A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1)

by James R. Callan

“No problem. Crystal’s shown me how to deal with them if they give me any trouble.” He pulled out Al’s nine millimeter.

  Mark grabbed Crystal’s arm. “I’ll drive. We can call Glothe from the car. Sorry to leave you with the garbage, Rod.”

  Chapter 51

  WITHIN minutes they were racing down Interstate 20 in Mark’s Chrysler. Crystal had already called Bill Glothe’s office. He was off duty but the dispatcher would try to locate him. Wooden Nickel had not moved up to 911 status yet.

  Crystal tried Melva’s, where her grandmother was staying. No answer. Out of desperation, she tried The Park, not expecting anything. Again, no answer.

  Her thoughts turned to earlier years, when she ran free in The Park. She remembered the time her grandmother built her a tree house in a big oak up on the hillside, north of the house. Crystal had thought it was strange. She asked her grandmother why she built it; Crystal hadn’t asked for it. Nana smiled and said, “When you get mad or really worried about something, you can go sit in the tree house and work it out. Just you. No old Nana to get in the way of your thoughts. ‘Course, I’m here if you need to talk. But sometimes, you just need to be by yourself. This is your place, nobody else’s.”

  Nana had been right. At first, Crystal hadn’t thought a private place up in a tree would be all that great. Soon, she realized how wrong she was. Whether she was mad, sad or glad, she found the solitude, peacefulness and beauty of the tree house impossible to resist. It made her feel special to have a place that was hers alone, and it rarely failed to make her feel better.

  When she grew older, she would paddle the boat out and float in the middle of the lake to solve her problems. She wished she were there now. But she knew neither the lake nor the tree house would help her tonight.

  She stared out the window. Off the interstate she could see pools of light, where farmhouses had security lights. Were they worried about their lives right now? Were their grandmothers in danger of being ... . She refused to allow her mind even to form the word. They passed a service station. Almost too late, she thought to look for a white Mercedes Benz or a “fancy” Jeep. Then, her view was blocked as they passed a bus.

  “Wow,” she said to Mark. “I’ve never passed a Greyhound before. How fast are we going?”

  “Don’t ask. Let’s just say we’re making miles.” Mark smiled at her. “If we get pulled over, you’d better ditch that gun.”

  Crystal looked down at Joe’s pistol in her lap. “Guess I should have left it with Rod.” She picked it up to move it onto the seat between her and Mark, but instead she held onto it. She liked its weight. Its power felt good in her hand. With the gun in her hand, she felt she had control over Joe. She hadn’t thought about it at the time, but now she did. The gun had given her power. She put it back down in her lap, her hand resting on it. “I’ll try Melva’s again,” she said and dialed the phone. After a while, she hung up. “No luck.”

  “Maybe good luck. If you can’t find her, neither can Big Man or The Beard.”

  “Unless they already have.”

  “Come on, Crystal. Don’t go there. Joe said they didn’t leave until sometime after Joe and Al. Maybe they haven’t left yet. We don’t know. But even if they left earlier, the chances are pretty good they wouldn’t have gotten there and left already. And do they know where Melva lives, or even that Eula is at Melva’s? They might be looking around at The Park. It will take some time to ask around town and find out where she’s staying. If they can at all.” Mark tried to sound as upbeat as possible, but the worried look belied his optimistic statement.

  They passed another small town. “My gosh, we really are moving, aren’t we?”

  “Nobody is passing us. And we haven’t passed any Mercedes or Jeeps. Mostly just eighteen-wheelers.”

  “I keep forgetting to look for them.”

  “Not to worry; I’m watching.” They passed another truck. Mark glanced briefly at Crystal, then refocused on the road. “I didn’t know the police had any tire tracks from where they found Eddie Ray’s body. Good thing you had a copy of them. I don’t think Joe would have told us anything otherwise.”

  Crystal laughed a small laugh, with little joy in it. “Actually, they don’t.”

  “But ... .” Slowly, a smile crept over his face. “You pulled a little computer magic.”

  “Just enough.”

  Crystal drifted into silence again, as more thoughts of her grandmother and granddad filled her mind. Every few minutes, she pressed the re-dial button, but each time the phone provided no relief to her worry.

  She tried Glothe’s office. The dispatcher said she would give him the message the minute he called in. “Call a deputy. Get someone out there. Her life is in danger. Do you understand that? Her life is in danger.”

  The dispatcher said she would send a deputy out to check at Melva’s.

  Crystal called information for Bill’s home telephone number, then dialed it. Each ring seemed to get louder and louder. After fifteen rings, Crystal could no longer stand the sound, and hung up.

  Chapter 52

  EULA and Melva labored up the three steps to Melva’s porch, each carrying two bags of groceries. Melva put hers down and searched through her purse looking for keys.

  “Why didn’t you keep them in your hand when you got out of the car?”

  Melva continued to poke in the deep recesses of the bag. “Not the help I need, Eula. If you’d carried three bags, I’d of had a free hand for the keys.”

  “Why do you lock your house? Any burglar worth his salt could get in quicker’n a frog snatching a fly. Quicker’n you are.”

  “For the insurance company, why else? Somebody steals something, I can tell ‘em it was locked up tighter’n a new boot. Isn’t that why we do most things? To please insurance companies?” She pulled out the shy keys triumphantly. “See, I found ‘em. I’m not fast, but I’m dependable.”

  They carried the groceries into the kitchen and began putting them away. Before they were half finished, the doorbell rang. Melva grunted in annoyance, put down a jar of pickles and started out of the kitchen. “Won’t hurt my feelings none if you finish without me.”

  Melva opened the front door to find two men standing on the porch. Her first inclination was to laugh. But she didn’t. One man was probably six feet tall and must have weighed three hundred pounds. His clothes looked expensive, but gave the impression the big man had slept in them. The other man was a short, thin Mexican.

  “You don’t look like you’re from Publisher’s Clearing House, so I guess you got the wrong address. Who you looking for?”

  The two men glanced at one another, not quite comprehending. After a moment, the taller man said, “Are you Eula Moore?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Big Man wants to know,” said the Mexican. He put his hand in the center of her chest, pushed her into the living room and followed her in. “Are you Eula Moore?”

  The other man came in and closed the door behind him.

  “Haven’t decided as yet whether to tell you.”

  “Don’t get clever or smart with me, old woman.”

  Melva smiled at him. “I tried clever and it went right over your head. I certainly won’t waste smart on you.”

  The Mexican grabbed the front of Melva’s dress and pulled her in close to him. “Where’s the gold?”

  Melva looked at the man’s hairy face. He smelled like stale smoke, mixed with chili spices. His eyes were mean. “In my teeth, you nitwit. Do I, or this house, look like I got any gold lying around?”

  Without turning loose of her dress, the man slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. “I’ll knock those teeth out, bitch. And that might be the nicest thing I done to you.”

  #

  “Might be the last thing you ever done.” Eula stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a double-barreled shotgun leveled on the intruders. She had listened to the previous exchange while she found Melva’s shotgun and loaded it. Now she stood, feet
apart, eyes unwavering, finger on the trigger. “First thing you ought to do is get your grubby paws off my friend.”

  For several seconds, no one spoke or moved. Eula sized up the two men. The one on the left was probably six feet tall with yellowish gray hair, which was cropped short and started halfway back on his head. His eyes were a dull gray and made Eula think of burned-out light bulbs. She guessed he must have been at least a hundred pounds overweight. But in spite of his nondescript appearance, Eula was certain he was in charge, accustomed to giving orders and getting his way.

  The Mexican looked wary, like he spent a lot of time looking over his shoulder. He was maybe five feet seven inches tall, with long, black hair tied in a pony tail. His eyes reminded Eula of a lobo, always looking to get an advantage on you and quite willing to attack when your back was turned. But the most striking thing about him was his beard. Full, thick, black and streaked with gray, it extended down well below his waist. Instinctively, Eula kept her eyes fixed on him. The fat man’s in charge. But the attack will come from the wolf. And without warning.

  From the kitchen came the insistent ring of the telephone. Everyone ignored it.

  The taller man grabbed Melva from the Mexican and pulled her over in front of himself. “I’ll just hang on to her as long as you got that shotgun pointed at me.” He turned Melva around and put a huge, flabby arm around her neck.

  Eula’s hands were steady, her eyes unwavering. “I know what you are—pond scum. But I don’t know who you are. Did I hear something about a big man? Surely ain’t one of you two. You both look like small, little boys to me.”

  The Mexican shifted his weight. The end of Eula’s shotgun moved over slightly. He tilted his head toward his partner. “He’s Big Man, and it ain’t smart to mess with him.” His macho tone was accompanied by a defiant look in his black eyes.

  Eula cackled. “Big Man. I’d called him Fat Man. Bet he can’t tie his own shoes.” She glanced down. “I was right. He wears slip-ons.” She laughed again. “If he’s Big Man, then I guess they call you Baldy, right?”

  “If you got up close, you’d call him Skunk,” said Melva.

  Both Eula and Melva laughed. The Mexican moved his left hand up slightly.

  “I got a nervous finger, Skunk,” Eula said. “Don’t move too much. Maybe I ought to explain something to you city boys. I can tell you’re city boys, so don’t try to deny it. Country boy’d know by now he was in a bad situation, and be apologizing, trying to back out gracefully. City boys ain’t that smart.

  “What I got here is a shotgun loaded with double ought shot. Now I’m not gonna try to educate you too much—don’t think you’re much on learning. But so’s you know, at this range, double ought will blow a hole in you the size of a soup bowl. And I can shoot the eye out of a skunk at fifty yards. Wouldn’t want to get any closer.”

  The Mexican sneered. “Shooting people ain’t the same as shooting animals.”

  Eula noted the bravado in his voice and decided it was for real, reaffirming her feeling that he was dangerous. “I’m of the opinion you two are animals. So, don’t you worry none. I’ll do just fine.”

  Once again, with great caution, the Mexican moved his left hand up near his belt. Eula watched the slow movement. The image of the wolf came into her mind once more. She could see the wolf moving ever so slowly just before it pounced on its prey.

  “Big and Fat Man, you’ve used up your fool time for the day. So, you just let go of Melva. And Skunk,” she nodded the nose of the shotgun in his direction, “keep your hands still.”

  “Just got an itch on my belly need to scratch.” And his hand slid slowly under his beard near his belt.

  Chapter 53

  CRYSTALwas still listening to the phone ring as Mark turned left on Tumbleweed Road. They were less than five minutes from Melva’s house. In frustration, she slammed the portable phone closed, shutting off the irritating ring.

  “It’s not bad, necessarily, that they don’t answer the phone, Crystal. It probably means they’re not home and not in danger. We’ll be there in two or three minutes.” Mark smiled and Crystal knew he was trying to sound upbeat.

  She made an effort to return his smile, but the result looked more like a dying patient’s attempt to be brave. Her frequent calls during the trip had gotten nothing but a constant, lonely ring. Just as bad was the inability to get Bill Glothe. It was Glothe’s day off and the dispatcher thought the sheriff had gone fishing. The dispatcher said she would send a deputy out, but her manner and tone did not give Crystal any confidence.

  As if reading her thoughts, Mark said, “The dispatcher did say she’d send somebody out. I’m sure everything will be okay.”

  Crystal just stared out the window and said nothing.

  The trip had been bittersweet. The current situation had raised to the surface of her mind dozens of fond memories of happy days at The Park and of a grandmother who had also been mother, confidant, teacher, and friend. Sweet, wise, witty, sarcastic, insightful, it was her Nana who had taught her the beauty of nature and of silence. Nana had opened Crystal’s eyes to the importance of solitude, straight talk and quiet visits with good friends.

  But the memories also brought into sharper focus the dangerous situation being played out tonight. She shuddered as she thought of Joe and Al, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were capable of killing without compunction, without remorse, without so much as a thought that the action would end a life; that the action, once taken, could not be reversed. Then she imagined how much worse Big Man and The Beard must be. Both Joe and Al seemed genuinely afraid of Big Man. For all their macho attitude, they dared not cross him. And Joe said The Beard was worse. Neither Big Man nor The Beard would appreciation a wonderful Nana, one who could never be replaced.

  #

  The gunshot exploded in the small room, reverberating from wall to wall with nowhere to escape, mingling with screams of pain. Melva flinched and closed her eyes. Blood splattered the wall and within seconds its smell permeated the room. The Mexican sank to the floor, grasping his left shoulder with his right hand, continuing to moan. A .32 automatic lay on the floor a few feet in front of him.

  Big Man’s eyes popped wide with surprise. “You ... you shot him.”

  “You’re right quick, Fat Man. I told you I shoot skunks real well.”

  The Mexican looked up at Eula. “I’m bleeding bad. Need some help.” He tried to get up.

  “Stay right there, Skunk. Only cause I’m soft-hearted I didn’t shoot you in the head. Wouldn’t a tried your heart. Don’t reckon you got one.” She nodded her head toward Big Man. “Soon’s your buddy Fat Man lets go of Melva, then we’ll see about getting you some help. Not before. What’s it gonna be, Fat Man?”

  Big Man tightened his grip on Melva, desperately trying to shrink his big body behind the tiny woman.

  Eula raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, Skunk. Your pal ain’t gonna help. And I couldn’t care less, ‘cept for the mess you’re blood’s making. Looks like we got ourselves a Mexican standoff.”

  The wounded man looked up at Big Man, pleading with him to let the old woman go so he could get some help. Big Man ignored him. The Beard tried to raise himself.

  “Skunk, listen carefully. The next shot will be right in the face. Look what it done to your shoulder and then think about your face. And you oughta know by now, I will shoot.”

  The Mexican slumped back down on the floor, the moans subdued but constant.

  Several minutes passed, while Eula tried to figure how to get Melva away from Big Man. Finally, she moved a little toward them. “Melva, you’re a good bit shorter than Fat Man. I believe I could blow the top of his head off and never muss a hair of yours.”

  Big Man slumped down and pulled Melva up as tall as he could.

  “‘Course, I guess I could come over and just stick the barrel right in his fat gut and pull the trigger. Sure wouldn’t hit you then.”

  “Yeah,” Melva said. “But you might get blood
all over my favorite dress.”

  “You gonna stand here till dinnertime, Fat Man?” Eula asked. “My guess is you’ll need to eat a lot sooner than I will.”

  “I could break this old bitch’s neck. How would you like that?”

  “I reckon you could. And I wouldn’t like it one bit. But you know if you did, I’d blow your little head right off your fat body. How would you like that?”

  Big Man didn’t say anything.

  “What I thought. So, we’ll just wait ‘til the sheriff gets here, or you get some sense and give up. Frankly, I don’t see any way on God’s green earth how you can win.”

  Quiet settled over the room once more, broken only by the subdued moans from the Mexican.

  #

  Suddenly, Crystal screamed. Ahead was Melva Larson’s house. In the soft glow of her porch light, Crystal could see Melva’s car parked in the driveway. Sitting directly behind the car was a Jeep Grand Cherokee. Black. Dirty.

  “The fact that his car is still here means he hasn’t gotten what he wants,” Mark said evenly. “Eula is alive, Crystal.”

  Mark coasted silently in behind the Jeep and turned off the motor. “Let me go check things out.”

  Crystal shot him a look as if he were crazy, and opened her door. She looked up to see Bill Glothe’s car silently ease to a stop next to them. By the time she reached the front of Mark’s car, Glothe was beside her.

  “Sorry. I was fishing. Dottie sent Slim out, but on his way here, we had a big accident over on 34. Slim had no choice but to stop and deal with it. What’s the situation?”

  Crystal filled him in on Big Man and The Beard. Bill just nodded. When she finished, he pulled on his jaw, then said, “Stay here. Let me go see if I can resolve this quickly and easily.”

  #

  Inside, Eula was trying to figure out some way to get to the phone without letting Big Man out of her sight. If she left the room, the fat man would probably choke Melva, or get the gun, or both, and then she’d have more trouble.