Kill Devil Falls

by Brian Klingborg

  “How’s Mrs. Patterson?” she asked.

  “Larimer had her tied up in the bedroom. She was in quite a state. Naked as a jay bird, for one. I cut her loose. She apparently twisted her ankle or something when Larimer got ahold of her, can’t really walk. I gave her a couple of aspirin and a Valium, told her to sit tight for the time being. I don’t want her to see the body, if that can be avoided. She’s an old hippie, you know, into nature and tree spirits, all that crap.”

  “So why did Larimer break in here? Why assault Mr. Patterson?”

  “No idea.” Big Ed slurped from his mug, pulled out a Camel, lit it.

  “Where’s my Glock?”

  “I have it. And Larimer’s gun. Right there.” He nodded at the bundle beside the lantern. “You always carry two guns, by the way?”

  “The .45 is Frank’s. I confiscated it from him.”

  “For what?”

  “For being a dick.”

  Big Ed laughed. “Wouldn’t think it to look at you, but you got some pair.” He sucked in a lungful of smoke.

  “Can I have the Glock back?”

  “No. Larimer fired it, it’s evidence.”

  “It’s my service weapon.”

  “You shot a man with a gun that didn’t belong to you. Meanwhile, a suspected killer fired yours. It’s a bit of a mess. You see what I mean? For the moment, I’m going to secure all the weapons in my vehicle. And until the scene is processed, I don’t want anyone, especially you, traipsing through here.”

  “What about Mrs. Patterson?”

  “I’m going to let her rest in her own bed for now. After we get Jesse sorted out, I’ll move her over to my place.”

  He tapped ashes on the melamine table, brushed them onto the floor with the heel of his hand.

  “I saw him earlier today,” Helen said. “When I stopped for a bite on the way up here.”

  “Larimer?”

  Helen nodded. “I didn’t recognize him at the time. The … the glasses and haircut.”

  “Uniform was a nice touch,” Big Ed said.

  “I’m ninety-nine percent sure he tampered with my car. At the diner. And maybe after I arrived in town, which is why I couldn’t get it started and take Rita down to Donnersville right away.”

  “Why would he do a thing like that? I can understand messing with it once you got here, but why at the diner?”

  “I guess he figured me for law enforcement.”

  “How? Did you flash your badge around? Tell people to stub out their funny cigarettes and get a haircut?”

  “I don’t know. Some criminals—they have instincts. Or maybe he saw the cage in the Charger.”

  Big Ed tipped his mug to his mouth, wiped a trickle of coffee off his chin.

  “In any case, Rita must have come here alone,” Helen said. “Without Larimer. I mean, it makes no sense for him to drive up with her, then head down the mountain, only to turn around and drive right back up again.”

  “True.”

  “So he was following her. Pursuing her. But why did he free her from the jail only to kill her?”

  Big Ed shrugged. “He might’ve figured, since she was caught, she’d testify against him. To get a reduced sentence.”

  “That was my thought, too. Although he could have just as easily taken her with him and left town.”

  “If they came up separately, like you said … maybe they had a falling out.”

  “So he killed her over a lovers’ spat?”

  “Who the hell knows why these types do what they do?” Big Ed said. “Half the time they’re so hopped up on booze and drugs, they’re no better’n animals. Oh … here.”

  He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and set it on the table.

  “This was lying on the bathroom floor. Yours?”

  “Yes. Can I have it back?”

  “As long as you didn’t use it to kill anybody.”

  “Ha ha.” She put the flashlight in her pocket. “Was Larimer carrying a knife?”

  “No. That don’t mean anything. He could have ditched it anywhere. And that’s another thing. I’m still curious about the knife in Lawrence’s trunk. You don’t suppose he and Larimer knew each other? Were in it together, somehow?”

  “Seems unlikely. Maybe Mrs. Patterson can shed some light on things?”

  “How?”

  “Perhaps she can tell us why Larimer broke in and beat the tar out of her husband.”

  “Mmm.” Big Ed took a last drag from his cigarette. “No, I think we should let her rest for the time being. Plenty of time to talk to her later.”

  “But—” Helen’s protest was interrupted by the sound of the back door slamming open. Teddy barged into the restaurant.

  “It’s Mr. P!” he gasped. “He ain’t breathing!”

  11

  TEDDY AND BIG ED ran to the Old Log Jail, Helen trailing behind at a slower pace. By the time she got there, the sheriff was sitting on the cot next to Jesse, ear to the old man’s chest. After a moment, he turned and glared at Teddy.

  “What happened?”

  “He just stopped breathing. I didn’t do nothing!”

  “I didn’t do nothing!” Big Ed mimicked. He got up, kicked the brick wall of the cell.

  Helen was feeling faint. She sat on the edge of the desk, caught her breath. “You should have put him in a car as soon as you found him in the bathroom,” she said.

  Big Ed didn’t answer. He ran his hands through his hair, wiped them on his pants. He pulled out his cigarettes, lit one, exhaled twin jets of smoke from his nose.

  “Where the hell is that backup, Edward? You called more than an hour ago.”

  “Dispatch said—”

  “I know what dispatch said,” Big Ed said. “Go out there and radio again. Tell them to get someone here, right fucking now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hold on.” Big Ed handed Teddy the cloth bundle. “Put these in the SUV’s gunbox. Make sure you don’t touch them with your fingers. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Teddy rushed out the door. Big Ed clomped to and fro across the wooden floor. Helen went into the cell, covered Jesse’s face with the Indian blanket. When she came out again, Lawrence whispered to her.

  “Marshal!”

  “Not now, Lawrence.”

  “Until we get some more deputies up here, I want you to stay right here in the jail, Marshal,” Big Ed said. “I’m getting tired of tracking bodies all over town.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Get some lights on, for starters.”

  Helen pulled her phone out of her coat pocket, checked the time. Jesus, it wasn’t even midnight yet. She wanted a long soak in a hot tub, a warm meal, clean sheets. To not feel like a rat trapped in the bilge of a sinking ship.

  “Sheriff,” she whispered. “Why don’t you let Lawrence out of the cell?”

  “Because, Marshal, as we discussed, I’m not sure of the facts yet,” he answered. “And until I am, nobody goes anywhere. Everyone just stays put.” He tossed his cigarette on the floor, picked up one of the halogen lanterns, pushed through the front door.

  Helen followed him out onto the porch and down the steps, looking to continue the conversation.

  Teddy was inside the open cab of the Explorer, radio microphone in his hand.

  “Dispatch, come in. Dispatch, come in.”

  “What’s the problem?” Big Ed said.

  “I can’t seem to raise them.”

  “Give me that, goddammit.” He walked to the vehicle, roughly pulled Teddy from the cab, took the microphone from his hand.

  “Dispatch, respond. This is Sheriff Scroggins. Dispatch respond.”

  Big Ed set the lantern on the seat, reached over and fiddled with some knobs.

  “The hell?”

  “What’s going on, Sheriff?” Helen asked.

  “Just a minute!”

  He spent another few seconds messing with the receiver before hurling the microphone down onto the cab
floor.

  “Sonofabitch!”

  “Sheriff?”

  “It’s not fucking working, Marshal. Edward, did you do something to it?”

  “Radio was fine earlier. I don’t know why it won’t work now!”

  Helen’s heartbeat quickened. “Is there any other way to reach your dispatcher?” she said.

  “Not unless we drive about thirty minutes down the road and pick up some cell reception,” Teddy said. He turned to Big Ed. “What should we do?”

  Big Ed puffed steam into the cold night air.

  “I’m going to get that bag from the Trading Post and fix the lights so we can stop running around holding our dicks in the dark. You two”—he said, jabbing a finger at Helen and Teddy in turn—“are staying right here. Understand? If the other deputies arrive, you can fill them in on the situation, but don’t none of you go anywhere. When I get back, I’ll get everyone organized.”

  “Maybe one of us should take the Explorer and try to pick up a phone signal,” Helen said.

  “No,” Big Ed said. “Between the three of us, this is the one working vehicle we got in town. It’s not going anywhere. Just in case.”

  “In case of what?” Helen said.

  Big Ed shrugged.

  “How about my Glock?”

  “How about it?”

  “I want it back.”

  “Told you. It’s evidence.”

  “Listen, Sheriff,” Helen said. “You said yourself, we don’t know all the facts yet. Have you considered the possibility that someone’s been monkeying with your radio? Given all the weird shit that’s been going on, I’m not going to sit around here armed with nothing more than my razor-sharp tongue. You want me to stay put? Fine. I want my gun back.”

  Big Ed glared.

  “Pretty please,” Helen said.

  “No. You can’t have the Glock. But I have something I can lend you.”

  He went around to the back of the Explorer and opened the lift gate. He spun the combination dial on a sizeable metal gunbox on the floor of the rear compartment and removed a Taurus PT940 pistol. He shut the box, rotated the dial again.

  “Here, this is my backup weapon.” He handed her the gun, butt first. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

  Helen slipped the Taurus into her hip holster. Big Ed picked up the lantern, closed and locked the doors to the Explorer, trudged off down Main Street.

  Inside the jail, Teddy brought the lantern out of Jesse’s cell, placed it on the desk, and sank into the wooden chair. He took a wad of tobacco from the pouch in his pocket, stuffed it into his cheek.

  “I don’t think this night is ever gonna end, Marshal.”

  “I’m beginning to think you’re right.”

  Lawrence stood at the door of his cell, one eye peeking through the iron slats.

  “You can’t keep me in here,” he whined. “It’s not right. It’s not legal.”

  “Sheriff says you stay locked up,” Teddy said.

  “Marshal … ” Lawrence pleaded.

  “It ain’t up to her,” Teddy said.

  Helen scowled at Teddy. He met her gaze for a few seconds, then leaned over and spit in the coffee can.

  “I’ll open the door, Lawrence,” she said. “Give you some air, but you have to remain in the cell for now.”

  “Marshal—” Teddy mumbled.

  “We can’t hold him in there indefinitely,” she snapped. “These cells aren’t up to modern standards. Let’s give him a little break.”

  She went to the wall, took the key ring off the hook, unlocked the cell door, swung it open. Lawrence poked his head out, blinking rapidly like a coal miner emerging from a cave-in. Helen hung the key ring back on the hook.

  “My dad is gonna get pissed when he sees that,” Teddy said.

  “Honestly, I don’t care anymore,” Helen said.

  Teddy shrugged. He chomped tobacco for a bit, then asked, “So it was Larimer?”

  “What about him?”

  “You shot.”

  “Yes,” Helen said.

  “But why would he … ?” Teddy made a wet sound and drew a line across his throat.

  Lawrence stood on the threshold of the cell, arms folded, shivering. “Does this mean I’m no longer a suspect?”

  “No, it don’t, Lawrence,” Teddy said. “Not until we check out that knife in your car.”

  “Knife? In my car? What are you talking about?”

  “The knife in your trunk. Like you don’t know.”

  “What kind of knife?”

  Teddy shrugged. “I don’t know. A hunting knife.”

  “I don’t hunt, Deputy.”

  “You got a thing for knives, though, don’t you?”

  “I use them for my work!” Lawrence said.

  “Work?” Teddy said. “That what you call it?”

  “If there is a knife in my car, you put it there!”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “To frame me!”

  “Why would I want to frame you? You only been up here a few weeks, I barely know you!”

  Their discussion dissolved into a shouting match.

  “Boys!” Helen yelled. “Boys! Enough!”

  Teddy, red-faced, spat into the coffee can. Lawrence spread his hands.

  “I didn’t put a knife in my trunk, Marshal. I just didn’t.”

  “Okay, Lawrence,” she said. “Take it easy.”

  Lawrence huffed, retreated into the darkness of his cell.

  “Oh,” Helen said. “Here.” She handed Teddy back his flashlight.

  He slipped it into the loop on his gun belt, rubbed his eyes. “Man, what a day.”

  Helen resumed her seat on the edge of the desk. “I need some hot chicken soup.”

  “And a beer,” Teddy said.

  “I could go for a beer,” Lawrence chimed.

  “Judging from your pantry, you could go for a beer, a jug of whiskey, maybe a bottle of mouthwash if things get desperate.”

  “Fuck you, Deputy!”

  Teddy abruptly lurched to his feet, gripped his baton.

  “What’d you say?”

  “Sit down, Teddy,” Helen said. “Sit down. That’s enough.”

  “You heard that?”

  “I heard it. You said something, he said something back. Now, sit down. Lawrence—don’t speak to the deputy like that, understood?”

  After a long moment, Lawrence’s voice emerged from the cell: “Fine.”

  Teddy slowly sank back into the chair. “He’s got some mouth.”

  Helen went to the window, peered out. She longed for the lights to come on again. She drew the Taurus from her holster, turned it over in her hands, ejected the magazine.

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “What?” Teddy asked.

  “Your dad gave me an unloaded gun.”

  Teddy chuckled. “Always got a trick up his sleeve.”

  “You knew about this?”

  Teddy held his palms up. “No! Don’t look at me.”

  Helen fumed. The sheriff was becoming a real tyrant. Ordering her around. Leaving her defenseless. Restricting her to the jail.

  Speaking of the jail, it was fast becoming a mini-morgue.

  “Teddy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I find it creepy to have Mr. Patterson’s body lying right there in plain sight. Why don’t we move him to the back room?”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  Inside the cell, she and Teddy rolled Jesse’s body over and slid the Indian blanket under it.

  “You grab the corners by the head and I’ll get the feet,” Helen said.

  “Wait a sec,” Teddy said. “What about Lawrence? Who’s to say he don’t just run out while we carry Mr. P into the back?”

  “I won’t,” Lawrence said, from next door.

  “He won’t,” Helen echoed.

  Teddy didn’t look convinced. “Fine. Whatever you say, Marshal.”

  “Ready?” Helen said.
r />   “Yes.” They lifted Jesse. “Wait.”

  They set the body back down onto the mattress.

  “What now, Teddy?”

  “We need a light. It’s dark back there.”

  “Right.” Helen took the flashlight from her pocket, switched it on, put it in her mouth. “Okay?” she asked, voice garbled by the flashlight.

  “Yeah.”

  They carried Jesse into the guard room, rested him on the floor beside the bed where Rita’s corpse lay.

  “Good enough,” Teddy said, anxious to leave.

  “I want to have a look at something real quick,” Helen said. “Be there in a minute.”

  “Suit yourself.” Teddy retreated to the front room.

  On the surface, the events of the night appeared to be straightforward. Lee Larimer freed Rita from the jail, dragged her into the woods, killed her. He then sabotaged the transformer and broke into the Trading Post, where he attacked the Pattersons. But the how and why of it troubled Helen. How did he get into the jail? Why did he kill Rita? Why attack the Pattersons?

  She was tired of playing catch up, bouncing from one predicament to another. And she didn’t want to just sit around, waiting for a passel of country cops and a crime scene unit that might or might not arrive in the morning.

  Even though a corpse could not speak, it sometimes had secrets to tell.

  Helen shined her flashlight across Rita’s face, skin, hair, and scalp. Lots of dirt and dried blood. Rita’s glassy eyes reminded Helen of the bucket of disembodied orbs in Lawrence’s cellar.

  She peeked down her collar, rolled her over. Rita’s hands were still cuffed, wrists bent at awkward angles. Helen removed the key ring from her coat pocket, unlocked the cuffs, dropped them on the bed.

  She took a close look at Rita’s throat wound. It extended directly across the neck, right carotid artery to windpipe. The cut was moderately deep, with clean edges. Produced by a sharp blade. The one Teddy had found in Lawrence’s car would fit the bill. As would any well-maintained kitchen knife. Even the fold-out knife Big Ed had used to dig at the bullet in the stairwell of the Trading Post.

  Helen searched Rita’s pockets. Empty. All of Rita’s possessions were in the plastic bag on the passenger seat of the Dodge Charger.

  Helen finished her examination without having gained any insights. She rose from the bed, turned to leave, but then paused. Might as well check out Jesse Patterson’s body, too. She crouched down, shined a light on the old man’s damaged face. His injuries were the result of three or four pounds of solid gunmetal against flesh and bone. Why the vicious beating? What was Jesse’s connection to Rita and Lee Larimer?