by Allen Kent
“I was directing that to both of you,” I said, dancing a little two-step toward my office door. Grace didn’t lift her eyes. “I think you may want me with you,” she muttered, swiping at the spill with a wad of tissue. “I’ve been following up on the man’s whereabout at the time of the murder and his story doesn’t exactly jive with what I’ve learned.”
“Both of you, then. Marti, could you help Grace with her spill?” Marti had been watching our little office drama with silent amusement. She nodded and headed toward the paper towel dispenser in the office restroom. Grace tossed the soaked Kleenex into her wastebasket and led into the office with Joseph trailing.
The Galen Suskey who sat in the chair facing mine across the desk was not the same Galen who had been dangling his feet above the floor a week before. It was the same squat, paunchy frame. But this man’s gray hair was neatly trimmed into a conservative cut above his ears and his face was clean shaven. His stumpy body was wrapped in clean faded jeans and a new off-the-rack navy sports jacket that looked a size too small for his soft stomach. He didn’t stand as we came in, but glanced quickly over at Grace as she moved to a folding chair in the corner, then gave Joseph a long nervous stare.
“I just come to talk to you,” he grumbled before I’d reached my side of the desk. Joseph settled into the armchair beside the window, leaning back comfortably with arms folded.
“Officer Joseph is with the State Patrol,” I said. “She’s one of the investigators on Nettie’s case. Officer Torres you’ve met. She’s been doing some follow-up work that might be important to our discussion.”
Galen Suskey shifted slightly to give Joseph another long look. “The State Police is working on this too?”
“We’re a small office here and don’t have some of the resources the state has. We want to give Nettie’s case all the professional attention we can. Officer Joseph is one of their best.”
“Humph,” Suskey grunted. “So what you finding out?”
“I’m not free to share all of the details, but we’re making good progress. Is there something specific I can help you with?”
The man shifted nervously in the chair, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. “I been to see the judge. Like I told you before, there never was no will nor nothin’ that gave that land to Nettie. It was as much mine as hers. I knew we couldn’t make a living off the land, so I went off to work while Nettie kept the place up. Seems like now it should just be comin’ to me. But the judge says he won’t be decidin’ what happens to it ‘til you get this case figured out. I was hopin’ maybe you could let him know I’m in the clear on this, so should be able to get title to the land before it all gets covered over.”
Grace answered from her corner. “Where have you been the last few weeks, Mr. Suskey?”
He refused to make the effort to swing around toward her, keeping his eyes on me. “What do you mean, where have I been? And what’s that got to do with anything?”
“What I mean is that I checked with your landlady in Nowata. She says you moved out almost a month ago. Where have you been the last three weeks?”
“I been just kickin’ around. My next month’s rent was comin’ up and I was planning on comin’ over here to check on the property anyway. I knew it was bein’ flooded.”
“But you didn’t come right away.”
“I had some other stuff I needed to do ‘cause of my pension. Had to go back over to Bartlesville. I got here the day I come in to see you.”
“I know you’re staying out at the Super 8 on the highway and checked in that day. Can you tell me where you were staying in Bartlesville?”
“Stayin’ with a friend of mine from the oil days.”
“I’ll need a name and address on this friend,” Grace said evenly.
“Name’s Calvin Latty. Don’t know his address. Creek Street or Creek Avenue. I just know how to get there. I’ll have to call him.”
“When we’re through here. But speaking of friends, I’ve been checking around to see who you might know that would be keeping you posted on what’s going on in town. There aren’t many people left who remember that far back. But those who do, said you really only hung out with one person. Who do you think they said that was, Mr. Suskey?”
The little man’s jaw tightened beneath the wattle of his chin. “You’re the smart police lady. You tell me.”
Grace’s expression didn’t change. “The neighbor kid at the next place down in Blackjack Holler. LJ Greaves. I hear that until you left for the oil fields, LJ was about the only friend you had.”
I glanced over at Joseph who was working as hard as I was not to show surprise. She jumped into what was rapidly becoming an interrogation.
“LJ Greaves been keeping you up on what’s going on here, Mr. Suskey?”
He shifted just enough to straighten toward me, but stopped there. “So, what if he has? His place is bein’ flooded too. But I ain’t heard nothing from him since you shot him.”
I’d been taking this all in, wondering about our visitor’s new clothes and haircut, when a light went off in my head that should have been switched on long ago. Another rookie oversight. “Was it you who told the Greaves they could cut timber on the family property?”
Suskey’s eyes narrowed. “Hell, yes, it was me. I have as much right to what goes on there as anyone. So what if it was me?”
“And they gave you shares of what they got for the logs?”
“Damn right, they did.”
“But none to Nettie.”
Galen Suskey’s shoulders rolled nervously to force a kink from his hunched back. “I figured Nettie was getting her share of the place through the buyout. Didn’t know if any of that would come to me. So I figured I’d get what I could while I could.”
“And when Nettie found out about this, the Greaves killed her,” Grace suggested coldly.
This time Suskey swung abruptly toward her. “Hell, no. She had no idea they was cutting back there. I told ‘em to stay on the back forty and she couldn’t tell they wasn’t on their place. She wasn’t gettin’ anything done with the timber and it was all going to go underwater. She’d a never knowed.”
Joseph spoke from her side of the room, bringing Suskey’s attention back to center. I was beginning to feel a little sorry about the way we were torqueing his stumpy frame from side-to-side. “Maybe she did find out and threatened to report them,” Joseph continued. “I can see them doing your sister in if they thought she was going to report them.”
Suskey rolled his head nervously from side-to-side, swinging the wattle like a bulging udder. “LJ called when you found her dead. He was as surprised as anyone. I’d told them they could cut but better stop. I figured the law would come snoopin’ around. But I said if you did, all he needed to do was push that off on me.”
“You say he called?” Joseph questioned. “How did he get to you if you’d moved?”
Suskey threw his weight back in the chair and fished a phone from his pocket. “We both got cells.” He held up an aging iPhone. “He’d check in every week to let me know what was goin’ on.”
I reached across the desk. “I’d like you to leave your phone, please, Mr. Suskey. I know you don’t have to without a warrant, but I’d just as soon not have to march you across the street to the judge to get one, especially if you’re working on making a good impression on him.”
His face folded into a creased frown. “You makin’ me a suspect? Hell, your deputy woman over there can check to see that I was in Bartlesville. I was goin’ into the union office every day. Give ‘em a call.”
“We will,” I assured him. “But right now, everyone’s being looked at, and I need your phone.” I slid a pad of post-it notes across in front of him. “If you have a password, please write it down. And include the name of the friend you were staying with in Oklahoma, and his address and number.”
Suskey laid the phone on the desktop and scribbled on the pad. “I’ll be wantin’ this back,” he growled. “And you ain’t
goin’ to find nothing on there but calls to LJ. Maybe a call or two to Calvin.”
“Did you ever call Verl?” Joseph asked. Suskey didn’t look up, but I saw his brow furrow. “Don’t know that I did. And before you ask, no. I don’t know where Verl is.” He finished writing, pushed off the arms of the chair to vault forward onto the floor, and faced me across the desk. “You got anything else to ask me?”
I glanced at my partners who both gave me a quick shake of the head. Grace headed toward the door to open it for him. “Doesn’t look like it, Mr. Suskey,” I said. “But you need to stay in town. Nothing creates suspicion more than someone trying to disappear when they’re on the list.”
“I’m waitin’ to claim my property. That’s what I come in here for in the first place.” He glared over at Grace. “You know I’m at the Super 8, room 115.” He pushed the chair aside and slouched past Grace and out into the main office. She pushed the door quietly closed behind him.
We sat for our customary silent moment, looking around at each other. Before either of the others could lead us in a different direction, I spoke to Grace who was leaning, arms folded, against the door frame.
“There were a couple of little surprises from you in the questions you asked Suskey. When did you plan to share the information about him leaving his place in Oklahoma a month ago, and being close to LJ Greaves?”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t budge. “When you were in here long enough to learn what the rest of us have been doing. And I just learned some of that this morning.”
“It’s the kind of thing you always call about as soon as you learn it.”
“I think that was when you weren’t spending most of your time in Mexico, or Springdale, or Springfield.”
I was tempted to snap back but didn’t want more said about Mexico. Instead, I asked, “So, what do you think after this little interview?”
“I’m thinking we need to get into that phone, see who he’s called and when, and maybe find a number that can lead us to Verl. And that I need to call this ‘friend’ in Bartlesville and check out his story.”
I grunted agreement and turned to Joseph who was watching our exchange with a tight smile. “And Officer Joseph, what are you thinking?”
She leaned back and linked her hands behind her head. “As Mr. Suskey talked, I was thinking that each day—in fact, more often than that—I’ve had a new name at the top of my list. This morning I was suspecting the coin merchants. Seemed nice and helpful, but had a huge interest in keeping Nettie’s money coming their way. Then, when I learned Nettie was thinking of changing her will and that Brenda Castoe may have lied to us about knowing she was in it, my suspicions shifted to her. But if Mr. Suskey was working with the Greaves on stripping the timber from the property without Nettie knowing, that’s a pretty damning motive.”
Grace had relaxed more completely against the door frame but straightened and glared at me with her dark, Latin eyes as Joseph spoke.
“So you learned that Brenda Castoe knew she was in the will and lied about it?” she snapped. “That’s the kind of thing we usually call each other about. I could have been in Springfield this morning asking her about it.”
I nodded to concede that communication had been lax on both sides. “As you said, we’ve all had too many things going on. We both need to do better from now on.” I pushed from the chair, signaling Joseph to come with me. “Grace, go through this phone with a fine-toothed comb. We need to know who every call went to. And we need a good time profile of the calls. Then check on the friend in Bartlesville and call the union office.”
She continued to prop up the door frame. “And you two? What will you be up to?”
“I think we both need to talk to Brenda,” I called back to her as we headed for the outer door. “Then I want to get over to Cox Medical and see if LJ is in any shape to talk.”
28
Marti caught me on the way out of the office with a list of the things that had come up during the morning. The school district wondered if I could sit in on two parent-teacher conferences with Syrian families who had been taken in by the First Christian Church and needed interpreting help.
“Next Tuesday afternoon about 3:30,” she read from the note. “That’s what you get for being the only person within fifty miles who speaks both English and Arabic.”
“Something I like to help with,” I agreed. “Put me down and note it on my calendar. Anything more criminal?”
“Somebody stole seven of the Collins’ calves. Backed a trailer up to one of their gates last night and herded them in.”
I chuckled, then assured Marti when she responded with a withering glare, “No one from around here. And pretty stupid of them. First of all, no one from the county would mess with one of the commissioners’ stock. And anyone who knows cattle wouldn’t steal calves from Collins. He’s cross-bred his Charolais this year with Angus bulls and got a litter of pretty unique-looking gray calves. When they try to unload them, it’ll be like trying to sell a ’37 Rolls Phantom at the local auto auction.”
Marti shook her head. “Why would anybody take them then? Frankie went out when we got the call and got the details. But I’d guess Bob will be expecting to hear from you. The commissioners usually want the head man.”
“I’ll call him on my way to Springfield. Did Frankie find tire tracks?”
“Yes. And made casts. This was his kind of call. We’ve got fifty pounds of plaster and about a dozen print sets in the evidence room.”
“And he’s called the sale barns around? Asked them to watch for a load of gray calves?”
“Yes. That’s been done.”
“Ask him to call all the meat lockers that butcher beef. And contact trailer rentals in the area. See who’s rented stock trailers in the last few days. Go as far out as Springfield, down into Arkansas, and over into the corner of Kansas. If he finds one that would haul seven calves, let’s get tire prints on it. And get a number for Sheriff Parnell over in Montgomery County, Kansas.”
Marti jotted a note to herself and went to an old rolodex file she kept on the corner of her desk. “You think these people came from that far away?”
“They didn’t know cattle and didn’t know our county. I’m guessing they want money, not cows. They won’t try the sale barns because they don’t know how they work. So I’m guessing a rented trailer and an attempt to sell them to a meat locker or feed lot. Those calves are pretty young for slaughter, so I’d put my money on the KAMO feedlot over in Sheriff Parnell’s county. It’s notorious for not asking questions.”
Marti flipped through the file and found Parnell’s number. “I’ll send it to your phone so you have it,” she suggested. “And Bob Collins’ number too.”
I repeated the chuckle and this time she grinned back. “Oh, right,” she said. “His would already be on your speed dial.”
“From the day the commissioners hired me,” I assured her. “Anything else need attention before I head north?”
“That’s it for now. And Rocky should be back in the next half hour. I heard you give Grace her marching orders. If anything else comes up, Rocky can handle it.”
I called Bob Collins as I drove, gave him a rundown on what we were doing to find his stock, then checked in with Joseph who was half an hour ahead of me.
“I was able to track down Brenda Castoe,” she began. “She didn’t sound thrilled, but will meet with us at the Troop D offices on Kearney at 5:30. That should give us time to stop in on Mr. Greaves before we see her. Want to meet me at Cox Medical Center?”
“Send me a room number when you get there and wait,” I suggested. “If you walk in by yourself, he may either clam up or have heart failure.”
“I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she said.
LJ was only about half a heartbeat out of intensive care. We found him with liquid flowing into both arms and tubes and wires taped to most everything else. The nurse who gave us ten minutes with him cautioned that he might be hoarse and still sedat
ed.
“He’s had tubes in his nose and throat until this morning, so he may have trouble talking,” she warned. “And he’s still on a sedative. We weren’t certain we’d save him for the first few days.”
I glanced over at Joseph to see if she’d make any comment about her “do not resuscitate” request. She’d apparently put that behind her. “I didn’t think the wound was that life-threatening,” she said instead.
The nurse picked up his chart. “Rib fragments punctured and collapsed one of his lungs. And there was some kind of secondary infection. Anyway, like I said. No more than ten minutes.”
LJ was conscious enough to follow us with his eyes as we circled to the window side of his partially-raised bed. I’d suggested on the way up that I do the questioning. The old man probably wasn’t as likely to respond well to the woman who’d put him in intensive care.
“Or he might respond better,” she argued. “Knows I’m not someone who’s just bullshitting him.”
“Let’s start out my way on this one,” I insisted. “If he doesn’t budge, you can try yours.”
LJ wasn’t too committed to making things easy for either of us. When I asked how he was feeling, he croaked out what I understood to be a suggestion about what the two of us could do to each other. I plowed ahead anyway.
“I need to ask you a few questions about Nettie Suskey’s death. Why didn’t you tell us Galen Suskey had given you permission to cut trees?”
LJ’s eyes flitted from me to Joseph and back. “I don’t remember you givin’ us time to tell you anything,” he growled. “The bitch shot me before we could say nothin’.”
“You had plenty of time before she showed up. When I was asking about cutting trees.”
“Wasn’t none of your business.”
“With Nettie having been killed? Did she find you back there? Or did you go tell her, and she said Galen didn’t have any right to be letting you cut? Which was it, LJ?”
The man’s sunken eyes again shifted between us. Joseph’s face was a stone mask. He took a deep swallow. “You must have talked to Galen. So what did he tell you?”