Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp

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by Joan H. Young

But the men were back on their feet, circling one another. Blood ran from Larry’s nose, and DuWayne was breathing heavily. “Cut him!” ordered DuWayne.

  I’d never done anything that violent in my life. Although it seemed like life or death, I couldn’t bring myself to stab another person.

  “Do it, woman. Don’t you know they’ll kill you?”

  Instead, I looked around for something heavy to hit Larry with. There was nothing in sight. Larry lunged at DuWayne, but the large black man jumped back. They continued to circle, like two wrestlers. I heard the crunching of tires on gravel, and my hopes soared. But the dream lasted only a moment, as Pablo burst through the door and slammed DuWayne on the side of the head with a piece of wood that looked like it had come from the broken porch railing.

  DuWayne staggered, but stayed upright. However, there was no way he was going to be able to fight off the two men, and although I had the knife, I didn’t know how to use it, and didn’t have the courage. The only advantage was that since it was in my hands, Pablo and Larry couldn’t use it on DuWayne.

  DuWayne changed his tactics. “Run, Ana,” he said through clenched teeth. His eyes were moving back and forth between the other two men. He was trying to play keepaway. I started backing up. With all the circling we’d done, the closest exit for me was now the front door, and I held the knife in front of me as menacingly as I could, while trying not to trip. I moved it back and forth, as I’d seen gangsters do on television. However, Larry took two steps toward me and easily grabbed my right arm, twisting it so that I dropped the knife. He wrapped me in a bear hug and held on tight. With one foot he reached out and stepped on the knife, pulling it near his body, well within reach.

  Pablo swung the makeshift bat at DuWayne’s head again, but DuWayne deflected the blow with his left arm. I heard a cracking sound, but I couldn’t tell if it was wood or bone. It certainly wasn’t going to be many more seconds before DuWayne and I would be all done. My adrenaline was pumping, but there was simply nothing I could do against the bulging muscles of the ex-con who held me.

  “Hold it right there!” came a sharp command from the kitchen, and Detective Milford and Deputy Harvey Brown stepped into the room with guns pointed. Pablo froze and dropped the stick, but Larry sneered. I couldn’t see his face, but I could sense the disdain.

  “Forget it, old man,” Larry said. “I’ve got this handy bitch, and I’m going out the front door, see?”

  Milford nodded. It crossed my mind that if he supposedly liked me a lot this was an odd way to show it.

  We began to shuffle backwards toward the front door. I wondered if Larry was going to risk picking up the knife. We took one more little step, and I felt Larry’s core muscles tighten.

  “That’s far enough.” Tracy Jarvi’s official voice was more than welcome. “Just let Ana go, and step back against the wall.” Larry released me and I practically leaped away from him. I spun around and saw Tracy holding her gun against Larry’s ribs, and Cherry Hill’s one other officer, Kyle Appledorn, backing her up.

  Harvey was already putting handcuffs on Pablo. DuWayne had sat down in the chair and was holding his arm. Juanita still lay on the floor, but she was beginning to stir. She moaned. Milford fastened her hands behind her, and dragged her to the wall where she sat with her knees pulled up. She was trying to look defiant, but her head kept dropping to her knees. I thought she must be woozy. Tracy and Kyle had Larry under control, and handcuffed as well.

  “I think the pails on the back porch are full of drugs,” I said.

  “We saw that, thanks,” Milford responded. He pulled out a cell phone, and in a couple of seconds said, “We’re secure here, bring in a couple of cars.” His cell reception seemed fine.

  DuWayne spoke up. “Juanita’s the one who’s handy with a knife. She’s the one who killed Angelica.”

  “You black fool,” Juanita said with a curled lip. She was holding her head up better now. “Why would I do that? Try that on Larry for size, why don’t you?”

  “No way,” Larry said. “You aren’t pinning that on me.”

  “Shut up, both of you,” Pablo chimed in. “DuWayne’s as guilty as we are. How come he’s not in cuffs?”

  “I will be,” DuWayne said. He sounded a little sad. “I just don’t want to keep hanging around with people like you. I knew you were sorting bags here.”

  “You ratted us out?” Larry was incredulous. He turned to Milford. “This goody two-shoes isn’t innocent. Ask him where he was when Angelica died.”

  “They already know, Larry.”

  I must have involuntarily gasped. DuWayne turned to me. “Ana, I owe you an apology. You’ve been very nice to Star and Sunny, but I wasn’t happy about it.”

  “I understand,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I did.

  “I didn’t kill their mother, but I knew she was dead. I helped bury her. She wanted to stop dealing drugs, but I didn’t know how we could get by without the money, so I didn’t back her up.”

  “What happened when she disappeared?” I asked.

  “Pablo and Juanita picked her up that morning. Larry and I really were doing honest work all that day. The next day, Pablo called me and told me she was dead. We all met late that night to bury her. No one had lived in your house for years, so it was an easy way to get into the swamp.”

  “So you were poking around there the other day?”

  “That was me. I just wanted to see the place again. I’ve been so sorry for so long.” He put his head in his hands, but winced and laid the left arm in his lap. Blood was oozing from a gash on his scalp from the blow Pablo had delivered.

  Detective Milford spoke up. “It was DuWayne you spotted outside your house last night. We didn’t catch him, but his lawyer called us, and told us DuWayne was keeping an eye on you because he knew Larry was out of prison, and he was afraid for you. He offered to help us catch these three, and we said we’d try to go as easy on him as possible for being an accessory to the murder. We’ve been looking for him all day.”

  “Here I am,” DuWayne said, holding out his uninjured arm, as if offering it up to be handcuffed.

  “And you didn’t tell me?” I asked. I glared at the detective.

  “No ma’am. You have quite a habit of aggressively going after solutions. We wanted DuWayne to lead us to these badasses before they knew he’d decided he wanted out of their deals.”

  Just then we heard more crunching of gravel and the slamming of car doors. A dog barked.

  “Paddy!” I ran to the door and several more county officers were coming toward the house. The one named Chris was holding Paddy’s leash, but he let the dog loose when he saw me. Paddy leaped to the porch and jumped up, planting his paws on my shoulders and pushing me flat against the house wall. He began joyfully licking my face. I should have told him to get down, but I just couldn’t. I’d never been so happy to see a dog in my life.

  Chapter 33

  The county officers took the three drug dealers away in separate cars, and DuWayne went with Detective Milford. He was being taken to the hospital in Emily City to have his arm and head checked. Forest County has no hospital. The boxes and pails were photographed, and then loaded into yet another police vehicle. I assured them that the blood on my arm was minor, just the rubbing off of a scab. Soon, there was no one in the old house but Tracy and Kyle, the dog and me. We humans sat on the edge of the front porch with our legs dangling, and Paddy curled up beside me. Most of the old railing was broken away, leaving plenty of room for us along the edge.

  “Let us take you home, Ana,” Tracy said.

  “I’d like that,” I answered with a sigh. “But my Jeep is at the other side of the railroad bridge.”

  “We know. We saw it there.”

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  “First, we got your call, but we didn’t know who it was.”

  “I didn’t know if it went through.”

  “It did. Almost immediately after that the 9-1-1 dispatch called us. They h
ad heard what you said, but way too often the wireless emergency calls are dropped, out here in the State Forest.”

  “But I never got as far as telling them where I was,” I protested.

  “Sure, but they could tell which tower your cell phone was coming from. Trouble is, it’s the same tower you’d hit if you called from your house.”

  “So you thought I was at home?”

  “We did, and we went there. When we couldn’t find you, we drove farther down the road, and Paddy was sitting by the Jeep. He tried to lead us across the bridge.”

  “Good dog!” I said, rubbing behind his ears.

  He gazed at me with his deep brown eyes, then laid his head on his paws as if to say, “No problem, I do it all the time.”

  “So we figured you must be over here somewhere, and this old house seemed the most likely. The worst part for Kyle and me was that we needed to drive around to another bridge to get here.

  “That’s really a long way!”

  “I know,” she continued. “We called Milford and Harvey and they got here first; they were already out of the office on another case. We all parked down the road so as not to make noise. Then we walked the rest of the way. We saw the truck outside, and then found your broken cell phone, and that made us sure this was where we’d find you.”

  A tow truck pulled up and began hooking up Pablo’s black truck.

  “How did DuWayne get here?” I asked.

  “His canoe is down at the old landing.”

  “So he’s been coming and going on the river?”

  “Yup.”

  “I thought someone was, but I sure didn’t picture him as an outdoor type.”

  “How’s your arm?” asked Kyle. The Cherry Hill deputy was shy, happy to let Tracy do most of the talking.

  “It’s not bad. The scabs are mostly scraped off, but I’ll clean it up when I get home.”

  “Should we take you to a doctor, to have it looked at?” he continued.

  “No, I’m fine. I’m glad you didn’t get here any later, though, or I might not be!”

  Tracy was stern. “You seem to be making a habit of getting into dangerous situations, Ana.”

  “I certainly wasn’t trying to get into this one. I called for help right away, but then Larry dragged me into the house.”

  “I’m glad to hear you didn’t confront them on purpose. Let’s get you home.”

  The evening was spent quietly. After a bath I examined my arm, and was happy to see that it now only needed a couple of band-aids. Every time it got skinned it looked terrible, but none of the scrapes was deep. Having a refrigerator full of groceries was wonderful, as I had choices for dinner. Paddy had earned a treat and I split the leftover kielbasa with him and made myself a big salad. The only other memorable event was that Detective Milford called and asked me to be at the Sheriff’s Department at ten the next morning to give them a statement. I thought the man must work twenty-four hours a day.

  Tuesday morning was again cool. I expected it to be a quick trip, so I let Paddy ride along, thinking we’d go for a walk in a county park afterward.

  The County Jail and Sheriff’s Department are located two miles west of Cherry Hill on the highway. I had driven past them, but had never been inside before. The buildings are low, sprawling and functional, built of concrete block.

  When I went inside, I was shown into a plain room painted in two shades of gray with a metal table and chair. Detective Peters was there. He asked me to sit down and write out exactly what had happened on Monday. This took the better part of an hour. When I finished he thanked me and led me into a larger room, painted in two shades of tan, instead of the dismal gray, that was slightly more comfortable. It held a large conference table surrounded by thinly padded straight chairs. Milford was at the head of the table, and along the left side were Corliss Leonard, Star and Sunny. DuWayne sat opposite them. A gauze pad was taped on his shaved head, and he had a cast on his left arm.

  There were two other men seated there as well. One was next to DuWayne, a suave black man with short graying hair, wearing a brown silk suit, and too many gold rings. Somehow I just knew he was DuWayne’s lawyer. The other man was young and thin, and wore a dark suit, white shirt, and tie. It looked as if they were all waiting for me, but I couldn’t imagine why.

  “Come in, Ana,” Detective Milford said. It was an order rather than an invitation. When I was seated, he continued. “We have just a few more things we’d like to clear up. First of all, let me explain that DuWayne has been charged as an accessory in Angelica’s murder, due to his involvement in covering it up. However, his voluntary surrender and cooperation in capturing Larry Louama and the Ybarras, and breaking up the drug trade in both Forest and Sturgeon Counties should help reduce his sentence. We think he can help us some more, today.”

  I looked at Star and Sunny. This must have been an awful lot for them to process on top of losing their mother. However, they seemed to be holding up all right.

  Milford continued, extending a hand in the direction of the young man. “This is Special Agent Jeremy Powers of the FBI.”

  “FBI! What is it that you want me for?” I asked in consternation.

  “How carefully did you look at the wrist band the dog brought to you, which led to finding Angelica’s body.”

  “Not very well. It was covered with mud and dog spit, and then the girls took it. They gave it to you.”

  “So you didn’t make any marks on it?”

  “Marks?”

  “Yes. Did you scratch any words or numbers on it, for example?”

  “No. Why would I do that? What are you talking about? It had the factory-carved words about their shared birthday. That’s all.”

  “Well, no, you’re wrong about that.” I remembered how rough the band had felt, but that was just because of the sandy mud, I thought.

  I looked around at the people present. I had no idea what was going on. “Could someone explain to me what’s happening here? Have I done something wrong?”

  Milford nodded at Powers, and the agent took up the story. His voice was higher than I expected, but he was concise. “Larry Louama has long been suspected of many crimes which could never be proven. We think Angelica was killed because she could link him to the murder of J. Everett Bailey. What do you know about that?”

  “I heard that he was killed in his motel, that’s all. I still don’t see how I can help. I didn’t live here back then. You do know that, right?”

  “Please just listen,” Milford said. “The only people who handled that bracelet are in this room, plus DuWayne, who may have some prior knowledge of what we are trying to tell you.”

  Powers continued. “If we can show that Louama killed J. Everett Bailey, we can also link him to several other murders in Illinois through forensic evidence from the bullets.” He turned to DuWayne. “Did Angelica ever talk to you about a place where she might have kept important papers, pictures, notes? Anything like that?”

  “No,” DuWayne answered, shaking his head. “I’m the last person she would’ve told. She wanted to get out of dealing drugs. She said she didn’t care if we were poor. She wanted to have an honest job, and raise the girls the way she’d been brought up. Back then, I wouldn’t listen to her.” He looked at Star and Sunny and rested his head in his right hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  Corliss moved uneasily in his chair. The girls stared at the floor, but no one was crying. There was an awkward silence.

  Detective Milford’s voice drilled through the pain in the room. “All right, I’ve asked all of you about handling the bracelet, and no one added any words, or saw anything other than...” He paused and pulled some things out of an expanding file and laid them on the table. He looked at the top paper. “...Sunny and Star - Happy Birthdays – Mommy Angel?”

  I said, “No.” The girls shook their heads.

  “Please respond audibly,” Milford said.

  “No, I didn’t,” Star answered in an even voice. “You have to tell him
you didn’t, Sunny.”

  “I didn’t do anything except hold on to it until you took it away.” She glared at Milford.

  “I only had it for a few seconds when you showed it to me,” Len added.

  “There was something scratched on the inside of the bracelet, which we found when it was thoroughly cleaned,” Milford said. “Do the numbers thirteen, thirty-five, and seven mean anything to anyone?”

  Practically in unison, we all said, “No.”

  “What if the numbers were in a series, with dashes between them, like a code?”

  I could feel the blood draining from my face, and I whispered, “The tackle box under the bridge!”

  Chapter 34

  All eyes snapped to me. It was obvious no one had expected me to have the answer. I hadn’t expected it myself.

  “Cora, Cora Baker Caulfield, and I were looking at some old photos. We thought we saw something hidden under Hammer Bridge, so just for fun we went looking for it. We found a small metal tackle box with a padlock on it. The kind kids use on school lockers. They have three-number combinations...”

  “Is it at your house?” Powers cut in. His high voice had become almost a squeak.

  “No, Cora has it. We didn’t try to open it. We had no idea it had anything to do with this case.”

  “Can we get her here?” Powers asked of Milford, hardly taking a breath.

  “May I make a suggestion?” I asked. All heads turned in my direction. “My dog, well, my cousin’s dog actually, is in my car. He needs to be let out. Mr. Leonard is very uncomfortable in these chairs, and we are all hungry and thirsty. Can’t this wait until after lunch? Maybe Cora would let us come to her place where there are more comfortable seats, and then we could see if these numbers open the lock on the box.”

  Special Agent Powers hesitated a moment and then nodded. “I presume you have some sort of restaurant in your little burg that could seat us?”

  “The Pine Tree is right in town,” DuWayne’s lawyer said evenly. It was the first time he’d spoken. “It’s quaint, but the food is good. I’ve tried most of the menu in the past few days.”

 

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