The Maggody Militia Page 14

  He hung his head. “Jeremiah and I went because we were curious. There was this pamphlet being handed out all over town that said we didn’t have to pay taxes, and I sure could use a new tractor.”

  “No, Earl, you don’t have to pay taxes. It’s entirely your decision whether to send a check to the IRS or go to prison. Just bear in mind that tax evasion’s a federal offense, so you might end up sharing a cell with Raz and having Sunday afternoon visits from Marjorie.” I flipped the pad to a clean page and poised my pencil. “Tell me what happened from the time you arrived at the Wockermann place.”

  “We got there at ten, listened to Pitts carry on about something or other, and then agreed to participate in this military exercise around eleven. I dunno why we said we would, except I used to love to hear my pa talk about being in France during the war. I would’ve signed on to go to Vietnam, but our troops pulled out before I turned eighteen.”

  “I get the picture,” I said. “Tell me about this morning.”

  “Fifteen minutes after Dylan and Kevin went up the hill, Pitts told us to scatter on our own. Jeremiah and I weren’t sure about that, so we stayed together.”

  “And?” I said, perhaps a shade impatiently.

  “We got to thinking that we should wait near the gully in case they doubled back to sneak behind our line. We were gonna find a place to sit by the tents, but we heard somebody coming, so we went to Jeremiah’s truck.”

  “Where it was dry,” I said. “Did you see anybody after that?”

  Earl nodded, although it’d be a stretch to say he did so thoughtfully. “Pitts scrambled across the gully and used a phone in that tank of his. I guess he called for an ambulance, ’cause it and the sheriff turned up within half an hour. You came pretty soon after that.”

  I didn’t bother with notes. “Did you and Jeremiah hear any shots?”

  This time he shook his head. “We had the windows rolled up and were listening to the radio. Don’t go telling Millicent, but Jeremiah has the hots for this little blond-headed country singer with enormous tits, and he wanted me to hear her new song.”

  Eileen hurried in through the back door. “Kevin’s not at home,” she said grimly, “and neither is the car. I stopped at the supermarket, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of him since nine this morning.”

  Earl scratched his head. “Jeremiah and me dropped him off in back of the store less than an hour ago. He was mumbling to hisself, but he was almost to the door when we drove away.”

  “I can’t imagine where he is,” said Eileen. “He may be a few dips short of a sundae, but he couldn’t get lost between the dumpster and the door.”

  I had reservations about that, but I kept them to myself and said, “He may have decided to go to the Flamingo to beg forgiveness for his self-perceived dereliction of duty. If I spot him, I’ll send him home with his tail between his legs. Is there anything else you should tell me, Earl?”

  “Not really,” he said, “unless it was that figure I saw come out of the woods way up by the fence at the back of the Assembly Hall. All I caught was a glimpse, and Jeremiah swore I was seeing things.”

  “Was this before or after Pitts made his call?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’d say about fifteen minutes before. I wasn’t paying much attention on account of Jeremiah’s favorite song coming on. It was something about knockers and knickers, and I told Jeremiah it didn’t make a lick of sense, but he said—”

  “Let me know if you hear from Kevin,” I said. I tiptoed past Dahlia, who was snoring, and let myself out the front door. I suppose I should have been more concerned about Kevin, but he was capable of almost anything, including driving into Farberville to enlist in the army (as if they’d take him).

  It was doubtful Jeremiah would have anything to add to Earl’s account, so I left him for later, swung by Kevin’s house on the off-chance he’d popped up like a fever blister, and then went to the motel behind Ruby Bee’s Bar & Grill. Only three more statements, I told myself as I parked, and I’d be rid of the militia once and for all. Kayleen would still be around, but my threat to tie a yellow ribbon around her property was probably adequate to send everybody else away, including the insufferable Reed Rondly. It was kind of a shame about Barry Kirklin, though. I wasn’t in the market for a steady beau, much less a husband, but it might have been nice to have a beer and a conversation.

  Les got out of his car. “Nobody’s so much as poked a toe outside,” he reported. “I take that back. Estelle Oppers came out of her room and asked me if I was here because of the toilet seat.”

  I had a pretty good idea why Estelle was holed up at the Flamingo, although I was getting tired of cryptic messages regarding this nefarious toilet seat. “I don’t know what she meant, Les. Maybe plumbers are in such demand these days that they’re running around with badges and sidearms. Has Kevin been here?” He shook his head. “Which units are whose?”

  Once he’d told me, I decided to give myself a break and start with Kayleen, and then beg a couple of antacid tablets from Ruby Bee before tackling Sterling Pitts and Jake Milliford.

  Kayleen must have seen me coming, because she opened the door as I approached. She’d changed into a cashmere sweater and slacks, but her face, devoid of makeup, was sallow. “I know, I know,” she said as I went into her room. “You tried to tell me and I wouldn’t listen. I’ve gone deer hunting most every year since I was twelve, and nothing like this ever happened, but—”

  “This time it happened.” I sat down on the bed and opened my pad. “You didn’t go to the campsite until this morning, right?”

  “That’s right. We got there shortly after six. Judy made breakfast while the rest of us unloaded some things from Sterling’s Hummer and prepared for a gathering to share our beliefs with the local citizens. The turnout was disappointing, particularly to Sterling, but he went ahead and gave his talk, then invited them to participate in an exercise.”

  “Were Dylan and Kevin supposed to be the insidious foreigners or the heroic defenders of truth, justice, and the American way?”

  “Oh, I don’t think roles were defined,” Kayleen said as she sat down on the opposite side of the bed. “We synchronized our watches, waited for fifteen minutes, and then headed out on our own. I thought I’d try to get above their position, but I ended up where it was as steep as the side of a barn.”

  I handed her my increasingly wrinkled map. “Show me where you were when you heard the first shot.”

  “Whose marks are these?” she asked.

  “Why does it matter?”

  She made a vague gesture with her free hand. “It doesn’t. Let me see if I can figure out what these lines mean. Is this a tree?”

  I pointed out all the relevant landmarks, then watched her as she ran a manicured fingertip up the page.

  “I came this way,” she murmured. “I spotted Reed ahead of me and shifted over this way. Then I made my way over this way and ended up behind a thicket about here.” She drew an X on the opposite side of the map from Barry’s. “I guess that’s about right, although I wouldn’t testify to it in court.”

  “Did you see anybody besides Reed?”

  “Not a soul, and I couldn’t see the ledge, either. I didn’t know what to think when I heard the first shot, but then I saw the flare and came out from behind the thicket. I reached Dylan’s body first, and I could tell he was in big trouble. When Reed got there, I sent him back to camp to get the first aid kit.” She made a little noise that was not quite a groan. “Dylan died within minutes. It brought back raw memories of the night Maurice was killed, and I was hunkered there with my arms around my knees when Jake arrived a couple of minutes later.”

  “Which direction did he come from?”

  Kayleen looked down at the map. “I wasn’t paying any attention.”

  “What about Sterling?”

  “He said he ran into Reed and learned what had happened. He went to the pasture to use his car phone to call an ambulance, then came back up to the clearing.
There was nothing more to do but wait for the paramedics.” She went into the bathroom to blow her nose, and returned with a tremulous attempt at a smile. “I feel so silly about getting all upset like this. Here I am, presenting myself as a hardy, self-reliant woman who can take care of herself, and then an accident happens and I go to pieces. I’ve bought and sold more guns than most folks see in a lifetime, and what’s more, I know how violence has pervaded every segment of our society.”

  “What did you think of Dylan Gilbert?” I asked.

  “Nothing, really,” she said as she sank back down. “This morning was the first time I met him. We sat together at breakfast on a log down by the gully, and I did my best to be real friendly. He was young, not more than twenty-five, and like most kids that age, full of himself. Not poor Kevin Buchanon, of course. He’s about as forceful as a newborn kitten. After the accident, he was mewling like one, too.”

  “Let’s keep talking about Dylan,” I said. “Did you have any reason to think there was anything peculiar about him? Was he telling the truth about his past?”

  She studied me for a long while, then sighed and said, “You’ve been listening to Barry, haven’t you? I don’t know why Barry was making all those dark comments about Dylan, unless it was because he was jealous, like an older child when a baby’s brought home from the hospital. Until Dylan came along, Barry was the smart one. After he got out of the army, he found a job at a bookstore and worked his way up to department manager. Dylan had gone to college for a couple of years and studied engineering.”

  “So you think Barry was jealous?”

  “I don’t know any other reason why he was whispering behind Dylan’s back. I hate to say this, but the federal agencies would hardly bother with the likes of us. There are groups that stockpile weapons and build explosive devices, and some have resorted to violence. We’re all hot air and bravado, like I told you when you first objected to the retreat. None of us would ever find the nerve to do something illegal, much less dangerous.”

  “Dylan found it dangerous,” I said, staring at her.

  She looked away. “But that was an accident, and it didn’t have anything to do with us.”

  I told her she’d be asked to sign the statement later in the week, then went out into the lot and steeled myself for the final two interviews. Before I’d talked myself into actually knocking on a door, Les emerged from his car.

  “Sheriff Dorfer wants you to call him as soon as you can,” he said. “It’s real important.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “I asked,” he admitted, “but that’s all LaBelle would tell me. She’s in a real snit these days, isn’t she?”

  “No kidding,” I said as I headed for the PD.

  “All I kin say,” Kevin said through a mouthful of tamale, “is it ain’t fair for whoever shot Dylan to get away with it. Everybody keeps actin’ like it was just one of those things. Why, I’d be mighty surprised if Arly bothers with the statements and I sure cain’t see the sheriff reading ’em.”

  His remarks were directed only at the hillside below the ledge. Not even the cute li’l squirrel was anywhere to be seen, having retreated to a leafy nest to escape the cold drizzle.

  Kevin finished the tamale he’d had the foresight to pick up at the Dairee Dee-Lishus, crammed the wrapper in his pocket, and discovered that for some crazy reason, he had a cassette in his pocket. Dahlia’s relaxation tape, he decided, wondering how he’d ended up with it.

  He stood up, this time mindful of his head. “No,” he said, continuing to talk out loud because it was kind of creepy out here by his lonesome, “if Arly’s gonna sweep this under the carpet, then it’s up to Kevin Fitzgerald Buchanon to find the guilty hunter and see that he goes to jail. I owe that much to Dylan.”

  Over the treetops he could see the roof of the old Wockermann farmhouse, and beyond that the chimney of Estelle’s house across the county road. That was about it, but it was comforting to know he wasn’t lost. All he needed now, he thought with a sigh, was some sort of plan.

  It wasn’t likely the hunter had been between the ledge and the campsite, since that was where the make-believe soldiers had been. He shifted his attention to the woods off to his right. They rose steeply, but they didn’t look as thick and gnarly, so he decided to go that way and see if maybe he’d find a deer camp.

  He climbed down to the spot where Dylan had fallen, although he kept his eyes averted in case there might be bloodstains on the rocks. Robin Buchanon’s old shack was somewhere in that direction, and it occurred to him that it might not be bad to get out of the drizzle before he was soaked to the skin. He could even try to scrounge up some dry firewood and build a fire in the rusty pot-bellied stove. Once he was warm, he’d come up with a real good plan that’d have made Dylan proud of him.

  The going was easier for the most part, but there were plenty of thorns and treacherous holes covered with leaves. The birds had retreated, too, except for a crow making a racket from an invisible branch. Kevin made his way around the bluff and continued upward, saving his breath for gasping and panting. The mountainside grew rockier as he climbed, and he was obliged to slow his pace on account of patches of mud as slippery as wet linoleum.

  Several times he thought he was in spittin’ distance of the shack, only to discover outcroppings of slick, silvery limestone or desolate logging trails. The mud was so sticky he had to stop every few minutes and scrape his boots.

  Maybe he was confused about the shack, he told himself as he stumbled over a log and came within a hair’s breadth of landing on his butt in the soggy leaves. Cotter’s Ridge was like one of those mazes where you have to find your way to the middle without crossing any lines. Kevin hadn’t had much luck with ’em, even with the ones in the kiddie magazines at the supermarket. Jim Bob had pitched a fit when a customer brought one back claiming it was marked up.

  Thinking about Jim Bob made him more forlorn than he already was. There wasn’t any way Jim Bob wouldn’t find out that his temporary assistant manager had gone AWOL, and on the busiest day of the week, too. But Kevin had figured he owed it to his beloved wife and son to learn how to defend them when the country was overrun with foreign soldiers.

  He was close to giving up when he finally caught sight of a sagging roof. He hurried up the road, went up on the porch, and dragged open the door. Inside it was still cold and daylight sliced through cracks and knotholes, but it was better’n outside. Dirt was everywhere, along with twigs, dried leaves, tufts of hair, and droppings that indicated animals had taken refuge over the years.

  Hoping he wouldn’t run into a bear or a wildcat, Kevin pulled off his cap and eyed the stove. He was trying to remember if he had any matches when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. John Wayne might have whirled around and thrown a punch, but Kevin Fitzgerald Buchanon fainted.

  I went into the barroom and looked around for Reed Rondly and Barry Kirklin. They were in the back booth, conversing intently over a pitcher of beer. Before I could reach them, however, Ruby Bee came out of the kitchen and said, “I need to have a word with you, and I need to have it right now.”

  Reed and Barry glanced up at me. “Stay there,” I said to them, then went over to the bar. “What’s the matter? Do you need a recipe for ostrich and dumplings?”

  Ruby Bee gestured at a good ol’ boy slumped at the bar, who appeared to have been crying in his beer for a long while, then moved down to the end and waited for me with a decidedly unfriendly expression. “I have been trying to get in touch with you all day long,” she said as I sat on a stool. “You’d better throw that answering machine into the trash and get yourself a new one. What’s more, you’d better test it in the store before you pay good money.”

  I wasn’t sure why she’d sidled away from the good ol’ boy, then spoken loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the washing machines at the Suds of Fun launderette across the road. “I am not a handyman,” I said levelly, “and I don’t do toilet seats. If you’ll excuse me, I have a stic
ky situation that requires my professional attention.”

  “Well, pardon me for daring to interrupt you, Miss Eliot Ness. I’m sure as God made little green apples that someone broke into one of the units out back, but I’ll just get in line until you can get around to me. All I can do is pray there’s not a rapist hanging around the Flamingo Motel and waiting for his chance to attack me real late at night.”

  “All right,” I said. “Tell me why you think someone broke into a unit.”

  “The door was unlocked, but that might have been an oversight on my part. However, there’s no way getting around the toilet seat, the shag, and the lamp,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “If there was only one clue, I might wonder if I was imagining things, but the three together prove I’m not.”

  I tried to keep a straight face. “I can see someone stealing a toilet seat and a lamp, but the carpet? It can’t be easy to move the furniture in order to pull out the tacks, roll up the carpet, and carry it out to—”

  “Nothing was stolen. The toilet seat was raised, the lamp was unplugged, and the carpet showed signs that the chair had been moved. If that’s not evidence of a break-in, then I don’t know what is.” She put her hands on her hips and waited for me to reel with shock or race out the door to fingerprint the toilet seat.

  I opted for a mildly concerned wince. “That’s really fine evidence, and I’m sure it’ll come in handy at the trial. It may be enough to secure the death penalty. As much as I’d like to drop this other thing and devote all my energy to catching this rapist, I’m afraid it will have to wait. Maybe you and Estelle can train the ostriches to attack on command.”

  I turned around and went to the back booth. Reed stuck his nose in his stein, but Barry smiled and said, “Change your mind about a beer?”

  “No,” I said. “I just spoke to the sheriff, who had a call from the county coroner. The coroner said that the gunshot wound did not cause Dylan’s death. It probably hurt like hell, but it didn’t hit an artery or any organs. It didn’t cause any significant internal bleeding, either.”