Dead On

by Michael Paulson

  Chapter 32

  Speculation concerning the deaths of Eli Huggins, his niece Betsy, Captain Delaney, the five men at the gravel pit, and Philip Woods filled the morning papers. One journalist pointed at increased gang violence. Another claimed it was the direct result of a breakdown in family values—particularly since Moira was arrested for complicity. And another attributed the deaths to the expansion of organized crime. Still others were convinced it had to do with alien abductions gone terribly wrong. It was all good reading over scrambled eggs and ham.

  After finishing my meal, I shoved my suitcase into a taxi and pointed the driver to the county detention center. I had just enough time to see Leon released before my flight. I was not sure what I would say to him about all of it. I was not even sure he would talk to me, considering the outcome. Nevertheless, I felt driven to make the effort—if not for him, then for my own conscience.

  Leon was sitting on the courthouse steps dressed in new clothes: plaid shirt, denims, and county-issue boon-dockers on his big feet. He looked like man with nowhere to go and all the time in the world to get there.

  When I paid the driver and got out, the boxer offered nothing but a morose stare. I grinned at him, and held up a cardboard sign with his name scrawled upon it. It took him a few seconds to catch the significance. Then he got up, walked over and jabbed it with a finger.

  "You the boxer, Leon Huggins?" I asked.

  "Not no more. And, I still owe you five hundred dollars."

  "Forget it Leon. It's been taken care of."

  He looked away sheepishly. "I wish I was."

  "You inherited whatever Eli owned. A mountain of money in the bank and that big ranch."

  He shook his head as if he did not believe me, before staring down at his heavy work-shoes. "That ain't my style."

  I purposely leaned over and smelled his shirt. "You even smell good. And, once the ladies of the town find out you're a man of means, they'll be lined up at your door."

  He shrugged as if the entire world had abandoned him. "Betsy's dead. Moira's in jail. Eli's dead. I'm all alone, Mister. I've never been alone before. Always there was somebody to look after me. Now, I got nobody."

  "You're a big boy, Leon. You can take care of yourself."

  Tears puddled in his brown eyes. "I'm so dumb I can't even make change."

  "Don't worry about that. You can afford to leave big tips."

  He reached out and gripped my arm, pleadingly. "Can't you help Moira like you helped me?"

  Guilt twisted my guts as a stared at the pain in his battered face. But, it let go as the sight of Betsy lying dead flashed behind my eyes.

  "There's nothing I can do, Leon. I'm sorry. Truly, I am."

  "All she was trying to do was get us better things. That was always the way of Moira. She never wanted nothin' for herself."

  Leon smiled at me like I was his long lost cousin. "You see it too, ain't that right? You see her just like I do."

  "I see something, Leon."

  He slapped me hard on the back. "I knew it. And, we're gonna' get her off, ain't we?"

  "I telephoned Widgeons. He'll be going out to your new place later on today. There are papers for you to sign."

  He wagged his head like a little boy faced with a strapping. "Can't do that. Eli always done that."

  "Widgeons will help you, Leon. Just do as he says."

  The boxer scratched the gray stubble on his chin. "I sure hope he don't take a swing at me, again," Leon murmured. Then, he snapped his fingers. "He gets mad just like that. I felt real bad breaking his jaw like I done."

  "With the fees he'll be getting for helping you, I think Widgeons will be on his best behavior."

  The boxer thought for a moment and then his eyes brightened and he swung one arm toward the traffic. "There's an orphanage over yonder. And, they called Bascomb and told him they was gonna' give me a job."

  "You don't need a job, Leon. You're a millionaire."

  "But, this is a good job, Mister!" he said excitedly. "They're needing somebody to come in and help with the kiddies at sports. And, they picked me. Can you believe it? Me. They ain't gonna' pay me nothin' but I figure I can get a job nights to tend to my needs."

  "You don't need work, Leon. You don't need night jobs or day jobs. Relax. Chase women. You'll like women, Leon. And, they'll like you, now that you understand soap. And if you get tired of that, go fishing."

  He put his hands akimbo at his hips and pursed his lips in thought. "But, I don't like fishing, Mister."

  "Then, call me up and I'll cheat you at cards!"

  He stared at me as if God had given me angel's wings. "You'd never cheat me."

  "I'd cheat you out of every nickel you've got, Leon—believe it."

  "But, you're my friend!"

  "Which shows you can't trust anybody! Come on. I've got a plane to catch."

  He shifted his clothes around as if to make himself more presentable. "Could we stop and see Moira on the way?"

  I could see that it was hopeless trying to make him see her as she was. "I guess I can catch the next flight. Come on. We'll pick up your truck at the impound lot."

  He took a few steps and then stopped. He signaled me to step closer before whispering, "That nice nun who runs things at that orphanage told Bascomb a big secret. They got a whole suitcase full of money from some guy."

  "The hell, you say!"

  "Yeah. They're building more places for the kiddies to live and a big playground for sports. And, maybe someday a gymnasium. That's why they decided they needed me. Because that guy what dropped off that money said they couldn't have it unless they took me on."

  "He probably stole that money from somebody else, Leon."

  "That's what Bascomb said. I think he knows who the guy is, too. But, the way I figure it, even if he did take that money his heart was in the right place. And we need a whole lot more people like him around here."

  "Leon, trust me when I tell you that one of him on this earth is enough."

  "You know him, Mister?" Leon asked, in awe. "'Cause I'd sure like to thank him. But every time I asked Bascomb about him all I heard was 'son-of-a-bitch'."

  "I know the guy like he was my brother, Leon. Come on."

  "You got a brother, Mister?"

  "No, I don't have a brother. Just walk, Leon. You remember walking. That's how we get from one place to the next. You put one foot in front of the other and everything in between goes forward."

  "Hey that works."

  THE END

  We hope you enjoyed DEAD ON by Michael Paulson, the first book in the Deacon Bishop Detective series. Be sure to check out the other books in this series as well as more mysteries and thrillers by Michael Paulson

  Books by Michael Paulson

  Blind Woman’s Bluff

  Cherem

  Dead On* (Available FREE at most eBook distributors)

  Deadly Age*

  Deadly Sting*

  Deadly Trade*

  Deadly Turn*

  I, Philibert Q. Winslow

  The Van Gogh Deception

  Who Killed Michael Douglas

  *Deacon Bishop Detective series