Six Cut Kill

by David R Lewis

  “Aw, hell, Ness. Goddammit!”

  “Locals got the scene secured. State CS bunch is probably on site by now. They’re not gonna get shit. You want copies of everything on this one?”

  “Only if they happen to find something unusual, like a signed confession and directions to the fucker’s house.”

  “I’ll make a note of that. You’re getting’ kinda demanding, don’t ya think?”

  “If you weren’t such a delicate sonofabitch, you’d go catch this guy.”

  “I know it,” Ness said. “I’m thinking about taking a yoga course to toughen up. Wanna be my partner?”

  “Too busy.”

  “I hear your county has an election comin’ up. You gonna run for High Sheriff?”

  “Not me. I’m getting out of the business.”

  “Probably should, you being so old and all. Hard to shake somebody down with your hands trembling like they do. You’ve outlived your usefulness, no doubt about that.”

  Crockett smiled. “I have friends waiting to insult me,” he said. “I don’t need any shit from somebody like you.”

  “Guess I’ll hang up then. Got some Feebies on the way in. Now that this thing has crossed state lines the FBI wants everything we have on the killings that went down here.”

  “Kleffner?”

  “Who else? Top cop, super trooper.”

  “Pay attention. You could learn a lot from him. He might be able to help you fulfill your true potential.”

  Ness snorted. “Devoutly to be wished. My wife’ll be pleased.”

  “How is your wife?”

  “Psychotic. I’ll let ya know if anything unusual turns up.”

  “Thanks, Ness.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. See ya.”

  Crockett folded up his phone and looked at Clete. “Got another one. Out in Lawrence.”

  “Oh, hell,” Clete said.

  An hour later, Crockett was returning Pokey to his newly cleaned stall when Charlene and Jack arrived in the Gator. He latched the door and joined them in the office where Charlene was loading soft drinks into the fridge. Jack beamed and stuck out a hand.

  “Hello, Crockett,” he said. “These women working you hard enough?”

  “Brutal, Jack. Haven’t seen you in a while. You doin’ all right?”

  “Back home for a few days. You guys have done a helluva job on this place. I hear your step-daughter is a human dynamo.”

  Crockett grinned. “She gets the bit in her teeth now and then. A lot like her mother. I’m twice cursed…uh, blessed. I meant blessed.”

  “Jack has never met your little blessing,” Charlene interjected. “Is she around?”

  “Over with the dogs, I think.”

  “And Cletus?”

  “He was here working the roan a little while ago. Wandered off. Short attention span.”

  “We’ll try over at the kennel. You done for the day?”

  “I’ve gotta go to the feed store before I knock off. You need the truck?”

  “Not until late this afternoon. The Saint Joe rescue has four more dogs for us. I get them later.”

  Goodbyes were said and Crockett fired up the Kubota and pulled the manure spreader out to the machine shed. As he got off the tractor a slight wave of dizziness washed over him. He steadied himself against a rear wheel for a moment, then walked back to the barn. As he entered the office for a cup of stale coffee, his phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Mister Crockett?” Female. Elderly.

  “Yes.”

  “Mister Crockett, this is Verna Warner.”

  “Miz Warner! Nice to hear from you. I hope you haven’t had any more hassles.”

  “Oh no. Since the evening when you arrested those troubled young men who set the yard on fire, there have been no other incidents. Are you well?”

  “Fine, M’am. I got a little dizzy a few minutes ago. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that.”

  “Please excuse my meddling. I’m afraid I may have leaned on you a bit heavily, but I have some information for which you might have use.”

  Crockett sat down. “About?”

  “The individual who concerns you in relationship to the killings you asked about.”

  “There’s been another, uh, incident.”

  “I’m so sorry. Last night, I suspect. Or very early this morning actually. Around two a.m. is when I awoke.”

  Crockett said nothing. Jesus.

  “I feel a connection with you, Deputy,” Miz Warner went on. “You cross my mind frequently. Please understand that I do not wish to be intrusive into your life or thoughts, and I take steps to avoid that type of thing. I respect your privacy. But because of the connection, some things that concern you also concern me. The individual in question, for instance.”

  “I understand,” Crockett said.

  “Good. I must tell you that I feel you know the person responsible for these terrible acts.”

  “I know him?”

  “Perhaps I misspoke. You are aware of him. You have seen him. You have been close to him at one time or another.”

  “This is the guy you said associates with the deep and the dark, or something like that?”

  “I feel it is, yes. I wish I could be more specific, but I have no other information.”

  “You just gave me a lot more information than I had before you called,” Crockett said. “Thank you for that and for your interest in me. I believe we do have a connection.”

  “I don’t wish to sound like a recruiter,” Miz Warner said, “but is your wife still interested in visiting our little group?”

  “I’m sure she is. She’s recently taken on a new job that is very demanding of her time.”

  “I feel that she associates with animals now. Perhaps horses and dogs. Is that true?”

  Holy shit. “Yes, it is,” Crockett said.

  Miz Warner chuckled. “Then the newspaper article was right. Most of the time my sources are quite mundane. I have taken up enough of your time, Mister Crockett. I hope the confusion I have provided turns out to be helpful.”

  “Thanks for the call. Would you do me one more favor?”

  “If I can.”

  “Call me David,” Crockett said, and disconnected.

  Crockett mused on things while he finished the wretched coffee, drove into town for Omoline, some cotton batting, leg wraps, and Absorbine for a bay with slight swelling in his front legs that exercise and cold soaks didn’t seem to help, and arrived back home a little after three. He noticed Clete’s Chrysler parked at the guest cabin, stopped, and went inside. Clete was studying papers scattered across the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Crockett asked.

  “Trying to resist killin’ ever damn lawyer on the planet,” Clete said.

  “You gonna see Charlene today?”

  “In about an hour.”

  “If her husband isn’t around, see if you can find out exactly when he was home over the past year.”

  “Okay. Why?”

  “Trust me.”

  “How come everbody I ever knew that said trust me was fixin’ to lie?”

  “Guess you just hung around with the wrong people.”

  “Uh-huh. Anything else?”

  “You meet Jack?”

  “Oh yeah. Wouldn’t trust that feller with a dead hog on a hot day. He’s so pleased with how the project is comin’ along. He admires all the work everbody is doin. He’s got such hope for its success. Bullshit. That sumbitch doan give a rat’s ass for nothin’ or nobody but himself. I got some stuff about his bidness in the other day but, to be honest, I ain’t even looked at it yet.”

  “Look at it,” Crockett said. “Find out what you can about his schedule from Charlene, and we’ll get together later tonight. Right now, I gotta go get ready for work.”

  “Anything else, sir?” Clete asked.

  “Yeah. Get a haircut. You look like a West Texas hayshaker.”

  Clete grinned. “Your ponytail is gettin�
�� pretty thin, Grandpa,” he said.

  Crockett left without slamming the door.

  “Charlene don’t know exactly what his plans are or what he’s been up to,” Clete said, “but next time he leaves, she can git into his study an’ find out for us.”

  He and Crockett were sitting in Clete’s car down the street from the Sheriff’s office. It was getting dark.

  “What I don’t understand is the flight manifests I got the other day,” Clete went on. “This ol’ boy is flyin’ into Russia or China at one weight, and leavin’ at the same weight or maybe even heavier. If he’s deliverin’ mining parts and equipment, he should be lighter goin’ out, but most of the time, he ain’t. South Africa is a different story. He goes in heavy and comes out light. Now that makes sense.”

  “A while back,” Crockett said, “Charlene mentioned that, now that her big barn is empty, Jack was gonna start warehousing his inventory there, instead of Virginia or someplace.”

  “She told me that, too. Says that’s why he’s home. Gonna truck some stuff in.”

  “Might be a good idea to give that some special attention,” Crockett said.

  “Ringo Starr said it best,” Clete replied.

  Crockett grimaced. “I’ll bite. What did Ringo say?”

  Clete smiled. “There’s more here than meets the eye,” he said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Jack Bryant was home for nearly a week. During that time, several truckloads of storage pods and various sizes of crates were off-loaded into the barn up the hill behind the big house. Jack made regular appearances at both the horse facility and the kennels, striding around as if he actually had something to do with them. Around nine o’clock one gray and chilly morning, Crockett walked into the barn office to put coffee on before cleaning stalls and found him sitting on the couch. Jack smiled and held up a paper cup.

  “Morning, Crockett. Coffee’s fresh and hot. Care to join me?”

  “Thanks,” Crockett said, grabbing a mug out of a cabinet over the tiny sink. “This is luxury. Usually I have to make it myself.”

  “Our wives working you to death out here?”

  Crockett chuckled and took a seat at the desk. “Damn near,” he said. “But it’s temporary. Supposed to have some stall help coming out in a couple of more days to see Danni. Minimum wage high school types and two or three horse lovers willing to trade labor for free riding time. From what I hear, Charlene is lining up volunteers to work over at the kennels, too.”

  “She’s possessed,” Jack said. “I’ve never seen her so involved in anything. Danni and Satin are as bad as she is. If it wasn’t for your family, this place would be in trouble. As it is, I think everything is going to work out fine.”

  “Looks like it to me,” Crockett said. “It’s beginning to smooth out and get a rhythm.”

  “I hear there’s an election coming up. You going to run for sheriff?”

  “God, no.”

  “Why not?”

  Crockett grinned. “I might win,” he said. “When Dale Smoot retires, I am gone. I took the job to help him out. Couple of real good kids on the force. Either one of ‘em can take over.”

  “You’re really going to turn in your shiny badge?”

  “Trading it in on a rod and reel. Gonna take my frustrations out on bass and bluegill.”

  “Seems a little tame compared to what you’ve been through with the county.”

  “Tame is good,” Crockett said. “Bring on the tame.”

  “You’re actually going to retire?”

  “Retire is good. Bring on the retire.”

  Jack laughed. “Not me,” he said. “I’ll never retire. I’m like a shark. If I stop swimming, I’ll drown.”

  “I noticed you’re trucking a lot of stuff into the barn behind the house.”

  Jack nodded. “I’m closing down a storage facility in West Virginia. Now that I have all this extra space, I may as well use it. For right now, I’m bringing in small item inventory. Bits, augers, pipelines, electrical conduit, jacks and lifts, things like that. The bigger stuff, crawlers, elevator components, the large electrical generators, cooling systems and the like, I’m keeping where they are until I have to restock. Too expensive to move all that. Another year or two and everything will be here. I may have to add another building, but it’ll be cost effective. I don’t keep explosives warehoused, so no special permits will be necessary. With all that on site, I’ll be able to stay home a little more than I do now. Char is always complaining I’m gone too much.”

  “Happy wife, happy life.”

  “A year or two down the road, when you’re tired of doing nothing, I’ll probably need a warehouse manager. You ever do that kind of thing?”

  Crockett shook his head. “I can’t even keep track of my wife.”

  “Something to think about,” Jack said. He swallowed the last of his coffee and stood up. “I’m off. Leaving this afternoon for ten days or so. I appreciate all the effort you’re putting in around here.”

  “Satin said I should,” Crockett replied. “Fear is a powerful motivator.”

  “Happy wife, happy life,” Jack said, and walked out the door.

  Two hours later, Crockett had only one stall to go. He opened the door and there stood the roan Clete had worked with. The horse lifted his chin, chewed nothing, and backed up.

  “What’s the matter, son?” Crockett asked. “You don’t have to be worried about me.”

  He stepped to his right and into a better line of sight for the horse and kept talking nonsense in a low and easy voice. The horse watched him for a moment, stopped chewing, and took a tentative step forward. Crockett moved slightly to his right again, and the roan pivoted to follow. The dance continued until Crockett had moved all the way around the perimeter of the stall with the horse following his lead. When he reached the door again, he showed the horse his back and stepped out into the arena. The roan followed him at a respectful distance for a hundred feet or so to the wash rack. Crockett snapped one of the crossties to the horse’s halter and scratched the roan’s forehead as he gently blew breath across the animal’s muzzle. When he walked away to go clean the stall, the horse nickered at him.

  Danni’s voice floated through the air. “Nice,” she said.

  Crockett looked toward the end of the arena. Danni, on top of the little dun, walked in his direction.

  “He’s not a bad ol’ boy,” Crockett said. “He gives pretty much what he gets. We do okay.”

  “Last stall?” Danni asked.

  “Yep. Then I’m done for the morning.”

  “Should have you some help soon. You show them the ropes and you’re done, period.”

  “I’ll make up a cheat sheet to hang on each stall so everybody knows just what to feed each horse.”

  “I appreciate it, Dad.”

  “Been good for me,” Crockett said. “Seen Charlene today?”

  Danni nodded and swung down off the dun. “She picked up two dogs to take to foster homes this morning. Said she’d be back after lunch.”

  “I need to talk to her.”

  Danni hooked the left stirrup over the saddle horn and began to loosen the cinch. “I should see her this afternoon,” she said. “I’ll tell her.”

  The dun began to move sideways. Crockett grabbed the knot of the bozal, and the mare settled. Danni unhooked the flank strap, slid the Price Mclaughlin off the horse, and headed toward the tack room. Crockett followed with the mare, pulled the pad off her back, and tossed it through the door ahead of Danni.

  “Turn her loose if ya want,” Danni said. “She’s wrapped pretty tight this morning. I’ll put her up when we finish with the last stall.”

  Crockett slipped the headstall off the mare and the little dun darted off down the arena, shaking her head and bucking a little. He grinned as he watched her play, then drop to the floor and roll in the dirt. The mare got up, sneezed a time or two, shook herself, and came back, curious to see what was going on.

  “What’
s up with wanting to talk to Charlene,” Danni asked, hanging up the headstall and fat cotton reins.

  “Looking for some info on Jack.”

  “I saw him early this morning,” Danni went on, “over at the kennels. God I’m wonderful. Such a hard worker, so valuable to Charlene, blah-blah-blah. Then he asked where you might be. I told him. He see you?”

  “He saw me.”

  Danni grinned. “Are you wonderful, too?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I don’t like him, Dad.”

  “No reason to. Seen your mother?”

  “Yep. She’s at my place. Said she’d fix a late lunch. I’m supposed to ask you if you’d like to join us.”

  “Why don’t I take you ladies to Whiskey River for Joker’s super burgers?”

  Danni brightened. “Great!”

  “Go tell your mother. I’ll pick you up as soon as I finish shoveling shit.”

  Later at home, as Crockett was getting ready for work, his phone went off.

  “Hey, Crockett. Danni said you needed to talk to me.”

  “More than life itself, Charlene my dear. Jack leave yet?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  “You mentioned that you could get his itinerary for me.”

  “Can and did.”

  “Already?”

  “Yep. Shall we have a secret meeting?”

  Crockett grinned. “Oh my,” he said. “I can hardly wait.”

  “I’ll put on my trench coat and be over in about an hour. See ya.”

  Crockett phoned the cop shop to tell them he’d be home, but available, and went upstairs to shower.

  Satin arrived about ten minutes behind Charlene and found her sitting at the snack bar with Crockett, going over some handwriting in a small notebook. She patted Charlene on the back, kissed Crockett on the cheek, and headed for the coffee pot.

  “Cold out there,” she said. “What are you guys up to?”

  “Jack’s comings and goings,” Charlene said.

  “Okay,” Crockett said, peering at the notebook, “this list is when he was here, right?”