The Maggody Militia Page 13

I grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. “You can tell me what happened while we walk. Dylan had participated in this kind of thing before, right?”

  “Yeah, and he was in a real battle, too. He dint look old enough to have been in Desert Storm. Have there been any wars since then?”

  “There’ve been some military interventions,” I said as I ducked under a branch. “Did you see anything at the moment the rifle was fired?”

  “Not so’s I recollect.”

  “What exactly do you recollect?”

  Kevin stopped and sucked on his lip. “When we first got there, Dylan told me to watch down the hill. If I saw anybody, I was ’sposed to give him a hand signal. He dint say what kind of signal, but I figured I’d kinda wave like this.” He flopped his wrist a couple of times. “But I dint see anybody. Then all of a sudden Dylan said he heard something up over us, so he came out and tried to see what it was. That’s when he got shot.”

  “But you never saw anything in the woods?” I asked, shoving him back into motion.

  “I saw a li’l squirrel in a tree.”

  I struggled not to sigh, but I was asking too much of myself. “What’s that splotch on your jacket, Kevin?”

  “Aw, one of the guys got me with a paint pellet. I told him I dint think it was fair the way he did it, but he just grinned like a mule with a mouthful of thistles.”

  “Isn’t that the point of this nonsense?”

  “Real soldiers aren’t so dadburned sneaky,” he said sullenly.

  Rather than examine the goals of guerrilla warfare, I told him to follow me. We went through the campsite and crossed the gully. As I came up to the pasture, a raindrop nailed me on the back of my neck.

  “I do not understand why we need to give statements,” Sterling was saying to Harve. Their faces were equally mottled, and their noses were inches apart.

  Having seen similar behavior in schoolyards, I hurried over to them and said, “Calm down, boys. Harve, why don’t you use the PD? It’ll be crowded, but noticeably warmer and drier.”

  “You have no more right to detain us,” said Sterling, “than you do to confiscate our weapons. Aren’t you up for re-election soon, Sheriff? If your flagrant disregard for individual rights is made public, you’d best start interviewing for jobs in the private sector. I am a member of the Rotary and Kiwanis clubs, a church deacon, and the vice-president of the county insurance agents’ association. Furthermore, I am on a first-name basis with the lieutenant governor—”

  “Shuddup,” Harve snarled, then looked at me. “Actually, I got a small problem. The county prosecutor’s holding a press conference about the burglaries, and he wants me there to field questions. It starts in an hour. Since this was an accident and the statements are nothing more than a formality, I was hoping you’d handle them. Les’ll hang around in case you need help. I know I’ve been asking a lot of favors from you, Arly, and I’ll make it up to you after the election.”

  “How are you planning to do that, Harve? Get me my own team of bloodhounds?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Tell ya what—the next time we have to extradite somebody in New Orleans, I’ll assign it to you. If you go a few days early, we can cover expenses and it’ll be between the two of us.”

  “Squandering the taxpayers’ money?” inserted Sterling with the same supercilious smile I was beginning to know too well.

  Kayleen put her hand on his arm. “Honey, you’re making things worse. Why don’t we go sit in the Hummer?”

  I grimaced at Harve. “It shouldn’t take long, so I’ll do it. As for New Orleans, I’d rather have those bloodhounds.”

  Ruby Bee used her passkey to let herself into General Pitts’s unit. She hung fresh towels in the bathroom, gathered up the damp ones, and went back into the room. Despite the clutter of electronic equipment, everything was tidy and the bed made with surgical precision. She eyed the computer with all its cables, wondering if her electric bill was gonna be sky-high, then ran a feather duster over everything and locked the door behind her.

  Estelle opened her door. “Snooping?”

  “I’m cleaning the units same as I always do,” Ruby Bee said as she headed for Kayleen’s unit.

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Estelle said, trotting after her. “Lemme carry those towels.”

  “I’ve been doing this by myself for thirty years, and I can manage just fine.”

  She unlocked the door of #3 and, with Estelle on her heels, went inside. She already knew Kayleen wasn’t real orderly, so she wasn’t surprised that the bed wasn’t made and several articles of clothing were draped over the back of a chair. A small saucepan rested on the hot plate; Kayleen had asked permission, and since she was gonna be there for months, it seemed reasonable. “You can make the bed,” she said to Estelle, then went on into the bathroom to exchange towels and clean the tub.

  “Kayleen sure does look pretty in this photograph,” said Estelle. “This must be her and her husband on their honeymoon at some fancy island resort. I didn’t realize he was so much older than her. He reminds me of my grandpappy, who was ninety-seven when he passed away.”

  “Now who’s snooping?” called Ruby Bee as she wiped out the sink.

  “I was only making an observation. It’s none of my business who she marries. I couldn’t care less if she marries Raz Buchanon, although I can’t see her sitting beside Marjorie on the sofa.”

  Ruby Bee came out of the bathroom, mutely made the bed, and went out the door.

  Estelle caught up with her as she knocked on Judy Milliford’s door. “Isn’t she up on the ridge with everybody else?”

  “No, I saw her come walking back here less than an hour ago. I invited her to have some coffee in the bar, but she said she needed to take a hot shower and get into some dry clothes. She doesn’t sound as gung ho as—” She stopped as the door opened. “I brought you some clean towels.”

  Judy was dressed in a robe and her face was flushed. “Thanks, Ruby Bee,” she said with a small smile. “I was going to take you up on that coffee, but I’m afraid I may have caught a cold. I think I’ll just curl up in bed and watch television until I have to go back to the camp and fix supper.”

  “I thought they were going to live off the land,” Ruby Bee said.

  Judy’s smile faded. “Jake says that’s malarkey, that when we take to the mountains, we’ll have plenty of supplies with us. If we run low, he can break into the enemy’s supply depot and get more. We’ll always have fresh fish and game, too.”

  “That must be a comforting thought,” murmured Ruby Bee, “if you have cornmeal, anyway. You go lie down and have a nice nap, Judy. If I can bring you something from the bar, give me a call.”

  “Thanks,” Judy said as she closed the door.

  They were walking toward the back door of the bar when Mrs. Jim Bob came into the parking lot in her pink Cadillac. She drove right past them and pulled in beside the brown Mercedes, leapt out of the car, and began pounding on the door of #3.

  “I know you’re in there!” she shrieked. “I demand to know what you did with him, you wicked, wicked hussy! Don’t think you can cower in there until I go away. I’m going to stay right here till you open this door!”

  Estelle arched her carefully drawn eyebrows. “Think we should tell her that Kayleen’s not there?”

  “After what she said to me the other day?” replied Ruby Bee. She watched Mrs. Jim Bob’s fist going up and down like a jackhammer for a moment, then went through the back door.

  Once we all arrived at the PD, I realized there was no way to cram that many bodies in the back room. Counting myself, we were one shy of a football team—and the preponderance of olive drab made the situation feel even more claustrophobic.

  “You two,” I said, pointing at Sterling and Kayleen, “can go over to your units at the Flamingo and I’ll take your statements there. Jeremiah and Earl, you all go on home and wait for me. Don’t tell anybody what happened on the ridge. The last thing I need is a gaggle of sig
htseers getting themselves shot.”

  “What about me?” squeaked Kevin.

  “You go home, too,” I said, already dreading the necessity of taking his statement, even though he was the closest thing we had to an eyewitness. As they left, I heard Earl bawling out Kevin for missing work and Sterling sputtering at Kayleen about his constitutional rights. Now we were down to the size of a basketball team, and the room felt larger (although not the size of a regulation court).

  “I reckon I’ll go over to the motel,” said one of the men I didn’t recognize. “My wife’s staying there.” When I merely looked at him, he added through clenched teeth, “I’m Jake Milliford from Emmett. I didn’t see nothing, so you’re wasting your time if you think I got anything to say to you.”

  I could tell from his surly tone that he wasn’t accustomed to taking orders from a female. It was tempting to make him squirm, but I flicked a finger at the door. “Stay in her room until I get around to you.”

  “I’ll stay where I damn well please.”

  I looked at Les. “Would you escort Mr. Milliford to the Flamingo, then remain in the parking lot and keep an eye on all of them? I should be there in an hour or so.”

  Les escorted his charge out the door, leaving only three of us. Barry smiled at me and said, “Any chance for coffee?”

  “If you make it,” I said, then sat down behind my desk and pulled out a legal pad. “Name?” I asked the other unfamiliar man.

  He didn’t look any happier than Jake Milliford, but he sat down and said, “Reed Rondly.”

  “Rank?” I asked brightly. “Serial number? This is supposed to be a military outfit, isn’t it? Or are you all just a bunch of bumbling idiots who like to act out your anal-retentive impulses in the woods?”

  Reed licked his lips. “What’s your problem, honey? You having your period?”

  “Cool it,” Barry called from the back room. “Just tell her what you know so we can leave, okay?”

  “Okay,” he muttered, glaring at me. “We all got here yesterday evening at different times. Dylan rode with me, and Sterling and Jake were at the campsite when we got there at maybe five. Barry showed up later. This morning Sterling, Kayleen, and Judy came just before sunrise, and later on, the three local fellows. Sterling told Dylan to take the kid and pick a position on the bluff. We waited fifteen minutes, then split up so we could come at ’em from different directions. I was trying to figure out what to do about that clear patch when the kid came stumbling by. He told me what happened and I fired a flare to bring everybody. By the time I got to Dylan, Kayleen was giving him mouth-to-mouth, but he died anyway. That’s about it.”

  I finished scribbling all that and said, “Did you hear a shot right before you encountered Kevin?”

  “Yeah, but way off from where I was.” He leaned back, clearly proud of his recitation. “Bring me some coffee, Barry. Three sugars, no milk.”

  I sketched a crude map of the area and pushed it toward him. “Make a mark where you were when you heard the shot,” I said.

  He sneered at my effort, then took the pencil and drew an X indicating he’d been just inside the woods. “Here, I guess. Hell, I wasn’t worried where I was. I was more concerned about where Dylan and the kid were and how I was going to get off a decent shot.”

  Barry came back into the room, handed a mug to Reed, and put one down on my desk. “You can probably use this, too,” he said to me.

  “Thanks.” I looked over what I’d written, then glanced up at Reed. “And at any time did you have a weapon with live ammo?”

  He shrugged. “I got my rifle and some thirty-caliber bullets in the truck in case I decide to do some huntin’ after the retreat. I got fired on Thursday, so it ain’t like I have anything better to do. Let that dumb-ass process server come find me out here.”

  “Process server?” I said.

  Barry rolled his eyes at me. “Reed’s experiencing marital difficulties, and some guy has been chasing him all over Farberville. He stayed away from work because of that, which is why he’s currently unemployed.”

  “Damn that Bobbi Jo,” said Reed between noisy slurps of coffee. “It’s her own damn fault. If she hadn’t bitched at me for coming home drunk, I wouldn’t have had to teach her a lesson about who wears the pants and who wears the panties.” He leered at me. “What about you, baby? You got black silk panties on that firm little ass of yours?”

  I considered getting out my gun, but I didn’t want to squander one of my precious bullets on him. “Give me your address and phone number, then get out of here,” I said levelly. “Someone at the sheriff’s department will type this up and bring it to you to be signed in a couple of days.”

  He rattled off the information, then added, “I’ll be over at that dumpy bar, Barry. I guess we need to find out what Sterling wants to do.”

  I waited until he left before I dared reach for the mug. After a couple of sips, I said, “Your comrade’s a real jerk, isn’t he?”

  Barry took the vacated chair. “He’s under a lot of stress because of the divorce. Usually he’s a real sweetheart.”

  “Sure he is,” I said dryly. “You have anything to add to what he said about arrival times?”

  “No, as far as I know, that was pretty much it. I had to work Friday, so I was the last one to show up.”

  I gave him the map. “Where were you when you heard the single shot?”

  He studied it for a long while, as if the scattering of lines held some mystical significance. “I guess I was over that way,” he said as he drew an X. “I wanted to work my way below the ledge, but I had the same problem Reed did with the open area. I heard the shot, and maybe three or four minutes later, I saw the flare that meant something was wrong.”

  “You couldn’t see the ledge where Dylan was standing when he was shot?” I asked, retrieving my masterpiece to compare Reed’s and Barry’s marks. One was large and lopsided, the other small and precise.

  “No, the bluff juts out and I was coming around from the far side. I couldn’t even see the clearing at that point.”

  “What can you tell me about Dylan? How long has he been a member of your group?”

  Barry gave this question as much consideration as he had the map. “He drifted into town about two weeks ago, got a job at the garage, and ended up crashing at Reed’s apartment. He claimed he’d been living in Denver.”

  “Claimed? Did you doubt him?”

  “I had some misgivings. I don’t know how to say this without making us sound like a gang of desperados. We’ve never done anything illegal, but groups like ours are often under investigation by certain federal agencies. It’s not uncommon for agents to attempt to pose as disciples in order to infiltrate.”

  My pseudo-professional veneer evaporated. “Are you saying the victim was a federal agent?”

  “It occurred to me,” he said, shrugging. “It was almost as though he knew ahead of time that Reed was the one to approach, since the rest of us are quite a bit more reticent when discussing … our activities.” He put the mug on the floor and held up his hands. “Which are legal, as I said a minute ago. You may not agree with our philosophy, but you have to admit we have the constitutional right to embrace it.”

  “Which amendments cover racism and paranoia?” I asked sweetly.

  “You’ll have to ask Sterling. He’s our specialist in matters of law.” He set the mug on the corner of my desk. “I suppose I won’t be buying you a beer on Monday, right?”

  “That’s very perceptive of you.” I stood up so he couldn’t look down at me. “I suggest you and your comrades go find some other place to make fools of yourselves. If I have to, I’ll declare the entire acreage from the county road to the bluff a crime scene. It’ll take a lot of yellow tape to make it off-limits, but I have plenty of free time. That means if you all return, you’ll be trespassing, and also that Kayleen can’t proceed with the remodeling. I have a feeling that won’t sit well with her.”

  “Probably not. I’ll tell S
terling what you said, unless you prefer to tell him yourself.”

  “Go ahead and tell him whatever you wish. After all, the Constitution guarantees freedom of speech, doesn’t it?” I wrote down his address and telephone number, then told him to leave. I still had six more statements to take, but I’d already heard most of Kevin’s story and I figured Earl Buchanon and Jeremiah McIlhaney would have little to contribute. For that matter, none of them would if the shooting had been an accident, as Harve believed.

  But if Dylan Gilbert had been exposed as a federal agent, it might be a whole ’nuther ballgame, I thought as I reread the notes I’d taken while interviewing Barry. The logical agencies were the FBI and the ATF, but I wasn’t at all sure I could call Washington and politely ask them to confirm the identity of an undercover agent.

  I gave up worrying about it, and was halfway to my car when Dahlia came pounding up the road, her massive arms flopping like prehensile wings. “It’s Kevvie!” she yelled at me. “He’s disappeared!”

  “No, he hasn’t,” I said calmly. “He was out at that gathering on County 102 and then at the PD, but I sent him home half an hour ago.”

  She huffed and puffed until she caught her breath. “I was over at his parents’ house when his pa got there. He told us what happened and said that Kevvie had gone back to the SuperSaver for what was left of his shift. I went right over there to chew him out, but Idalupino said he never showed up. He ain’t at home, neither. What if it’s time for the baby and I cain’t find him? What am I gonna do …?”

  I didn’t have an answer.

  Chapter 10

  I drove Dahlia back to her in-laws’ house. After she’d been settled on the sofa with a quilt and a diet soda, I asked Eileen to drive to Kevin’s house and make sure he wasn’t hiding under the porch. Then, without enthusiasm, I asked Earl to join me in the kitchen.

  “Okay,” I began, speaking quietly so Dahlia couldn’t overhear us, “what the hell were you, Kevin, and Jeremiah doing out there this morning? Do you honestly believe this country is going to be invaded by a bunch of Swiss paratroopers armed with pocket-knives?”