by Larry Darter
Slowly Freddie pulled a small black semi-automatic out of his waistband using his thumb and index finger. He gingerly laid it on the old kitchen table. Then he took two steps back.
“Sheriff, I didn’t kill that guy,” Freddie said. “You’ve got to help me.”
“Let’s talk,” Owen said.
“The dead guy, he came into El Rincon a couple of times. The first time he came in he said he was looking to get laid.”
“What did you do?”
“I sent him out to where the girls were, but it was a big mistake,” Freddie said. “I heard later from the guys he showed up at the tent and went loco. He started yelling and waving a gun around.”
“Then what happened?”
“So he came back the other night and asked where the tent was. I told him there was no way I was telling him after what happened last time.”
“He came back again wanting to get laid after causing the big scene?”
“He apologized. He said he was upset the first time because what he was really looking for was a girl named Zoe. She is one of the girls, but she wasn’t working the night he caused problems. Guess that’s his thing. He only wanted to poke a young one.”
“So, you told him where the girls were?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Freddie said. “He was a big guy. I didn’t want to have trouble with some crazy dude. But, I called Martin right away. I told him the loco guy was on the way. I told him they better move the tent.”
“Who is Martin?”
“Martin Hernandez,” Freddie said. “He used to be a bouncer at El Rincon. Now he takes care of the girls for us. We all went in partners getting a few girls together for, you know, making some money off the cowboys and oil field guys.”
Owen stepped closer to Freddie. Freddie retreated to a wall in front of a window that still had a few panes of cracked glass left in it.
“Sheriff, I didn’t know he was going to kill him,” Freddie said waving his hands. “I swear.”
“Who is he?” Owen said. “Martin?”
Freddie stood with his head down, staring at the floor.
“Whoever he is,” Owen said. “He is trying to frame you. The only way I can help you is if you tell me who shot Glen Roberts.”
Freddie looked up at Owen but said nothing.
“Understand?” Owen said.
Freddie turned and walked to the window. He looked out. Then he turned back to Owen.
“I don’t know, sheriff,” he said. Then the window glass shattered followed by the sound of a gunshot as Freddie’s head snapped back. He fell to the floor with blood all over his face.
Owen hurried to the window and looked out. He saw a figure in camouflage with a rifle about a hundred yards from the house, running away. The figure disappeared behind a copse of mesquite trees. Owen knelt on the floor beside Freddie. He put a hand behind Freddie’s neck and raised his head.
“Who is out there?” Owen said.
Freddie tried to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth. Then his head fell limply to the side. He was dead.
Owen went to the backdoor. He peeked out around the door frame. The wood frame next to him exploded in fragments quickly followed by the sound of another gunshot. He pulled his head back for a moment. Then he ducked out the door and ran along the back toward a corner of the house. He wanted the rifle he’d brought with him, but had left in the Tahoe. As he turned the corner, another bullet slammed into the side of the house just behind him. Once he reached the front yard, Owen had the house between him and the shooter. He jumped in the Tahoe and a plan formed. He started the vehicle, slammed it into gear, and drove around the house headed toward the copse of mesquite trees behind it.
When Owen blew past the trees in the Tahoe, he saw the man in camouflage running towards a dark blue Dodge pickup truck. The man stopped, turned and leveled a rifle. Owen slumped over in the seat just as the bullet punched through the windshield and snapped angrily above his head. He raised up and saw the shooter getting in the truck. Owen jammed on the brakes and slammed the gear selector into park. He opened the door and stepped out with a Winchester. He worked the lever putting a cartridge into the chamber. He laid the rifle over the open window frame of the door and sighted on the Dodge.
The driver made a sharp left turn to head across the open field toward the dirt road that ran along the property. Owen aimed at the driver’s door. He took a breath. He let it out halfway. His finger tightened on the trigger. The rifle barked. The Dodge truck continued forward about fifty feet then slewed to the right and stopped. Owen worked the lever on the Winchester and then started toward the truck on foot. When he got there a Latino in his thirties wearing camouflage was trying to work the bolt on a Remington Model 700 rifle. Owen reached out and grabbed the barrel which was sticking out the open door. He jerked the rifle out of the man’s hands. He tossed it away behind him. Bright red blood covered the man’s shirt at his waist. There was more blood on his camouflage pants.
“You wasn’t supposed to be here,” the man said.
“Doing my job,” Owen said.
The man looked down at his belly, clutching the wound with his hands.
“You got to help me, sheriff,” he said. “I’m hit bad. Help me. Call an ambulance.”
“After you tell me about Glen Roberts, I might call you an ambulance,” Owen said.
“Who?”
Owen stared at the wounded man. “I’m a patient man,” Owen said. “But, I doubt you have much time to waste. Better start talking.”
“I was just trying to make a living,” the man said. “That guy was bad for business. I warned him to stay away. I swear I did. All right? Now, call me an ambulance!”
“Zoe, Glen’s daughter,” Owen said. “Tell me where Zoe is.”
The man said nothing. He just sat there moaning and bleeding.
“If you don’t, I guess you will sit there and bleed to death,” Owen said.
“Okay,” the man said. “Okay. Drilling site. Off Ranch Road R. About six or seven miles south of Highway 90. That’s where Martin has the tent set up.”
Owen reached into the vehicle and turned it off. He removed the keys from the ignition and dropped them into his pocket. He turned away and went to the rifle on the ground. He picked it up and walked back to the Tahoe.
“Where are you going, sheriff?” the man shouted. “Sheriff! Call me an ambulance!”
Owen stopped and turned back.
“I’ll call you an ambulance. You sit right there and wait. Maybe they will get here before you bleed out.” Then he turned and walked away.
When he got to the Tahoe, Owen called Judy on his cell phone. He told her where he was and that there was a man in a blue Dodge truck who had been shot. He told her there was another body in a rundown farmhouse nearby.
“Send Riggs and Chase out here, and send an ambulance for the wounded man,” Owen said. “Have Olivia meet me at the drilling rig six or seven miles south of Highway 90 on Ranch Road R. I’m on the way there now.”
Owen disconnected the call and headed to the highway.
◆◆◆
While Owen put handcuffs on Martin Hernandez, Olivia went inside the tent to talk with Zoe Garcia. After Owen had Hernandez seated in the back of his Tahoe, Olivia and Zoe came out of the tent. Zoe was wearing blue jeans and a purple tank top. She had long dark hair and large brown almond-shaped eyes. She lowered her head to avoid Owen’s gaze. Olivia opened the front passenger door of her Tahoe and helped Zoe inside. Then she closed the door.
“So, let me get this straight,” Olivia said. “You gut-shot some guy and then left him bleeding in his truck. And, you don’t even know his name?”
“Close enough,” Owen said.
“Wow. Is that how they do police work in Dallas?”
Owen gave her a wry grin. “It’s how we do police work in Perdido County,” he said. “I thought this was more important.”
Olivia tilted her head back and laughed. “I can’t belie
ve you, Owen,” she said. “My guess is the guy you shot is Victor Martinez. He owns El Rincon. At least he does if he isn’t dead by now. Someone told me he was a sniper when he was a Marine in Iraq.”
Owen nodded. “Let’s head to the office,” he said. “We need to get the girl home.”
◆◆◆
Zoe stood up looking sheepish when Luna Garcia walked into Owen’s office. Luna beamed and rushed over to her daughter. They embraced, and both began sobbing. Owen and his deputies all looked on feeling a little uncomfortable, as if they were intruding on the emotional scene. After the women had clung to each other for several minutes, Luna let go. She wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked at Owen and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” Owen nodded. She took Zoe by the hand, and they left the office together. Olivia looked at Owen. She smiled and winked at him. Owen grinned.
◆◆◆
Owen stood on the right of way pounding a sharpened wooden stake with a crossbar nailed to it into the ground with a four-pound sledge. Once he thought it was secure enough, he dropped the hammer on the ground. He took off his hat and pressed his shirtsleeve against his forehead then put his hat back on again.
He bent over and picked up a cardboard placard and a stapler off the ground. He lined up the placard and stapled it to the stake and crossbar. He took a step back to admire his work. Then he picked up his tools and carried them to the Tahoe.
After he had thrown the tools in the back with other cardboard placards and wooden stakes, he slammed the cargo hatch shut and walked around to get in the vehicle. He looked across the road at the “Elect Chase Carpenter Perdido County Sheriff” sign. He started the vehicle and pulled out onto the road. As he drove away, Owen passed the sign he had just erected. It read: “Owen Wolfe For Perdido County Sheriff, Experience and Integrity.”
About the Author
Larry Darter is an American writer of crime fiction, primarily of the mystery/detective genre. His most well-known works are the novels written about the private detective Ben Malone, set in modern-day Los Angeles.
Darter also writes a series featuring T.J. O’Sullivan, a New Zealand expat woman working as a private detective in Honolulu, Hawaii. The Owen Wolfe Mysteries is his third crime fiction series.
Larry's works incorporate knowledge and experience gained during a 20-year career as a law enforcement officer in Oklahoma and Texas.
Darter was born in Oklahoma. After four years in the U.S. Navy he earned a BS degree from the University of Central Oklahoma in Edmond. He later enlisted in the U.S. Army, completed officer candidate school, and served as an Infantry officer before beginning his law enforcement career.
Visit the authors website https://www.larrydarter.com to learn more.
Other Books by Larry Darter
Owen Wolfe Mysteries Episodes
Perdido County: Dark Road
Perdido County: Someone's Daughter
Malone Novels
Come What May
Fair Is Foul and Foul Is Fair
Cold Comfort
Foregone Conclusion
Live Long Day
Foul Play
T.J. O'Sullivan Novels
Mare's Nest
Honolulu Blues
The Chinese Tiger Ying