Shotgun Saturday Night

Chapter 17

Buddy caught up with Rhodes just as he and Ivy arrived at her house. Leaning out of the window of the county car, Buddy looked like anything but a deputy. He was thin and bony, with a head much too large for the broom-straw neck it sat on. His upper torso stuck so far out the window that Rhodes wondered how he was able to sit upright in the car seat when he pulled himself back in. His almost comical appearance sometimes fooled people. Buddy was a good lawman.

“Got a call from Hack,” Buddy said. “He’s tryin’ to locate you.”

“What’s the message?” Rhodes asked.

“He says that Miz Ramsey telephoned a few minutes ago. She thinks someone’s messin’ around in Bert Ramsey’s house. Says she saw lights movin’ around in there. He thought you might want to be the one who goes out to check, seein’ as how you’ve got a personal interest.”

“He’s right about that,” Rhodes said.

“He said to tell you to take a backup this time.”

Rhodes laughed. “I will. We’ll go out together. Just give me a minute to see Ivy to the door.” He and Ivy got out and walked to the house.

“Be careful,” Ivy said.

“Don’t worry,” Rhodes told her. “Buddy can take care of me.”

“Maybe,” Ivy said, giving him a light kiss on the cheek and going inside.

Rhodes got in the car with Buddy, who radioed their destination to Hack. Hack said that he would telephone Mrs. Ramsey to let her know they were on their way.

When they got to within a half mile of Ramsey’s house, Rhodes had Buddy cut the lights and slow down. They eased up to the yard at a crawl, as silently as it was possible for the car to travel. Buddy let the car drift to a stop without putting on the brakes.

The two men sat in the car looking around at the house and yard. There wasn’t much of a moon in the sky, and the mercury vapor lamp in the yard wasn’t burning. Either the electricity was off or the lamp had burned out. Or someone had deliberately put it out. There were no motorcycles to be seen, and there were no lights in the house.

“Reckon we ought to go in,” Buddy said. “Otherwise we ain’t never going to find out what’s in there. If there’s anything in there at all.”

“I guess you’re right,” Rhodes said. “Front or back?”

“I always favored the back door, myself,” Buddy said. “It’s closer to the kitchen.”

“That’s as good a reason as any,” Rhodes said. “Let’s go.”

They got out of the car, Buddy’s gangling limbs making it a somewhat complicated exit. Running low, they reached the wall of the house, skirting the sides below the window level until they came to the back door. There was a screen door set in front of a wooden door. Both were closed, with no signs of a forced entry to be seen in the dim light.

“Who goes first?” Rhodes asked.

“You’re the sheriff,” Buddy said.

“So?”

“So you get to pick.”

“I’ll go first, then. You be ready.” The screen door opened outward, and Rhodes pulled on it gently. It wasn’t locked. He stood up, Buddy behind him, and tried the doorknob of the inner door. It turned easily.

“Reckon Miz Ramsey’d leave that door unlocked?” Buddy whispered.

Rhodes shook his head, no. He knew what was in that house: the ovens, the TV set, the VCR. It was all worth too much money to be left behind an unlocked door. Unless, of course, Mrs. Ramsey was very careless. He didn’t think she was careless. He pulled out his pistol. Buddy followed suit. He gave the door a gentle push and watched it swing open.

There was no movement from inside the house. All the blinds had been drawn shut, and it was very dark. How had Mrs. Ramsey seen lights moving around? Something was wrong. Rhodes was just about to tell Buddy to radio Hack to send Ruth Grady out when he heard Rapper’s voice behind them.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t be showing up, Sheriff,” Rapper said. “Don’t bother to turn around. I’m holding a gun on you. Your own gun, as a matter of fact. Why don’t you and your deputy just step on inside and we can get this over with.” Rhodes started to move. “Lay the guns down first,” Rapper said. “Right there on the ground will be fine. Do it!”

Whereas Rapper’s voice had seemed calm at first, the last two words ripped through the night with vicious intent. Rhodes and Buddy lay down their pistols and stepped inside the house. Rapper followed closely behind them.

“Get the shades up,” Rapper said. Rhodes heard rummaging around in the darkness, then the sounds of shades flapping up. There was a little more light in the room, though not much, and he could make out the forms of Nellie and Wyneva. There were two wooden chairs from Ramsey’s table in the middle of the room.

“You two can just sit in those chairs,” Rapper said.

Buddy and Rhodes did as they were told. While Rapper held the pistol on them, Nellie tied their hands and feet with nylon cord. Their arms were tied behind them, but they were not tied to the backs of the chairs.

“Now then, Sheriff,” Rapper said after they were tied and Nellie had stepped away. “I want you to know that I’m going to enjoy this. You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, and we heard tonight that Jayse talked. So I guess you know what’s growing down behind this house. Well, I won’t be getting it now, but that’s not what’s bothering me. Not really. What’s bothering me is the way you’ve been on my case. I don’t like to have to run, not from you or anybody else. But you’ve caught me with my pants down twice. Now I’ve caught you. And you’re going to hurt a lot more than I have.”

“What about my deputy?” Rhodes asked. “He’s never even seen you before.”

“Tough luck,” Rapper said, laughing a little. “He ought to keep better company.”

Rhodes figured it was no use to make idle threats. Hack knew where they were, but it was doubtful that he would send anybody in time to help them. He would never guess that they were dumb enough to have fallen into a trap. And it wouldn’t do any good to mention Cox and Malvin; it appeared likely that Rapper didn’t know about them. But if he didn’t, then why had Cullens been killed? Maybe he had died before he could tell anything, or maybe he had been well trained. Rhodes decided to ask. He didn’t have anything to lose.

“Are you going to kill us like you did Buster Cullens?” he asked.

Rapper laughed again. It wasn’t a pleasant sound in the dark house. “Cullens was sticking his nose in. He got what he deserved. I didn’t do it, though. Me and the boys found him like that.”

“Sure you did,” Rhodes said. “That’s why Jayse had that axe handle in his hands.”

Rapper stepped up and slapped Rhodes across the face with the back of his hand, almost knocking Rhodes out of the chair. “It’s time for the first lesson, Sheriff,” Rapper said, as casually as if he were talking to a clerk in the supermarket. “You don’t crack wise with me. Not when I feel about you the way I do. Now, let’s start over. Me and the boys found Cullens like that.”

Rhodes thought about it. There was something behind Rapper’s words, but Rhodes couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “You know who killed him, though.”

“That’s better,” Rapper said. “That’s a lot better. A little respect, Sheriff, that’s all I want.”

The man was definitely a major lunatic, Rhodes thought. Unfortunately, he was a major lunatic with the upper hand. “So I guess you’re going to do my job for me and tell me who it was.”

“I can do that, if I want to,” Rapper said. “But it seems to me that Jayse would have told you already if he’d talked. I wonder about that. Could it be that you’ve been telling lies, Sheriff? I really hate that. I really do.” He reached out and backhanded Rhodes again, even harder than the first time. Rhodes tasted blood in his mouth.

“You see,” Rapper said calmly, “I don’t like for people to lie to me. People are always lying to me and about me. I don’t like that. Do I, Nellie?”

“No,” Nellie said, sounding a little surprised at being addressed. “You don’t like that, Rapper. I don’t know why people are always doing that. It just gets them in trouble.”

The funny part was, Rhodes thought, Rapper didn’t look crazy. He looked like a short, pudgy little man, like he might be a schoolteacher or a salesman. The meanness was in his eyes, and Rhodes couldn’t see them in the dark.

“Well, enough of this stalling around,” Rapper said. “It’s time to get down to business, so to speak. I think I’ll let you hear about it from Wyneva. Tell them why you killed their friend Buster.”

Wyneva stepped near Rhodes, but not too near. “He killed Bert,” she said. “He never really loved me, and he had to get back at the only man who did.”

Rhodes didn’t know what was going through Buddy’s mind during all of this, but his own thoughts were racing a mile a minute. He was trying to put all the facts together, just on the off chance he ever got to tell a jury about them.

“I don’t understand it,” Rhodes said, honestly enough. He wasn’t stalling. He really couldn’t figure it out.

“Tell him,” Rapper said. “We have time.”

“OK,” Wyneva said. “I guess it won’t hurt.” She paused to organize her thoughts and then began. “I was living with Bert Ramsey for a while. That was Rapper’s idea. He’d heard from somebody that Bert had been a member of Los Muertos, and he thought he could maybe con Bert into growing a little weed for us, Bert having a little piece of land and all. So he sent me to get to know him and see what was what. Me and Bert, we just sort of hit it off, you know? It wasn’t like I was doing a job or anything. We really got along.”

She stopped, maybe thinking about Bert. Rhodes thought he could see where the story was going now, but he wasn’t going to rush it. He wasn’t looking forward to whatever was coming up after it was all told. Nellie had tied them awfully tight, though, and Rhodes was beginning to lose the feeling in his hands. Maybe it would be better if they just went ahead and got it over with.

“Then I met Buster,” Wyneva said. “He was cute, cuter than Bert, but Bert was already making money for us. I wasn’t going to leave him. Besides, like I said, me and Bert really had something going for us.

“But Buster just wouldn’t quit. He knew how to talk, and he knew how to treat a woman. He just kept on. So maybe I gave in a little. I don’t know. That’s when he started with the questions.”

“Wyneva may look dumb, but she’s not,” Rapper said.

“Yeah,” Wyneva said. “I’m not dumb. Guys think that, but I’m not. I knew right off where he was headed, but he fooled me a little bit. I wasn’t sure if he was a single or if there was someone in it with him. I mean, I thought he might just be planning to rip Bert off or something, but there could’ve been more to it than that. Those damn narcs are all around these days.”

Rhodes thought about Cox and Malvin again, and he wondered how much Rapper knew.

“We weren’t worried about you local boys,” Wyneva said. Rhodes was just as glad he couldn’t see her face in the darkness. He could feel her contempt, and that was enough. He’d been fooled like a ten-year-old by Bert Ramsey and Rapper. They could have gone on growing dope in Blacklin County forever, and he’d never have known if Bert hadn’t been killed.

“You fellas were fat and lazy,” Wyneva said. “All Bert had to do was clear off a little land and go into business. Nobody would suspect him, and it was pretty easy to persuade him, really.”

“Easy for Wyneva,” Rapper said. “With a little persuasion from me and the boys. The money didn’t hurt, either.”

“We had it all going our way until that Buster Cullens showed up,” Wyneva said. “So I went along with him to find out what he knew. He was close-mouthed, I’ll give him that. There was no way I was going to find out anything from him.”

“That day I saw you. . ” Rhodes started.

“I thought you’d blown it all that day,” Wyneva said. “And then when you said that Bert was dead, that did it. I really liked Bert.”

“You didn’t kill him, then?”

“Bert? Me?” Wyneva’s voice rose sharply.

“Let’s drop it,” Rapper said. Bert’s death was obviously a subject that he didn’t want to discuss. “Finish up about Cullens,” he said.

“I caught him off guard,” Wyneva said. “I hit him with the axe handle, and then I tied him up. Just about like you two are tied now. And I just worked him over.”

Her voice was cold and level, and it scared Rhodes more than Rapper’s. Rapper was crazy, but Wyneva had an icy control that was truly frightening.

“He told me lots of things,” Wyneva said.

Rhodes could imagine. He thought about an axe handle smacking into his ribs or the side of his head. It wasn’t an experience he looked forward to.

“He said he loved me, but I knew that for a lie,” Wyneva said. “That was at first. He got more truthful as things went on. He was a freelancer, all right, heard a rumor and tried to cash in. Too bad for him.”

“So you killed him,” Rhodes said, thinking that Cox and Malvin would be proud of Cullens if anybody got to tell them about him. He really didn’t expect that he’d be the one.

“I didn’t really kill him,” Wyneva said. “You might say he just killed himself. He could have told me what I needed to know anytime.”

“Why kill him, then?” Rhodes asked. “Why not weeks ago? Or ever?”

“Because of Bert!” The rising voice again.

“But Cullens didn’t have anything to do with Bert’s death,” Rhodes said. “That’s not possible. He-”

“Shut up,” Rapper said. “That’s enough talking. I’m tired of you, Sheriff. Really tired. I looked around Ramsey’s tool shed, but I couldn’t find an axe handle. I think a hoe handle will do nicely, though. Get it, Nellie.”

Nellie moved toward the door.

“Wait a minute,” Rhodes said. “Wyneva. .”

Rapper slapped him across the face again.

Rhodes wasn’t quite sure exactly what happened next because his head wasn’t clear. Buddy, however, had been waiting for his chance, and since Nellie was almost out of the room and Rapper and Wyneva had their attention focused on Rhodes, he took it.

Buddy lurched out of his sitting position, lowered his head, and butted Rapper.

Rhodes, leaning precariously in his chair, let himself fall the rest of the way. When he hit the floor he rolled toward Wyneva, knocking her off balance.

Wyneva fell, and Rhodes tried to get to his feet. He couldn’t make it, so he kept on rolling, hoping that Buddy was all right, that Rapper had dropped the pistol, that Nellie hadn’t gotten the handle yet.

There was a lot of thrashing around in the middle of the floor. Rapper was yelling, but Rhodes couldn’t make out the words. He hit the wall, and using it to brace himself got to his feet.

He could see the outlines of bodies in the middle of the room, but he couldn’t tell who was doing what to whom.

The one he thought was Wyneva was bent over on hands and knees. The rest was a squirming mass made up of Buddy, Rapper, and Nellie. All of them were snorting and gasping. Buddy must have been holding his own, even with his hands and feet tied.

Rhodes didn’t know what to do. He could hop into the kitchen and try to get untied, or he could throw himself into the middle of the melee. He didn’t see much future in either course, but the latter idea seemed like something out of Abbott and Costello Meet the Keystone Cops, lacking only a few pies in the face. He started hopping toward the kitchen, keeping his shoulder near the wall.

It didn’t take long. He backed up to the counter and, with his back to the drawers, pulled them all out, feeling for knives with his nearly numb fingers. He found them where he should have begun, in the drawer nearest the sink, and managed to get his hands on the handle of a reasonably-sized knife with a slick plastic handle.

Getting the knife blade in contact with the bonds that held his wrists was the next trick. First he dropped the knife.

Bracing himself against the counter, he slid down to the floor and fumbled around for the knife. This time he did better. Bracing against the counter seemed to help. Carefully, he eased the blade up between the rope. Then, as best he could he began sawing. He was pretty sure he was sawing on himself as much as the rope, but that couldn’t be helped.

The noises from the next room were becoming more easy to distinguish from one another, and as he sawed he listened. He was pretty sure Buddy was getting the worst of things. It became pretty obvious when he heard Rapper say clearly, “Hit the sonofabitch with the chair.”

There was a sickening thud. Ramsey’s chairs weren’t movie chairs that splintered on contact. They were real, solid, hardwood chairs that were built to take all sorts of punishment.

“Where’s that goddamn Sheriff?” Rapper yelled.

Rhodes felt the rope part, and he snapped his wrists apart. He bent to cut the rope at his feet.

Then he heard three thunderously loud gunshots.