Stillborn Armadillos (John Lee Quarrels Book 1) (12 page)

Chapter 23

"Here you go," John Lee said, handing Chester the map. "Got it back to you all in one piece, just like I promised."

"Oh, I wasn't too worried about that," the old man said. "Would you like a glass of sweet tea?"

"I don't recall ever turning one down," John Lee replied.

"Well then, come on in."

He led the way into the house, a tidy affair with delicately tatted doilies on the back and arms of each piece of overstuffed furniture. A thin woman with snow white hair that hung halfway down her back was sitting in a rocking chair, her wrinkled, boney hands busy.

"This is Arlene, my wife," Chester said. "Honey, this here is Deputy John Lee Quarrels."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

She didn't look up or acknowledge his presence, her hands busy creating yet another doily.

"Have yourself a seat," Chester said, going into the kitchen. John Lee heard a refrigerator door open and the sound of ice clinking into glasses and then of liquid being poured. Chester returned with a tray holding two large glasses of tea, and a smaller one. He set the tray on the coffee table, handed one of the large glasses to John Lee, then removed a smaller glass from the end table next to his wife and replaced it with the fresh one. John Lee noted that the first glass was still full of tea, the ice long since melted.

"How did you come to know so much about the history of Somerton County, sir?"

"Oh, I've always been fascinated by history. Back in my working years I was over in Jacksonville teaching history at a community college. Arlene here, she's from Somerton, and when we moved back here, I just started doing my research. The museum was closed back then and they were talking about hauling everything off to the dump or selling it or whatever, just to get rid of it. But that would've been a tragedy. I got a group together and we went to the county supervisors and managed to convince them to let us keep it open as long as it didn't cost the county anything."

"I know you're not open all that much, but it still must cost some just to keep the power on," John Lee said. "How can you afford it?"

"Mostly a lot of begging, hat in hand. We charge a couple of bucks admission, and I spend a lot of time sucking up to local businesses, trying to get anything I can out of them. We hang on by the skin of our teeth, and now and then I dip into my own pocket to help make ends meet."

"John Kennedy and Jackie are comin' to town next week," Arlene suddenly said.

"Beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"President John F. Kennedy and his wife Jackie are comin' to town."

"Is that a fact? I hadn't heard about that."

"Yes, siree. He's Catholic, ya' know. But that's okay, I think he's a good man."

"I think so, too," John Lee said. "What's that you're making, ma'am?"

She didn't answer him, lost again in the fog that had taken so much of her mind. Chester looked at her with fondness, as if her comments were as timely as they would've been back in 1962.

He took a sip of the tea, which was delicious and cooled him off well.

"I was thinking," Chester said, "even though it's been a long time since the last turpentine camp closed up, I imagine there's still some old folks around here that remember them. You might ask around, see if anybody remembers any stories about those days."

"I'll do that," John Lee assured him. "Thanks for the tip."

"Of course, you have to remember where you're at, officer. Just because folks remember things don't mean they're going to want to talk about them."

"I understand," John Lee said.

He knew the old man was right. People in Somerton County were not always eager to talk to the police. Sometimes it was because of a natural resentment of authority, sometimes because they themselves or a family member were involved in some kind of nefarious activity, and sometimes because they feared repercussions. And then there were those who just believed in minding their own business. But one never knew, information could come from the most unlikely places.

"Let me ask you something, Chester. Do you think the Klan could have had anything to do with those skeletons we found? They
were
black men."

"You know as well as I do, officer, that's always a possibility. And what did you tell me, that those bones have been out there at least fifty years?"

"That's what they told me at the crime lab up over in Tallahassee."

"There was a lot of bad stuff goin' on back then."

John Lee finished his tea and put the glass back on the tray.

"You've been a big help to me, Chester. I may be back to pick your brain some more, if I can."

"Anytime, officer. You know where to find me."

John Lee stood up and Chester walked him to the door. Before he left, John Lee handed the man a $20 bill and said, "It's not much, but maybe it will help keep things running over there at the museum for another day."

"That's not necessary," Chester said, trying to give the money back, but John Lee shook his head and insisted he keep it.

"Believe me, I probably already wasted that much in gas money just running around town getting nowhere."

As he went out the door Arlene called after him, "Be sure to be on time when President Kennedy and Jackie get here."

"Yes, ma'am, I will," John Lee promised. "You can count on me to be there."

He had just gotten back in the Charger and pulled away from the curb in front of Chester's house when an emergency warning alert came over the radio and then Sheila's excited voice. "All units, shots fired! Officer involved shooting. Homestead Road by the old service station."

John Lee grabbed the microphone off the car's dashboard. "County 16, I'm on my way!"

There was so much radio traffic at once that he did not know if Sheila heard him or not, but he turned on his overhead lights and siren and sped toward the south end of town.

"Who's shot?"

"County 9 on the way."

"Is anybody hit?"

"Is the shooter still on the scene?"

"What does he look like?"

There were so many questions coming at once that the dispatcher could not break through to reply to any of them. Suddenly Flag Newton's voice boomed over the radio. "Everybody shut up! This is County 2, I said shut up! Radio silence, now."

He got his message through and the radio fell silent. "Okay, Sheila what's going on?"

"County 24 reported shots fired," the dispatcher replied. "He's parked at the old gas station. He's not hit and doesn't know who the shooter is. No description."

"24, this is 2," Flag said, "What's your status?"

"Whoever it was shot out my back window," Greg Carson said. "I don't know who it was, I never saw anything. The window just shattered and I heard the shot. Then he fired again and I felt it hit the car."

John Lee whipped into the oncoming lane to avoid hitting a car that pulled out from the curb in front of him, the driver oblivious to his lights and siren. The young woman behind the wheel, talking on her cell phone, glanced up as the police car barely missed her but kept right on talking. Once he was outside of town on Homestead Road it was a straight shot to the old gas station, which had been closed for years now. He floored the accelerator and the Charger shot forward.

The gas station came into view and he could see Greg's car there, but there were no other vehicles and no sign of life. Roaring into the gravel parking lot, John Lee hit the brakes and the Charger began to slide sideways. He was afraid he was going to lose it, but managed to get control and came to a stop sideways behind the other police car. He jumped out, with his pistol in his hand.

"Greg, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, John Lee."

"Where are you?"

"On the floor of my car."

The other deputy managed to crawl out and ran to crouch beside John Lee.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, but that's the second time someone shot at me in a week. I'm not liking this at all!"

"Do you know where the shots came from?"

"I think back there behind me. I don't know where for sure."

There were other sirens approaching fast and John Lee got on his radio.

"This is County 16, I'm on the scene. Greg said the shots came from north of the old gas station."

Three cars came into view and one of them pulled off about fifty yards from the gas station where there was a small copse of trees. The deputy got out and pointed a shotgun in that direction, using his car for cover. The other two cars continued on to the gas station. Moments later Flag and a fifth car arrived.

"This is 2. Any sign of movement from those trees?"

"No, sir," somebody replied.

"Okay, John Lee and Carson, I want you guys to head for those trees. Beckett, you circle around and approach from the rear. I'll cover you from here. Move it!"

Chapter 24

John Lee, Greg, and Bob Patterson all piled into the Charger and he drove across the open ground toward the trees, expecting gunshots to ring out at any time. When they were within about 20 yards he turned the Charger sideways and they piled out the driver's side. Still nothing.

"Everybody ready? Okay, let's go."

They moved toward the trees, weapons at the ready. John Lee had holstered his Browning and brought the Charger's shotgun with him. He could feel his heart pounding and a trickle of sweat running down his spine. At any second he expected gunfire to come from the trees.

"Watch for crossfire in case anything happens," Flag cautioned.

With deputies approaching the trees from the north and south, and Flag and another deputy coming in from the east, the only escape route was to the west across an open field and then a marsh. Anybody going that way was sure to be seen.

The tree line was coming closer with every step. John Lee kept his eyes moving, looking for anything out of place. A quick movement, the silhouette of a shooter, anything that might warn them of danger lurking ahead.

"Damn!" He heard a thump and look to the right quickly to where Greg Carson had fallen to the ground. John Lee squatted and kept his shotgun pointed at the tree line. He had not heard a gunshot.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm okay," a chagrined Greg said as he scrambled back to his feet. "I just tripped over a root and fell."

"You scared me."

"Will y'all stop the damn yakking and concentrate on the situation at hand? Jesus Christ, you act like a couple of girls!"

John Lee ignored Flag and waited until Greg was back on his feet before moving forward. They entered the trees, hyper alert, but there was nothing to be seen. The other deputies met them, and once they knew that there was no armed threat awaiting them they spread out and began a ground search, looking for any evidence of the shooter. But there was nothing. No discarded cigarette butt, no empty shell casings, no footprints. Whoever the phantom shooter was, he was gone and had left no trace.

"Are you sure this is where the shots came from?"

"I don't know for sure, Flag," Greg said. "I was sitting there watching for people blowing the stop sign at the cross road and the next thing I knew the rear window of my unit exploded. And then I heard another round hit my car. I just assumed it came from the tree line because there was no place else where..."

"You assumed? That's what you did, you assumed? Did you even look to see where the shots were comin' from?"

"No sir, I was too busy keeping my head down," Greg said.

"Well, that's just fine, Red. We've got most of the friggin' department out here and you don't even know where the shots came from," Flag shook his head in disgust. "Too busy hidin' yer fat ass to even think about actin' like a real police officer!"

"Back off," John Lee said. "If someone was shooting at me, you can bet your ass I'd be looking for cover, too."

The Chief Deputy turned to him with a snarl on his face. "You shut your god damn mouth, you little prick! I already know you'd be hidin'. Probably up D.W.'s ass. The only bigger pussy around here than him is you! Christ, we got a woman deputy with a real pussy and she's more man than both of you two put together."

"It's way past time for you to shut up," John Lee said.

"Or what? Just what are you goin' do about it?"

"Hey guys, this ain't the time or place," said Andy Stringer, a normally easy-going deputy with a big belly and hands the size of catcher's mitts. "We still got somebody with a gun running around here who likes shooting at cops. How about we concentrate on that and you two can decide who's got the bigger pecker some other time?"

Flag didn't like it, but he turned and walked away, cursing as he went.

Greg stared at the ground, and John Lee patted him on the back. "Don't worry about that asshole, buddy. If I'd have been in your place I'd have probably bailed out of that car on a run and left a trail of shit all the way down to Tampa."

Bob nodded and said, "John Lee's right. Ignore that ignorant jerk. What did he expect you to do, jump out with your handgun and start popping off against a sniper with a rifle? You handled it just right, kid."

The other deputies all nodded or said something in agreement, making Greg feel better. After searching through the trees they moved out on the north side, where Andy said, "Might have something here."

He pointed to tire tracks in the dirt that led out to Homestead Road. "See that?"

Bob squatted down and looked at the wet spot. "Looks like oil."

"Yep, and it's fresh," Andy said. "Somebody was parked here not long ago. And whoever that somebody was, it's a damn good bet it was our shooter."

"Okay, everybody step back," John Lee said. "We need to get photographs of the oil spot and these tracks."

Leaving Andy and another deputy to handle that, John Lee and the others returned to the gas station.

"Bullet came through the back window on the passenger side and out the windshield," said Donny Ray Mayhew. One of the few college graduates on the sheriff's department, Donny Ray was a short, barrel chested man who wore his black hair close cropped, with a mustache and goatee. "No telling where it went from there. I'm just glad there was nobody coming along the crossroad and got hit." He squatted down and looked at the rear of the car and said, "Here's the other one," pointing at a bullet hole in the trunk lid on the right side. "Got your keys, Greg?"

Greg retreived his keys from the ignition and opened the trunk. Shining a bright flashlight inside, Donny Ray pulled out a folded blanket and opened it to show three round holes where the bullet had passed through. Then he found where it had penetrated into the passenger compartment of the car. Going around to the back door he opened it and they removed the seat. "Bingo!"

There, lodged in the frame of the car's rear seat, was a copper jacketed bullet.

"I'm betting that's going to be from the same .308 rifle that shot at you guys out there on Turpentine Highway the other day." After photographing the bullet's location, Donny Ray removed it and slipped it into a plastic evidence bag.

Flag had been standing at a distance away, talking on his cell phone. With his call ended he came up and said, "A couple of you guys get out there and block the area off and direct traffic. Keep these damn lookie loos moving!"

It seemed like half of Somerton County had a police scanner, and the word was out. A line of cars was slowly moving past, the people inside stopping to gawk at the scene.

Turning back to Donny Ray, Flag said, "Okay, tell me what you've got."

By the time the deputy had finished showing him the damage done to the windshield where the first bullet exited, and the bullet hole in the trunk lid, they heard a siren approaching and D.W. pulled in.

"Who's that with him?"

"Looks like Dixie from the newspaper."

"That figures," Flag said. "Bad enough he lets the damn news people run all over the county, now he's givin' them rides!"

The sheriff and the reporter got out and approached the group, where they were given a briefing.

"Are you okay, Greg?"

"Yes, sir, I'm fine."

D.W. walked around the car, pausing in several places so Dixie could take photographs. When he was sure she had everything she needed, the sheriff put his arm around Greg's shoulder and squeezed.

"Why don't you go ahead and write your report, then take the rest of the day off, Deputy."

"I don't need to do that, sir. I'm okay."

"Now you listen to me, young man. I know you're a brave officer, but anytime someone shoots at you, that takes a toll on a person. So you turn in your report and you go home. That's an order, okay?"

John Lee noticed that while the two men were talking, Dixie was taking photographs. He was sure the picture of the concerned sheriff comforting the young deputy who had been under fire would look good on the front page of the newspaper.

Flag hung around for another half hour, barking orders and berating deputies for what he considered to be poor performance or rookie mistakes. About the time that John Lee was seriously considering seeing if the man's bandaged hand would fit into his big mouth the Chief Deputy got into his car and headed back to town. Bob Patterson watched him drive away and shook his head. "Is he getting worse by the day?"

"I don't know if he could get any worse," John Lee said.

"Guys, this shit is getting serious," Andy Stringer said. "When was the last time someone shot at one of us, before this week?"

"I think it was a couple of years ago," Bob said. "Remember, we raided that meth lab at that trailer park out on Palmetto Road and that tweaker started shooting at us with a shotgun?"

"And now in less than a week it's happened twice. If that don't raise the pucker factor, there's something wrong with you."

"For what it's worth," Donny Ray said, "Just like last time, I don't think whoever was shooting actually wanted to hurt Greg. He took pains to shoot at the far right side of the back window and the right side of the trunk. He could just as easily have shot at the driver's side."

"I take damn little comfort in that," Bob said.

"Neither do I," Greg added.

"So far he's been good or we've been lucky," John Lee said. "But how long is that gonna last? That bullet that went through the trunk and ended up stuck in the back seat? It could have just as easily have ricocheted up and went through the back of the front seat and taken out Greg where he was laying there."

Andy nodded. None of the deputies said anything, but they were all well aware of the fact that whoever the elusive sniper was, they needed to put an end to it before somebody got killed.