Murder on the Third Try

by K. P. Gresham

  He picked up his cell phone and called Elsbeth.

  “James W.?” she immediately answered. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s bad, honey,” he said, and realized his voice cracked. “Really bad.”

  “I’ve been watching on the TV. My God, was it an accident? Did someone light a cigarette by the pump or something?”

  Her question told him a lot. The authorities had released no information to the media yet—not even the info of what exactly blew up at the gas station. “It’s too early in the investigation to know.” He looked out the car window, spied Richard Dube directing highway traffic to a side street. “I’ve gotta get back out there, honey. I wanted to call and say...”

  Again his voice caught, and he willed himself not to give in to the temptation of tears.

  “James W., are you all right?” Elsbeth sounded worried.

  “It’s bad,” he said. “But I wanted you to know. I’m sorry I got you all riled up this morning about the Bo thing. I love you. And I don’t want there to be anything bad between us.”

  There was silence on the phone for a few seconds before Elsbeth spoke. “It’s all right, James W. Pearl and I talked it out, and you’re too kind-hearted, that’s all. Besides, the whole town knew that Bo had tussled with Ernie over the way he treated Pearl. His being there wasn’t a surprise to anyone.”

  Once again, Elsbeth—the real Elsbeth—came through. The beautiful girl with the strength of an ox, but the soul of an ocean. He’d never understand the depths of emotions she experienced, or where the waves of the moon would carry her from one day to the next. But in her innermost being, she possessed the hidden spring of love he could absolutely count on.

  “I love you, honey,” he said. “Gotta go.” With a sigh, he ended the call, took one last slug of water, and headed back into the hellacious crime scene.

  ***

  Chelsea snores. She’s great in the sack, but when she’s sleeping she’s almost intolerable. At least she’s aware that she snores. She understands that when she wakes up, I’m not going to be there.

  I quietly get out of her bed, and move into her apartment’s other room. The late afternoon sun is slicing through the front window like a laser beam, and I shut the blinds. I head to the fridge, dig out a Coke, and head over to the TV to see if there’s any news of the Benedict explosion.

  I settle on the couch, content that my alibi for the day is solid. First the funeral, then Chelsea and me hitting the movie with some of our Austin friends, then a quick toss in the sheets.

  Maybe not so quick, I smile to myself.

  I hit the power button, then punch in Austin’s KXAN six o’clock newscast.

  “Wow,” I whisper when I see the carnage. It’s worse than I thought.

  The TV shows an aerial view of the explosion site. The gas station and McDonald’s are a heap of smoking, blown out bricks. Out front, where the pumps should have been, I’m only able to make out the twisted frame of a burnt out truck.

  “The gas station and McDonalds are completely destroyed,” a man narrated. “We’ll zoom out now so that you can see the Wal-Mart forty feet behind the explosion area. The front wall of the Wal-Mart has been completely blown out; glass and shards of metal from the storefront have been found as far as a football field away.”

  The camera view switched to a young male reporter, hot steel still smoking in the distance. “We’re standing about fifty feet away from ground zero of the explosion. The fire department won’t allow us to get any closer to the site for our own safety.” He pointed to the smoldering heap of cement next to a burned out truck’s cab. “The United States Geological Survey station located at the University of Texas reports the explosion produced a 1.9 tremor on its seismograph. The blast was heard all the way in Manor, and windows were blown out of homes as far away as four miles. Benedict County officials tell us Homeland Security as well as the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives is sending a national response team—including fire explosive experts and fire investigators—to the scene.“

  Then something catches my eye in the background. An ambulance is pulling into the scene, and four EMTs carrying a gurney approach from off camera. I stare at the television in disbelief. That’s no adult under that tarp. At most the body beneath is three feet long. What the hell?

  I hurry to the bedroom, pull on my pants, grab up my phone and go out on Mandy’s small balcony. My hands are shaking as I dial the Chief’s phone. He doesn’t even get out a hello before I’m on him. “There were kids in that McDonald’s.”

  His sigh is impatient. “Of course there were kids in the McDonalds. There’s always kids in a McDonald’s.”

  “How many?” I demand.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit. You know everything. How many children are dead?”

  There’s a pause on the line. “Eight.”

  “Eight?” I grab the railing to steady myself. “I killed eight kids? How old?”

  “Pretty much pre-school. They were on a field trip of some kind. And you didn’t kill them. Hogan did.”

  My head spins. “Eight kids,” I repeat in disbelief. “How many adults?”

  “Seven. Maybe more.”

  “Kodak was watching from his hide-out. He could’ve seen there were kids in there. Why didn’t he wait?”

  “I told him to go with it. I needed the most collateral damage possible. You know that.”

  “You knew there were children in harm’s way, and you couldn’t wait fifteen lousy minutes before igniting the load?” My whisper is hoarse. I’d rather be screaming this at him.

  “The good news is there were a lot of injuries in the parking lot and at the Wal-Mart. We’ve got some serious trauma patients either heading to or already at Brackenridge.”

  “You’re a monster.” I don’t realize at first that I’ve spoken the words out loud.

  “So your father’s a monster. You want to take over what I’ve built? You want that power? Welcome to that which you must become.”

  I’m stunned, though I shouldn’t be. Power over adults, yes. Adults make stupid choices. They’re the victims of their own desires. Drugs—check. Porn—check. But killing kids? No check. I am not a monster.

  “Toughen up, kiddo. Or else.” I hear the Chief say. “You’re on tomorrow. Hogan’s well enough to go on a regular floor, and Kodak said you got the TB syringe last night. I did what needed to be done. Now it’s your turn. Understand?”

  His voice is hard as ice. I can’t miss its threat. “Yes, sir,” I say. I understand perfectly. Or at least, I’m beginning to. I hang up, walk inside to the bathroom and vomit.

  Chapter Twenty

  Aftermath

  The beer glasses on the Ice House bar were empty, but no one noticed. Bo and Aaron, still dressed in their funeral garb, and a sweaty, grimy Warren Yeck were all staring at the overhead TV, their mouths agape. For eight long hours the carnage of the Benedict gas explosion had blazed across the screen and, as TV crews were allowed closer to the scene, each image seemed more horrific than the last. Fifteen dead. So far. The number injured was still up for grabs.

  Now the reporters were saying that children had been killed in the explosion. There wasn’t much the authorities could do to mask the fact the gurneys covered in tarp bore small bodies.

  “My God. Kids.” Aaron turned to Warren. “Could you tell what happened?”

  “Had to be intentional,” Warren said. He’d come back from Benedict County with Deputy Richard Dube an hour earlier. “Those gas pumps are designed not to catch. Had to have been explosives.” He pushed his empty beer glass towards Bo. “One more.”

  Bo removed a frosty mug from the cooler. Warren had left the funeral right after James W. and spent almost seven hours at the scene helping direct traffic around the disaster area. Angie, who was holding down the kitchen tonight, was comping all the man’s drinks.

  “I lent my truck to James W. so he could get home tonight,” Warren said. “But I gotta g
o milk Sherylene’s cows in the morning.” He looked hopefully toward Bo, then Aaron. “Any chance I can borrow a truck?”

  Bo and Aaron exchanged a look. “I’d loan you mine,” Aaron said, “But I’ve got an appointment in Austin first thing tomorrow morning. Which means—” He stood and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar. “—I’d better get going.”

  Warren turned to Bo. “I could drop you at your place. Would you mind?”

  Damn, Bo had wanted to be with Pearl tonight. He needed to hold her. It had almost killed him to watch her get into the limo and head to the cemetery where Judith would be laid in her final resting place. Denying Warren’s simple request, however, would raise some eyebrows. Resigned, he nodded. “Let me make a call first. I gotta cover one thing.”

  He headed into the kitchen, then out the back door. Sighing heavily, he pulled his phone from his back pocket and punched in Pearl’s number.

  She answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, honey,” he said. “Can you talk?”

  “Elsbeth’s putting on her bathing suit. I’ve got a minute.”

  The kitchen door slammed open and Tom Gibbons came out lugging a fifty gallon trash can. Bo waited for him to round the fence for the dumpster before going on. “I’m in a bind here,” Bo said, wishing he didn’t have to. “Looks like I don’t have a ride to get out to your place tonight.”

  He wasn’t surprised when it took her a moment to answer.

  “I can come and get you,” she said. “I’m still in town at Elsbeth’s.”

  “I don’t get off ‘til midnight at least. Looks like the rescue workers are stopping by on their way home.” He didn’t want to say the words, but he knew it was best for Pearl. “It’s been a long day for you. You need to get some sleep.”

  “I will get some sleep. When you come home.”

  “Honey—”

  “I need you, Bo. Please.”

  The door opened behind him again, and this time Angie came towards him. “Warren told me you volunteered to lend him your truck. Borrow my truck.” She put a hand to his shoulder. “Pearl needs you tonight. You need her.”

  Bo leaned in and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Angie.”

  She pulled back, gave a sniff of a smile. “I’m being a coward. I don’t know if I’m ready to see Matt yet. This’ll give me an excuse to hold off going until tomorrow morning after my coffee kicks in. I’ve gotta have my head on straight when I see him.”

  “Pearl,” Bo brought the phone back up to his ear. “Angie’s loanin’ me her truck. I can get myself to your place.”

  “That’s wonderful.” He could hear the relief in Pearl’s voice. “I sure wish I could do somethin’ for her.”

  “Angie’s headin’ back up to Austin tomorrow to be with the preacher,” he said.

  “Really?” Her voice brightened even more. “Well, as soon as he’s taking visitors I want to go up and see him. Pastor Hayden was always so kind to Judith. I want to tell him firsthand how peaceful she went.”

  “I’ll let Angie know.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  He wished it was her soft face he held in his hand rather than the cell phone case. “I love you, too.”

  ***

  Elsbeth’s antique grandfather clock struck ten o’clock when James W. finally walked in his front door. The Benedict County sheriff had sent most of law enforcement away for the night, telling them all to come back in the morning. Once the sun came up, the collection of evidence from the explosion could resume with vigor.

  He slapped his hat on the foyer’s hall tree. “Elsbeth? You home?” he called into the darkened house.

  “Out here.” Hearing her distant call, he crossed the living room to the patio beyond.

  “Now, darling, let’s not have this argument again,” Elsbeth was saying. She and Pearl sat on the back deck watching heat lightning roll across the eastern sky. A misting fan settled a fine fog around them. “Stay here tonight. You don’t need to drive all the way out to the farm after the day you’ve had.”

  James W. resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He spied a pitcher and glasses next to a bowl filled with ice. “Is this tea?”

  “My finest,” Pearl said. She reached up to hug him as he walked by. “How are you?”

  James W. placed a kiss on her hair, then went to Elsbeth. Her hug was the thing he needed most in the world right now. “It’s bad,” he said finally. “Real bad. Fifteen killed. Eight of them children. The injured—well, some of ‘em’ll never walk again, if they survive the night.” He poured himself a glass of tea. “Enough about that. How long did the luncheon go?”

  “Everyone was gone by two, I’d say,” Elsbeth said.

  “I thought Pastor Fred did a wonderful job with the funeral,” said Pearl. “And I couldn’t believe how many folks came out. Judith’s been bedridden for months.”

  Pearl sounded tired, James W. decided. But something else. Relieved? “How are you doin’, Pearl?”

  “She’s wants to go back to that farmhouse alone,” Elsbeth answered for her. “It’s ten o’clock, for Pete’s sake.”

  Pearl sighed, placed her iced tea on the table between their deck chairs. “I need to be home, Elsbeth. It gives me peace.”

  Elsbeth huffed out a breath. “Someone would think you had a man waiting for you at the farm.”

  James W. suppressed the urge to spit his tea out. Oh, Lord. Don’t let Elsbeth get that bee in her bonnet.

  “Is it something I’ve done?” Elsbeth continued. “I feel like you’re distancing yourself from me.”

  “Of course, not.” Pearl patted Elsbeth’s hand. “In fact, I’ve had an idea of something that I’d like to do with you. A vacation. Just the two of us.”

  James W. looked up. Pearl’s tone had definitely lightened.

  “Road trip? Where?” Elsbeth sounded interested, but leery.

  What in the world was Pearl up to? James W. wondered

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now,” Pearl said. “It gave me something to look forward to during the weeks I couldn’t leave the farm. I even talked with Judith about it. She said I absolutely had to give myself a vacation after she went to be with the Lord, or she’d come back to haunt me until I did. And by golly—” Pearl leaned forward. “—You’ve been so supportive of me. I think we both deserve it.”

  “Where do you want to go?” Elsbeth sounded torn between doubt and possible interest.

  “New York City.”

  James W. could tell Pearl was beaming, even in the dark. Then an idea struck him. New York? A trip like that would take Elsbeth away for a few days. A few days? Would Elsbeth be gone long enough for him to get Diane Turpin’s body exhumed from beneath his hot tub? This could be a very good thing.

  “What?” Elsbeth put her tea down abruptly. It slurped over the table.

  “I’ve never been there.” Pearl’s enthusiasm was growing. “I want to see the shows. I want to go to the 9/11 Memorial. I want to go shopping, and eat out at fancy restaurants. Come on, Elsbeth. Let’s go.”

  “I can’t just up and leave,” Elsbeth argued. “I have responsibilities.”

  “Like what?” Pearl said.

  “Like helping Jimmy Jr. with his campaign.”

  James W. sat up straighter. “He’s the first one who’d tell you to go. Especially now. Before the real campaigning begins in the fall.”

  Elsbeth huffed, but sat silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind getting out of this heat,” she finally said.

  James W. knew that New York City’s concrete furnace could brew up temperatures which challenged the Texas summer, but he didn’t bring it up. No, this was an opportunity to take care of a totally different problem best handled without Elsbeth being around. He could finally get Diane Turpin’s body removed.

  But what about when Elsbeth got back? How would he explain a new spa sitting on their back porch? Maybe he could say it was an early birthday present. Yeah, that was it. He’d have to buy one with all the bells and
whistles on it, but it would be worth the cost. How long it would take to get a new one delivered?

  Pearl stood, bringing him back to the present. “When I get home tonight,” she was saying, “I’m going to start researching our trip. Think about it, Elsbeth. I have something to look forward to. With you!”

  “I suppose I could get away for a few days,” Elsbeth said grudgingly. “I have some friends who’ve been there. Maybe they can help—”

  “Absolutely not.” Pearl kissed Elsbeth’s forehead. “I’m making the plans here. All I’ve had to look forward to the last few months is my sister’s funeral. Now I can look forward to something fun.” She gave Elsbeth’s shoulders a squeeze. “Thank you, darling. This means so much to me.”

  Mouth agape, Elsbeth watched Pearl disappear into the house. “What in the world?”

  “What a sweet thing for you to do for her.” Suppressing his smirk of success, James W. pushed himself off the chair and headed inside.

  “Where are you going?” Elsbeth demanded.

  “Gonna get my swim trunks on. Let’s take a dip in the spa.”

  ***

  Mike jerked awake as two nurses and two technicians marched into his room. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It was twelve-thirty in the freaking morning, for Pete’s sake. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  “It’s okay, Pastor,” said the male nurse. Mike didn’t recognize him, but that’s how he felt about most of the weekend staff.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” the female nurse added. “For you, anyway. You’re being released to a regular room.”

  Mike was still fighting through the webs of sleep. “Now? It’s just after midnight.”

  The male nurse unplugged one of Matt’s monitors. “There’s other folks who need to be in Neuro PCU.”

  “There’s been an explosion northwest of town,” the female nurse explained. “A lot of folks were hurt. Some are coming from triage right now.”