by Lou Bradshaw
I’d finally, made up my mind to go for it, when wouldn’t you know it, Mickey came through – at last. That no good, cheap assed, pile of used, and wonderful junk – the generator quit dead – and with it the light.
“Hey!” He yelled. He sounded offended and irritated – now wasn’t that a strange reaction?
While he was busy being pissed at the utility services, I was busy digging that gun out of my pants. It came out smoothly. I shoved against the table and felt it hit. At the same instant, I heard the roar of his big gun as he put a couple of rounds into the ceiling. The next couple of shots went into the fireplace, and whined around like enraged bees. My stuff was being shot to pieces.
“Shit!” he yelled. “Damn, shit-shit!” as he stumbled against the little table that held the camp stove, and it went down with a crash. I pointed my little pistol at the noise and it popped twice, and I moved quickly toward the door. I saw his big flashes and pointed my little flashes at them. There was more cussin’ of a magnificent sort, but I didn’t have time to be impressed. I was too busy crawling for that door that never crashed open.
Outside, around the corner, and I was heading for the bluff. I knew he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and follow me down that thing in the dark. Hell, I would probably get killed on it myself, but I didn’t have many options. Over the barricade I went, hoping against hope that I could keep my footing and not wind up on the rocks below.
I stopped to listen, trying to get an idea where he was, and I didn’t have to guess. There was a bunch of crashing and banging around in the cabin, which was punctuated by the most God awful cussin’ I had ever heard. That big pistol roared again, and something metallic banged and rang – he killed my coffee pot, and that made me mad. I didn’t have much in there, and that lunatic was wrecking it.
Moving down the path was scary, but it would get worse below the shelf. At least there were trees and bushes to hold onto here; a few feet to the right it was a sheer rock face. From the ledge on, it was straight down and nothing soft to land on when you reached the bottom 50 or so feet below.
When I reached the shelf I held up. I figured that there was a chance of that nut case leaving, since he wasn’t keen on snakes and weeds. I couldn’t hear a thing from the top, so I sat still and waited. I figured that that cowboy hatted sheriff bastard had something else going, so I couldn’t count on him. My only hope now was that the Feds would be coming, but when?
I saw lights in the tree tops, heard a car door slam, and a car start. I guessed that he was leaving, and then the engine went dead, and the door slammed again. The idiot was coming down. “Hey, kid,” he yelled, “you in there?” What an idiot; did he think I was going to answer? “Don’t make me come in there after you. If I do, I’m gonna have to kill you, and it’ll be your own fault.”
“My fault, indeed.” I thought. “Isn’t that a great word, indeed, it just sums it all up. Now what the hell was I doing working on my vocabulary at a time like that.”
If he came down after me, he was going to kill me. If I went up there, he was going to kill me. I couldn’t see any advantage in climbing that hill just so he could kill me, so I stayed where I was. If he was going to kill me, he was going to have to earn it. Something he said didn’t add up; he had said, “in there”, not down there. I was betting that he thought he was at the edge of a grove, not at the edge of a cliff. The edge of the drop off up there, was a solid wall of cedars.
“Listen you little shit, you got 10 seconds to come out, or I’m comin’, in. Can you count to 10, college boy? In 9 seconds you’ll be dead…. 8….” He counted them down and did a pretty fair job of it. He didn’t miss many; that guy was okay with numbers.
“That’s it punk. You can just kiss your ass goodbye.”
At first there was nothing, and then he started cussing again. I could hear him crashing through the brush and leaves. He sounded like a herd of buffalo thrashing around up there. I could see a flicker of light; he must have gotten a flashlight from his car. That flashlight could be a problem.
Then I heard him scream and some branches cracking. I was hit, and hit hard, hard enough to knock me down and out for a moment or two. When I started to regain my senses I knew that there was something wrong with my back, but I couldn’t tell what it was, so I just lay there and tried to clear my head. I finally realized that the problem was that my back was bent backward. The reason it was bent that way was because there was nothing under it but air and gravity.
I was flat on my rear end, and that was about the only thing that was firmly on the ground. The part from just above the small of my back to the top of my head was resting on nothing but dark. My arms were spread, and my head was back. I didn’t know exactly what was above me, but I knew what was down below me – pain.
The only thing I could think to do was get most of me back on terra firma before I passed out. Slowly, I started drawing my arms in, and would you believe it, I still had that pistol in my right hand. Very carefully, I maneuvered it to my waist and stuck it into my jeans, but not into my shorts this time. I started exploring the ground with my hands, but the only thing I could get a grip on was grass, dirt, and leaves. I thought of rolling over, but I didn’t know the shape of that shelf, and I was afraid of rolling into a crack or weak area and falling to certain death.
I had no choice but to try and inch my way back to solid ground, so digging my hands into grass and dirt and digging my heels in I started to wiggle my way back. I scooted an inch at a time, and then I’d dig in again for another inch. My fingers were cold, and my back hurt, but I’d get over that. I wouldn’t get over falling off that ledge. Inch by inch for what seemed like hours I eased myself back onto that shelf.
When I started feeling myself securely on solid ground, I took some time to consider where that lunatic was. I was still very much vulnerable if he was there waiting. All he would need to do was shove or shoot, and it would all be over for me. But that was something I’d have to face when the time came, right then I had to get off my back and get away from that edge. My best bet was to get as close to the back wall as possible.
I got to my hands and knees thinking, “This is another fine kettle of fish, but this time there’s a shark swimming in the pot. If I could learn something from each jam I got into I’d be a genius.” I tried to look around, but I couldn’t see anything except the few bushes and boulders scattered around. I started to crawl toward the back wall of the bluff; if I could get my back to that wall, then I’d at least have one less direction to worry about. I looked up toward the top of the bluff, and I could see his headlights still shining through the treetops, and a little flicker of light. Was he up there, had he given up, had the cops arrived, or was I imagining it all.
As I looked up, I started to rise to my full kneeling height, and as reached it I got a whiff of something that didn’t belong there – Juicy Fruit! I nearly died right then and there of fright. He was close – close enough to smell, but where. Kneeling there perfectly still, I was doing my best to sense something or hear something. Then I heard it; a slight nasal noise, sort of like a snort or snore. Then there was a gurgled groan almost in my right ear.
I had my hand on that gun butt and eased it out – I didn’t even know if it had anything in it, but it was my best hope. Slowly, I turned toward the groan and came face to face with that crazy bastard; just inches apart but everything was topsy-turvy. As I focused on his face in what little reflected and diffused light there was from above, I could swear that he was upside down – or maybe I was.
Jerking back a little, I brought that gun up quickly thinking that this was it, we were going to have it out face to face. But he didn’t move. I tightened my finger on the trigger praying that there was at least one bullet left. He still didn’t move, and he was upside down – what the hell? I had to have light, so I transferred the gun to my left hand and dug out my lighter. A spin of the wheel and a flame showed me that that crazy bastard was hanging from a tree limb and out cold. He was in a
very unnatural position, but one that he looked good in.
Once I was able to establish my position and had a sense of where everything was, I made up my mind quickly to get the hell out of there. I moved around him carefully fearing that he might grab at me or start swinging his arms, and I was still way too close to that drop-off. As I gave him a wide berth, a light caught my eye in the direction of the trail about 10 feet ahead of me. It was his flashlight behind some rocks and bushes, where it must have fallen. I went to get it, and as I bent to pick it up my inverted friend gave a scream that could have been heard in Marshfield.
Grabbing the light I spun around toward him and dropped into a crouch behind a boulder and some bushes. I turned the light on him and he screamed again and started thrashing around waving his arms like a windmill. Shining the light up into the tree, I could see where his foot was wedged into a fork in a limb. He wouldn’t be doing any dancing on that foot for a while, judging from the angle it was turned. In fact, I expected to see it break off at the ankle and let him fall. He wasn’t going to be doing much dancing in those clothes either, and that face was pulp.
I turned out the light and he screamed again, so I turned it back on so that I could turn it out again… yep, he screamed again. I gave that light switch some testing, I discovered that Memphis nut cases screamed when you turned the lights out on them, so I tried it a few more times just to be sure… yep, I was sure.
I looked around the ground and found his gun, which I picked up, and I also found his mule-choking roll of bills, which I picked up and put in my jacket pocket with my own pony-choking roll. After a little reconsideration, I took the small roll and put it into my jeans, just in case everyone forgot to ask about it.
“Hey!” I yelled at him a couple of times before I could get his attention.
“Who’s that?” he yelled. “What happened?”
“It’s Brickey.” I told him. “You fell down a cliff, and your leg is caught in a tree. It probably saved your stupid life, but you’ll probably loose that leg. I think your ankle is already staring to disconnect.” He started screaming, and I started grinning. I let him babble and blubber for a bit, then I yelled at him again and told him that he was only wrecking his leg jerking around like that.
“Listen, kid.” he pleaded. “Get me down. I’ll make it worth your while. I can pay you some big money.”
“Not anymore you can’t. I’ve already got your roll.” I turned on the light and showed him the wad of bills.
“I can get more; I can sell that dope.” He was almost crying by then.
“10 minutes ago you were trying to kill me, and now you expect me to believe that you’d pay me after you sold the dope? That’s plain bullshit, man, and you know it.”
“No! Honest I’d give it all to you, every penny, I swear to God.” Maybe it was just plain poor judgment on my part, but I didn’t believe him. He made a sudden move and screamed again. I smiled again.
I could hear movement up on the top, and I could see lights criss-crossing as if a number of people had flashlights and were waving them around. I shined the light in his eyes for a few seconds, and while he was still blinded, I flashed 3 times up the hill. When they flashed back, I put the light in his eyes again and left it there.
“What’s that noise?” He asked with some degree of alarm.
“I dunno, probably just coyotes prowlin’ around (around here it’s pronounced: ki-oats. 2 syllables). It could be a cougar; there are a few of them around. Hey, man, I’m getting out of here; you’re on your own.” By that time, Nolen was beside me and Bradley was right behind him. I signaled them to keep quiet.
“You can’t leave me to the wild animals, man, it ain’t human.” He was talking through teeth that were clenched in pain, and his eyes were closed tight. “Please, kid, please help me. I can’t even defend myself – for the love of God, help me.” He was starting to sound like he had a bad head cold, I guess his head was really starting to fill up.
“From the looks of your foot, I’d say it’ll come off soon enough, and then you’ll at least be on the ground, and you still have a knife don’t you?”
He started to cry like a baby, “Don’t let the coyotes get me – please, I’m begging you.”
“Well, I guess I could just go ahead and shoot you.” Then he really started to cry and blubber, and his head was really filling up – I was afraid that he would choke. But I kept hammering and smiling. “I bet Lloyd Dickey was cryin’ and beggin’ too when you shot off his knee, wasn’t he?”
“Dat wud different… snort-snort-slobber, dat wud bidness, and I had orders.”
“What about when you looked him in the eyes and blew his brains out? Was he crying then? Was that business too?”
“He wud cryin’ like a baby when I stuck da gun in his ear, but dat wud bidness – he wud bidness!”
“What about me; you were going to shoot me in the cabin. Was that business too?”
“Strickly bidness.” he cried out in agony as he moved. “But you wud cooperatin’, so it wud gonna to be quick. I said I was sorry about it, didn’t I? Please, kid, you can’t just leave me like this.”
I looked from Nolen to Bradley; they both nodded, and I said, “He’s all yours.”
Nolen keyed his walkie-talkie and said, “One of you guys call for an ambulance, and get some ropes down here, and some lanterns. Watch yourselves on that path it’s a bitch. How’s the fire?”
“Fire!” What fire?”
Junior was saying, “Phillip James Matlock, you’re under arrest for murder, drug trafficking, attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and arson. Anything you say can and will be held against you….”
“Arson! Fire! What – what?” I yelled.
“Sorry, Lee.” Nolen said, with an arm across my shoulder, guiding me away from the loony. “He must have been lighting matches in the dark, and caught all that spilled kerosene on fire. They said it’s out, but the place is a mess.”
“Where the hell is that stupid assed cowboy that calls himself a sheriff?” I screamed at him.
“Tom Fletcher’s up there. I’ll let him tell you all about it. He’ll need to talk to you anyway.”
I was starting to unravel; my knees were like rubber, and I was sick to my stomach. So, I sat on a log for a second and then handed Nolen his loaner gun, and said, “He dropped this, and I picked it up in the dark and used it.” It sounding like I was reading it.
He took the weapon and said, “I believe that.” Next he flipped open the cylinder, and looked at it, “One left; good job kid.” Then he keyed his walkie-talkie again and said, “Tom, everything’s under control down here. Brickey’s okay and coming up – that’s one tough kid. We could use him to teach interrogation techniques.”
When I came out of the bushes at the top of the bluff, Fletcher was there waiting for me. He must have been glad to see me, because he gave me a bear hug that nearly cracked my ribs. He had gotten part of the story from Nolen over the walkie-talkie, and he knew they had Matlock – dead to rights.
There were lights all over the place and more coming up the lane with gumballs flashing. I wanted to see the damage to my cabin, so Fletcher got a couple of lanterns and we went in. It was a mess all right – that summed it up pretty well. Everything was trashed, smoky, and covered with foam. I could see that the walls were scorched and the windows were broken and part of the roof was gone, but the fireplace was still in good shape. When he asked me about insurance, all I could do was laugh.
Chapter 34
Fletcher took me over to the van, which was like a small recording studio with a lot of dials, buttons, and switches. There were headphones and tape machines everywhere. There was about enough room for 3 people if 2 of them were little kids and didn’t move around much. When we were seated facing each other, I asked him, “What the hell happened to the sheriff’s posse? I kept waitin’ for them to bust in and save my butt, but they weren’t there!”
He pulled out a couple of microphones and h
anded one to me; the other he held to his mouth and said, “This will be for the record.” He then switched on a large real to real tape recorder, adjusted a fluttering dial and started to speak into the microphone. ”On this day, 17 October, 1960, as part of an ongoing investigation known as Operation Drug Spill – the Webster County Missouri Sheriff’s Department was supposed to have been in position at a cabin belonging to Mr. Frank Brickey of Doubling, Missouri. Their reason for being on stake out at said place, was to witness a set up drug transfer and take into custody one Phillip Matlock, while protecting the volunteer citizen operative Mr. Lee Brickey.”
“What in fact happened, was the chief deputy and 2 other deputies staked out a farm house nearly 5 miles north of the Brickey property. Upon the farmer’s arrival at his home, the 3 officers were chased off with a shovel handle. Seeing the markings on the Sheriff’s Department car, the farmer called the Highway Patrol dispatcher, who in turn notified Trooper Bradley, a member of the operation team. All units then rushed to the Brickey cabin.”
“Now, Mr. Lee R. Brickey’s recount of events from the time he and Matlock left Brickey’s Sign Shop in Doubling. It should be noted that Mr. Brickey was not involved in any kind of illegal drug trade but found a large stash of heroin and reported it to the authorities. He also volunteered to act as a go-between with the criminal element. And may I add at great risk to life, limb, and property; in fact, he has suffered a considerable amount of property damage.”
With that he pointed to me, and I started, slowly at first, but soon I was pouring it out by the bucket full. He would interrupt me from time to time to clarify a point, like when he said; “You picked up the $ 2500, looked up and saw the gun, and then what?” He made a motion with his hand like he was dropping something.
“When I saw that gun in his hand,” I continued, “I backed into the bed and dropped it as I stumbled. I guess it’s pretty much burned up by now.” He never mentioned the little gun that I had gotten from Nolen, and I didn’t bring it up either. Although, I had already had time to come up with a pretty good lie if needed.