Well, Buddy had promised to stay down at the terminal in Redbud to coordinate the service contract I have with the Haywards, but he said he didn’t want to stay there anymore.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “Nope. I told him he wouldn’t be working for the Haywards. Even told him I’d make him a full partner once I got the dealership up and running. He’d take care of the service end, I’d be handling the showroom.”

  “That was a real generous offer. But you’re telling me he never said why he wanted to get away from the Haywards?”

  “No. Said it wouldn’t be good to talk about it.”

  “What do you think he meant by that?”

  “I don’t know. He just said it’d be best if I didn’t talk about it to anyone. That’s why I didn’t tell you right off. He was acting kind of nervous. Then I left him and went back inside the Black Bull. An hour or two later, I realized he must have taken off.”

  “He never came back inside?”

  “If he did, I didn’t see him. The place was packed that night.”

  * * *

  By the time Virgil pulled into the parking lot in back of the office, the undertaker’s van was already there. It was almost three.

  “Howdy, Sheriff.” The greeting came as he walked through the door.

  “Hello, Titus.”

  “Mr. Simpson sent us over for Harry.” Virgil nodded toward the other attendant who had just come into the room.

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “He wanted to know what you wanted for him.”

  Virgil looked at Rosie.

  “Any suggestions?”

  “Well, I know he did some maintenance work for that Catholic Church. Saint Ann’s. I could give them a call.”

  “I’d appreciate that. I’d kinda like Harry to go out with a little remembrance. Tell them he’s down at Simpson’s funeral home and if they need anything I’ll take care of it.”

  “Virgil, the town should handle it.”

  He sat down at his desk, took off his hat, then rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

  “No. I’d rather do it. Titus, make sure you tell that to Mr. Simpson when you get back.”

  “Okay, Sheriff. Anything you say. Can we go get old Harry now?”

  “Sure. I’ll meet you at the back door in five minutes.”

  Virgil stood holding the door open while they wheeled the gurney through. Then they carefully loaded their burden into the back of their van.

  “Thank you, Sheriff. Kind of sad to see old Harry end up this way. I guess none of us knows how we’re gonna end up.”

  “Well, Titus, I think the end for Harry was written a long time ago.”

  He watched as the van pulled out of the parking lot, then closed the back door. He walked to his car, suddenly feeling very tired.

  * * *

  There was no one around when he got back to the ranch, and he was glad. He just didn’t feel like interacting with anyone, even Cesar. It was a little after four, so before he went into the house, he walked down to the corral. It had been unusually hot, so he figured the horses were still in, a fact confirmed by Jack long before he reached the barn. In the heat of summer, the horses were let out late in the day and grazed through the night, then were brought in the next morning before the heat started to build. The barn was quiet as he stepped in, with just the sound of the horses moving occasionally in their stalls. A couple of hens moved up and down the aisles pecking at anything that moved, also content to stay inside out of the day’s heat. He opened the door at the end of the barn, which led into a corral. As soon as he did, the wind-tunnel effect with the doors opened at either end flooded the air with b
arn scent. For him it was rich with the past. He had seen Jack foaled in this barn and his dam die here in a subsequent foal’s birth. Virgil’s mother had put him on his first horse here and spent hours showing him the way to gentle a horse so that every time he climbed aboard it wouldn’t be a re-creation of a bronco-busting episode.

  He lingered, wrapped in memory until Jack brought him back to the present with his call. Then one by one as he walked the length of the barn, he opened each stall door. The horses moved in hurried procession toward the corral. When they were all out, he watched them gather expectantly at the far end, waiting for the gate to be opened. Virgil looked them over as they bunched together, to see if any one of the nine showed any signs of injury or problems. They ranged from the blood red mahogany of Jack to the old piebald gelding that Cesar fancied with a mix of colors in between. He knew a couple of the mares were close, their swollen bellies evidence of Jack’s potency. He carefully moved through them, talking in a soft voice. It would have been safer to slip through the fence and open the gate from the other side, but the thought never occurred to him. Every one of them knew him as he knew them, and even though they bumped and nudged him, he knew there was no danger.

  “Take it easy, guys. You’re almost there.” He slid the bar across between the rails, jumped on the bottom rail with one foot while pushing off with the other, and the gate swung wide. The horses burst through toward the open prairie, some of them giving exuberant bucks as they called to one another. Through the dust cloud that followed in their wake, their distinct forms morphed into one and the sound of their hoofbeats echoed as a single note.

  Virgil watched them gallop toward their freedom, feeling the same exhilaration that he’d felt hundreds of times before. It never grew old. When at last they disappeared over the first low-lying hill, he stepped off the rail and headed back to the barn. For the next hour, moving from stall to stall, he cleaned them and freshened each with new bedding. The physical activity felt good. He knew it would be a pleasant surprise for Cesar. He could picture the smile on the man’s face. When he finished, he walked back to the house. After pulling his boots off on the bootjack, he went into the kitchen, got a glass from the cabinet over the sink, and filled it with iced lemonade. He downed it in three gulps while standing over the sink. Ten minutes later, shower water was streaming over his body, taking with it the remnants of his exertion in the barn. When he walked into his bedroom, he couldn’t resist the call of the clean sheets and he slid between them, luxuriating in the feel of smoothness against his skin. A sudden tiredness overtook him and his last, conscious memory was of the curtains at the opened window floating on an errant breeze.

 

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