Bubba elbowed The PSS out of the way and leaned into the vehicle for a handier look.
“Sometimes the DVM makes mistakes,” Simms said. “Folks dye their hair. Men, too. And lots of people have tinted contacts.”
“David wears contacts,” The PSS said knowledgably.
“Bubba,” Sheriff John said slowly, “you know who Morgan Newbrough is, don’t you?”
“I reckon I might.”
“Well hell, boy,” Sheriff John said. “Let’s go get him. We’ll sweat it out of him. We’ll know where Gray is before you know it.” His voice broke on Willodean’s last name, and Bubba knew Sheriff John meant he thought they would find her remains.
Bubba stared at the image on the screen. “Somehow Morgan and Nancy managed to switch photographs on Morgan’s image in the DVM. Ain’t too many people can do that.”
“Unlessin’ you worked there,” Simms said. “They didn’t want to change my photograph last year because they just renewed the license. Saves money ifin you don’t have any tickets or such. I didn’t like the old one. Had a hunk of hair sticking up and made me look like a proper goober.”
Sheriff John froze. “I know someone who worked at the DVM.”
“Bet you do,” Bubba said. “And he drives a Suzuki, don’t he?”
Simms looked at Sheriff John and then at Bubba. “Who?”
“But it wasn’t really Morgan who worked at DVM,” Bubba added.
“It was the other guy who did,” Sheriff John concluded. “And Nancy and Morgan targeted him? Maybe they paid him to switch the pictures? Maybe they been planning this for a long time. Setting it up.”
“Nancy implied that it was years,” Bubba said. “And I done upset the whole dang apple cart.”
“And this other fella, the one who worked at DVM, once upon a time, just up and quit the place one day not six months ago,” Sheriff John surmised. “Switched those photographs in all the right databases, maybe agreed to provide his resume for Morgan’s use, and his background, too. Fella ain’t married. He don’t got parents left. No siblings. Moved from Atlanta last year. Has a real good record, exceptin’ he fell for some line from Morgan or Nancy. Maybe they promised money or the like.”
“What?” Simms asked.
“But I bet he’s dead now,” Bubba said with cold seeping through his bones. “Dead and buried somewhere folks ain’t apt to find him and identify him anytime soon. On account of Morgan Newbrough taking his place and getting hisself hired in a new job. Not too many people about here expectin’ that Morgan Newbrough is traipsing around pretending to be someone else.”
“In order to be a spy for Nancy Musgrave,” Sheriff John said. “So she would know what the po-lice were doing and how she could avoid getting arrested.”
“And ifin I called Morgan’s wife right now,” Bubba said, “and asked, would she tell me that her soon-to-be ex-husband…stutters?”
“No,” Simms said. His eyes were large and round. “Really? Him? But he’s a complete wussy.”
Sheriff John turned back to the computer and typed again. In another minute another driver’s license showed on the screen. The man in his thirties with short, dirty, blonde hair and washed-out blue eyes regarded them.
“Look,” Sheriff John said, pointing at the description information. The words under hair and eye colors said brown and brown. “That other fella was lazy. He didn’t change anything exceptin’ the photo.”
“Let’s go get him,” Simms said heatedly. “Make him tell us where Gray is.”
Bubba stepped back from the county car. “How long do you guess that will take?”
“What do you mean, Bubba?” Sheriff John asked as he logged out of the computer. “We’ll get him in a room and make him sweat like a $2 whore in a church on Sunday. I’ll let Big Joe have a go at him. Hell, I’ll let Miz Demetrice at him.”
“You could let that kid, Brownie, have a go,” Simms suggested maliciously.
That would do it but not in a timely fashion.
“It’ll be days,” Bubba said deliberately. “He’ll lawyer up. His lips will be stitched up tighter than a corpse at the mortuary. And ifin she’s still alive, no one will know where she’s at, and- ”
“Jesus,” Sheriff John said, “you’re right, Bubba. God help us.”
“Morgan’s worried about me,” Bubba said. “Thinks I know too much. We got to do something about that. Make him think something happened to take me out of the big picture.”
“Something like what?” Simms said.
Bubba rubbed his chin. “Morgan came like poop out of a goose when he thought I was gonna talk to Forrest Roquemore. What could Forrest know that would hurt Morgan?”
“The old man is a disagreeable sonuvabitch,” Simms said, “but he loved his nephew. I had to come out here and work things out between him and his neighbors more than once, and he talked to me even though he didn’t like me too much. Didn’t think much of Matthew Roquemore’s decisions, on account of him stealing money from orphans, but he said he used to visit Matthew once a month down to Huntsville. Prolly didn’t think much of Nancy Musgrave murdering folks neither.”
“When you go back to the Pegram County Sheriff’s Department, you’ve all got to pretend you don’t know Robert Daughtry is really Morgan Newbrough,” The PSS announced. He held up the bubble wrap. “This is all used up. You think the post office clerk would give me some more?”
“I’ll buy a roll of the stuff ifin you come up with something we can do,” Bubba declared.
“Take Bubba to jail and tell everyone he did something to Forrest Roquemore,” The PSS said. “You found him with a bloody handprint on the door and no old man anywhere to be found. That’ll fool Robert, uh, Morgan, I mean.”
The three men stared at The PSS.
“Then, you shadow Robert/Morgan,” The PSS said. “He seems sort of the follower type. This was Nancy’s plan. She was the leader, utterly completely. Without her guidance, the brother is dangling in the wind. He’s probably confused, even scared half to death. It was a knee jerk reaction to come out and do harm to his great-uncle. It was likely a knee jerk reaction to take Deputy Gray, too. When Morgan got here, he might very well have confronted Forrest, and Forrest, being as contrary as you’ve suggested, probably got in his face. Morgan felt that he didn’t have any choices.
“You’ve got to hurry on this before Morgan figures out that he left his bloody handprint on the door because I know you people had to have fingerprinted him. Then he’ll know you’re onto him.
“Finally, wherever Nancy and Morgan were planning on keeping Miz Demetrice, they wanted her to live long enough to see what was happening to the rest.”
Bubba goggled at The PSS.
“They needed a place with heat, water, and enough seclusion to prevent others from hearing anything like an elderly woman screaming for help.” The PSS turned the piece of bubble wrap over and tried to find a few bubbles he might have missed. “Conclusively, Morgan likely put the beautiful Deputy Gray there and consequently his great-uncle.
“Convince Morgan he has to go to that place, and you can follow him there.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bubba Yells, “Damn the Torpedoes!”
Friday, January 6th
Bubba sat in the back seat of the official county vehicle while Sheriff John extracted his cell phone from a pocket and dialed his secretary, Patsy.
“Sheriff’s office,” Patsy said promptly, and Bubba heard her perky voice from the back of the SUV. He could even hear the song, “Heartlight”, in the background before the music suddenly cut off.
“Patsy, it’s Sheriff John,” he said. “Do me a favor and call Robert Daughtry.”
“But he went home sick,” Patsy said.
“I know. Um, but we need him back working the lines for just a few hours, ifin he can. It’s important.”
“But Mary Lou is- ”
“She’s got…female troubles,” Sheriff John said. “Yeah, female troubles. Just tell Robert I hope
he’s better, but it’s an emergency and we need him bad.”
“Mary Lou didn’t say anything about female troubles,” Patsy said indignantly, “and she was just in here talking about you arresting Bubba on suspicion of murdering that old man out to Nardle.”
“Well, don’t say nothing to the gal, Patsy,” Sheriff John snapped. “Mary Lou would be embarrassed to have all and sundry knowing about her private business.
“Okay,” Patsy said reluctantly. She disconnected and Sheriff John said, “Mary Lou’s already spreading the word like gas on a bonfire. Dang, I need to call her and beg her not to spill the beans, don’t I?”
The PSS said from the open window, “Shall I take your truck and your dog home, Bubba?”
Sheriff John dialed another number on his cell phone while The PSS leaned in the window to listen to Bubba.
“Can you drive a stick, David?” Bubba asked.
Sheriff John spoke to Mary Lou in the background, quickly explaining what he needed and why.
“I am a superhero, Bubba,” The PSS said with extreme confidence. “It’s all in my noggin like schematics I can systematically extract. Pshaw. It’s only an internal combustion device that runs on hydrocarbon materials from extinct animals. This planet needs to go to renewable fuel sources. Just like mine.”
“Yes, Mary Lou,” Sheriff John said into the cell phone. Bubba couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation this time. “Two days off next week, and you’ve got to go home now because of personal stuff. You don’t tell no one nothing else about that.” Pause. “Talk about Bubba’s arrest all you want. Go tell the janitor ifin you want about that. But on the other, I mean no one. Get it?” He listened for a few moments. “Okay, three days off next week. Swear on your mama’s grave, Mary Lou. I mean it. I got to go. Remember, no one.” Another pause. “Tomorrow you can talk about it all you want. Swear, Mary Lou.”
“I ‘spect that’s a yes,” Bubba said to The PSS. “Do me a favor, David. Would you take the truck back to the Snoddy place, and tell Miz Demetrice I got thrown in jail for suspicion of murder. Tell her it was bloody and awful. Po-lice brutality, too. Stuff they’d never do on your home world, which I thought was blown up, by the way.”
“I’m gonna have to do dispatch myself next week,” Sheriff John muttered and turned in the front seat. He replaced the cell phone in his pocket. “You know, telling Miz Demetrice you’re being arrested for suspicion of murder is going to rile her up something fierce.”
“That’s what Ma would do ifin it were the real deal,” Bubba said. “And she cain’t act worth a plug nickel.”
“So don’t tell Miz Demetrice anything else,” The PSS confirmed.
“Don’t tell her a bit of anything else,” Bubba instructed. He passed his keys to The PSS. “Don’t grind the second gear or Precious will bite your elbow.”
The PSS sauntered back to the old, green Chevy truck. It started a minute later with a hack, a groan, and a wail. Precious howled in concert. The truck turned around in the driveway and headed back to Pegramville.
Bubba was impressed that David hadn’t stalled the truck.
“Miz Demetrice is gonna be angry with you,” Sheriff John said. “Hellfire and brimstone furious. Be pure perdition to live with.”
“I can camp out in the new house,” Bubba muttered, “and it’s for a good cause.”
“Bubba,” Sheriff John said after an elongated minute, his voice was a study in neutrality, “it ain’t really a good chance for her. Morgan Newbrough didn’t have no reason to keep her alive. You know that, don’t you?”
Sheriff John wasn’t speaking of Miz Demetrice and Bubba knew it. The older man’s voice was both sorrowful and miserable.
“I know,” Bubba grated through his teeth, “but we got to try, don’t we?”
“Yeah,” Sheriff John agreed and turned forward. He put his seat belt on and started the county car. “I reckon we’ve spent enough time waiting for folks.”
His cell phone rang, and he answered it gruffly.
“It’s Patsy,” Bubba heard the secretary say.
“Did you talk to Daughtry?” Sheriff John asked.
“Yeah, Sheriff, I called him at home. He said his stomach was doing better and said he’d come in as soon as he can,” Patsy’s voice echoed back to Bubba, and he nodded.
“Even Robert heard about all the excitement today,” Patsy added, and Sheriff John’s eyes met Bubba’s in the rearview mirror.
“Patsy,” Sheriff John said, “you need to go and make sure Mary Lou don’t talk about nothing else. It’s important. More than important. It’s vital. Make damn sure she don’t talk about going home because I asked her to.”
“Ain’t no female trouble then?” Patsy asked.
“No, it’s more than that. I don’t have time to explain. Just do as I asked and follow Mary Lou into the bathroom ifin you have to.”
“I can do that,” Patsy said firmly.
After she hung up, Bubba said, “Give David a little time to get to Ma. It’ll make it look better ifin she’s hollering at the front of the jail.”
•
An hour later, Sheriff John parked the county car smack dab in front of the Pegram County Sheriff’s Department and waited for the audience to appear. Once there, he even let the sirens keep going for a full sixty seconds. After a few minutes, he got out and Simms exited the other county car, joining him on the sidewalk. Both men conferred quietly as they eyed various people coming out from businesses and city hall. People gathered to see who was sitting in the back of the Bronco, although rumors had been rampant.
Sheriff John took his time getting Bubba to the county jail to allow everyone to percolate in a steady manner. When they thought enough people had gathered, the sheriff opened the back door for Bubba.
Bubba reluctantly climbed out with what most people would have called a frantic, criminal-like expression on his face. At least that was what he was going for.
Sheriff John held one arm and Steve Simms the other. Bubba lagged a little in their arms as if he was hesitant about being put into jail…again. Sheriff John directed Bubba toward the jail entrance so he could be locked up.
“Oh, Bubba dear,” Miz Demetrice wailed from the crowd. The PSS stood beside her and patted her awkwardly on her shoulder. “Why does this keep happening to you?”
Precious, on a lead held by The PSS, bayed woefully.
Simms snorted. “Criminals go to jail, ma’am. Ain’t surprising.” He spoke loudly so as to be heard above Precious’s noise.
The crowd shifted. Some of the reporters still hanging about had cottoned to events and were present in abundance, excitedly waiting for further developments.
“Sheriff, does that man have something to do with the disappearance of the deputy?” one reporter called.
“Oh dagnabit, no!” Miz Demetrice cried and tried to brain the reporter with a silver clutch. The reporter ducked and weaved until Bubba’s mother gave up.
“We’re looking into all possibilities,” Sheriff John said with a grave expression. “We haven’t finished our investigation.”
“Does the missing man, Forrest Roquemore, have anything to do with the missing deputy?” another reporter called.
“I ain’t harmed no one,” Bubba said at full volume.
Simms said, “Stop struggling, Bubba. Ain’t gonna do you no good.”
Bubba jerked his arm out of Simms’ hold. “I’m an innocent man!”
Sheriff John got a better grip on Bubba’s other arm. “Stop that!”
Bubba glanced around the gathered people. They thought Mary Lou Treadwell would spread the word about Bubba and evidently she had. She must have spent twenty minutes on the phone making sure everyone knew that Bubba Snoddy was being arrested again. Sheriff John telling her she could talk about that all she wanted was akin to waving a red flag in front of a pissed-off bull.
They should install a revolving door for me in the jail.
Willodean’s mother and father stood apart f
rom the crowd. Evan Gray had an arm wrapped around Celestine’s waist. Both parents were gaunt and red eyed. The previous week had been hell for them. Celestine visibly tried to figure out what the latest development had to do with Willodean while Evan attempted to contain her.
The town was well represented. Foot Johnson gawked at Bubba. Neal Holmgreen used his smart phone to make a digital recording. Doris Cambliss, owner of the Red Door Inn, stared incredulously at Bubba as he struggled. Edward Minnieweather, a process server and likely a frequent visitor to the jail, observed with aplomb. Roy and Maude Chance tussled with other reporters for the best surveillance spot. The mayor, John Leroy Jr., had unmistakably climbed out of his bottle to supervise the hullabaloo. Wilma Rabsitt walked over to Miz Demetrice and patted her back in a consolatory manner. Tom Bledsoe, the resident pickpocket, hovered over the reporter’s backsides. Mary Lou Treadwell abandoned her post as dispatcher/receptionist and stood by the front door of the sheriff’s department. Patsy hovered beside her as if ready to restrain Mary Lou’s rapacious tongue.
Most importantly, Robert Daughtry stood next to Mary Lou and Patsy as if he had just shown up. He stared at Bubba just as all the others did.
Bubba let his eyes flutter past Robert as if he wasn’t interested in the man in the least and yelled, “Hell no, I won’t go!”
Miz Demetrice yelled, “Hell no, he won’t go!”
The PSS yelled, “Superheroes ROCK!”
Precious bayed.
Neal Holmgreen shifted his smart phone toward The PSS for a moment.
Big Joe, Pegramville’s Chief of Police, wandered over to see the ballyhoo. Two of his officers stood next to him. Haynes and Smithson, of the steel tipped boots, stared wide-eyed at the event.
Bubba jerked his arm out of Sheriff John’s arm. “Ya’ll are framing me!”
Should have handcuffed me. That would have looked more real.
His eyes shifted over Robert’s tense form. The man appeared as if he might flee at any moment. Bubba knew that he had to make things look more realistic.
Bubba drew back a powerful arm and decked Simms. Simms fell over in a lump.
Bubba and the Missing Woman Page 25