“I’ll get right on it. Is Pap going, too? I like working with him. He figured out a whole bunch of the stuff at the crime scene.”
Tully rubbed his throbbing temples as he stared at the Unit. “I guess so. I would never live it down if Pap didn’t work the final phase of the hunt. Have Daisy order the tickets. Right now I’ve got to drive out to the Fester ranch and get somebody to draw me a map to the Mexico ranch. You might need it if Hillory isn’t at the hotel in Cabo. I notice she didn’t make it back to Blight for Morg’s funeral.”
“I didn’t make it, either,” Lurch said. “How about you, Boss?”
“Yeah, I did. Probably the smallest funeral in the whole history of funerals. I doubt Morg was a bit upset, though. Probably smiled with satisfaction. I didn’t notice because it was a closed casket.”
“You’re giving me the creeps, Boss.” The Unit left. Tully sat pondering the venture. It would be bad if it failed and worse if it succeeded.
He got up and wandered out to the briefing room, looking for Daisy. He found her fingering her way through files in a cabinet. “I just gave Lurch a job that may be too much for him. He and Pap are flying to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Help him out with the tickets, hotel reservation, rental car, weapons permits, all that stuff.”
“Sure, Boss. I’m already checking on the tickets. The rest shouldn’t take much longer than all night and half of tomorrow.”
“Good.”
Chapter 23
Tully pulled into the Fester ranch and parked by the bunkhouse. He walked over and knocked on the door. Wiggens answered. “Sheriff Tully! Come on in, sir!”
“Thank you, Mr. Wiggens. Is Jeff Sheridan around?”
“No, sir. He’s off at the Mexico ranch.”
“Great,” Tully said. “Well, maybe you can help me. You ever been down to that ranch, Wiggens?”
“Yes, sir, a couple of times.”
“Do you think you could draw me a map of how to get there from here, along with any directions you can think of? By the way, Wiggens, do you have a first name?”
“Yeah. Harold.”
“Harold Wiggens,” Tully said. “So, anyway, about the map, Wiggens, can you draw one that will show me how to get to the ranch?”
“Sure.” He sat down at the bunkhouse table and began to sketch the map. Tully sat next to him and watched him draw. Wiggens said, “I reckon you would want to fly from Blight City down to Tucson. Otherwise, it’s a pretty long haul. Rent a car in Tucson and drive south on Highway 19. Cross the border at Nogales.” He printed out the name “Nogales” next to a large dot he drew on the US-Mexico border. Another line showed Highway 19 headed south. “About forty miles south of the border you’ll come to the ranch. It’s on both sides of the highway.” He drew two boxes on each side of Highway 19 and printed “Fester Ranch” on each of them. On the left one he sketched some tiny rectangles that Tully supposed represented buildings. “This here is the headquarters. Big signs identify the ranch, so you shouldn’t miss it. You come to Hermosillo, you’ve passed it.”
“Perfect, Wiggens!” he said. “So Mr. Sheridan is down there right now?”
“Yeah. I think maybe Jeff and Hillory are going to get married down there, maybe right on the ranch. She’s already driven over from Cabo.”
“Married! Really? Well, I did notice Hillory didn’t make it back for Morg’s funeral.”
“Yeah. You didn’t see me there, either. The way he treated Hillory, I’m not surprised she wasn’t there. He didn’t treat me much better, but Jeff got along with him okay. I guess he probably needed Jeff more than he needed me.”
Tully started to leave and then stopped and turned. “By the way, Wiggens, do you happen to know if there’s an extra key around here for the pickup Mrs. Fester drives?”
Wiggens straightened up, his brow furrowed. “An extra key for her pickup, Sheriff?”
“Yeah, I know that sounds strange, but it’s sort of a cop thing. Can you help me out?”
“Well, yeah, I think so. Wait here and I’ll check.” He returned a few minutes later with a key. “We keep all the extra pickup keys on a board out back.”
“Thanks a lot, Wiggens. Let’s keep this just between you and me. Maybe I can do you a favor sometime.”
Wiggens smiled. “I’ll probably need one.”
Chapter 24
When Tully got back to the office, Brian Pugh was waiting for him. Right away he knew trouble was afoot, because Pugh never bothered him unless it was. Daisy was on the phone with someone, absentmindedly scratching her head with a pencil. He gave her a squeeze on the shoulder as he walked past. He glanced back to make sure he had gotten a smile. He had. Pugh at least wasn’t sitting at Tully’s desk or straddling a chair but sitting in one in a normal fashion. Normal was getting to be something Tully appreciated.
“What’s up, Brian?”
“We’ve got a problem, Boss.”
“Don’t we always?”
“Yeah, but this one’s kind of sad. You know crazy old Ed Stokes? His cabin sits just inside the line between Blight and Kindle Counties.”
“Sure. I know Ed well. He’s crazy as a bedbug but a nice enough fellow. Most crazy folks I know are pretty decent. I think our world nowadays makes them crazy. So what’s he up to?”
“Well, come this afternoon, he’s likely to be thrown in jail. He’s in jail right now, but he’s got a hearing before Judge Green at two this afternoon.”
“A hearing?”
“Yeah. A couple of days ago, Sunday, I think it was, four cars full of high school kids roared into that open dirt space Ed calls a yard in front of his cabin and started doing wheelies, going round and round and terrorizing Ed’s free-range chickens something awful. Well, you know how much Ed loves those chickens. Never kills one for food but just lets them die of old age, then buries them out behind his henhouse with a little board at the head of the grave with the chicken’s name on it. So Ed whips out that big old .44 Magnum pistol of his and kills all four cars right there in his front yard.”
“Kills their cars?”
“Yeah. Shot a hole through the hood and into the engine block of each one. The dang things practically exploded. The kids all jumped out screaming bloody mercy and ran for the woods, leaving their cars dead and smoking there in Ed’s yard. The next day Vernon Cave drove his wrecker out there. Ed was sitting on his porch in his rocking chair. Vernon gives him a little wave and Ed nods back. Then Vernon hooks up one of the cars and tows it away. Then he comes back and gets the other cars, one by one, and tows them back to town. Ed never gave him a bit of trouble, except for raising a few beads of sweat on Vernon’s forehead. Well, of course, the kids blab to their fathers, all dentists and lawyers and store managers, uppity folk like that, city fathers and all, and they get Kindle County Sheriff Walt Messman, along with some state patrolmen, to go out and arrest Ed and haul him off to jail. So he’s been sitting in a Kindle jail cell all day and a night with nobody to stand up for him.”
Tully slumped into his chair, rested his elbows on his desk, and propped his chin on his folded hands. He stared at Pugh for a long moment of silence. Then he said, “What time’s the hearing?”
“Two o’clock.”
“I’ll take care of it, Brian. I may need you to go along for backup.”
“You think you’ll need backup, Bo?”
“Only if Judge Green doesn’t do what I tell him.”
Chapter 25
Tully and Pugh walked into Judge Green’s courtroom shortly after two o’clock. Old Ed was standing up in front of the bench and the judge was glowering down at him. Tully unlocked the little gate in the front of the courtroom and walked through. Pugh followed him.
Judge Green straightened in his chair. “Sheriff Tully! What are you doing here?”
“I came to rescue one of my county residents, illegally arrested in my county. No one bothered to consult me.”
The judge gave an uneasy glance at one of the state patrolmen. “I think the state has so
me jurisdiction there, Bo.”
“Not without consulting me, they don’t. These cowboys are aware they’re supposed to consult me first on any charge other than a traffic ticket. Judge, I’ve known Ed Stokes all my life, and he’s never once violated any law I know of. He lives alone out there in his little cabin in the woods and never takes a dime from the county, the state, or the US government. He grows all his own food, cuts his own firewood, and earns a bit of money gathering wild mushrooms, berries, and wild honey. Sells them to local restaurants. He knows a few bee trees nobody else has ever been able to find and is probably the only source of wild honey in the whole state. He doesn’t kill anything. His chickens die only of old age and hawks, and he buries them out behind his chicken coop with little head markers. Their eggs furnish him with most of his protein. Then suddenly these spoiled teenage hoodlums roar onto his property and start doing wheelies in the dirt he calls his front yard. Their fancy cars roar about scaring the daylights out of Ed’s chickens. If he had wanted to, instead of shooting their cars, Ed could have shot one or two of the laughing punks just for the heck of it, but he let them go. The next day Vernon Cave from Cave Wrecking makes several trips out to Ed’s place to haul off the dead cars. Ed and Vernon had a cup of tea together. My point is, Ed is not a dangerous man.”
The judge sighed. “Well, Bo, you do make some sense. But you have to admit shooting cars dead is evidence of insanity.”
“Judge, if crazy was illegal, half the residents of these two counties would be in jail.”
The judge nodded. “I can’t argue that point with you, Sheriff, but . . .” Suddenly he stopped and stared into the courtroom. Tully turned and looked. There was Augie Finn, the editor and only reporter of the Silver Tip Miner, scribbling furiously away. The judge seemed to recover from his momentary trance. He said, “As an elected official, I’m not going to argue that point with you, Sheriff, but I’ll tell you what I am going to do. Because it appears Ed Stokes was arrested illegally in your county, I’m turning him over to you. From now on, he’s your problem.”
“Good, Judge. I’ll make sure he goes to jail for a while, just to teach him a lesson.”
“Seems fair enough.”
“C’mon, Ed,” Tully said, taking the old man by the arm. “You’re going to jail.”
“Jail! What about my chickens, Bo?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll see they get fed. And I won’t close the door on your jail cell, so you can get up and walk around any time you like. You can tell stories to the other prisoners and entertain them. We’ll keep you just long enough to fatten you up and until tempers cool down over the cars you killed. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like the Blight Way,” Pugh put in.
Augie Finn scooped up his papers and rushed out the door. Tully turned to Pugh and said, “I think we just made the front page of the Silver Tip Miner again.”
Pugh stared after the pudgy little reporter. “That can’t be all bad, can it, Bo?”
Tully shook his head. “Hard to tell about Augie.”
Chapter 26
Once he had old Ed settled into his open cell, Tully introduced him to the other inmates, so he could wander around and talk to them. He ordered up a special meal from the kitchen for him. Ed was already out chatting with the various prisoners, who seemed pleased with the distraction. The kitchen staff had gone out of their way to prepare a special plate for him. The old man seemed pleased by it—so much so, in fact, that Tully thought he might never get rid of him. He then went back to his office, signaling for Lurch to follow him.
Lurch sauntered in, spun a chair around from the wall, and straddled it. “What’s up, Boss?”
”You ready to go to Mexico?”
“Any time, Boss.”
“Apparently, instead of returning here for her husband’s funeral, Hillory drove her pickup from Cabo over to the Festers’ Mexican ranch. Harold Wiggens drew me a map of how to get to the ranch. He said Hillory and Jeff Sheridan plan to get married there.” He handed the map to Lurch.
The Unit frowned. “Married? Boss, this could almost be a . . .”
“Motive for murdering her husband,” Tully said. “I’m way ahead of you on that, Lurch. What I’m trying to figure out is if it’s okay to murder your husband if he’s standing in your way of marrying someone you’re actually in love with.”
Lurch seemed to have trouble turning this over in his mind. Tully leaned back in his chair and gave the Unit a couple of seconds to sort through the complications. Then he said, “Now here’s what I want you to do. Fly down to Tucson, then you and Pap rent a car and drive to the Mexican ranch. Hillory’s pickup should be there. Take your mold and photos and see if you can get a match with the tread on one of her pickup tires. If you do, I want you to take that tire off her truck, put on its spare, and put the tire with the tread match in the bed of her pickup, so it doesn’t get any more wear.”
“Gotcha, Boss. Put the tire with the matching tread in the bed of her pickup. If her tread matches the mold and the one in the photo, we can place Mrs. Fester and probably Jeff at the scene and time of the murder. And now we’ve got a motive. What then?”
Tully stared at him. “I don’t know. I’ll notify the Mexican Federales what you’re doing and they’ll probably assign an officer to assist you. If not, they shouldn’t bother you for stealing the pickup. Daisy will get you and Pap the airline tickets to Tucson and whatever documents you need to carry weapons over the border as US police officers.”
Lurch appeared confused. “Pap?”
“Yes, Pap. He can come in handy, if things suddenly get rough. Daisy will take care of his tickets and documents, too.”
Lurch shook his head as if to clear it. “If I get a match, do you want me to arrest Hillory or both her and Jeff and bring them back?”
“No, just see if you can get a match between the tread on the pickup and your mold without being detected. Then get out of there with her pickup and the tire. I’ll arrange later for the Federales to take Hillory and Jeff into custody, once you’re back in the States with the evidence. We can bring them back later.”
“How are we going to steal Hillory’s pickup? We don’t have a key.”
“Pap could probably handle that for you, but just in case . . .” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a key, and handed it to Lurch.
The deputy stared at it. “You are absolutely amazing, Boss!”
“I like to think so.”
“Another thing, what if somebody catches me stealing Hillory’s tire?”
Tully thought about this, then said, “Just do what you always do, Lurch.”
“What’s that?”
“Lie. Now here’s the thing. If you get a match, let Pap return the rental car and you drive the pickup. You can meet up in Nogales and spend the night at a motel, something on the poorer side of town. This isn’t a vacation jaunt you’re on, much as you would like to try out one of those fancy Mexican hotels. You can return the rental car in Tucson and you and Pap ride back in the truck.”
“Uh, what if I get arrested for stealing the truck?”
I understand Mexican jails are quite cozy places, and we’ll send you care packages until you’re released, whenever that might be.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.”
Tully laughed. “I’m only kidding you, Lurch. I’ll call the local police so they understand what’s going on. I’ll make arrangements with all the proper authorities.”
Lurch got up to leave. “I hope you’ll have all this thought through, Boss, before Pap and I fly off to Tucson.”
“It’ll be a piece of cake, Lurch. Nothing for you and Pap to miss a minute of sleep over.”
Chapter 27
The Unit left. Tully spun his chair around and gazed out over the frozen lake at the ice fishermen. This time next year he would be out there himself. He would paint in the evenings, of course, if none of his favorite TV programs were on. During the day, he would put on snowshoes and tramp around in his
woods, possibly looking for a buckskin tamarack he could fell for firewood. He would saw the tree into firewood lengths with his razor-sharp crosscut saw, because the chain saw would make far too much noise. That reminded him that he would have to buy a cant hook or a log jack, something to handle the tree once he got it lying down on the ground. He hadn’t seen a cant hook or a log jack in years and hoped somebody still sold them. Then . . . someone rapped on his door window. He glanced up: Angie Phelps was standing there, smiling in at him, her shoulder bag hanging from a strap down next to her right hand. He knew a loaded pistol was in the bag. She opened the door and stepped in.
“Angie!” he cried.
“Bo! It’s so good to see you!”
Tully leaped out of his chair and gave the FBI agent a hug that lifted her nearly off her feet. Daisy frowned up at him from her desk. He shut the door. Angie seated herself primly in one of the chairs. “Bo, I shouldn’t tell you this, but whatever you’ve been doing, stop it! You look plumb worn out.”
Tully walked around his desk and sat down in his chair. “I heard you were back in town, Angie, to arrest some of our judges. I must say it’s about time. They’ve raised their fees so high an average citizen like me can hardly afford one.”
Angie smiled and shook her head. “Odd you should mention that. Some of our accountants have detected large amounts of cash stashed in local banks. It appears no federal taxes have been paid on that cash. So here we are, just to check everything out and see what’s legitimate and what isn’t. So, what have you been up to, Bo?”
“Oh, just the usual. Sheriffing mostly, but I just sold a watercolor for a substantial sum, and it looks as if I can now retire and make a living from my painting.”
“That’s wonderful, Bo!”
“So what have you been up to, other than fighting crime around the country?”
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