Death at the Black Bull
Page 21
Jimmy’s answer was to turn and sprint to the chain-link fence. Virgil watched as he scaled the fence easily and just as easily on the way back, the square green casing of the tape measure visible in his hand. He handed it to Virgil. Virgil walked to the rear of the trailer, then with Jimmy’s help measured the length, height, and width of the trailer. Then Jimmy followed as they walked away from the trailer they had been inspecting and headed to the old trailer on the other side of the yard. There they repeated the process and took the same measurements. Each trailer was exactly the same length, width, and height.
“They’re exactly the same,” Virgil said.
“Did you expect them to be different?”
Virgil didn’t answer, but instead climbed up into the empty box, gesturing Jimmy to follow him. Once inside, again with Jimmy’s help, he measured the interior dimensions.
“Okay, let’s go.”
He climbed down instead of jumping down like he first had. Jimmy jumped. Then they walked back over to the other trailer.
“Goddamn, it’s locked,” Virgil said as he shined his light on the trailer’s rear door.
“No it isn’t,” Jimmy said. “It just looks that way. The lock isn’t closed. Wade or whoever handles the tires probably doesn’t want to be locking and unlocking, so he just closes it over so it looks like it’s locked. Besides, he knows the yard is fenced and locked and Wade told me they’re going to install security cameras next week.”
“He better put in cameras. That fence didn’t keep you from going over it with ease. Pretty careless of Wade.”
Jimmy nodded.
“Let’s check it out.”
The trailer was half loaded, so Jimmy took the end of the tape and climbed to the back, over a few rings of stacked tires. They measured the interior length and width twice before Virgil waved to Jimmy to come back. When Jimmy jumped off the end of the box, he could sense that Virgil was struck by the results.
“It must be there. C’mon.”
They returned to the other trailer. Virgil actually ran across the yard and sprang into the trailer with an ease that Jimmy hadn’t seen before. He was at the front of the trailer when Jimmy climbed in, the tape stretched out on the floor in front of him.
“I want to be sure,” Virgil said.
They measured three times. “Yes!” Virgil said, his voice echoing in the empty chamber of the trailer. “This box is one foot shorter than the other one.”
“What do you mean? We measured them. They’re the exact same size.”
“On the outside, Jimmy. On the outside. Inside, this one’s a foot shorter.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that wall back there is false. There’s maybe eight to ten inches of space from floor to roof and across which can be used to hide anything that’s put in there. Visually, inside and out, this container looks just like any other one on the road. But it’s not. It carries hidden cargo. Wade knows it, Buddy knew it. Or at least found out about it. My guess is that, when he did find out, he didn’t like it. And that’s what got him killed.”
* * *
There was still a soft mist rising from the pavement when Jimmy pulled the cruiser into the lot in back of the jail.
“Are you coming in, Sheriff?”
“No, Jimmy. It’s late and I’m beat.”
“What are you going to do next? I mean, about the semi?”
“I’ve been thinking about it since we left the yard. We know what’s different about the trailer, but we’re still pretty much in the dark about its cargo.”
“What about drugs? It can’t be . . . can’t be illegals. There’s not enough room.”
“We can speculate all we want, but that’s all it is, speculation. Unless we find out what that cargo was, we’ll never know why three people died. And who’s responsible for their deaths.”
“But how are you going to find that out?”
“I think I might have an idea, but I want to think a little more on it. See you tomorrow, Jimmy. Keep Hayward safe.”
He got out of the cruiser and walked to his car.
Jimmy watched as the fog in the filtered light from the solitary lamp pole in the parking lot swallowed Virgil until he was nothing more than a dark figure blurred and indistinct. It was a strange moment and left him with a funny feeling.
30
The sky was leaden, with no hint of sun. There weren’t more than fifty people, Micah guessed, a small gathering for someone who had loomed so large. He was struck by the irony, but these had been his mother’s wishes. For practically all her life in this town, she’d been the visible center. Now she was slipping away almost unnoticed.
He glanced around at the bowed heads as the minister intoned the familiar liturgy. A sob came from Virginia and he saw his son, Caleb, wrap a comforting arm around her. These two, he thought, were the best thing to come out of this family in a long time. Bright, eager, and smart. A new generation, a new hope for the future, one he had worked hard to secure and one that now was at great risk.
He watched as the minister stepped back at the conclusion of his words and the pallbearers came forward to fulfill their duty. Twenty minutes later at the cemetery, he watched again as they picked up the straps that overlapped the grave and drew them taut. Then in a well-choreographed movement, they stepped to the edge of the waiting hole and slowly loosened their grip. Micah watched as the last trace of his mother disappeared from view. He couldn’t help but think it was the quietest exit she had ever made.
The undertaker passed among the group and handed each mourner a rose. In unison, most of the group looked at Micah, and he hesitantly assumed his new role as head of the family. While they looked on, he stepped forward and dropped his rose. He watched as it fluttered down and came to rest on top of the metallic coffin. There was no sound. Then the undertaker handed him a clod of dirt from the loose pile next to the hole. He looked at it in his hand, then wadded it into a clump and dropped it as he had done with the rose. It hit the same area on the coffin as the rose, but with such a loud thud that it startled him. A sudden surge of emotion gripped him as if he heard again one of the thousand rebukes from his mother. He turned quickly and went back to his place, hoping no one had noticed the glisten that had come into his eyes. The tears, he knew, were not so much for her as they were for himself. All those years of feeling like second best had caught up with him in this moment. Looking away from the group, now copying the ritual he had performed, he glanced toward a distant rise where he saw a solitary figure, hat in hand, standing silently. He knew who it was and why he was here and why the future of the Hayward family truly rested in his hands.
* * *
Virgil had turned away shortly after Micah saw him. He was on the road long before the family had left the burial ground. Going to Audrey’s burial had been an impulsive act. He hadn’t planned on stopping, but somehow as he was driving after leaving the service, he felt impelled to stop. He couldn’t say why. But as he stood on the knoll next to his mother and father’s resting place, he realized that he had come not as a bystander, but as a family member. In a way, what Audrey had told him in that final conversation had become an invitation to this day. The Haywards had always been part of his past, but now as he looked down at them, as they put Audrey into the ground, he knew they would also always be part of his future. Virgil did not feel Micah’s eyes staring up at him. His focus had been completely on the slight figure standing at some distance to his left, head down, softly sobbing, her auburn hair stirred occasionally by a breeze.
Audrey Hayward was many things to many people, but to the daughter of Virgil and Rusty she was a beloved grandmother. Virgil could see that now, and he ached for her and that is why he had come.
* * *
There was still no trace of sun. Clouds hung so low that when Virgil was on the dirt road climbing the butte to his grandfather’s, he c
ould not see the top of the mesa. It bothered him to think it was the same thing in reverse for any rifleman who might be standing guard up there. Carlos and his oldest were throwing a Frisbee in the yard area outside the trailer when he pulled in alongside. The young boy waved to Virgil, then clutching the Frisbee, ran to the front door. Virgil saw his grandfather, who had obviously been watching them standing in the front doorway. He waved to Virgil.
“Any news, Sheriff?”
Virgil waited by the car until Carlos walked over to him. He wanted this to be a private conversation.
He told Carlos about Audrey Hayward’s funeral. Carlos responded by asking about his brother and sister-in-law’s.
“Their bodies are being sent to Taxco, and I’m in the process of arranging transport for your family to follow them. It’ll probably be another day or two. On another point, I remember you saying that the last shipment to Juárez was after the two-week company shutdown.”
“That’s right. Everyone goes back to work next Monday and the first thing to do is ship the last of this year’s inventory. Loading and shipping is necessary to make way for the new harvest. Before the new harvest comes in, the plant is given a thorough makeover and once the last shipment is processed down in Juárez, the same thing happens down there.”
“Do you have any idea which trailers will be used to take down the last of the inventory?”
“Not really.”
“We found the box that Buddy pulled at Wade’s. My deputy Jimmy and I saw it there. The numbers you gave me helped us to identify it.”
“If it’s there after this week, it’s probably not going to be used. Maybe there’s some problem with it and that’s why Wade has it there.”
“I hope that’s not the case,” Virgil said.
* * *
Within an hour, Virgil was on his way back to the office. He went out of his way to pass by Wade’s. He circled the dealership and the service yards twice. The trailer was not there. He was sure of it. Because it was a Saturday, it was pretty quiet, but the size of the operation and the new car dealership was impressive. Wade had come a long way from a five-year high school student to where he was now.
Virgil got to the office a little after two. He was surprised to see Rosie’s car in the lot.
“What are you doing here on a Saturday afternoon?”
“Helping out the law. You know crime never takes a day off, don’t you?”
“Sounds like the title of a movie.”
“Yeah, well that’s for my next reincarnation. I’m going to be a movie star.”
“Movie stars seem to have a lot of fun.”
“Yeah, but they spend a lot of time on their backs and I’ve got a bad back.”
“But maybe in your next life . . .”
“Speaking of backs is why I’m here today. Dif fell off a ladder and hurt his, so I got a call.”
“Well, what the hell was he doing up on a ladder? He’s got an artificial knee and he’s more than a little past his prime.”
Rosie started laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Men,” she said. “I have never met one man who felt he was past his prime. Look at you, Virgil. You’re past forty and showing no signs that you’ll admit to. Hell, I saw you one night at the Black Bull with that pretty girl. You still think that you’re that young stud romping in the pasture. You better wake up and throw a rope over her or some other one soon so you’ll have a nurse for your old age.”
“I never saw you at the Black Bull.”
“That’s ’cause your eyes were strictly on the prize. Hell, even that ole Mex, that more than half raised you, is still randy. He’s been visiting one of Margie’s waitresses for years. So don’t you raise your eyebrow at Dif. Someday it’ll be your turn to fall off a ladder. I just hope there’s somebody there to catch you when it happens. Men.”
She said it a little louder this time, a note of dismissal in her voice. Virgil had no comeback.
A minute or so passed. Finally, he told her he’d stay in the office and that she should go home.
“I might as well,” she said. “I’ve done my life coaching for the day. Besides, I’d have more luck talking to a rock.”
Virgil shrugged.
“Why don’t you give that girl a call, Virgil? Ain’t you tired of being alone? There’s more to life than just being sheriff.”
She walked out the door. Virgil sat for a minute, then picked up the phone. While it was ringing, he was thinking of Carlos and his boy playing with the Frisbee at his grandfather’s. On the fifth ring he heard a familiar voice.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while. Thought maybe you’d taken up a new hobby.”
“Been busy,” Virgil said.
“What doing?” she asked.
He paused a moment before answering. “Having a philosophical moment with Rosie.”
“I didn’t know you had another woman in your life.”
There was a moment of silence before he answered. “Oh, I do. I surely do.”
31
When Virgil stepped out onto the porch with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand, the morning sun caught the wetness left over from a quickly passing night storm and everything sparkled. The leaves of the cottonwood hung with the added weight. A sun-washed feeling made the earth fresh. He breathed deep.
Cesar was standing by the corral, watching the mare and the foal. The foal was tearing around the corral, only stopping long enough to buck and kick up its heels. His mother stood in the center, patiently watching the display. The smile that drew at the corners of Cesar’s mouth deepened the weathered creases in his face. Having noticed the movement on the porch, he drew his foot off the bottom rail and went to join Virgil. He was almost at the steps when the kitchen door opened and Ruby stepped out, balancing two steaming cups. Cesar hesitated at the bottom step.
“C’mon, she won’t bite you. You can see she was expecting you.”
Cesar climbed the stairs, accepting the cup when he reached the top.
“Gracias,” he said.
“De nada,” she replied.
“Ruby, this is my Mexican father, Cesar.”
Ruby smiled and raised her cup. “A pleasure, señor.” She sat on the top step and Cesar sat next to her.
“I have known about you and am happy to meet you,” he said.
“And I don’t bite.”
“I might not even mind it if you did.”
“Hey, old man, remember I’m listening.”
Virgil stood up and excused himself. He went inside. From the kitchen he glanced at them once or twice and could see they were in conversation. He joined them again and for a moment they sat savoring the last of their coffee in silence. When Cesar rose to his feet, Ruby did the same and took his empty cup.
“I’ll be right back.” She brought the empty cups inside and returned just as Cesar was stepping off the porch.
“Give me ten minutes,” Cesar said.
“What was that about?” Ruby asked.
“He’s going to saddle a couple of horses for us.”
“For us?”
“Yep. Time for your introduction.”
“I don’t know about this, Virgil. I was on a horse exactly once in my life and that was in a ring. I was numb with fear the whole time.”
“Well, let’s see if we can get you out of the ring this time. Maybe the numbness will vanish.”
A few minutes later, Cesar led two horses out of the barn, fully saddled. He tied the reins to the top rail of the corral. Virgil took Ruby by the hand and led her down the steps. He could feel her reluctance.
“This is Jack. I’ve had him since he was born. He is the sire of that little guy.” While Virgil spoke, the foal had come near the rails, ears forward, until he stood within arm’s reach. Virgil extended his hand and the foal h
esitantly nibbled at the tips of his extended fingers. Suddenly, the mare, who had not moved from the center of the corral, snorted and stamped her foot. The foal wheeled and ran to his mother’s side.
“He’s beautiful,” Ruby said.
“Yes, and he listens to his mother. Now, this is Sugar.”
Still holding her hand, Virgil walked around Jack to the other horse.
“Sugar hasn’t got a mean bone in her body. You’ll love her.”
“Well, just remember, I do. And the ones that aren’t mean, break.”
“Okay, noted.”
For the next half hour, Virgil went over some basics. Hesitant as she was, he was pleased to see how quickly she warmed to the mare, stroking her neck almost continuously throughout his instruction.
“Moment of truth,” he said as he put Ruby’s left foot into the stirrup and elevated her smoothly into the saddle.
“It seems so high up.”
“Everybody says that the first time. Don’t worry, I’ve been told the ground is soft when you’re young.”
“I don’t know if I’m that young, Virgil.”
“That’s nice.”
“What?”
“You don’t often use my name,” he said as he swung into the saddle on Jack. “Sheriff ain’t a name, it’s a title. Now, let’s go, and remember . . . hold the reins together, in one hand. Sugar’s neck reins. She doesn’t want to be treated like a plow horse. She has her pride. Just nudge her ribs lightly with your heels. Next time, I’ll get you some sure enough boots and you can leave your sneakers on the porch.”
He turned Jack away from the fence while Sugar followed, needing barely any encouragement from Ruby.
“Next time?” Ruby said. “You mean, I have to do this again?”
“Only if you want to.”
They left the corral area, with Virgil pointing Jack toward the low-lying hills that rose up at a distance from the house and barns. He kept Jack on the wide ranch road so Sugar could come alongside. He held the horse tightly collected, while Jack snorted and threw his head from side to side, in miniature rebellion.