The Huckleberry Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (13 page)

“Who, for heaven’s sakes?”

“My father.”

“The famous Pap Tully! I’d love to meet him!”

“If you like Poke Wimsey so much, you’ll be absolutely delighted with Pap. I can’t stand him myself but I suspect he’s your kind of guy.”

Angie laughed. “I can assure you I was much too young when the FBI went looking for Pap Tully. As I recall, all the bureau wanted Pap for was running houses of prostitution, illegal gambling, general corruption, and possibly murder.”

Tully said, “I doubt if he ran anything, but he took a cut of everything. It made him rich. It’s on record that he killed a number of people in his duties as sheriff of Blight County. Then there may be a number of off-record killings. As he will tell you and tell you and tell you, he was decorated by the governor for valor in the killing of three armed bank robbers. They hit him a number of times before he killed them with a pump shotgun. Maybe that’s why the bureau didn’t charge him with anything.”

“No, it didn’t,” she said, rummaging around in her shoulder bag. “I’m not sure why. One thing was, he simply disappeared. I guess we figured at least he was gone and we had better things to do.”

“He went to Mexico until the heat cooled off. Loved it
down there. Learned to speak a fair amount of Spanish. When you meet him, you may think he’s an old-time hick sheriff, but he’s actually very smart. With one exception, he’s one of the smartest people I know.”

Angie had turned down her visor and was using the mirror on the back to repair her lipstick. “So, did you get your intelligence from him, Bo?”

“Oh, no, he’s not that smart. I got my intelligence from my mother, Rose. She’s the real brains of the family. The only stupid thing she ever did was marry my old man twice. You ever been married, Angie? I notice you don’t wear a ring.”

She replaced the lipstick in her shoulder bag. “You noticed that, did you? No, I’ve never been married. I hate to tell you this, Bo, but the pickings are very thin out there when it comes to men. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I’ve come close to getting married a couple of times, but the good one was killed in the line of duty, and the other one, a handsome devil, turned out to be one of the sorriest individuals I’ve ever laid eyes on. So now I’ve given up on men. You’re perfectly safe with me, Bo.”

He glanced at her. “Safe with you, Angie? That’s a disappointment. I love a little danger when it comes to women. Here I’ve been giving you the full blast of my charm all day, apparently to no effect.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. When I was lying on top of you out there in the swamp, some old feelings came
surging back. It really was quite nice. Then again, it might have been all that oozy stuff in the water.”

•  •  •

After dropping Angie off at her hotel, Tully stopped by the office. The crew seemed glad to see him. The CSI Unit grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to his corner. “Bo, you’ve got to do something about Daisy. She’s been bossing us around like crazy. She’d have me sweeping the floor if I let her. After she wore us plumb out, she went down and laid into the prisoners. I think they’re all scared to death of her, and we’ve got a couple of really dangerous guys locked up. What do you think’s wrong with her?”

Tully scratched his chin. “Women are awfully hard to figure, Lurch.”

“I know. That’s why I asked you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. The old Tully magic.”

He strolled across the briefing room and into his office. Daisy followed him in.

“You look exhausted, Bo.”

“I am. Worst day of my life.” He slumped into his chair. “The FBI is driving me up the wall. No offense to womanhood in general, but this female agent is making me crazy. You know I’m not fond of the FBI in the first place, but a woman agent, if you can imagine such a thing! This is the worst day I’ve had in fifteen years of law enforcement.”

Daisy brightened. “Really, Bo, she’s that bad?”

“You wouldn’t believe it. I can see now why her home office
sent her out into the wilderness, as she calls us. She thinks I’m a cracker sheriff. Does nothing but grind me down. I tell you, Daisy, this agent What’s-Her-Name has just about put me off women for the rest of my life. I can’t stand another day with her.”

Daisy’s mood had improved so much he was afraid he might have overdone it. So he got down to business. “What’s happening here?”

“Oh, we had a bit of excitement. Some residents over on the north side called in and said somebody was firing an automatic weapon in the neighborhood.”

Tully tapped a pencil on his desk. “Anything new?”

“Yeah. A little bit later I got a call from your friend the lunatic, Mitch Morgan. He said a girl by the name of Jenny came flying into his house this morning. A great place for a young girl, the hangout of a motorcycle gang. He said a pretty rough-looking guy was after her, so one of Mitch’s gang laid down a line of bullets from an AK-47 in front of him. I sent Brian over to pick up the girl. He came back with both the girl and the AK-47. He said the bikers raised quite a fuss about the gun, but he told them he knew they had all done time, so it was illegal for them to have any kind of firearm, let alone an AK-47.”

“Good for Pugh. I take it neither Pugh nor the girl was harmed. What did he do with Jenny?”

“Dropped her off at Rose’s.” Daisy looked pleased with herself.

Tully was shocked. “Mom’s! She’d be better off with the motorcycle gang.”

“Bo, your mom is the sweetest person in the entire world.”

“Daisy, you are such a poor judge of character, I don’t know why I ever leave you in charge.”

She smiled. “Because I’m the smartest person you’ve got on your staff.”

“Sad, isn’t it?”

“You’re starting to make me mad, Sheriff.”

He laughed. “Only kidding, Daisy. You do a great job. Anyway, you’re going to be in charge all day tomorrow. I have to go into Spokane and check out this Orville Poulson thing, and there’s a chance I might be able to run down the kid who escaped getting murdered up in the huckleberry patch.”

“You taking the lady agent with you?”

“Why on earth would I do that? One of the reasons I’m leaving at five in the morning is to avoid her. Anything else happening?”

“Hold on a sec.” She walked back to her desk and returned with her stenographer’s pad. Reading from it, she said, “Your fortune-teller wants you to give her a call.”

“Daisy, one last time, she is not my fortune-teller. She isn’t anybody’s fortune-teller. Etta Gorsich is an investment consultant. At least she was when she lived in New York. What else?”

Tully got up and walked around his desk. Taking a ring of keys from his pocket, he unlocked the metal gun safe and took out a rifle with iron sights.

“Uh-oh,” Daisy said. “This doesn’t look good.”

He picked up a box of shells and dropped it in his pocket. “Just a precaution.”

Daisy looked back at her pad. “Mrs. Poulson stopped by again. You have to do something about her, Bo. That woman is totally distraught over her husband. Ex-husband. Probably dead husband.”

“Give her a call, Daisy, and tell her to come see me next week. We may have this mystery solved in a few days. It won’t bring Orville back but we should know what happened to him. Get a warrant to search under Orville’s house for a body. You can take all day, because I won’t be in the office at all tomorrow. You’ll have to babysit the FBI agent while I’m in Spokane. Take her out to lunch, go shopping, anything. Think of something.”

“Noooo!”

“Daisy, I can’t take her to Spokane. She’ll turn me into a raving lunatic.”

“I don’t care. You take her.”

“Oh, all right, I suppose I have to. Just remember it’s your fault if I come back with my nerves in shreds. Now get out of here. I have to make a phone call.” He walked her to the door.

Daisy went back to her desk, smiling. From across the room, Lurch watched her. He looked at Bo still standing in the doorway to his office. The sheriff mouthed the phrase “The old Tully magic.” Lurch smiled, shook his head, and went back to work.

Tully pulled out his little dog-eared notebook and thumbed
through it until he found Mitch’s number. He dialed.

Someone answered. “Yeah.”

“Red, this is Sheriff Bo Tully. Mitch around?”

“Yeah. Hold on a sec, Bo.”

Mitch came on. “Yo, Bo.”

“Mitch, I appreciate your taking care of that little matter for me.”

“No problem. The kid was terrified. Pugh came by and I turned her over to him. Hope that was okay.”

“It was. Pugh is the best deputy I’ve got. Jenny’s in good hands. Did you notice anything about the guy who was after her?”

“Not much. He drove a big ol’ white pickup truck with dual tires. From behind, that truck looks like a fat old lady kicked in the butt. I hate those trucks.”

“Me too. You get a license-plate number?”

“No. All I can tell you it was California. I doubt there’s but one pickup like that in all Blight County, maybe in all of Idaho.”

“California! Excellent, Mitch! By the way, I understand somebody laid down some suppressing fire from an AK-47. You know anything about that?”

“Nope. Must have been some guy passing through.” Mitch turned away from the phone. “You know about anybody firing an AK-47, Red? Red says no, Bo. He don’t know nothing about it.”

“Tell Red whoever that fellow was, he probably saved Jenny.”

“I’ll tell him, Bo.”

“I understand you lost an AK-47. I’ll see if I can get it returned to you.”

“No need, Bo. We’ve got a couple more.”

Tully laughed. “Glad to hear it. I’ll send Pugh around to pick them up.”

“Yeah, well, you ever need another favor, Bo, just call.”

“I’ll do that, Mitch.”

TULLY MET ANGIE at the hotel café shortly after five the next morning.

“You’re a mighty early riser, Sheriff.”

Tully pulled out a chair and sat down. “Yeah. And this is after I milked the cow, fed the chickens, and slopped the hogs. Did I mention my well is drying up and I have to dig a new one?”

Angie shook her head. “In one fell swoop, Bo, you wiped out any tiny bit of interest I might have had in you. The well finished it off.”

He grabbed a menu from behind the napkin dispenser and perused it. “What, you don’t like us farmers?”

“I was raised on a farm just like yours. Once I even helped my father dig a new well. It was ghastly! I get back
there once a year to watch my folks work themselves to death. They claim to enjoy the life. Say it gives them a sense of independence.” She nibbled a triangle of toast.

“That’s the same with me. If I get fired from my job as sheriff, I know I won’t starve to death. Maybe I’ll start making cheese from my goats’ milk.”

“You never mentioned goats.”

“Goats easily slip your mind. I do have a treat waiting for you in Spokane, though. We’ll stop by the art galley that handles my paintings, Jean Runyan’s.”

“Don’t you have any of your paintings at home?”

“Oh, yeah, I have four of my best watercolors up on a wall of my bedroom.”

Angie laughed. “That sounds a lot like bait, Bo.”

“You think so, Angie? I suppose it’s your FBI training that makes you so suspicious. No, the reason I have the paintings in the bedroom is, when I wake up in the morning and look at them, I think to myself, Dang, Bo, you are good! If you ever get sick of sheriffing, you can become a full-time painter.”

Angie smiled. “I think that would make an awfully nice life, being a full-time artist.”

“You forget the fun I have dealing with criminals day in and day out.”

“Well, sure, there’s that.”

•  •  •

Tully drove up US 95 to Coeur d’Alene and took I-90 into Spokane. He took the off-ramp at Main Street and drove
north to the Meadow Park Shopping Center. A private post office with an outside entrance was housed in the mall. The First Miners Bank sat at the northern edge of the shopping center. Tully stopped in a parking area across from the post office.

He turned to Angie. “You really should come in with me. Pick up a few tips on crime investigation.”

Angie opened her door. “Yeah, right. But it’s a federal crime to mess with post offices. If you do anything illegal, I’ll have to arrest you.”

“Oh, in that case, maybe you should stay in the car.”

“I’m going!”

An elderly clerk watched them enter. She seemed pleasant enough. A skinny young man with a shaved head messed with something in the back. Apparently, the business also did packaging, and he seemed to be wrapping up a small carton. Mailboxes covered one wall. Tully found the one with the number Ray Crockett had given him.

Walking over to the lady, he smiled at her as he took out his wallet and showed her his badge and identification. “Good morning, m’am. I’m Sheriff Bo Tully from Blight County, Idaho. This young lady is Agent Angela Phelps with the FBI. I wonder if you can tell us anything about a particular mailbox and the person who uses it.”

“Good heavens, there are so many of them. People come and go all hours of the day and night.”

“Your customers have access to their boxes at night?”

“Oh, yes. And on holidays. We close off this part of the
shop when we’re not here, but customers can still get their mail.”

“Can you tell me when this box was first rented?” He handed her a slip of paper with the number 281 on it.

“Oh, yes. I’ll check the records.” She called to the young man. “Viral, come and talk to these officers while I go check some records.”

Sullen and bored, Viral slouched up to the counter. “Yeah?”

Tully smiled. “I take it your folks own this postal station.”

“Yep. How’d you guess that?”

Tully shook his hand. “Just lucky. Can you tell us anything about Box Two-eighty-one?”

“Ha! Well, nooo. It just sits there like all the other ones.”

Tully gave him a grim smile. “Viral? Did I hear your name right?”

“Yup.”

“Well, Viral, have you ever thought of going into law enforcement?”

The kid’s expression brightened. “I’ve thought about it. Why?”

“Because as a sheriff I’m always on the lookout for sharp young fellows to hire as deputies. It’s dangerous work but you look like the kind of fellow who could handle it.”