The Huckleberry Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (8 page)

“A couple days would be about right.”

Pugh stood up. He stuck his head out around J.D. and yelled at the bartender. “You better call an ambulance. I think my friend here is having an attack of some kind.”

The bartender stared at him. Then Tully heard two quick thumps. J.D. groaned and crumpled to the floor.

“Don’t just stand there,” Pugh yelled at the bartender. “This man is having an attack of some kind. Get an ambulance.”

The bartender snatched up a phone and dialed.

Bev blinked her good eye. “Who are you guys, anyway?”

Tully wanted to say, I’m the masked man and this is my loyal sidekick, Tonto. Instead he said, “I’m Blight County sheriff Bo Tully, and this is my deputy Brian Pugh. I could arrest you if I wanted to, Bev, but instead I’m going to put you under protective custody. We need to know everything you can remember about that guy who hit you the other night.”

She lifted the ice bag from the bruised side of her face. “It was one of the three guys come in here two, three times a week. I said something smart to the jerk and, wham, he hits me. Knocked me right out of my chair. I woke up on the floor. When I came to, they were gone. Joey said J.D. didn’t lift a finger. I guess everybody was scared to death of them.”

“And Joey is . . . ?” Pugh said.

She pointed with the ice bag. “He’s the bartender. You can ask Joey about those guys, but he won’t tell you nothing. He’s as scared of them as everybody else.”

Tully looked over at the bartender. “I think maybe he’ll talk to me, Bev. Right now Brian here is going to take you to a hospital and have you checked out. Then he’ll find you a place to stay. He’ll get you everything you need. You don’t have to worry. No one is going to hurt you anymore. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The ambulance arrived so quickly Tully thought it must have been in the neighborhood. The medics wheeled in a stretcher, rolled J.D. onto it, and hauled him out. The big man was groaning and holding his side. Pugh helped Bev to
his truck. Tully walked over to talk to the bartender. He showed him his badge.

“Joey, do you know if J.D. ever had an attack like that before?”

“I don’t think so. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“You might want to search your memory.”

“Uh, yeah, now that you mention it, I think maybe.”

“Good. Now, I want you to tell me everything you know about the guy who hit Bev.”

“Gee, I don’t know nothing about him. I’m the wrong person to ask.”

Tully smiled. “It wasn’t a request, Joey. I want you to tell me every last bit of information you have about that fellow and his two friends. If you’re afraid of them, let me tell you, Joey, you’re afraid of the wrong people.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you what I know. It ain’t that much. Him and his two friends have been hanging out here all summer. Actually, I think they first showed up sometime in the spring. They come in two, three times a week. The one hit Bev is the nice one of the three. The other two are stone cold. I can’t even describe them.”

“They been here today?”

“No, they haven’t been back since the guy hit Bev. I hope they don’t come back. The other two seemed pretty upset with the one that hit her. I don’t think they like that kind of attention.”

“You say they’ve been coming here since last spring?”

“Yeah. Maybe about the beginning of May. They never
caused no trouble before. They just sat and drank and talked to Bev. Even so, they scared people. I bet our business dropped by half after they started hanging out here.”

Tully handed the bartender his card. “If any of them show up here again, Joey, give me a call.”

Joey looked at the card. “Sure.”

“Let me explain once again, Joey. I’m not making a request.”

“Right, Sheriff. They show up, I’ll give you a call.”

For the first time, Tully noticed a strange silence in the bar. He looked toward the back. All the pool players were standing there, staring at him. “Go back to your game, boys,” he called. “The entertainment is over.”

TULLY DROPPED OFF his unmarked car in the Sheriff’s Department’s garage and went up to the office. Daisy had cleaned off her desk and was getting ready to leave.

“Any word from Pugh?” he asked.

“Yeah, he called from the hospital. He said the guy who had the attack at Slade’s apparently had a kidney problem. They’re going to run some tests.”

“Good. I hope they’re all painful. Anything else?”

“Yes, come to think of it. Your fortune-teller called and asked that you get in touch.”

Tully grimaced. “First of all, Daisy, Etta Gorsich is not a fortune-teller. Second, she isn’t mine.”

“If you say so, boss.”

Tully stood there and glared as Daisy picked up her purse
and strode out the door, her high heels clicking smartly on the marble-chip floor. Then he shrugged. By Monday he would be able to think up a good response. He would call Etta tomorrow.

He gulped down a hamburger and a beer in Crabbs Lounge and then drove over to the hospital. The cute redheaded nurse was working the admissions desk, but there was a line of people waiting for her attention. He sat down in the waiting room to give the line time to shorten. A drunk was at that moment pleading for her attention. She frowned sternly at him and pointed toward the waiting room. Tully grabbed up a magazine and pretended to read. He knew the drunk would head directly for him. He was a magnet for drunks. The guy sat down beside him. He looked and smelled as if he had been living in a Dumpster for the past month.

“I got beat up,” he told Tully.

“That right?” Tully didn’t look up from his magazine. He noticed he was staring at an ad on the latest weight-loss miracle.

“Yeah,” the drunk said. “My brother did it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, my own brother. Can you believe that?”

Tully detected that the fellow hadn’t been near bathwater in perhaps a year. He thought maybe his eyes were starting to water, because the weight-loss ad had blurred. He lowered the magazine and looked over at the nurse. A city cop was talking to her. The redhead pointed at the drunk. The cop turned and looked. He was a big guy, with a nose that had been broken too many times and multiple scars scattered about his face. His
name was Tim Doyle and he worked the neighborhood that surrounded Slade’s. He walked over and said hello to Tully. Then he spoke to the drunk. “You’re coming with me, Willy.”

“How come, Tim?” Willy said. “I didn’t do nothing.”

“You called in a complaint that Lyle assaulted you. Now I want you to come with me to hunt down Lyle. You make a complaint, we have to follow up on it.”

“Okay.” The drunk pushed himself up out of the chair.

Relieved, Tully lowered his magazine. “How’s it going, Tim?”

“Same ol’, same ol’, Bo. Bet you’re here to check out Scarlett.”

“If by any chance you mean that lovely redheaded nurse over there, Tim, nothing could be further from my mind. What I really like is to stop by for conversations with people like Willy here.”

“I bet. Well, Willy’s all right. Come on, Willy.”

Tully watched them. As the cop and Willy walked by the admissions desk, Scarlett called out, “Take care of yourself, Willy! You too, Tim!”

Willy beamed at her.

Tim shook his head. “He’s going to be riding around with me the rest of the night, Scarlett.”

The admittance line had disappeared for the moment. Tully got up and walked over. Odd, he thought. They’re like some strange underground family here, cop, nurse, drunk, people who see one another almost every day. It’s as if they look out for one another.

Scarlett glanced up. “You have to be Sheriff Bo Tully. I’m Scarlett O’Ryan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“From whom, may I ask?”

“Your deputies, of course. They come in here to get patched up.”

“I’m not surprised. They’re a careless bunch. So you’re the famous redhead. I can see now the boys haven’t been exaggerating.”

She laughed. “They’re pretty nice boys, Sheriff.”

“Call me Bo, please. Everybody does, even my criminals.”

“I hear you’re quite the fly fisherman, Bo.”

Tully nodded. “Yeah, but I’m mostly a catch-and-eat kind of guy. Wet a fly now and then. That way I don’t catch so many fish it becomes a distraction. I know some great fly-fishing streams, by the way, if you’re interested in taking up the sport.”

“Is that an invitation, Bo?”

“It definitely is. I’d be most happy to give you a few lessons.”

She laughed. “Really? My father started me out with a fly rod when I was eight years old, if those are the kind of lessons you had in mind.”

“They most certainly are. You probably can give me some lessons, Scarlett. Let’s see, my mind seems to have gone blank for a second. Oh, yeah, I was going to say that right at the moment I’m tied up with some crimes and stuff like that. But I should be free in a couple of weeks. I’ll, uh, be in touch. But back to business. You may have had a kid about twenty
come in here to get a wound in his arm treated. Would have been the last few days.”

“Sure, I remember him. I helped patch him up. He said he had fallen on a sharp stick but both the doctor and I thought it was a bullet wound. We cleaned it up, put in a couple stitches, and gave him a shot of penicillin.”

“He give you a name and address?”

She shook her head. “He did but they were both obviously fake. He didn’t have any ID on him. Called himself something like Bill Brown. I can look up the name and address for you if you want.”

“Naw. They’d both be phony. Maybe if the wound gets infected he’ll come in again. Give me a call, will you?”

“Sure.”

“One other thing, Scarlett. My deputy Brian Pugh . . . ”

“I know Brian.”

“Of course you do. He was supposed to bring in a not-so-young lady earlier. Is he still here by any chance?”

“I haven’t seen him leave. Hold on a sec, I’ll check.” She punched a couple of buttons and spoke into a speaker. “Is Brian still back there?”

Brian? Tully thought. So he’s that well known around here.

“Yeah,” a voice said. “Who wants him?”

“His boss. At emergency reception.”

“He’s on his way.”

Brian came striding out. “So you tracked me down, Bo. What’s up?”

“I was just checking on our two patients.”

“They’re going to keep Bev a couple of days for observation. She was hurt a lot worse than anybody at Slade’s knew or let on. She’ll be all right, though. J.D. apparently had a bruised kidney or something like that. Probably got it from a fall. But he should be out tomorrow.”

“Good. J.D. will probably be politer to strangers in the future.”

“I suspect so.”

Brian nodded at the nurse. “I see you’ve met Scarlett.”

“Bo and I may go fishing together in a couple of weeks,” she said.

Pugh laughed. “I told you he works fast.”

“Actually, Brian, I think I was the one who worked fast.”

Scarlett was about to add something when her phone rang. She picked it up and said, “Blight City Emergency.” She listened. “Yeah, Tim, he’s still here.”

She handed the phone to Tully. “Tim Doyle.”

Tully took the phone. “Hi, Tim. What’s up?”

“Bo, we just had a shooting outside the K-Bar convenience store on the north side. I think it’s something you might be interested in. I’m on my way there. You want to swing by?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, Tim. Thanks for the call.”

Scarlet looked up at him. “Business, I bet.”

“Afraid so.”

“You need me, boss?” Pugh said.

“Naw, I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” Pugh said. “I’ve invited Scarlett out for a late-night snack after her shift ends.”

Tully gave the nurse a wink. “Watch out for this guy. He’s got a bad rep.”

She laughed. “Don’t you all?”

“Well, sure, but Brian is one of the worst.”

•  •  •

Tully pulled into the K-Bar lot and parked. The lot was crowded with police cars, an ambulance, and a fire-station emergency team. Several police officers were standing around a pickup truck. Tim was standing next to Willy, who was still drunk but an interested observer of the crime scene. Tim glanced in Tully’s direction and then started to walk over. Tully could now see the side of the truck. He groaned. The driver’s-side window was a spiderweb of glass, with portions completely missing. He could see bullet holes in the blue door on the red truck. He’d told Lennie, “You can’t be dumb.” But did he listen?

Tim walked up. “We checked for the guy’s ID. He hasn’t got any on him.”

“His name is Lennie Frick, Tim. He lived at Four-oh-five East Sharp.”

Tim took out his notebook and wrote the name and address down.

Tully said, “He did a bit of time a while back. He wasn’t a bad guy, just a dumb one. He might have seen whoever did
the killings up on Scotchman.” He nodded toward the truck. “This pretty much proves it.”

Tim looked up from his notebook. “So you think you know who did it?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I don’t have any names, though. Not to mention proof.”

“Things are pretty bad when a kid goes out for a six-pack of beer and gets blown away.”

“Acme?”

“How did you know?”

“I’m psychic.”

“Looks like the shooter used a .22,” Tim said. “Very small bullet holes. I counted six. No casings anywhere. So it was probably a revolver. Strange thing is, nobody we’ve talked to heard any shots.”

“I’m not surprised,” Tully said. “I suspect the killer used a silencer.”

“A silencer! Sounds like Blight City is getting into the big time.”

•  •  •

Tully slept most of the day on Saturday. That night he called Pete Reynolds. “Pete, any chance you could take me for a spin in your airplane tomorrow?”

“Why, sure, Bo. For some reason I had the idea you hated flying.”

“I do, Pete, but there’s some stuff I need to check out from the air. Just a hunch I have.”

SUNDAY MORNING, TULLY had no trouble containing his enthusiasm for the flight. He stopped at McDonald’s and had his usual Egg McMuffin and coffee, then drove out to the airport. Pete was already there, tinkering with something on his plane.