Deadly Catch (20 page)

I turned down Jerry and Donna’s offer to stay with them until I figured out what I was going to do. I borrowed their phone book and got the number of my insurance company. I called and explained what had happened. The agent I spoke with looked up my policy and told me not to worry, they’d have an adjuster onsite first thing Monday morning, even though it was a business holiday. Meanwhile, my coverage included the cost of motel rental if that’s what I chose to do; just be sure to save all the receipts.

I apologized to Jerry and Donna for the inconvenience the fire had caused, assured them I would honor my lease, and then went room hunting. I was shit out of luck. There wasn’t a motel or hotel room in all of St. George that wasn’t booked through the Fourth. I thought about driving to Parkersville and looking there but decided to go see Kate first.

It was a quarter to two when I found a parking spot and entered the store. Kate was working the register; Sara and a cute young brunette who I assumed was Tonya Randall were ambling about the aisles, straightening clothes and assisting shoppers. Kate saw me and waved me over.

“Dang, Mac, is it true?” she said, after checking out a customer.

“Is what true?”

She let out a breath, frowned, and almost rolled her eyes. “Your trailer—did it burn up?”

“Down’s more like it. How’d you hear about it?”

“One of your neighbors was in this morning,” she said. I stood aside for a customer buying a couple of T-shirts and a pair of shorts.

“We heard the sirens this morning,” Kate said when she’d completed the transaction. “A little later this woman came in and said there’d been a fire at Gulf Pines Campground. She said the camper belonged to a Mr. McClellan. I was worried sick until she said your truck was gone and the camper was empty.”

“You had lunch yet?”

Kate shook her head and glanced at the clock behind her. “Give me five minutes. I’ll tell Linda I need a break. Meet you at the bench out front.”

I walked out to the bench that sat under a large awning in front of the store, keeping a wary eye out for the feathered dive-bombers. It was only a few feet from where they’d launched their attack several weeks back. It had been a while since I’d seen them; hopefully their young had fledged and they had other business to attend to.

In a couple of minutes Kate came out carrying her purse. “I’ve got a half hour,” she said. “I’m starved. Let’s go get a quick lunch.”

We hustled across the street to the sandwich shop and found an empty booth. Kate ordered a shrimp basket and iced tea; I’d lost my appetite and settled for a beer.

“You can stay with me for a few days,” she said when I told her how I’d struck out finding a room. “Chances are Parkersville is booked solid, too.”

She saw my grin. “I’ve got an extra room, Mr. McClellan,” she said, fighting back a smile. “Besides, you’re a perfect gentleman, remember?”

“I’ll think about it, Miss Bell.”

The talk grew more serious when I told Kate about Chief Merritt’s friendly little visit. She reached across the table and touched my hand. “Mac, why don’t you tell Bo you’re through looking into Maddie’s case? If somebody did set the fire, who knows what they might try next? It’s just not worth it. Let the law handle things.”

I waited as the waitress placed our order on the table.

I grabbed one of Kate’s shrimp and dipped it in a container of tartar sauce. “One, we don’t know for sure that the fire was anything more than an accident. Two, if somebody did set the fire and they wanted me dead, they would’ve done it at night while I was sleeping. And three, it’s gotten a little too personal for me to back off now. I’m the one who found Maddie. That day at her funeral something came over me. I can’t explain it, but I also can’t just up and quit. I feel like I owe it to Maddie to do what I can do.”

Kate dipped a shrimp into a small cup of cocktail sauce. “You’re as stubborn as a dang mule,” she said, her green eyes glaring into mine.

I grinned and tipped my bottle to her. “Hee-haw.”

Monday morning at nine sharp I met the insurance agent at the campground. The fire inspector’s report stated there was no evidence of an accelerant that might have been used to set the fire. Accidental, most likely caused by an electrical short was what he’d signed off on. For obvious reasons I had my doubts but kept my mouth shut.

The insurance man had no qualms with the inspector’s report, which was lucky for me. If arson had been suspected, there was no telling how long the investigation might take, plus I’d have to go through the trouble of proving I didn’t torch the camper myself. The agent did his thing and had me sign some paperwork. A check for fifteen thousand plus would be in the mail soon.

I gave the LP cylinders to Jerry, asked him to have the mess hauled off and send me the bill. When my check arrived I planned to buy another camper and park it on site 44.

For the first time in my life I was homeless. I’d joined the Marines right out of high school, and the Corps had been my home for the past twenty-four years. My ex wound up with the beautiful retirement house we’d planned and built on the New River outside of Jacksonville, North Carolina. Jill had wanted and instigated the divorce, but I was willing to give up my interest in the house in exchange for her agreeing not to mess with my retirement pay. I made sure to get it in writing, of course. Not a bad deal, the more I thought about it.

Kate had been good enough to put up with me as her houseguest for the weekend. She said I was welcome to stay as long as I liked, but even though I’d behaved myself I didn’t want to overstay my welcome or start tongues wagging. I’d get a room somewhere until the insurance came through.

I had my truck, the clothes on my back, plus a set of camos and boots stashed behind the seat of my pickup. I also possessed three fishing rods and reels, tackle box, the shotgun, and my cell phone. My laptop, digital camera, and other worldly goods were reduced to melted plastic or ashes in the blackened heap of my Grey Wolf camper. I’d been wearing the same shorts and shirt since Friday. I’d washed and dried them once while Kate was at work, but if I didn’t get some new clothes soon, she was liable to disown me. It was time to spend some plastic. I headed for the Wal-Mart in Parkersville.

I grabbed two pairs of jeans, some skivvies, several sets of shorts and shirts that I could mix and match, and tossed them into the shopping cart. A comb, couple of toothbrushes, paste, and deodorant joined the crowd. I added a pack of disposable razors, too. Kate still liked the beard, but it was creeping up my cheeks and down my neck. A box of mustache and beard coloring caught my attention. I’d noticed a little salt among my reddish-blond whiskers. I picked it up and read the instructions, then put it back on the shelf. What the hell, maybe Kate thought a little gray made me look distinguished.

I was headed back to my truck when somebody called my name from behind. I turned and saw a tall young man approaching. “Mr. McClellan?” he said again.

Only when he was a few feet away did I recognize who it was. “Patrolman Owens. You look different out of uniform.”

He held out his hand. I transferred the Wal-Mart bag to my other hand and we shook. “It’s J.D., sir. I’m working night shift tonight.”

“Chief Merritt got you tailing me on your off time, J.D.?” I was only half-joking.

Owens looked down and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “No, sir, I just got here and seen you coming out of the store. I been wanting to talk to you, though.”

“What about?”

He shoved both hands in his pants pockets and rocked on his toes. “The other day at your trailer, I heard you mention Tom Mayo.”

“Yeah, he used to be on the force until your boss had him fired.”

“Yes, sir, I know. Mr. Mayo was my basketball coach when I played in the city rec league. He’s the main reason I wanted to be a cop, him and my daddy.”

Out from under Ben Merritt’s shadow, J.D. Owens seemed like a nice enough kid. I hated being the bearer of bad news, but I figured he’d want to know. “Did you know Tom Mayo’s dead?”

Owens looked down again and nodded. “Yes, sir, car wreck.”

“Yeah, his wife said the brakes failed. Brand-new car, too. Talk about lousy luck.”

J.D.’s eyelids quivered like a nervous tic. “My daddy said there was some bad blood between Coach Mayo and Chief Merritt.”

I unlocked the truck door and tossed my bag onto the seat. I left the door open to let some of the heat escape. “How would your father know that?”

“Him and Coach Mayo and Chief Merritt were deputy sheriffs together a while, back when Bo Pickron’s daddy was sheriff.”

“Why did they leave the sheriff’s department?”

“Bo’s daddy was fixing to retire, and when Bo come back from the war with that big flying medal he won, he decided to run for sheriff. My daddy was ready to retire anyway, but Chief Merritt had wanted the sheriff’s job real bad. But with Bo running, he knew he couldn’t win. Along about then the police chief left, and Chief Merritt got the job. He talked Coach Mayo into hiring on with him.”

My gut told me the kid might be open to some frank talk. Being top turd on Merritt’s shit list, I figured I had nothing to lose. “Did you know Brett Barfield or Maddie Harper?” J.D. looked to be somewhere around their age range.

“Yes, sir. Me and Brett graduated together. Maddie was a couple of grades behind us. She got hurt in a bad car wreck when she was little and missed a whole year of school.”

“You ever hear any talk about Brett being involved with marijuana?”

Owens pressed his lips together and looked away. “I don’t think the chief wants me talking about stuff like that.”

“Look, J.D., I already know Brett got busted a couple of times for possession,” I said, “and that Tom Mayo was the arresting officer. Your boss made sure the charges didn’t stick. And I’ve got good reason to believe that when Mayo stood up to him about it, Merritt had him canned.”

Owens crossed his arms and rocked back and forth on his heels. He looked away again for a few seconds, then down at his feet again. “I might’ve heard something about Brett.”

“Like he was dealing to kids at school?”

Owens nodded, still staring at his feet. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

The young officer scuffed a shoe against the pavement. “I heard he did. A lot of the kids knew about it, but nobody ever ratted on him. Brett was one of the popular guys.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I bet he was. Did Maddie Harper mean anything to you?”

He looked up, his face pinched. “Yes, sir, she was my friend. She used to help me out in study hall sometimes. I wasn’t too good at math. They don’t come no sweeter than Maddie was.”

It was time to lay my cards on the table. “I’m going to be upfront with you, J.D. You can either run to Chief Merritt with what I’m going to say, or you can keep it between you and me.”

Owens uncrossed his arms and looked me square in the eye. “Okay.”

“I believe Ben Merritt is up to his neck in drug smuggling, along with the Barfields and maybe Mayor Harper, too. Tom Mayo might have died because he was on to them. I can’t prove any of it yet, but I’m getting close. Now, you can either rat me out or keep your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open around the chief and find out what you can.”

I locked eyes with the young man. “There, I just handed you my ass on a platter. What you do with it is your choice.”

I left the kid with his mouth open and a lot to think about. With an hour to kill until the one-thirty meeting I’d arranged earlier with Bo Pickron, I stopped at Hardee’s for lunch. I ordered an Angus cheeseburger with fries and tea, and flipped through the
USA Today
while I ate.

The war in Afghanistan was still dragging on. IEDs continued to take a heavy toll on our troops. And years after Fallujah, Iraq was still going to hell, too. I remembered an old salt who had fought in Vietnam, how he lamented that our government hadn’t learned a damned thing from the sacrifice of over fifty-eight thousand dead plus the untold thousands of wounded in body and mind. From what I was reading now, the sacrifices my Marines had made seemed destined for the same fate.

At one-thirty sharp I walked into the sheriff’s office. He leaned across his desk to shake hands, then I took a seat. “I heard about your camper,” Pickron said. “You better watch your ass.”