by Bill WENHAM
“You sound as though you think we are in real danger, Carl,” Judy said.
“No, Jude, not just you ladies in particular. But I think until this crazy dude is caught, everyone in town could possibly be in danger. And he’s already outsmarted me once, but right now I’m going over to get Irene Fox. I just remembered she’s the only person in town, apart from Russ Harris, who has actually seen the real guy face to face. She and Russ can identify him and don’t think for a moment he doesn’t know that. I’m going to send Dave over here with her, for safe keeping. So you guys look after her, alright?”
“You are thinking he’ll try again today then?” Erica asked.
“No, Erica, I don’t just think it. I’m absolutely bloody certain of it. That’s why I want you to all stay inside here, please, Jude. I’ll get Dave over here with Irene just as soon as I can. But I have to go and warn Russ now.”
“Why don’t you just call him?” Judy asked.
“Well, for one thing, Jude, he doesn’t own a gun and I don’t want him to be out there trying to throw rocks or whatever at the guy.”
“You’re going over there to protect him, aren’t you? Goddamn it, Carl, why don’t you just say so.” Judy said angrily to him.
“You know why, Jude. That’s my job.”
“It’s not your job to get your silly self killed,” she said with tears streaming down her face. She came over to hug him and said, “Just be careful, that’s all I ask, and make sure you get the lousy bastard before he gets you.”
“I’ll be careful, Jude, don’t worry, and you take good care of Erica here until I get back.” With that, he broke away from her embrace and went quickly out of the door.
Since the Sheriff’s department only had two cruisers, David had offered to use his Chevy wagon to get around in. The township would pay for his gas, any routine maintenance and would also pay him a mileage allowance, Judy told him. Carl had already sent him over to Irene Fox’s place in it and would meet him there.
Further down the highway in Morristown, a man driving a dark grey Volvo, had been staying for a few nights in several bed and breakfast establishments. He’d already abandoned his fake persona as a Triple A information researcher. He’d also not been seen so far in Cooper’s Corners in anything other than Wells’ Jeep.
In each of the places in which he’d stayed, he’d rummaged around in the landlord’s own rooms searching for a weapon. This morning he’d struck lucky. He’d found a short barreled revolver, complete with ammunition, in the house owner’s bedroom night table. As with the other places, he’d made his search when he knew for certain the owners were busy doing something else. He knew the wife was downstairs preparing breakfast and he could see her husband out in the yard. He was in the middle of bringing in logs for the wood stove.
He slipped the gun and loose ammunition into his jacket pocket, leaving the box in the night table drawer. Then he calmly went down for breakfast. To allay any suspicion, he asked if he could stay on for a couple more nights, something he had no intention at all of doing.
The skis in the rack on the roof of the Volvo gave credence to his story of being in the area for some winter sports. He winked at the husband, who was now also seated at the table. “Outdoor and indoor, if you know what I mean? You know, apres ski, John,” he whispered. “Some of those snow bunnies can be real sporty, believe me!”
The other man nodded and smiled politely since he didn’t want to offend their paying guest. But looking at this guy, he couldn’t imagine any girl falling over her skis to get this character into her bedroom, if that was what he was referring to.
At the same time, his wife just tossed her head and sniffed. That young man must think she was both deaf and daft. Apres ski indeed, she thought. Getting each other into bed was all these young people thought about these days.
When Carl pulled up outside Irene Fox’s place, David was already there as Carl had expected him to be. And, unbeknownst to any of them, so was someone else.
The dark grey Volvo, now minus skis and rack, was stopped a little way further down the street. As he watched Carl get out of his patrol car, the Volvo’s driver started to load his newly acquired revolver. He’d already checked the gun over very carefully. There was no way he wanted a repeat of the rifle fiasco.
He’d been advised of the cause of the rifle explosion by the landlady of the first bed and breakfast he’d stayed in. The bush telegraph around here was both fast and accurate, he thought. Maybe he’d be able to use it to his own advantage.
In the meantime, he waited to see what would happen. He had no set plan so he would react to whatever situation occurred. He realized the woman in the coffee shop could easily identify him, as could the man he’d questioned, but until today he didn’t have the means to do anything about it.
But the thing that had really shocked him when he had driven up was to see David Gates wagon, a car he was extremely familiar with, parked outside the donut shop. Apart from being shocked, he was also very pleased as well, because it meant he wouldn’t have to go looking for him.
For now though, he would just sit here, bide his time and see what kind of scenario unfolded.
Chapter Thirty Five
Inside the donut shop, Carl was explaining to Irene Fox why he wanted her to close up for the day and leave with David. He told her David would drive her over to the Sheriff’s office and he’d stay there with Judy, Erica and herself.
While they were safe over there, he and Almost would try to track down the elusive Cooper’s Corners killer. Irene protested in vain she’d be fine, but Carl was adamant. Finally she agreed.
“Well, guys,” she said, “If I’ve got to close up, that’s the way it is, I guess, but let’s not waste a damned good pot of coffee. Can you sit yourselves down for a few minutes while I get myself organized?”
“Sure, Irene, we can always make time for a free coffee, you know that,” Carl said, as she brought two steaming cups over to them. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”
As they sipped at the hot coffee David asked, “Any more movement on the list, Sheriff?” In the office, they all alternated by calling him Carl, Chief, Boss, and Sheriff. If it was Judy speaking, it might be anything from ‘dear boy’ to ‘Hey, you’, depending on her mood of the day.
“Nope, not a damned thing and I’m making a huge assumption our man is one of the ones on your list. But right now, Davey boy, I’m having my doubts. If he isn’t one of those guys, we’re right up shit creek without a goddamned paddle.”
“So, who’s left? Let’s see if there’s anything else I can recall about any of them.”
“The three I have left on that list are Mitchell Langdon, Bernie Woodall and Toby Clarke,” Carl told him.
“Well, out of those three, only Tobe was in our group. The other two were just wannabes that Maria shot down in flames. Actually though, Bernie was a bit of a nerd, so I can’t see him doing anything like this, Carl”
“Don’t dismiss him just because of his appearance or his manner, Dave. A lot of good cops have made that mistake. There’ve been quite a few nerds who’ve turned out to be rather nasty killers. Macho guys don’t have the monopoly on murder, you know. How about the other two?”
“If I had to choose I’d probably put my money on Mitch Langdon. Out of all of them, he was probably the one who was angriest at Maria. Not only did she turn down flat romantically, but she also refused to allow him into our group as well. Mitch just wasn’t used to being treated like that.”
“How about this other guy then? Toby Clarke.”
“Much the same with him too, really, except Tobe was a member of our group,” David said.
“So was Jason Wells and he tried to shoot you, for Christ’s sake.” Carl said dryly. “You think this Tobe guy could be capable of doing anything like that?”
David frowned.
“I really don’t know, Carl. I thought I knew all those guys pretty well, but not enough to even know Jason was a junkie. I knew he’d trie
d a few things. Most of them did. But I thought I knew Maria too, didn’t I? At least in the beginning, I thought I did.”
“That’s what I mean, people change, and sometimes not for the better, either. Anyway, have you seen any of these guys in, say, the last year or two?”
David shook his head.
“Not for probably ten years, Carl.”
“Okay, then, let me put this to you another way. You recognized Wells when I fed you his name again, kinda highlighted it for you, didn’t it? Now you only have the last three of them left. Do you think with only their names in mind now, you could do a bit of people watching? You’re the only one we’ve got who’d have any chance at all of recognizing any of them.
David nodded. “Sure,” he said.
“A moment ago you said something about putting money down. I’d do the same. I think it would be a pretty safe bet now, whichever of those guys you see next, that’ll be our man. It will also mean that if he sees you first, he’s gonna try to kill you, you can bank on it. Now, if you’re still wondering why, it’s because he thinks you saw him kill Maria Caspar, that’s why.”
At that point, Irene came back into the shop from the rear, carrying a small tote bag.
“Just a few things,” she said, “In case I’m going to be away for a while.”
“Well, that’s a bit ego deflating, Irene,” David said. “You don’t expect Cooper’s Corners finest, the Sheriff and his trusty deputies, to catch this guy today?”
“Listen, sonny, I gave up believing in miracles when I didn’t get a pony for my eighth birthday, and here I an, sixty years later, and I still haven’t got one.”
“But you still got yourself a miracle, Irene. I think it’s a bloody miracle you’re still around at sixty eight. And speaking of money, as we were, I’d gladly pay a bundle of it to see old Irene here, up on the back of a donkey, wouldn’t you, Dave?”
“It was a pony, you moron, and I’d pay a bloody sight more to see you pitched off on your ass from one.” Irene retorted.
“She got you with that one, Carl,” David laughed, using one of Judy’s favorite expressions.
“Dave, just do me a favor. Get that woman out of here, will you, before I forget I’m a gentleman,” Carl said, but smiling too.
“This may come as a big surprise to you, Carl Berger, but you have to actually be a gentleman, before you can forget you are one.”
“Christ, Irene, you’re as bad as Jude. What do you two do, compare notes?”
“Don’t have to, Carl; putting you guys down just comes natural to us. It is called being a woman.”
“That’s not what I’d call it,” Carl muttered, “Woman doesn’t start with a ‘b’.”
“Oh, and remember, Carl, all of us are blessed with excellent hearing along with our superior intellect,” Irene said sweetly.
Carl got up and held the shop door open. “Out, both of you. Give me your keys, Irene, and I’ll lock up for you,” and then he added, loud enough she’d be sure to hear, “At least, if I do it, I’ll know that it’s been done properly.”
Down the street, the driver of the grey Volvo watched as the door of the donut shop opened. Inside the shop, the woman and the two men had been clearly in view, but he didn’t think this would be a good place to take them all out. He’d need to get all three of them before they could respond. They also had two guns to his one and he knew he wasn’t a very good shot.
He watched as Gates opened his Chevy’s door for the older woman. Okay, he thought, he’s taking her somewhere else. That would perhaps be better. The Sheriff followed them out, locked the shop door and waved at the other two as he got into his cruiser.
A moment later, hed driven away in the opposite direction to the way the Chevy was heading. In just one second, the Sheriff had shortened the odds by half for him. There was now only one gun against his and only two people to take out. Both of them were his planned targets.
Laying his now loaded revolver on the seat beside him, the driver of the Volvo put the car in gear and followed the Chevy.
Chapter Thirty Six
Erica and Judy looked up as David opened the office door. He stood aside as he ushered Irene Fox inside. Then he followed her into the office, closing the door behind him.
“Hi, ladies,” he said, “Irene, you know Judy, of course, and this is Erica. Erica Caspar.” Erica stood up and offered the other woman her hand. Irene Fox shook it firmly.
“Pleased to meet you, Erica,” Irene said, and then hesitated. “Did he say Caspar? Isn’t that the name of...?”
Erica quickly interrupted her.
“Yes, it is. Maria was my sister.”
“Oh, my, you poor girl, I’m so sorry.”
Judy spoke up quickly. “I’ll just put the coffee pot while you two girls get acquainted. Did you happen to bring any of your donuts with you, Irene?”
“Dammit, no, I didn’t, Judy. I’m sorry. I was so busy giving Carl a hard time I completely forgot. It’s a shame too, because there were plenty of them there, just left behind to go stale now. That was pretty dumb of me, I guess.”
“No matter,” Judy said as she turned towards the back room, “I’ll just…”
At that moment, the office door burst open and the driver of the Volvo rushed in. He was holding a revolver in his hand. His left hand.
Erica backed up against the wall as David leapt up from behind Almost’s desk, where he’d just sat himself down. Judy was in the interview room doorway and Irene Fox was in the middle of the room. She’d spun around at the sound of the door being kicked shut.
As he stood behind Almost’s desk, David reached for the service revolver Carl had issued him with as a deputy. But being unused to it, and guns in general, he couldn’t get it out of the holster. He had immediately recognized the man with the gun and although everything seemed to have suddenly gone into slow motion, only a split second had passed.
The killer pointed the gun, said “Sorry, Dave,” and fired it at him. This was now the second time David had been shot at from point blank range in just a matter of days.
The fact he was leaning slightly, trying to release the revolver from the holster, probably saved his life. Even so the bullet struck him in the shoulder, spun him around and sent him sprawling on the floor behind Almost’s desk.
In just that split second, Erica had realized she was standing beside the rifle rack. That was why Carl had loaded them, for just this kind of situation.
Thinking he’d killed David Gates, the man turned the gun towards Irene Fox, his next victim. She let out a terrified scream and collapsed in a heap on the floor. But her fainting took him by surprise and caused the man with the gun to hesitate, just for a moment.
As the killer glanced down at the prone figure of Irene on the floor, Erica snatched a rifle off the rack. She was remembering what Carl had said. “All anyone will have to do is point and pull the goddamned trigger.” God, she hoped he was right. In one fluid motion, she swung the barrel of the rifle towards the killer and pulled the trigger. She didn’t give a damn where she hit him, just so long as she did.
The impact as the bullet struck him knocked the man over backwards, slamming him into the closed office door. The revolver flew out of his hand and skittered across the floor. Judy scrambled to retrieve it.
Erica, in her haste, had fired the rifle from the hip. She knew she wouldn’t have had time to put it up to her shoulder. In any case, unlike a paper target, it would have been impossible to miss the man completely from such a close range. However, not having a proper grip on the gun, the recoil from it had knocked her off balance, causing her to drop it. She was sure her shot had hit the man but she still got down on to her knees quickly to retrieve it, just in case.
The noise from the two shots had been deafening in the confines of the small office, and the place stank of cordite.
As she held the killer’s revolver in one hand, Judy reached frantically into Carl’s desk drawer with the other, searching for his spare pair of ha
ndcuffs. She finally grasped them and approaching the fallen man cautiously, gun in one hand, cuffs in the other, she snapped one end of the cuffs on to his wrist.
He was alive but immobile, bleeding heavily from an abdominal wound. A gun shot wound in the gut was the worst kind, she remembered Carl saying once. Nevertheless, and with no remorse whatsoever, she grabbed his arm and turned him on his face.
The man moaned once and went limp. Judy snapped the remaining cuff on his other wrist and left him lying there. She had more important people to attend to than this evil monster.
David was trying to struggle up from behind Almost’s desk as Erica came over to help Judy with him. He was shocked and dazed but not seriously injured apparently. The bullet had caught him in the upper part of his left arm, up near the shoulder but it could have been far, far worse. Irene was still lying in the middle of the floor, unconscious, unhurt and completely oblivious to what had happened.
“David, David,” Judy gasped, as she held a wad of tissues over his wound to staunch the flow of blood. “Are you badly hurt?”
With the help of the two women, David struggled into Almost’s chair but was very pale with shock.
“I don’t think so, Judy. It just hurts like hell, that’s all, but no, I don’t think it’s fatal,” he said, managing a weak grin.
He looked over at the still and handcuffed figure lying in a puddle of blood on the office floor in front of the door.
“What happened?” he asked.
“That guy shot you,” Judy said.
“I know that, Judy. I meant what happened to him?”
“Erica shot him,” Judy said, proud of her new friend’s heroic action.
“Erica did?” David echoed weakly. “Wow, Erica, I didn’t know you had it in you.”