Stillborn Armadillos (John Lee Quarrels Book 1)

by Nick Russell

  "Hello?"

  "Good morning, John Lee. It's Shania."

  He had been up late the night before and not been able to sleep well. His brain was still foggy. "Who?"

  "Shania Jones. Am I that easy to forget?"

  "Oh, no. Of course not. I'm sorry, I'm still half asleep."

  "I'm sorry, I can call back another time."

  "No, this is a good time."

  He sat up and looked at the bedside clock. 9:15 AM.

  "What's up, Shania?"

  "I was just calling to check in with you since I hadn't heard anything from you."

  "Yeah, sorry about that. It's been pretty crazy over here."

  "I know, it's been all over the news. I didn't want to call too soon because I knew you were busy, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm so sorry for the loss of your friend."

  "Thank you."

  "So how are you doing? I can't imagine what that must feel like."

  "It's kind of like losing a brother. So yeah, I think maybe you can imagine."

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and then she said, "For what it's worth, John Lee, eventually it gets easier to live with. It still hurts, and you never forget, but you learn to put it in a compartment so you can get on with your life. I think if you don't, it would eventually eat you alive."

  John Lee thought of Richard and Alice Westfall, and how each had been affected by losing Dan, so long ago. In one way or another, their son's death had indeed eaten both of his parents alive. Maddy, for her part, seemed to have been able to compartmentalize her brother's loss.

  Thinking about her, he couldn't help but remember the night they had spent together following Ray Ray's funeral. The next morning both had been subdued, and he didn't know if it was because of what had happened to Ray Ray, or what had not happened between the two of them. Maddy had dressed and bent over to kiss his cheek as he still lay in bed.

  "I need to get home and check on Mama."

  "All right."

  She got to the door of the bedroom and John Lee had called her name. "Maddy? Are we okay?"

  Maddy had nodded, and said, "Yeah, John Lee. We're okay."

  She had turned away and then stopped and turned back to him. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For being you. For being my friend every time I've needed you there. For last night, for not wanting more or expecting more, or...."

  "I'll always be here for you Maddy. You know that."

  "Yeah, I know that."

  "Are you there, John Lee?"

  Shania's voice on the telephone brought him back to the present.

  "Sorry, I guess I drifted off there for a minute."

  "Listen, I'll call you back another time."

  "No, I'm sorry, Shania. I didn't get much sleep last night. It's been really crazy here."

  "I understand. Like I said, I just wanted to check in with you."

  "I appreciate that, I really do."

  "Have you been making any headway in finding out who killed your friend?"

  "Not yet. Between our people and the state investigators, and the FBI, we haven't found out a damned thing. I've got to be honest with you, Shania. I don't know if we ever will."

  "That's got to be so frustrating."

  "It is."

  "Do you think... do you think whoever did it will start up again?"

  "I don't know. I hope not. But on the other hand, I almost wish something would happen to move things along. I mean, not anyone getting hurt or anything like that, but at least if he resurfaces maybe we'll have a chance of getting him."

  "Please be careful, John Lee."

  "I will."

  "I imagine all of this has put the investigation into those three skeletons on the back burner."

  "Yeah, it has. But I don't know. We're not getting anywhere on Ray Ray's murder, and there have been so many people looking at it from every direction that we're almost stumbling over each other. I think maybe I might ask my boss about getting back on that, at least until something develops with Ray Ray's case."

  "Well, you stay in touch, John Lee. And if you get back over this way, give me a call, okay?"

  "I'll do it," he promised.

  He got out of bed, let Magic out, then filled the dog's bowls with food and fresh water before he got in the shower. He felt guilty for not touching base with Shania before then, but he really had been swamped, putting in long hours day after day without taking any time off since Ray Ray had been killed. Maybe he was right, maybe it was time to talk to D.W. about getting back to work on the case of the skeletons they had found out on Turpentine Highway.

  ***

  D.W. didn't like that idea at all. "Those men been dead a long time, John Lee. And whoever killed them has probably been dead almost as long. I doubt you'll find out anything. And meanwhile, we got us a cop killer runnin' loose around here."

  "I know that D.W., but it's not like we're getting anywhere on Ray Ray's case."

  "Were not just goin' to forget it!"

  "Of course not! All I'm saying is that we've got so many people looking at the same things over and over again, and all we do is keep butting our heads against a wall."

  "That's how you solve these things, John Lee. You just keep at it and keep at it and keep at it."

  "I know that. But so far we're not accomplishing anything. Meanwhile, think about this, D.W. Sooner or later the news folks are going to ask you about those skeletons. And we both know that Fig is always looking for any way he can to make you look bad."

  "Fig can kiss my wrinkled white ass for all I care!"

  "Yeah, but what if he decides to tell those reporters that you're ignoring the murders of three black men completely and are focusing every resource we have on the death of a white deputy."

  "The two ain't the same at all. You know that."

  "I know it, and you know it. That's not the point. Those reporters are always looking for a new story or a new angle. All Fig has to do is plant a seed in their minds about how three dead black men are not as important as one dead white man is, here in Somerton County. You know that one of them is going to take that and run with it. And as soon as one does, the rest are gonna jump right on the story, too. The next thing you know, Ray Ray's murder is completely forgotten and they're all trying to crucify you. Calling you just another bigoted white small town southern sheriff."

  He could tell that the message hit home when D.W. shoved back his chair and got up and paced back and forth across his office, muttering to himself. After a moment he stopped and said, "You're right, that salad eatin' Frenchman would do somethin' just like that to throw me under the bus. And those reporters? They don't give a tinker's damn 'bout me, I know that. All they're lookin' for is the next story. Damn, why didn't I see this comin'?"

  "There's been too much going on to focus on everything, D.W."

  "Oh yeah? Well as of right now, you start focusin' on those skeletons. Losin' Ray Ray is a tragedy, and we're goin' to catch the cotton picker that did it and we're gonna put him away forever. But in the meantime, you keep trying to figure out what happened to those three men out there on Turpentine Highway. And try to find somethin' fast, before Fig and those reporters put their heads together and find some way to try to stick it to me!"

  Chapter 33

  Troy Somerton kept him waiting for over fifteen minutes. John Lee spent the time sitting in a chair leafing through old building industry magazines and listening to Charlotte Thompson answering the telephone and directing calls to different parts of the large complex that included a lumber store, building supplies, warehouses, and a construction yard where utility sheds, wooden decks for mobile homes, and trusses were built. After directing him to a chair and telling him that her boss would be with him as soon as possible, given that he didn't have an appointment, Charlotte had pointedly ignored him.

  John Lee knew she was still mad at him because he had arrested her daughter for shoplifting at the Dollar General six months earlie
r. She considered it somehow his fault that Danielle had $36 worth of makeup and other merchandise shoved inside her backpack when the store's manager stopped the girl on her way out the door. Between claiming that the whole thing was a set up to harass her daughter, and warning John Lee that she would have his badge before it was all over with, not once did she ever acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, her lack of parenting skills and the fact that she spent most of her time holding down a barstool at Bill Gator's Pub might have something to do with it being the fourteen year old's third arrest in just over a year.

  Eventually her phone buzzed and she picked up the receiver, listened for a moment, and said, "Yes, sir." She hung up, and without looking at John Lee, said, "He'll see you now."

  "John Lee Quarrels! How you doin', man?"

  Troy came around his desk, a massive, dark wooden affair that took up almost as much floor space as a '55 Rambler, and gripped his hand hard. Troy was a couple of inches shorter than John Lee, the time he had spent sitting at a desk was beginning to show. His face and neck were thicker, and there was the beginning of a potbelly stretching the front of his light gray polo shirt with the Somerton logo, a stylized red S, embroidered on it.

  "I'm good, Troy. How about you?"

  "Oh, busy, busy. Have yourself a seat."

  He walked back behind his desk and sat down as his face grew serious. "I was so sorry to hear about Ray Ray Watkins. That was a terrible thing. Just terrible."

  "Yes, it was."

  "How are you holdin' up, John Lee?"

  "We're all doing the best we can."

  "Do you have any leads yet?"

  "Nothing so far. Maybe that reward you announced the other day will help."

  In a front page story in the Somerton County News, Troy had announced that Somerton Forest Products Company was offering a $50,000 reward for anybody who could provide information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons responsible for the murder of Deputy Raymond Watkins.

  "I hope so, I really do. It's a small price to pay to see justice done. Now, what can I do for you today, John Lee?"

  "Well, it's about those three skeletons we found out there on Turpentine Highway a while back."

  Troy nodded. "Yeah, I read about that in the newspaper. What'd they say, they was fifty years old or somethin' like that?"

  "We're not really sure how old they are," John Lee told him. "At least that old, maybe more."

  "I don't want to think about things like that happenin' around here," Troy said, shaking his head. "But I guess back in those days... well, you know."

  "No I don't know. That's why I'm here, Troy."

  "I'm not sure what you mean."

  "How do you think those three men wound up dead out there?"

  "Lord, man, I don't have any idea! Happened before either one of us were born. My first thought was maybe the Klan."

  "That was mine, too."

  Troy laughed and said, "Now John Lee, I've been known to drive my Corvette a little too fast on some of the back roads, and I've got the tickets and the insurance rates to prove it. But that's about as unlawful as I get. You really don't think I have anything to do with the Klan, do you?

  "No, no, not at all. That wasn't what I was getting at. Troy, do you remember when this company used to be called Somerton Lumber Company?"

  Troy laughed again. "Boy, you're really going back in history now. Yeah, way back when my daddy was a boy that's what it was called. That's before we diversified and got into building materials and small construction and all that."

  "Do you know when the name changed, by any chance?"

  "Not off the top my head. Maybe sometime back in the 60s or 70s, I really couldn't say. Why?"

  "Do you know anything about the turpentine business?"

  "Turpentine? I know we sell it down in the building supply store. What's this all about, John Lee?"

  He took an evidence bag from his pocket and set the brass tag on Troy's desk. "Have you ever seen one of those before?"

  The other man picked it up and studied it for a moment, then set it back down. "Can't say as I have."

  "Are there any company records anywhere, Troy, from back in the old days?"

  "I don't know. What exactly is it you're lookin' for, John Lee?"

  "Well, as I understand it, back in the old days this whole region of the country was filled with turpentine camps. They tapped into pine trees and got the sap and distilled it into turpentine. They used a lot of it on the old wooden ships."

  "That's interestin', I don't think I ever knew anything about that."

  "Yeah, apparently that's how your family's company got started. A fellow over at the Historical Museum was telling me that Somerton Lumber Company had six turpentine camps around the county."

  "Really? I'll have to get over there and check that out."

  "Yeah, they've got some stuff on display there about it."

  "That's just fascinating," Troy said. "I'll have to ask my Daddy about it. Though I guess that was before his time, too."

  "How is your grandpa these days, Troy? Is he still doing well?"

  "I'll tell you what, John Lee, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if that old man outlasts all of us. He always says that he's going to live forever because Heaven don't want him and the Devil's afraid he'll take over. He has his moments, and he's slowed down a whole lot, but trust me, he can get just as cantankerous as all get out. A week ago he decided it was plantin' time and he went out to one of the barns and started up a tractor and drove that thing right through the back wall and into Mama's flower garden before we even knew what was happenin'!"

  They laughed at the story, and then John Lee said, "Anyway, that brass tag there with the numbers on it and those initials, SL? The man at the museum told me that stood for Somerton Lumber, and those numbers on there were a number issued to an employee at one of the turpentine camps. Kind of like an identification tag. I guess each employee had one, and each one had a different number on it."

  "Really?" Troy picked the tag up and looked at it again. "Did you get this at the museum?"

  "No. They've got a couple of them on display," John Lee said, "but that one you're holding there came from where we found the skeletons of those men that got themselves killed out there. One of them was carrying it with him, or more likely he had around his neck on a string or something that went through that little hole there in the top."

  Troy dropped the tag onto his desk like it was hot.

  "Sorry, didn't mean to spook you," John Lee said.

  "No, just surprised me, I guess. I mean, it's kind of morbid to be holding somethin' in your hand that came out of a grave."

  "Yeah, I felt that way at first, too," John Lee said. "Sad fact is, though, that whoever killed those men out there and buried them like they did never marked those graves. I expect their kinfolk always wondered what happened to them."

  "Be a terrible thing to live with, never knowing where somebody you loved disappeared to like that," Troy said.

  "Anyway, John Lee said, "I was hoping that maybe you had some kind of records somewhere, in an old warehouse or some such, that dated back to those days. That might tell us who it was that had this tag. That way if he still had any family around the county, at least we can tell them and see the man gets a decent burial."

  "I don't know, but I'll sure look into it for you, John Lee," Troy promised. And I'll tell you somethin' else. If you think those men worked for the company way back there in the day, I'm goin' to make sure that all three of them have Christian burials. You just tell me whenever y'all are finished with the remains and I'll talk to Edgar Ross over at the mortuary and see that it's taken care of. I mean after all, if they were Somerton people, they're like family, right?"

  "That's mighty good of you, Troy. I don't know if we'll ever find out who they are. I think our best shot is if you can find some records somewhere. The way I understand it, there was like a company store or commissary or something where workers could buy stuff they need
ed, and they kept track of it based on those ID numbers so they could settle accounts at the end of the month. My thought was if you had any records of that kind of stuff, it might help us out."

  "I'll sure do what I can, John Lee. How about you check back with me tomorrow afternoon? I'll get a couple people on it and see what we can come up with. Hell, if we could find something like that, it might make an interesting display to have down there in front of the store. Kind of give people an idea of how far we've come."

  "I appreciate that," John Lee said, standing up and picking up the tag and returning it to its envelope.

  "We need to get out on the water somewhere and go fishing one of these days," Troy said. "Remember when we used to do that, back when we was kids?"

  "I do remember," John Lee replied.

  "We had a some good times back then, John Lee. I'm sorry we grew apart as we got older. But workin' and life and everythin' gets in the way, I guess."

  "Yeah, it does. Hey, thank you for your time Troy. It's really good to see you again. I'll check in with you tomorrow and see if you've come up with anything."

  "I'll do my best. Thanks for stopping by. And I'm serious, we need to get together and do somethin' one of these days. Ever since Daddy retired, it seems like I spend half my life sittin' behind this desk and the rest of it in a meetin' someplace. I need to get outta' here and have some fun for a change."

  They shook hands again and John Lee left the office, Charlotte ignoring him as he walked by her desk.

  Chapter 34

  "You ask me, when ya' catch the bastard, ya' oughta' take him out in the swamp and strip him naked and tie his ass to a tree. Then leave him there for the gators and snakes."

  "I heard that! Or just shoot him right between the eyes and be done with it."

  "Shootin's too good for what he done to Ray Ray."

  The three old men wearing feed store caps were seated at the counter at Sparky's Diner, turned sideways on their stools so they could talk to John Lee.

  "Any truth to the rumor that it's a drug gang movin' into the county?"