“Yeah, I know Theodore. But that was last year. We’re looking into some murders took place down there on the Slip. You know anything about it? Looks like you have some fresh oysters over there in a bucket. Maybe you were down there, gathering a few.”
Billing’s eyes got a little brighter for a minute, then the light faded and he looked off into the water. “Maybe. Don’t know.”
“Well if you do know something, I’d appreciate it if you came down to the office and told me about it. Give me a call and I’ll send Ernest out to pick you up.” Jack said, already looking back toward the place where they had landed the boat. “We’re going have some boys looking at your boat, so don’t get excited. They won’t be stealing it.”
“Okay.” The old man moved toward his rocking chair, the mud on his overalls obvious to both Maude and Jack.
“That how you got muddy, getting your dinner?”
“Muddy?” Billings asked. The vacant look in his eyes was more telling than any words.
“Well, let’s get along Maude. We’ll do no good here.”
They walked for short while, back to the boat. “What’s wrong with him?” Maude could tell that Jack knew some of the man’s history.
“Brain tumor; they say it can’t be fixed. Theodore has a son, but won’t live with him, runs away. He’s been staying around here a while. The locals watch out for him. Make sure he has food. The son comes around once a week; brings his boy down to visit, drops him off for a few hours. Good kid, about ten. Just a matter of time for the old man, and that shack is where he wants to be.”
“I’ve seen worse places and ways to die.’ Maude said.
Chapter 5
The water was somewhat higher when they returned to the shore where they had left the boat, but it was still dry where the other boats were situated. Jack had called a couple of the lab techs back out to photograph the boats, and look for prints that might still be on the boats and the oars, but mainly on the pull-start of the motor. The edges of the seats were black with powder after the technicians finished their work. Photographs, prints and samples of fibers would soon be on the way to the lab.
Maude lit one of her unfiltereds, and sat back on the front seat of the boat, thinking about what they had found out. She and Jack had agreed that Billings’ boat needed to be printed, because of the old man’s muddy clothing. He had been somewhere near the water during the past several hours.
Though neither of them ever considered the old man as a suspect, he might have seen something, or been near the crime scene. If he had seen any part of the killings, he could be in danger from the murderers. From the evidence of violence visited upon the dead couple, the law enforcement officers knew that they were brutal, and would kill again if there was even a hint of a witness.
It was time to go, the lab equipment had already been loaded, and the large boat carrying the equipment was motoring out, and away from the north shore of Edwards Bay. She finished her cigarette, and spied Jack Fuller dangling a cigar, taking the occasional puff, though he seemed to be rationing the amount of smoke going into his lungs. She watched him for a while then nodded when he met her eyes.
“Trying to quit; my wife wants me to stop. She hates cigars.”
“It’s hard to do. I’m down to four cigarettes a day. Some days it’s not enough. Today is one of those days.”
The trip back was fast, and soon Maude spied the county four-by-four vehicle that was parked at the boat dock next to Gandy’s Rentals.
“No sense loading the boat on the trailer. Probably be going back out there. We’ll pick it up later.” Jack said matter-of-factly. “Want to get something to eat? I’m starved.”
“Sure; how about that place of Gandy’s? Food any good?”
“It’ll do, and I need to ask Sandy a few questions. You may have one or two of your own.”
The boat rental store was small, about an eight by ten room, with a front deli cabinet, its shelves loaded with different packaged food items. A plywood countertop with a swinging door led into the owner’s part of the room.
The grill in the back corner was hot and smoky, the grease from several hamburger patties splattering the tile covered wall behind it as they sizzled and spit. A cash register from the sixties sat in the front corner, where the cook could easily drop money into it as the customer paid his bill. An old time Lance cookie jar, with a metal top, was filled with packages of peanuts, crackers, and a few pieces of beef jerky. The small counter space along the back of the room was the work area, where the onions were sliced, and the burgers put together.
“What’ll you have Sheriff Jack?” The cook asked, flipping the patties on the grill.
“Couple of burgers; some fries if you have them.”
“No fries, the deep fryer went out this week. Waiting to get it fixed. Give you some chips.”
“Have to do. This is Maude Rogers, detective from over at Madison, visiting a while. Maude, this is Sandy; chief cook and boatman.”
“Pleased to meet you, it smells good in here,” Maude told him, smiling into the man’s blue eyes.
“Likewise. There’s a couple of chairs you can pull up to the counter there, unless you want to eat outside.”
“This will do,” Jack said, pulling up the two chairs. “Like to ask you some more about those two that took your boat out.”
“Understand you found the two that took it.” Sandy said, turning to look at Sheriff Jack.”
“Aye, we did. Sorry state, that. Did they seem nervous to you when they took the boat?”
“No. Not at all. Seemed to be on a lark, picnic and all. Happy, at least she seemed that way.” Sandy said, lifting the two patties, laying each on the mayonnaise side of a sesame seed bun. “Pickles, lettuce, tomato, onion?”
“All of it.” Maude said. “The man, Aaron, he didn’t seem too happy?”
“Not like she did,” Sandy said, handing over two paper plates with the identical burgers. “He seemed to be thinking about something. Not nervous, just kind of distracted.”
“You have baked chips?”
“Yes Ma’am. Gandy’s has it all.”
“Except fries.” Jack grumbled, biting into his food, the stream of grease and mayonnaise dripping onto the plate beneath the sandwich. “Good burger.”
Maude tried her burger, and announced it to be superior, then asked another question. “Did you see any other strangers on the beach during the morning, or early afternoon? Anyone else wanting to rent a boat?”
“No, they were my only customers for the day. Off-season. I’m not usually down here except early in the morning, and about this time of evening. The fishermen get coffee, little breakfast; hungry when they come back in.”
“Do you remember any strangers buying food in the afternoon?”
“Nah. Just the locals. They come around for the burgers, colas.”
“Who was your last customer after you called the office?” Jack asked, wiping his mouth on a small square of paper.
“Let’s see, there was a woman, didn’t know her. She bought a bottle of water. Small, dark hair, about thirty five. I remember her because she was classy. Lipstick, tight pants. Looked like money. Got in an SUV, one of those big ones. Surprised me, I thought it would be a Porsche.”
“Don’t suppose you noticed the license on the truck?” Jack asked, his face absent of emotion.
“I looked, but didn’t see the numbers. Lots of mud on the bumper, license. Wouldn’t have remembered it anyway. Barely remember my own name most of the time.” Sandy said good-naturedly.
“Thanks for the food, your money’s on the counter. Your boat is down at the slip, I’ll get Ernest to tow it over here. You’ll need to wash it, no blood, just fingerprint powder. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this to yourself, Sandy, at least for a while.”
“No problem Sheriff; this stuff isn’t good for business.”
“Nice to meet you Maude. Get tired of running with this guy, you can always come back. I keep the coffee pot on.”<
br />
Maude nodded to the man, her thoughts far away, back at the university where the dead man had a position of importance. She wondered again what the man did for the government. Sometimes that hush-hush stuff could get a person into a deep well of trouble. Aaron Dennis just might have brought his trouble to Edwards Bay. She also wondered if the dark haired woman who came to Gandy’s had any connection.
“Say Jack, how many boat docks around the lake, the public ones?”
“Well there’s this one, then there’s one over at Jackson Park, about a mile by car, about a quarter mile by lake.”
“Any ice houses, stores, or cabins over there?”
“No, just some wilderness camp spots. No water or electric. Hikers use it mostly. The beach is muddy. Kids don’t like it there for swimming.”
“Think we could drive by there and look it over? Whoever killed that couple had to dock somewhere. If it’s a private dock, then we have a lot of footwork to find it, but we might get lucky. Those folks who made the trip to kill that couple don’t seem to me to be locals.”
“Sure, Maude. It’s on the way to the office.”
“I brought my vest; it’s in my truck at your office. Wish I had it now. I have a bad feeling that I might need it before this thing is over.”
The road from Gandy’s to the park was a two lane trail, lined with tall brown grass and weeds. Cows grazed along the road, taking advantage of the grass that covered the area. There weren’t any fences, and Jack said the rancher that owned the cows had given the county a right of way, to come and go to the park. It was temporary, and could be withdrawn at any time the rancher decided to call a halt to strangers on his land. Cow pies were in abundance, some of them still wet as the truck squashed them under the wheels.
Several small, thin, Mexican sycamore, huisache, and mesquite covered the water line of the western end of Edwards Bay, the thorny limbs of the huisache showing off their last yellow blooms in the mild winter weather.
Jack silenced the motor of the large vehicle as they neared the end of the road, coming to a quick stop on the unpaved road. The evening was over, the sun low on the horizon. “Let’s try to be quiet. Someone might have been left behind to keep tabs on us.”
Maude nodded assent, scooting out of the passenger side of the vehicle. “You don’t suppose they’d be stupid enough to stick around, do you?”
“I don’t know. Killers for hire aren’t always the brightest people around, but they are careful.”
Maude chuckled in agreement, and checked her weapon, unsnapping the holster of the Glock, as she and Jack began a stealthy walk toward the campgrounds, where a brown pickup truck was parked. They began an approach toward the vehicle, keeping as much cover between them and the truck as possible. A brown tent was set up near the truck, its canvas faded in the evening light.
“Hello, the tent, come out with your hands up! Sheriff Jack’s voice boomed in the stillness.”
“Watch out Jack,” Maude whispered. He’ll be armed if he’s our man.”
Jack nodded then pointed for Maude to go to the opposite end of the truck, to try and circle around the tent.
“Come out with your hands up!” Jack repeated, easing himself toward the ground, beginning a slow crawl toward the old brown tent, cursing under his breath.
Zing, the bullet came quickly from near the lake, the sound of the report large and loud. Again the gun sounded, and Jack returned fire, suddenly groaning as the next bullet found its mark in his shoulder. Jack threw himself flat and rolled back toward the stranger’s truck, his gun on the ground behind him.
Maude heard the groan and began firing toward the lake at the unseen shooter. “Jack, are you okay ? Are you hurt ?” she whispered. “Can you get back to the truck?”
“I’ll make it. Try to stay out of his way.”
“I’ll keep him busy till you get back.” Maude said, going low and running for the back of the brown pickup.
“Now go.” She said, beginning to fire at the trees along the lake, the report from her gun the only sound in the night.
The tent opening was facing the lake, and Maude figured that the shooter had heard them approaching, and ran for the cover of the scrawny trees in the half light of dusk. She leveled her shooting arm against the truck bed, and tried to see if the shooter was on the bank near the water, but he had disappeared in the evening’s gloom. Keeping as much cover as possible, she went low to the ground, and picked up Jack’s gun before going see how badly he was wounded.
“Psst. I’m over here,” Jack said, his voice coming from the front right wheel of the truck.
“Let’s get you inside, but first, I need to look at your shoulder,” Maude said, pulling Jack’s coat and shirt back.
“Looks pretty deep, bleeding freely,” she told him. “You need a doctor. But let me find something to stop the bleeding.”
“Look under the seat, there’s a first aid kit. Never been opened. May be something in there.”
Maude noticed that Jack’s voice had lost volume, a sign he was weakening.
“Hang on Jack. Stay with me, you can’t lose consciousness.”
The first aid kit had several pieces of gauze that Maude pulled out and stuffed in the hole in Jack’s shoulder, getting blood on her from hands to elbows.
“Looks like I tried to kill you; got all your blood on me. Now let’s get you in that truck.”
Sheriff Jack was a tough man, surviving at least one war as a marine, and even though it had been several years since that part of his life, the toughness had hung on. He nodded to Maude, and using the strength in his left arm, he pushed off from the ground and climbed in the driver’s seat.
“Scoot on over, I am not riding with you Jack Fuller.”
“Yes ma’am. I can do that.” Jack said, moving slowly across to the passenger seat.
“But stay low. Our friend may be watching.”
No sound came from Jack, and Maude was sure he was fading out, but she also believed he was going to be fine with some doctoring. The major bleeding had stopped, but a little wetting of the gauze was still going on.
“We have to get to a doctor so my best chance to do that is to use your radio.”
She picked up the transmitter and called in to the deputy working the night shift.
“This is Maude Rogers, and I’m bringing Sheriff Jack Fuller in, wounded and needing a doctor. I need directions to the hospital from Jackson Park out near Edwards Bay.”
“Yes ma’am, Miss Rogers. Get back on the highway and turn left. Go about five miles, then turn left again. You’ll see the hospital sign. How is he?”
“He’s doing fine, just fading on me. Bullet in the right shoulder. Think you can call the hospital, then get a man or two out to the park, and see what’s going on with that brown truck. If the shooter is still there, I’d be surprised, but collect any casings you might find.”
“Yes Ma’am, I’ll call the Highway Patrol. They’ll get someone out there. I will meet you at the hospital. Name is Ray Black, Deputy.”
“Alright, Deputy Ray Black, I’ll see you there.”
The hospital was new, with glass doors that swung open from the alert of a motion sensor, and lots of bright lights and white walls demanding that those coming inside know how sparklingly clean the establishment was kept. A wheelchair was parked beside the door, thanks to Deputy Black, and a nurse’s aide was standing at the ready, waiting to wheel Jack inside. Maude drove up to the door and the hospital staff took over, lifting him from the passenger seat, and wheeling him inside. She parked the truck in the emergency parking lot, and made her way to the emergency room, looking the part of a victim of violence.
The person approaching her had that expression on her face that said, “I have it under control, just come with me.” Maude had no time for such nonsense, wanting to find out about Jack so she could get on with locating the shooter with the brown truck.
“There’s nothing wrong with me, just have a little blood on my arms. Tell me where y
ou took my friend Jack Fuller.”
“Down the hall, ma’am. The doctors are looking him over.”
Maude went into the ladies room and washed up, removing the blood from her arms, straightening her hair after being outside all day. She dampened her curls, and tried to put order to them, but decided it was useless to try.
“I guess I’d stuck with this witches cap. At least I could put some lipstick on. Brighten my face a little,” she said, wishing she had such a thing in her pocket.
“It will just have to do.” She said, going back into the waiting area where the nurses had left her. “Excuse me, she said to one of them. Take me to the room where they have Jack waiting. I want to see for myself how he is doing.”
The doctors took Jack into the operating room, and removed the bullet from his shoulder. Maude told them to save it because it would be needed to find out who shot her friend. The surgery took a while, but finally they finished sewing his shoulder, covered it with gauze and bandages, and put him to bed with the instructions that he not try to get up.
“I think you might have a little difficulty keeping that man down.” She said to one of the emergency room doctors.
“Normally I would agree with you, and it wouldn’t matter as much, but that bullet tore the Subclavian artery. We repaired it, but it’s going to take a while healing. Is he right or left handed?” the doctor asked.
“Well,” Maude thought about it and remembered the Glock .9mm had been in his right hand at the park. “I remember him using his right hand more than the other one, but I don’t know him very well, so I can’t say for sure.”
“He will want to use his arm,” the doctor said, “And if he does, he could break that artery open and bleed to death internally. He must stay immobile for the first three days after surgery then he’ll have a sling to carry his arm for a week.”
“That does open up a keg of worms.” Maude said thoughtfully. “We’re in the middle of a murder case.”
“If he goes back to work too soon, he will probably cause it to open up again.” The doctor said, leaving the room.
Murder on Edwards Bay (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 2) Page 6