“You look like a walkin’ shrub. You okay, pard?”
“I’m about done in, Texican,” Crockett confessed. “I’ll be better in a few minutes. I am gettin’ way too old for this crap.”
Clete grinned. “Bullshit,” he said. “You ain’t lost a step. That was some good shootin’, cowboy.”
“I know I hit the tire. I just dumped a quick one through the door of the SUV. Oh, Christ! Did I kill anybody?”
“Damn near, an’ ya didn’t even hit him.”
“Huh?”
“Near as me an’ one a them troopers can figure, the round that went through the door hit the steering column right in front of the dash. Tore it up, son. The feller drivin’ musta been leanin’ forward or somethin’ ‘cause when that air bag went off, it knocked the shit outa him. Busted his nose I reckon an’ purty much scrambled his brain. For a minute or two, he was settin’ there on the ground talkin’ to somebody none a rest of us could see. His driver’s license says his name is Theotis Cantral.”
“Theotis Cantral?”
“Yessir.”
“Hell,” Crockett said. “That’s Spud!”
“An’ the other feller, the only one smart enough to give up, is his brother, Jack.”
“He just gave up?”
“Yeah. Ol’ Stitch leveled that big-assed Desert Eagle at him, an’ he laid down on the spot. Don’t blame him. The business end a that thing looks like the Holland Tunnel.”
“I’ll be damned, Clete. Two outa three Cantrals. How ‘bout the other guy?”
“Doan know. He ain’t sayin’ shit an’ when I shot him in the ass, the bullet went through his wallet. Any ID he’s got is purty much torn up and soaked with blood. They’ll sort it out at the hospital I speck. Ambulance is on the way.”
“You shot him in the ass?”
“Well, I wanted him to stop runnin’. Seemed like the thing ta do at the time. You ain’t got no room to criticize me, shithead. You shot a tire and a fuckin’ steering column. Leastways I hit meat, godammit.”
That did it. Crockett sank to the ground and began to laugh. He was still giggling a moment later when one of the troopers walked over and looked down at him.
“You’re Crockett aren’t you, sir?”
Crockett peered upward and grinned. “Not like I have a choice, officer,” he said. “I want my phone call and an attorney. I don’t have to talk to you. I know my rights.”
The trooper looked concerned.
“Are you all right, sir?” he asked.
“Why?” Crockett said. “What have you heard?”
Clete snorted and dropped to one knee. He and Crockett giggled at each other for a beat
before Cletus focused on the trooper.
“You have to excuse us, son,” he said. “Sometimes ol’ boys like us git tickled at stuff that ain’t so funny to other folks.”
As the trooper was attempting to determine how to handle things, Stitch ambled up. “Looks like you’re laughin’ at a bush, Clete,” he said. “What the fuck over?”
Crockett peered at him.
“Baby Banana?” he asked.
Stitch shook his head and turned to the trooper.
“These cats are just gone for a while, dude,” he said. “If there wasn’t so many fuckin’ cops around, they could, like, smoke one an’ sober up, ya know?”
*****
Stitch and Clete flew back to Stitch’s place before it got too dark. Crockett called Satin to let her know he was okay and rode to the Hartrick courthouse with a trooper to write his statement. He was about halfway through when Stitch and Clete arrived to do theirs. Between the statements and interviews, the questions and answers, and the natural bull session that results when a bunch of cops get together after an operation, he and Clete didn’t get back to the house until nearly two Saturday morning. Satin was dozing on the couch when they came in. She woke up and peered at the clock.
“It’s late,” she said, getting to her feet. “You two all right?”
“They’re in jail and we’re not,” Clete said, accepting a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Satin moved to Crockett and stood beside him, an arm around his waist. ‘Did you do good?” she asked.
“Clete shot a bad guy in the ass. I shot a tire and a steering column. Jack and Spud Cantral are in custody from our op, and several others from the club and such.”
“I made coffee about midnight,” Satin said. “Or there’s scotch on the counter. Whatever, let’s drink it on the deck.”
*****
The woods was beginning to wake up when Clete announced he’d had enough and was going to the bunkhouse. Satin nestled under Crockett’s left arm and sighed. “I’m glad it went well,” she said.
“Yeah. A lotta drugs from the club, a shitload from the carwash, eight or ten arrests, the club and the carwash are shut down, every Cantral but Shorty is in jail. Could have been a helluva lot worse, but it couldn’t have been much better.”
“Shelly with Stitch?”
“I assume so. Everybody unwinds in their own way, dear.”
“She did okay, too, huh?”
“I guess. Pelmore went in on the bust at the club. Said the Graham woman tried to run, but Shelly pretty much kicked her ass.”
“Ooo-rah,” Satin said.
“My Cee-eye Stacy got busted along with everybody else. Pelmore said they’d release her by noon. I’ve gotta call her and set up a meet so I can get her money to her, and she can hit the road.”
“You finally ready for bed?”
“I suppose. I need a four or five hour nap. If I lay down I’ll relax.”
“Would you care for some assistance in that?”
Crocket grinned. “You’d do that for me?”
“Everybody unwinds in their own way, dear,” Satin said.
*****
Crockett got up a little after noon and found Clete and Satin in the kitchen working on French toast and sausage. Satin put some on for him while he used the phone.
“Stacy?”
“Yes?”
“This is Crockett. You doin’ all right?”
“They let me go a couple a hours ago. I been waiting for your call.”
“Meet me at the Steak n’ Shake in Liberty at five. We’ll settle up and you can be on your way.”
“Let’s make it later,” Stacy said. “I’m still getting some shit together, and I don’t wanna go out until I’m ready to leave.”
“You have a car? You can’t take the Mustang.”
“Yeah. I got an old Honda. Can we meet after dark? Say about nine?”
“Sure. Steak n’ Shake, nine o’clock, I’ve got your cash.”
“Nine o’clock. They find Shorty yet?”
“Not yet. He’s in the wind. They’ll get him.”
“Okay. See ya tonight at the Stake n’ Shake. Thanks, Crockett.”
“A deal’s a deal. See you tonight.”
*****
Stitch and Shelly showed up in his canoe mid-afternoon, and everybody lazed the day away. Around six, Crockett fired up the grill for burgers and baked potatoes. Conversation centered on the deeds of the day before. Stories and lies were told and, a little after eight, Crockett took twenty-five thousand dollars he’d obtained from Pelmore and headed for Liberty. He waited at the Steak n’ Shake lot until nine-thirty, but Stacy didn’t show. He called her number and received no answer. He left a message for her to call him, waited until ten, and headed home, worried.
*****
As he turned the corner onto Poston Road, a quarter mile from his drive, the edge of his headlights picked up a flash of white in the ditch. He stopped, backed up, and got out. There, in the weeds, wearing only the remnants of what was once a white blouse, was what was once, Stacy. Her body was bruised and battered and her throat had been cut. She’d bled out, but not where he found her. Shaken, Crockett stood up and leaned against the truck for support. It took a moment for the numbness to wear off. When it did, Crockett found himself gritting h
is teeth.
“Okay, Shorty,” he whispered. “If this is whatcha want, this is whatcha got.”
He dug out his cell phone to call Pelmore.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
After Crockett phoned Pelmore and the county coroner, he called the house. Satin answered.
“It’s me. Gimmie Clete.”
“Crockett, what’s wrong?”
“Stacy’s dead. Gimme Clete.”
After a short pause, Cletus came on the line.
“What’s up, pard?”
“Ask Satin to give you my old federal ID. Come down to the end of the drive and turn left. You’ll see me at the corner.”
No response, just a click as Clete disconnected. He was at Crockett’s location in less than three minutes.
“Oh, hell,” he said, looking down at the body. “Oh, hell. Godammit, son, this is just wrong. Sonofabitch.”
“I put her in a bad position, Clete. I pushed her to the limit to get her cooperation. All she wanted was out. I guess she made it.”
“This here ain’t your fault, Crockett.”
“I had to be the tough guy. I had to make the case no matter what it cost. Hell, Clete, I liked it!”
“None a that makes any difference. You didn’t put her in with these assholes, you didn’t make her sell shit, you didn’t take a knife to her, an’ you didn’t throw her in this goddammed ditch.”
“No, but I sure as hell started it all.”
“Stop it. You ain’t the bad guy here. You gave her a chance to git away from them people an’ she took it. Wasn’t any more risk for her than ever fuckin’ day she spent doin’ what she did from the first time she got in some stranger’s car for a goddamn pay-as-you-go blowjob. This time the odds just caught up with her. That’s all. You start takin’ responsibility for this an’ I swear to Christ, I will kick your dumb ass up an’ down the fuckin’ road. Son, I have seen you do what had to be done time an’ time again. I will not put up with no self-servin’ crap outa as good a man as you are. Knock it the fuck off or I’ll loan you my piece so you can blow your brains out, but do not stand there and try to blame yourself for this. You’re dead wrong an’ I don’t wanna hear it.”
Crockett looked down the road into the dark for a moment.
“Shorty Cantral,” he said.
“What?”
“Shorty Cantral did this.”
“That little fucker that blew up your mailbox?”
“Yep. He got her out of her apartment somehow. Look at the ligature marks on her wrists. She was tied with something.”
“You figure he killed her.”
“He did kill her, Texican. As sure as we’re standing here. He beat her, he tortured her, he probably raped her, and he damn sure cut her throat. She’s no more than another blown-up mailbox to that sick little shit. That’s why her body was dumped out here. If he didn’t think there would still be cameras at the end of my drive, he’d have left her there.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I am right. That sonofabitch has been gunning for me since my first day on the job. And now, as least as far as he’s concerned, I’ve ruined his brothers’ lives and screwed up his way to make a living. This young woman lying in the ditch is his way of calling me out for fucking with his family. That’s all. She’s just a message as far as he’s concerned.”
“Uh-huh. What are you gonna do?”
“Me? I’m gonna question Shelia Graham for one thing. If I can’t get what I need from her, then I’m gonna take it easy if I have to, bide my time if I have to, and let Pelmore’s bunch take a shot at it.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’m gonna find him. And then I’m gonna kill him.”
*****
Pelmore and a couple of his people arrived about twenty minutes later. He shined his flashlight on the body.
“Somebody used her hard,” he said.
“Yeah,” Crockett replied. “You can have your twenty-five grand back, Sarge.”
“That’s your informant?”
“It was.”
“Shit. Not your fault.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Dammit. I hate this shit, Crockett. I really do.”
“Shelia Graham still in town?”
“Yeah. She’ll be moved tomorrow. We have transport coming for everybody.”
“I wanna talk to her.”
“She’s ain’t sayin’ shit. Wants an attorney.”
“She’ll talk to me.”
“Sorry. I can’t let no cops question her.”
“It’ll be off the record. I’ll even resign if I need to.”
“There’s some things here I can’t do, girlfriend. I can’t give you permission to talk to the woman. I can’t tell you she’s in a juvenile holding cell, I can’t tell you that one of your guys is guarding the prisoners, and I can’t tell you that there are no recording devices in her proximity. Sorry. As far as I’m concerned, she’s secure and will be left alone.”
“You’re a hard man, Pelmore.”
“I’m damn sure lookin’ at one.”
“Clete, get back to the house and let everybody know what’s going on, will ya? I’m emotionally distraught. When I get like this, I need to go for a drive. Gimme the ID. I’ll be back after while.”
“Gotcha,” Clete said, and handed Crockett the commission folder.
“Sarge, the coroner has been notified. He should be along soon. I’ll leave this to you.”
“Go for a drive, Doris,” Pelmore said. “Wouldn’t wantcha to get your panties in a twist.”
*****
When Crockett got to the courthouse, Arky Bennett was sitting at the desk inside the door.
“Hey, Crockett,” he said. “What the hell is going on?”
“The Russians are coming, the Russians are coming.”
“What?”
“And Ben Blue can’t catch his horse.”
“What the hell are you taking about?”
“It’s an old movie, Arky. Your grandfather would remember it. What are you doing?”
“Dale put me here for all night. I go check the prisoners every now and then. Man, we got a full house. Even a woman in one a them juvenile cells. There’s like a dozen people down there, includin’ Spud Cantral and his brother. You guys busted a drug ring or somethin, huh?”
“Or something,” Crockett said. “All shall be made clear in a day or two. Take a walk, Arky.”
“A walk?”
“Yeah. It’s a nice night. Not too hot. Shake doors, check alleys, be a cop.”
“Ah, okay I guess.”
“When you see my truck is gone, c’mon back. Not until.”
“Well shit, do I even know you’re here?”
“No. I wasn’t and I’m not.”
“Geeze. All right, Crockett.”
“Relax. I’m not gonna leave any bloody footprints or anything. Everything is fine. What you don’t know can’t hurt any of us. Give me your handcuffs and go away. I’ll leave them on the desk.”
“Since I’m here all by myself and haven’t seen anybody, I guess I’ll take a walk,” Arky said, standing up and putting his cuffs on the desk. “I’ll go be a cop or something.”
Crockett watched him go, picked up the handcuffs, and headed down the back stairs.
*****
The jail was old and musty with bad ventilation and smelled of urine. It consisted of two blocks, one for men and one for women, each with a common walk-around area behind a solid steel door and containing one john in the open compound and three lockable cells. Both of these areas now contained male suspects from the drug bust. Two stand-alone cells, each with their own toilet and bunk, were designed for juvenile detention. They were located on the far side of the basement in a separate and isolated space, to keep the kids well away from any adult prisoners. There was even a small visitor area and a private entrance. Just off the juvenile visitor portion was a old kitchenette and a soft drink machine. One cell was open. Crockett loo
ked through the small window in the steel door of the other one and saw Shelia Graham lying on her back with her arm over her eyes under the glare of an overhead light. He took a ring of heavy keys from their hook on the wall and opened the door. Graham sat up and blinked at him.
“Get up,” he said.
“What for?” she asked.
“Because I told you to. Get up or I’ll get you up. Walk over here and face away from me. Put your hands behind your back, palms outward.”
“I don’t have to talk to you,” Shelia spat. “My lawyer’ll be here in the morning. You can talk to him.”
“Lady,” Crockett replied, “if I come in there, I’ll take you out by the hair. Your choice.”
“All right, all right. Don’t get your balls in an uproar.” She walked to him and turned her back. “You gonna pat me down, daddy?”
Crockett snapped the cuffs on her wrists. “You don’t have to talk to me, remember?” he said. “Shut the fuck up.”
Holding her by the juncture of the cuffs, he walked her out of the cell area and into the visitor’s room, sat her down behind a large steel table, and cuffed her right wrist to a metal ring welded into the tabletop. He showed her his back, walked down a short hall to a pop machine, bought a can of coke, stopped by the empty coffee maker and picked up a paper cup, added a little water from the dripping faucet over the stained sink, and went back to the table. He put the can of Coke on his side, lighted a Sherman, leaned back and looked at her. Her eyes flicked from the cigarette smoke to the sweating Coke can and back again.
“She’s dead,” he said.
“Who’s dead?”
“Stacey Porter.”
“She’s dead?”
“As Julius Caesar.”
Behind the Badge Page 31