Murder at the Courthouse

by A. H. Gabhart

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  “After all these years.” The judge was silent a moment. “Did the boy tell you where to look?”

  “The boy? You mean Anthony?” Michael shook his head to clear out the remaining cobwebs of sleep.

  “Somebody had to tell you. If it wasn’t him, who was it?”

  “Nobody told us anything. It was just blind luck.” Michael rubbed Jasper when the dog pushed his head up against Michael’s hand.

  “Luck?” the judge echoed. “I don’t believe in luck, Michael.”

  “Didn’t Sheriff Potter tell you? Paul had us out there searching for the murder weapon when the divers found the car.”

  “The murder weapon? Al didn’t say anything about a murder weapon. You’re not making any sense, Michael.” The judge’s voice got louder and Michael pushed the phone tighter against his ear to keep the sound from leaking out into the room.

  “Look, Judge, it’s a fact that not much is making sense, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to figure it out over the phone. I’ll come by to see you later. Could be you can help me get the straight of it all. You remember when Roxanne disappeared, don’t you?”

  Again the line hummed with silence for a moment. Then he said, “Of course I remember. But all I remember is that she up and disappeared.”

  “Can you think of anybody who might have had reason to want her to disappear?”

  “What are you trying to say? That somebody pushed Roxanne into the lake?” The judge didn’t wait for an answer. “Look here, Michael, it’s not going to do any of us the first bit of good to search for a bogeyman behind every bush. It was probably just an accident.”

  “Maybe so, sir, but things aren’t adding up. Since Rayburn knew Roxanne, you have to wonder if it’s all somehow connected.”

  “What makes you think Rayburn knew Roxanne?”

  “He told Anthony.”

  “Are you sure about that?” the judge said.

  “I’m sure.”

  “That does give the whole thing a new wrinkle.” The judge huffed out a breath. “Could be Rayburn told the kid he was the one to push Roxanne’s car into the lake and so the kid shot him.”

  On the couch, Anthony still hadn’t moved, but now his eyes were open, staring at Michael. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Well, you better think about it and you better keep an eye on that boy. Who knows what he might do next?”

  “Don’t worry, Judge. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Just see that you do before somebody else turns up dead.” With that the judge broke off the connection without even saying goodbye.

  Michael punched the off button.

  Anthony sat up. “Sort of early for the judge to be calling, isn’t it? Or does he give you marching orders every morning?”

  Michael didn’t bother answering as he let Jasper outside and then waited for the dog to come back in before he headed for the bathroom. He looked at the shower longingly but settled for a cold splash of water in his face. No need giving Anthony time to slip out the door and hot-wire the cruiser.

  He toyed with the idea of letting Burton lock the kid up in the jail. It wasn’t as if he and Anthony were ever going to be on any kind of friendly terms no matter what he did. Michael simply needed to make sure he was out of harm’s way until he figured out who the murderer was. The jail would do fine.

  But then when Michael came out of the bathroom, Jasper was leaning against the kid’s legs while Anthony stared at what was left of the little car. His cheeks were wet with tears.

  The boy dashed them away. “I guess you’re right, Deputy. I ain’t so tough after all.” When Jasper nudged Anthony’s arm, the kid stroked the dog’s head a couple of times. When he pulled his hand away, Jasper curled up on the floor by his feet.

  “She was your mother.”

  Anthony looked down and pushed the little car across his bare thigh. “When I was a little kid, every day I woke up, I thought that would be the day she came back. She’d have some big story about why she left. I never could think of any story good enough, but I knew she’d have one. Then when I got older, I gave up on her coming back, but there was always that feeling that she might, you know.” He was quiet a minute before he went on. “I guess I can be sure it won’t ever happen now.”

  Michael took a step toward Anthony, but stopped. “It’s better to know.”

  The words echoed in his head. Aunt Lindy must have told him the same thing a thousand times as he tiptoed around the blackness, not sure whether he wanted to plunge in to pull out another lost memory.

  Anthony stared up at him with challenge in his eyes. “Knowing stuff sometimes gets people killed.”

  “It does.” Michael met his look fully. “Especially when they don’t tell anyone what they know.”

  “I don’t know about that. Rayburn told and he died.”

  “Joe didn’t tell and he died.”

  “Looks like we’re down to the tiebreaker. I guess we’ll see which one of us is right.” Anthony stood up and stretched.

  “So it seems.”

  When Jasper scrambled up beside Anthony, the kid’s face softened a bare bit. He ran his hand all the way down Jasper’s back.

  “You want to feed him?”

  After a second’s hesitation, Anthony stepped away from the dog. “Nah. He’s your dog. You feed him.”

  “All right.” Michael filled the dog’s dish.

  Anthony watched the dog eat for a minute, then said, “How about giving me back my jeans? I’m hungry, so I promise not to run away till after breakfast. Besides, it’s not all that bad out here. Beats Aunt Vera’s. Somebody’s always yelling at somebody around there in the morning.”

  Michael picked up the jeans and pitched them toward him. “Take a shower if you want. Towels are on the shelf. But I’m afraid all I’ve got for breakfast are frozen waffles and cornflakes.”

  “That Miss Sheridan’s toast and eggs sound better.”

  “She probably burns the toast.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But burned toast isn’t that bad.” Anthony laughed as he headed for the bathroom.

  A couple of hours later, Michael unlocked the sheriff’s office with Anthony still in tow.

  “Looks like you’re the only dedicated employee here today, Deputy.” Anthony looked down the empty hallway. “I’ll bet you even work on Sundays.”

  “Sometimes. Now be quiet for a while. I’ve got to look up some things.”

  “You still haven’t figured things out, have you, Deputy?”

  “One thing.” Michael looked at him. “You talk a lot not to ever say much.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll just sit over here and count the little holes in the ceiling tile.”

  Michael’s cell phone rang before he could make his first call. It was the sheriff tracking him down. “Justin says there isn’t much doubt the remains we pulled out of the lake yesterday belong to Roxanne.”

  When Michael made a sound of agreement, the sheriff went on. “You let the kid go home yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He tell you anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You need to send him on home. The little twerp might bring some kind of harassment charges against the county and then what?”

  “He’ll be alive to bring them.” Michael stared over at Anthony, who was pretending not to listen.

  “Now, Mike, nobody’s going to kill that kid.” The sheriff sounded irritated. “What purpose would there be in that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just do what I say, and we’ll talk about it later. The state’s sending some people in to poke around on Monday, and I don’t want them to find anything out of the way to jump on.”

  “Whatever you say, Sheriff.” Michael would figure out an excuse later for ignoring his orders. He changed the subject. “You heard from Paul this morning? Yesterday Hank said they weren’t sure he was going to pull through.”

  “You don’t
say? I haven’t talked to the chief for a couple of days. Guess you’d better check up on him when you get a chance.”

  Anthony watched him put down the phone. “You don’t look too happy, Deputy.”

  “You can sit there and be quiet or see how you like it up in jail.”

  “Jail don’t scare me.”

  Michael ignored him while he tried to track down Buck, but without luck. He wasn’t surprised.

  Next he called Chief Sibley. When he didn’t answer, Michael called the hospital, where a nurse in the intensive care unit said Paul’s condition had been upgraded from critical to serious. That was all the information she was allowed to give out concerning Mr. Osgood’s medical condition.

  Lester called in to say his mother wanted him to mow the yard, but if Michael needed him for anything, the grass could wait. Michael looked at Anthony and considered bringing Lester in to watch the boy, but in all likelihood, Anthony could lose Lester in two minutes flat. So he told Lester to make his mother happy and mow the yard.

  Alex called to say she was stirring up the muffins and should she plan on Anthony’s appetite too?

  “I guess you better, and why don’t you see if Aunt Lindy will come over?”

  “This is sounding more and more romantic.” Alex laughed. “How about I ask the judge and Miss June too?”

  “Do you have enough muffins?”

  “Well, no, but I can send Uncle Reece down to the grocery to pick up some high-calorie, fat-laden sticky buns.”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ve got a couple of things to do here and then we’ll be on over.”

  “How about Karen? Maybe I should call her since everybody else is coming.”

  “I doubt she knows much about when Roxanne disappeared. She’s only been in Hidden Springs a couple of years, but hey, if you want to ask her, Aunt Lindy has her number.”

  With another laugh, Alex hung up.

  Michael ignored Anthony’s attempts to needle him and concentrated on the ballistics report on the bullet that had killed Rayburn. Something about the report kept bugging him. He finally spotted what it was at the bottom of the report. A matching ballistics report was already on file in the computer. Michael stared at the code, and didn’t know how he could have missed it. That other report had been filed from this office.

  Michael eyed the computer on his desk like the opponent it was. Betty Jean could pull up that old report from the database in four or five clicks of her mouse. Michael might do the same in an hour, but what the report said wouldn’t matter that much. What he needed to know was where the gun was now. First place to check was the evidence room.

  After he fished the key out of Betty Jean’s desk drawer, he gave Anthony a hard look. “You stay put or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Anthony shrugged. “I can stick around a little longer, I guess.” He slouched down in the chair and closed his eyes. “I’ll just take a little nap here while you finish up business.”

  “Good idea.” Michael stepped across the office to unlock the evidence room. With the door propped open, he could keep an eye on Anthony.

  Five Saturday night specials were lined up on the shelf with tags indicating the files that told their stories. Four of them were covered with the fine dust that filtered around in the old courthouse and settled on everything that wasn’t periodically moved. No dust was on the fifth one, an old Smith & Wesson.

  With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Michael slid a pencil in the barrel of the gun to carry it back to his desk. The suspect list had just shortened.

  “Hey, Deputy, you don’t look so hot.” Anthony sat up straight and stared at him. “You aren’t about to end it all, are you? I mean, if you are, let me go out in the hall first, okay?”

  “You’re all heart, kid.” Michael didn’t even glance over at him. He kept his eyes on the gun and clicked over in his mind the people with keys to the office. Him, Betty Jean, the sheriff, Lester, Roy.

  What was it Roy had said after Rayburn’s body had been found? That his keys weren’t on the right hook in the supply closet. That lengthened the suspect list to just about everybody in the courthouse. Not a list Michael liked considering.

  “Is that the gun that did in that Rayburn guy?” Anthony peered over at the gun.

  “What makes you think that?”

  Anthony didn’t answer. Instead he laughed. “Pretty smart, huh? Borrowing a gun from the sheriff.”

  “What makes you think this is the murder weapon?” Michael repeated his question, his eyes boring into Anthony’s face.

  “I know things.” Anthony looked entirely too pleased with himself.

  “The only way you could know that is if you were the one to use the gun and then put it back.” Michael didn’t let his stare waver from the boy’s face. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been hanging around the courthouse. Waiting to sneak in here and put the gun back.”

  “You know that didn’t happen.” The corners of Anthony’s lips turned up a little. “How could I have gotten the gun in the first place?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “I guess I’m going to have to, since you obviously can’t figure it out. You see, it’s like this. I came this close to seeing Rayburn get it on the steps out front.” Anthony held his thumb and finger about an inch apart. “Whoever shot him went back into the courthouse.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I told you that Rayburn called me and wanted me to come meet him. He said nine, but since I was up already, I headed on down here. Wasn’t hard to find his car in the parking lot where he told me to meet him. Took you awhile longer to find it.”

  “We were slow on that one.” Michael kept his voice level. “Go on.”

  Anthony grinned. “To make a long story short, I got tired of waiting by his car, and I figured, how big is Hidden Springs. I couldn’t miss him.”

  “So you found him.”

  “Not soon enough for him to tell me anything. I was coming up the side alley when I heard a popping noise. I didn’t know it was a gun. Figured a car backfired or who knows what. Then I came around the corner and there he was. Slumped against the post and nobody else anywhere around.”

  “So why didn’t you call the police?”

  “Me? Call the cops? You got to be kidding. You see me in the yard with a hundred other people and you’ve been on my case ever since. Think what would have happened if I’d been the one to tell you about it.” Anthony shook his head. “No way did I want to play that scene. The man was dead. Me yelling for the police wasn’t going to change that.”

  “And you didn’t see anybody else?”

  “’Fraid not.”

  “Lucky for you, I guess. They might have had an extra bullet.” Michael glanced down at the gun and back at Anthony.

  “Yeah. Lucky’s my middle name.” Anthony let out a short little laugh with no humor in it. “Anyway, the only way the shooter could have gotten out of sight that fast was by going into the courthouse. I decided it wouldn’t be smart to follow the killer inside here to yell help. For all I knew, it could’ve even been you.”

  “What made you mark me off your suspect list?” Michael’s mind was racing and he didn’t like any of the thoughts zooming around.

  “Because I know who did it now.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Dear old Dad. That’s who and that ain’t you.”

  “And I suppose you’ve figured out who that is.”

  Anthony looked smug. “I told you. The murderer.”

  “How about a name?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.” When Anthony just looked at him without saying anything, Michael stood up and went over to stare down at him. “I don’t think you know anything. You’ve just been doing a lot of guessing and now you’re afraid to find out if you’re right.”

  “Me afraid?” Anthony snorted. “That’s a good one. You’re
the one who’s scared to look behind the door because of what you might find.”

  The telephone rang as they stared at one another. Michael ignored it. “All right, Anthony. Let’s say you’re right and that you have figured things out. What are you planning to do about it?”

  Anthony looked away from Michael toward the phone and then at the door. “Before yesterday, I planned on hitting him up for some overdue child support payments. Enough so I could leave Hidden Springs behind.”

  “Blackmail him like Rayburn must have?” The phone finally quit ringing.

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “For one thing, Rayburn ended up dead.”

  “He was dumb.”

  “And was Joe dumb too?”

  “I guess he wasn’t smart enough. He’s dead.” Anthony’s knuckles were white where he grasped the chair arms.

  Michael reached behind him, picked up Betty Jean’s phone, and set it on the desk right in front of the kid. “Okay. Call him. See if he’ll pay off.”

  Anthony eyed the phone. “Money’s not good enough anymore. Not now.”

  “What are you going to do, Anthony? Shoot him?”

  “Maybe.” Anthony flared up at him. “He killed my mother.”

  “Then you’d be a murderer too.”

  “Like father, like son, I guess.” Anthony tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sob.

  “I don’t think so, Anthony.” Michael worked to keep his voice even. He didn’t like what he was suspecting. “I think you want the truth to come out and that won’t happen unless we catch him.”

  “You know who it is, don’t you?” Anthony’s eyes met his.

  “Maybe, but nobody is going to believe us without proof.”

  Anthony looked from Michael to the phone. “So you want me to call him up and set a trap for him?”

  “It’s the only way we’ll know for sure.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Anthony’s voice sounded a little shaky and he cleared his throat. “You aim to put me out there as bait.”

  Michael nodded. “You brave enough for that?”

  “Being brave doesn’t mean being stupid, because let’s face it, Deputy. Your track record of keeping people alive is not all that good lately.”