HIGHWAY HOMICIDE

by Bill WENHAM

  “Do you know who he is then, David?” Judy asked him.

  “Yeah, I know him, and Carl was right,” he said.

  “As usual, I suppose,” Judy said dryly.

  “Its Bernie Woodall, the guy I told Carl was too much of a nerd to ever do anything like this. Is he dead?”

  “No, David dear, but excuse me, there are things to be done. Look after him please, Erica,” she said as she sat herself down at the radio.

  “Carl, come in, please,” she called.

  “Yeah, Jude, what’s up?” he answered immediately.

  “You and Almost get your butts over here, Carl, right now, and bring Doc with you,” she said.

  “Doc? Why do you need him, for Christ’ sake?” he yelled into the mike.

  “Tell you when you get here. Move it!” she said and clicked off.

  In his cruiser, Carl said, “Goddamn that woman!” but all the same, he called Almost and told him to pick up Doc and get back to the office fast.

  “Why, what’s happening?” Almost asked.

  “Why ask me, Almost? I’m just the goddamned Sheriff around here. How the hell do you expect me to know anything? Just do it, okay?”

  Carl started his cruiser, flipped on the siren and headed for the office. In the meantime, Judy had radioed for the closest ambulance and had called the State guys in Burlington.

  She just asked if they could come out to Cooper’s Corners immediately. She said Carl would explain it all to them when they got there but it was very urgent.

  They were still waiting for the ambulance when Almost walked in with Doc. Doc looked over at David and Erica, but David shook his head and pointed at the figure Doc and Almost had stepped over on their way in. Doc squatted down beside the man, with his medical bag on the floor beside him. The killer, Brandon Woodall, was now unconscious. He was alive but it was very doubtful if he would be for very long. It would depend greatly upon how soon he could be hospitalized.

  Doc asked Judy to unlock the cuffs.

  “He’s not going anywhere now, Judy, and he’s not going to be hurting anyone anymore either. My guess is this dude has got himself an appointment soon with Boot Hill.”

  Irene Fox had recovered consciousness and was sitting at Judy’s desk drinking a cup of coffee. She was actually, apart from being pleased she was both alive and safe, very peeved that she’d missed all the action.

  Doc came over to take a look at David’s injury. With Judy and Erica’s help, they carefully removed David’s blood soaked shirt. Judy gasped as she saw the round and purplish black hole in his shoulder, now just oozing a little blood.

  “Well, lad, the bullet is still in there, so there is good news and bad news for you,” Doc told him.

  “What’s the good news, Doc?” David said, a little weakly.

  “Only one hole in you for me to stitch up.”

  “And the bad?” Judy asked fearfully.

  “I’ve got to get him into hospital so I can do a bit of digging around to get that thing out of there. At least he is walking wounded, which is more than I can say for his friend over there.” Doc said.

  “I know you’re only joking, Doc, but actually, we were friends at one time. Not good friends, but at least friends. I’d never have thought that he, of all people, would ever have tried to kill me.”

  “Hey, I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to say this, either, but with friends like that…,” Almost started to say.

  “Who needs enemies? Right, Almost?” Judy said, with a grin.

  “Aw, Geez, Jude, you take all the fun out of everything.” Almost complained.

  “On the contrary,” Doc said gallantly, “I think she puts all the fun into everything.”

  “Why, thank you, kind sir,” Judy said, fluttering her eye lashes at him.

  “Oh, why don’t you two get yourselves a room, for God’s sake” Almost said irritably.

  Just then the door crashed open. Carl came charging through it, tripped over the unconscious killer’s feet and went sprawling headlong on the floor.

  “Jesus Christ!” he said, clambering to his feet. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on around here?”

  “Erica has solved your murder case for you, Carl, and has apprehended the killer.” Judy said smugly.

  “She’s what!”

  “The person you just fell over is…”

  “Bernie Woodall,” David finished for her.

  “The Cooper’s Corners killer,” Judy continued proudly. “Erica just shot him for you after he’d shot our David.”

  “Erica shot him?” Carl said, gaping in astonishment, as he looked over at Erica.

  Erica just shrugged.

  “You do what you have to do,” she said, “and in any case, that lousy bastard killed my Maria, my sister. I think I really needed to be the one to nail him, don’t you?”

  “I’m not questioning that at all, Erica,” Carl said. “I’m just astounded you were able to do it, that’s all.”

  “I just happened to be the closest one to the rifles, that’s all,” she said modestly.

  “Yeah, right, Erica. Closest one, my ass. It took an enormous amount of guts for you to pull that trigger on someone. I don’t care if you were lying in wait for him when he came through the door, it was still bloody amazing. I’m goddamned proud of you. Dammit, girl, we all are.”

  He looked over at David, sitting behind Almost desk with a fresh wad of tissues held to his shoulder. “You okay, Dave?”

  David nodded.

  Doc said, “If that ambulance doesn’t get here soon, Carl, I’m afraid we’re going to lose this guy.”

  “No great loss that, is it, Doc? I’m just really glad he wasn’t able to kill anyone one else.”

  “He very nearly did, Carl, if it hadn’t been for Erica. He was just pointing the gun at Irene when Erica shot him. She saved Irene’s life.” Judy said.

  Irene’s eyes widened and she looked as though she was about to pass out again. She hadn’t known any of that.

  “I’m really glad you loaded those things, Carl,” Erica said, walking over and hugging him. “Although I was mad at you at the time, and gave you a hard time, doing that saved all of our lives.”

  “Well, thanks, Erica, and there’s someone else in town who should be pretty grateful to you too. Russ Harris won’t have to be looking over his shoulder any more either, will he? And Almost, just to be absolutely certain this time, take this guys prints before they cart him off, will you? I don’t want a repeat of that last fiasco.”

  Carl walked over and helped himself to a cup of coffee, just as the Morristown ambulance pulled up outside.

  “Should have brought some donuts with you, Irene. I thought you were telling me you were the smart one.”

  Doc reached down and took the killer’s pulse, then shook his head.

  “You sure, Doc?” Carl said with a straight face.

  “Yes, dammit, Carl, I’m sure. I’m certain in fact,” Doc said, smiling broadly. “This thing’s really over now.”

  Carl reached out and shook the old doctor’s hand. The rest of it was now up to the State boys to tidy up. The killer was dead, so there would just be an inquiry, but no lengthy trial. But his department, if not himself personally, had brought peace and safety back to Cooper’s Corners. He was well satisfied with the outcome.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  It was in the early spring, almost three months later, when Errol Cook passed away in his sleep at the hospital. In spite of their past rivalry, Doc had been at his bedside when he died and a surprising number of the community’s residents turned out for his funeral.

  It was well known, or at least well assumed, by the folks in Cooper’s Corners that Errol Cook hadn’t been hurting for a buck or two. But they were absolutely astounded when it was made public what his estate had actually been worth.

  Errol had gone back into hospital for the last time and in one of the many bedside discussions he’d had with Errol, Carl had learn
ed, at least partially, what Errol wanted done with his money.

  “I don’t want people around here to remember me for that awful thing I did, Carl,” he had said, with tears in his eyes.

  “They won’t, Errol, because nobody around here knows anything about it except me and I’m sure as hell not gonna tell them.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone then, Carl?” Errol whispered unbelievingly, “No one at all?”

  “Of course not, you old fool. If I’d have told someone, I’d have had to put you in jail, wouldn’t I?” Carl said, “And there was nothing at all to be gained by that after all this time, was there?”

  Errol shook his head.

  “No, I suppose not, and I’m truly sorry I did what I did. My Dolly was never really planning to leave me really, you know. It was all just said to needle me. She sure knew how to get a rise out of me, that woman did, Carl. But I did love her dearly. Still do and that’s what I want to talk to you about. I’d like you to arrange it all for me if you can. Be my executor.”

  Without even knowing what ‘it’ was, Carl readily agreed. “Sure thing, Errol, consider it done.”

  When Carl paid his next visit to the hospital, he’d sat by Errol’s bedside and had said, “Hi, Errol, how you doing?” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he could have bitten his tongue. What kind of a dumb question was that, for Christ’s sake? The guy was dying of cancer. How would he be feeling?

  Errol looked at him with a wry smile.

  “Actually, I’m not feeling too bad today. Dosed up to the eyeballs with everything they feel like pumping into me, of course, but I’m really not in a lot of pain.”

  Carl just nodded, unable to trust himself not to come out with an even dumber comment.

  Sensing his embarrassment, Errol said, “Apart from the last few years as a drunken idiot, I’ve had a pretty good life overall, you know. Even when I was drunker than a skunk, you guys were always good to me and I appreciated it. May not have seemed like it at the time, but I did. They don’t treat me right in here though.”

  Carl raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Really, Errol?” he said. He’d thought Errol had been receiving the very best of care, especially since it was being overseen constantly by Doc.

  “Sure, Carl. I asked that blonde nurse to put some straight Bourbon in my IV line last night, and do you know what that crazy woman told me, Carl? I just couldn’t believe it.”

  “What did she tell you, Errol?” he said carefully, fearing what Errol’s answer might be.

  “She told me she’d have to water it down a bit first. Do you believe that? Christ, Carl, everyone knows you don’t water down good Kentucky Bourbon, don’t they?” he said with a laugh that shook his whole frail body.

  “Better not to have any at all than to ruin it like that then, right, Errol?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought too, Carl. Crazy damned woman,” he said, almost to himself. Or so it seemed since his voice was so low.

  A few minutes later, when Errol’s eyes drooped closed, Carl got up quietly and left.

  A day or two later, Carl dropped by O’Shaunessy’s Pub. He slid into the booth opposite Doc. After a perfunctory greeting, Doc said, “Tell me something, Carl, does the law actually allow you to make some of these decisions you make?” Doc asked him.

  Carl just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

  “The law, Doc? I really don’t know, I never ask it. Wasn’t it some English guy that said the law is an ass? Or something like that. Very often, most times even, actually sticking exactly to the letter of the law, doesn’t solve a goddamned thing. All it does is make some people, who maybe don’t deserve it, bloody miserable anyway. What does putting people in jail really do, Doc? A lot of times it ruins some basically good people’s lives, that’s all it ever accomplishes.”

  “Vigilante justice then, Carl? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “Christ, no. The exact opposite, if anything. I’ve just always tried to see the good in folks if I can. At least around here, I do. A lot of what I do you won’t ever find in the police manuals or law books either, Doc, but most times, what’s done is done. And no amount of law or jail time is gonna change that, is it? Sometimes you need to use a little commonsense and compassion, that’s all, and the law doesn’t often leave any room for that.”

  “That’s setting yourself up a bit like God though, isn’t it, Carl?”

  “Is that what you think when a judge puts some poor bastard away for life, only to find out after twenty years hard labor that, whoops, sorry, it wasn’t him, after all. Who’s playing God then, Doc?”

  “In all this talk, you’re speaking with someone specifically in mind, aren’t you?” Doc said, smiling.

  Carl smiled too and said, “You know something, Doc, that’s for me to know and for you to wonder about, isn’t it?”

  “You know something, Sheriff, if you weren’t a cop; I think you’d have made a damned good doctor. Psychiatrist, maybe. You always try to figure out what’s wrong, make your diagnosis and come up with the right treatment. Unlike a lot of cops I’ve met in my time, you don’t insist on putting on a bloody great big plaster cast just to treat a minor bruise, do you?”

  “I know it’s all a judgment call, Doc, but it doesn’t make sense to me to just dump folks in jail and throw away the key if it can possibly be avoided. Sometimes even murder can be justified,” he said, giving Doc a long, hard look. “Jail time never brings the victim back to life either, does it?”

  Doc smiled faintly and gave a shake of his head,

  “You can’t fool me, Carl Berger, I know you too well. You’ve been talking about Errol, haven’t you? And for what it’s worth, I agree with you completely.”

  “Like I said, Doc, that’s for me to know and for you to wonder about, and for what it is worth too, you’ve been wandering about in the right direction.”

  “Wondering, Carl, not wandering,” Doc said.

  “Whatever, Doc.” Carl said, with another shrug. “Drink up, my good friend. Want another?”

  Some time later, when Errol’s will was read, Carl found Errol had left his house to him. There was also a sealed letter addressed to Carl, one he’d been waiting months for. He slipped it in his pocket and would open it later when he thought the time was right.

  A couple of days after the funeral, Judy had planned a small wake for Errol at O’Shaunessy’s Pub. Carl said like it or not, the township, via the Sheriff’s office would pay for it. He said even now he believed Errol would be solving the mystery of his wife’s disappearance for them and that was worth the price of a party.

  On the night of the wake, after perusing it quickly, Carl read Errol’s letter aloud to everyone present. There were horrified gasps when he got to the part in Errol’s detailed letter where he described the burial of his wife. In his letter, he’d explained his action in this way.

  ‘She was dead’, he wrote, ‘but it wasn’t my Dolly I buried that morning, it was just the container she came in. It was just, when I found her dead like that, I didn’t have a suitable one on hand to send her on her way in, that’s all. In any case, she really hadn’t gone anywhere at all. She would always remain in my heart for as long as I lived and hopefully throughout eternity as well.’

  The letter had borne out Doc’s version of the happening and as Carl finished reading it and had returned the letter to its envelope, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. Carl looked over at Doc but he’d made no mention of his connection.

  On the day following the wake, the local undertaker and his men began the gruesome task of exhuming Dolly’s remains for proper burial. Errol had asked in his letter that they both be buried properly in the same grave. His letter said that he’d never wanted to be away from her for another moment and that was the reason he’d buried her himself in his own garden.

  A few days after the wake, Judy made an announcement of her own. She said she’d decided to retire.

  “What will you do with all that extra time on your ha
nds,” Almost asked her.

  “I’m going to be doing something that I love to do, something I’ve thought about for a long time now and something I told Carl about years ago,” she said.

  Carl looked suitably puzzled.

  “Do you remember what I said to you when you wanted to pay me for the meals I made for you?”

  Carl remembered very well indeed what she was referring to but shook his head, in order not to spoil her story for her.

  “I told you if I wanted people to pay for my food, I’d put a bloody great big sign over my front door saying ‘restaurant’. Remember that now, Carl?”

  Carl nodded.

  “So that’s what I’m going to do. As you can see, I’ve got loads of space here and since you’re all here tonight, you know how I just love to cook. So what do you think? You guys can even come up with a catchy name for it for me,” she said.

  For a moment there was a stunned silence around the dinner table and then she added, “By the way, Carl, there’ll still be a second sign, but this time it’ll say ‘all goddamned cops are welcome’.”

  For the next few minutes they all congratulated her and wished her well. Then Judy spoke up again. “You know something? You guys are all so full of crap! Here you all are, wishing me well and every one of you is wondering what the hell are we going to do now, aren’t you?”

  There was a chorus of protesting voices until Judy interrupted it by saying. “Quit your whining, all of you, because Erica here has got an announcement to make as well. Over to you, Erica.”

  Judy winked at Carl, since he was the only one, apart from Judy, who knew what Erica was about to say. After all, it had been he who’d arranged it.

  As Judy sat down Erica stood up and said. “Well, this may come as a huge surprise to you, but since I’ve been here I’ve come to just love all of you, just the way Judy does.” She paused for a moment, smiling around at all of Judy’s seated guests. “So much so, in fact, I’ve agreed to take over as your new gofer, den mother, mother hen or whatever you want to call it. Judy has been coaching me, especially regarding the details of all your bad habits. And don’t you look so smug, Carl, that includes you too,” she said.