Up Jumps the Devil

28

« ^ » {New-comers} are apt to indulge themselves too much, tempted by such good living, and delicious fruits as abound there, which sometimes produces bad consequences.“Scotus Americanus,” 1773

Dick Sutterly’s truck was sitting in a ditch almost at the same angle as Reese’s, but the damage to his truck was minimal.

There wasn’t even any broken glass since the window was down when the bullet smashed into Sutterly’s brain.

He’d been found by four Makely women on their way home from Christmas shopping at the malls in Raleigh. After getting their names and addresses, Detective Jack Jamison had let them go.

“They found the car in gear with the keys in the ignition,” said Dwight. “Looks like he might’ve had his foot on the brake, talking to the person who shot him, and then when he died, the car just rolled on into the ditch and stalled out.”

I hadn’t liked Dick Sutterly and I hated what he wanted to do out here, but he didn’t deserve this—his body slumped over the steering wheel of his truck, with cameras flashing and crime scene technicians poking and measuring.

He had been so happy—pink-cheeked and excited about building something he could be proud of, something that would change his reputation from a penny-ante scrabbler to one of the high rollers. Now his cheeks were gray with the pallor of death and the future of his clustered village was probably just as gray.

“This is related to Mr. Jap’s murder, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Looks like it. Jack found a folder on the floor of the truck with a bunch of papers scattered around. There’s a copy of that note Jap signed.”

“That he’d sell to Sutterly?”

“Yeah. And a couple of other things.”

He handed me a scrap of paper that Jamison had slipped into a plastic bag. It looked like a note that Dick Sutterly might have scribbled to himself. There was a phone number which I recognized as Zach’s. Below were the words “A.K.—Pls.Rd. lane—2 pm.”

It was 3:45 now and that 911 call had come in more than an hour ago. Sutterly’s truck had run off the road less than a hundred feet from the lane that led directly to Gray Talbert’s nursery.

Right past Adam’s 2.9 acres.

Adam’s former 2.9 acres, I reminded myself.

“Oh, come on, Dwight. You can’t think that Adam—? Look. There’s no date on this paper,” I said. “It could have been any day this week. Besides, he flew home to California Wednesday night.”

I suddenly remembered the fog and all those radio reports that RDU was closing down.

“Didn’t he?”

“Nope. I was out here yesterday to look at Jap’s papers and have another talk with Allen.”

“You worked the holiday?”

“Hey, quit looking at me like I’m an orphan or something just because Jonna wouldn’t let me have Cal this weekend. I’ve got plenty of family—a brother and two sisters, remember? Rob and Kate had Mom and me and Nancy Faye and her family for turkey in the middle of the day. Long as I was out this way though, I thought I’d poke around a little. And Adam was there at the shop chewing the fat with Allen.”

I frowned. “Never knew those two to have anything in common.”

“Yeah, well, they’ve got one now,” he said sardonically.

“Me?”

“Your name did come up a couple or forty times. They were both real pissed with you. Adam seemed to think you’d set up to pass judgment on the whole world, starting with him, and Allen kept talking about some sort of blood tests that you were going to put him through? ’Course all those empty beer cans sitting around the place might’ve had something to do with their attitudes.”

“Both of them could stand an attitude adjustment.”

“Anyhow, Adam’s flight got canceled Wednesday afternoon, which means he’s probably here till Monday. The TV says Thanksgiving weekend’s the busiest travel time of the year.”

I handed him back the bagged scrap of paper. “I still say this could have been any day last week. Maybe Tuesday. They were at the courthouse then. Maybe they met here first.”

“For Adam to sell him his land?”

“You know about that?”

“And that you didn’t approve. That was part of what had him going yesterday.”

“It’s a family matter,” I said stiffly.

“And if your family’s opposed, what would Adam do? Maybe try to cancel the deal? And then when Sutterly wouldn’t, he—”

Someone from the crime scene unit claimed Dwight’s attention and I got back into my car and drove through Adam’s lane, past the nursery, across the creek and straight over to Seth’s.

He and Minnie were entering farm data into the computer and double-checking the figures as they went. “Easier to put it in there right the first time than to have to go looking for the error,” said Minnie.

They were shocked to hear about Dick Sutterly and when I asked them where Adam was, Seth thought he was back with Zach. “I reckon you heard his plane was canceled?”

I nodded.

“They told him not to even call the airlines again till Monday morning,” said Minnie. “Every flight’s sold out till then.”

Zach’s Lee answered the phone on the first ring and sounded disappointed that I wasn’t one of his buddies calling about a double date that night. “Uncle Adam’s not here,” he said. “You want to talk to Dad?”

When I said I did, he hollered for Zach to pick up downstairs. “I hope y’all don’t plan to talk long.”

I assured him I’d be brief.

I asked Zach where Adam was and he said, “Over at the homeplace, I think. He borrowed my squirrel gun yesterday. Said he might try to pot a couple of those tree rats that were stealing Daddy’s pecans. He didn’t come back last night, so I just assumed he stayed over with Daddy or Seth.”

Phone calls to Daddy, Haywood, Andrew and Robert were equally unproductive. So far as I could tell, Dwight and Allen were the last ones to see him.

I drove back through the lane, this time by way of Mr. Jap’s place. I saw no sign of a rental car. Allen’s truck was parked next to Mr. Jap’s out near the shop, but the shop itself was locked and dark and nobody came to the door when I blew long and loud on my horn over at the house.

When I got back to the highway, they were just loading Dick Sutterly’s body onto the ambulance and Dwight was about ready to pack it in.

His eyes narrowed when I told him I couldn’t find Adam nor Allen either.

“Adam’s running around with a gun? What caliber?”

“I don’t know. A .22 probably. Why?”

“We think Sutterly was shot with a small-bore gun,” Dwight said grimly.