Kill Devil Falls Read online

  Rita’s head dangled off one meaty forearm, her legs the other. Helen almost admonished him to lift Rita’s head in order to keep the throat wound closed, but looking at Rita’s sightless eyes, her head lolling like a flower with a broken stalk, she knew it didn’t matter.

  When they reached the red farmhouse, Teddy held the door open for Big Ed as he carried Rita inside. Helen squeezed through behind him, found herself in a hallway, a closet to the left, a staircase straight ahead, a waist-high cabinet on the right, and an arched doorway leading to the living room just beyond it. She followed Big Ed into the living room, Teddy bringing up the rear.

  The house smelled like musty curtains, damp furniture, cigarette smoke, old fireplace ashes. But it was clean and orderly, and the threadbare but tasteful furniture, needlepoint wall hangings, and lace chair covers indicated a woman’s touch.

  A generously stuffed couch sat in the center of the room, facing a pair of matching upholstered chairs.

  “Get a blanket from the hall closet,” Big Ed ordered.

  Teddy disappeared into the hallway. She heard a closet door opening.

  “Hurry it up,” Big Ed said. “She ain’t as light as she looks.”

  Teddy came back with a blue quilt.

  “Not that one. Her blood’s gonna get all over it. Something old, that we don’t need no more.”

  Teddy returned to the hallway.

  Big Ed huffed. “Let’s go, Edward!”

  “Sorry!” Teddy brought out a tattered Indian blanket, laid it out on the couch. Big Ed grunted as he laid Rita on top of it. He looked down at his uniform jacket, brushed drying blood from the star on his left breast.

  “This ain’t coming out in the wash.”

  He unzipped the jacket, pulled it off, turned it inside out and draped it over the arm of the couch. He wiped his hands on the Indian blanket, walked over, and sank heavily into one of the upholstered chairs.

  “Shouldn’t we get her to a hospital?” Helen asked.

  “She’s dead. Only man I ever heard of who can fix that is Jesus. And he don’t spend much time in these parts. Edward, you want to tell me what happened?”

  Teddy leaned the shotgun against the wall, stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, eyes on the floor.

  “The deputy marshal here, her car wouldn’t start, so we went to the Trading Post to get Frank and Mike. When we got back to the jail, the door was open and Rita was gone.”

  “I leave you alone for two goddamn hours—”

  “Whoever killed Rita is still in those woods, Sheriff,” Helen said.

  Big Ed’s muddy brown eyes swiveled over to Helen.

  “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

  “The killer might be getting away right now.”

  “I’m not a US Marshal or anything, but I know a little something about policing. So, do you mind if I get the facts straight before I break out the bloodhounds?”

  Helen returned his glare but didn’t answer. She wondered if he actually had bloodhounds.

  “Edward,” Big Ed said. “I thought I told you to stay with Rita till the marshal arrived.”

  “She did arrive! And her car wouldn’t start!”

  “At which point you decided a slice of Alice’s famous cherry pie would just about hit the spot.”

  “No, sir! I took the marshal over to ask if Frank and Mike would have a look at the vehicle. We wasn’t there long. Maybe, I don’t know, five minutes?”

  Helen figured it was more like fifteen or twenty, but she didn’t contradict Teddy. She was developing a strong dislike for the sheriff.

  “And you locked the jail door?” Big Ed asked.

  “Yes, sir. Rita was in the cell, all secure, and the key was on the wall. And I locked the front door, too. Here’s the key.”

  He showed Big Ed the key dangling from his gun belt.

  “Who cuffed her?” Big Ed nodded at Rita’s body.

  “I cuffed her and put her in my car, which, as the deputy mentioned, wouldn’t start,” Helen said. “When I tried to return her back to the cell, she ran for it. So I left the cuffs on. We only intended to be at the Trading Post long enough to grab Mike and Frank. But when we got there, they were finishing dinner. So it took a bit longer than expected.”

  Big Ed shifted in the chair, adjusted his gun holster, settled into a more comfortable position.

  “The extra key in the drawer, Edward?”

  “Let me check.”

  Teddy returned to the hallway. Helen heard the sound of a drawer being opened, items shifting.

  “It’s gone!”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “For God’s sake!” Big Ed muttered. He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

  “Let me get this straight,” Helen said. “You keep an extra key to the jail in your house?”

  “That’s right,” Teddy said, coming back into the living room. “Just in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  “In case the historical society loses their key.”

  “I see. And who has access to the extra key? The one not on your belt?”

  “Me. The sheriff.” Teddy nodded at Big Ed. “I think pretty much everyone in town knows we have one, even if they don’t know it’s in that particular drawer.”

  Helen suddenly felt bone tired. She walked to the second upholstered chair, lowered herself into it.

  “Take care you don’t get that chair dirty,” Big Ed said.

  “Your stepdaughter’s dead, there’s a killer on the loose, and you’re worried about your upholstery?”

  Big Ed took a pack of Camels from his breast pocket, lit one with a cheap plastic lighter.

  “My late wife bought these chairs. They were her pride and joy. Edward, pour me a whiskey. You want one, Marshal?”

  A drink. God, yes, she needed a drink.

  “Please. Thanks.”

  Teddy avoided looking at Rita’s body as he squeezed past the couch. Toward the back of the living room was a dining area with an oval mahogany table and six chairs, and beyond that, a door leading to the kitchen. A heavy oak credenza sat against the far wall. A tarnished silver service tray holding half a dozen bottles and a set of drinking glasses was on top of the credenza. Teddy unscrewed the cap on a bottle and poured amber liquid into two tumblers. He carried them over, handed one to Big Ed and another to Helen.

  “Thanks,” she said. Teddy nodded. He resumed his place in the living room doorway. His eyes flickered toward the couch, away again. Helen sipped from the tumbler. After the initial burn, a pleasant warmth spread through her chest and stomach.

  “Who was at the Trading Post when you were there?” Big Ed drank from his tumbler, rested it on his knee, took a drag from his cigarette. Apart from the uniform, gun, and lack of social graces, he resembled a country aristocrat discussing the price of agricultural commodities over brandy cocktails.

  “Let’s see. Mrs. P, me, the marshal, Frank, Mike … uh … Mr. Yates …Mr. P … and Lawrence.”

  “In other words, everyone.”

  “Lawrence left before the rest of us.”

  “How long before the rest of you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe five minutes.”

  “I thought you were only in the place for five minutes.”

  “Coulda been a bit longer than that.”

  “Wait a minute,” Helen said. “Are you suggesting this guy Lawrence stole the key from your house and dragged Rita out into the woods to kill her?”

  “He’s the only newcomer to town,” Big Ed said. “The Pattersons have lived in Kill Devil Falls for fifteen years. The others were born and raised here. It doesn’t make sense for any of them to up and murder her.”

  “Lawrence has only been in town a few weeks, from what I understand,” Helen said. “Does he even know who Rita is? And how would he know about the jailhouse key?”

  Big Ed sucked on his cigarette, stubbed it out in an ashtray sitting on a round table between the two chairs. “M
aybe he heard about the key from one of the others.”

  “But why, Sheriff? What would be his motive?”

  “I don’t know. I think I’ll ask him.”

  “Have you considered the most obvious explanation?”

  “Which is?” He swallowed the rest of the whiskey in his tumbler.

  “Rita’s partner killed her. Larimer. And while we’re sitting here, he’s making his escape.”

  “Why would he do that? Weren’t they two peas in a pod? Robbing banks, sticking it to the man? Bonnie and Clyde, all that crap.”

  “Well, she got caught, didn’t she? Maybe he killed her for expediency’s sake.”

  “Seems a bit extreme, don’t it?”

  “It makes more sense than a random stranger who’s never met Rita killing her.”

  “We’re gonna take this step by step, Marshal, and do it my way. In fact, since your prisoner is now dead, you’re pretty much free to go home at any time.”

  Helen couldn’t believe her ears. What an asshole.

  “Well, Sheriff, for one thing, my car isn’t working.”

  “Right. We’ll see to that in a bit. First, Edward, go raise dispatch on the car radio and get some more bodies up here. And an ambulance for Rita. Then we’ll head over to grab Lawrence for a chat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Teddy left, leaving the shotgun propped against the wall. Helen heard his heavy boots clumping down the hallway, the sound of the front door opening and closing.

  Well, that’s it, she thought. I’m toast.

  Rita had been murdered on her watch. Now that the sheriff was involved, there was no way to spin the story, no chance of damage control. She was going to be thrown out of the marshal’s service.

  Helen could picture Chowder’s wet smirk. His unspoken taunt: Maybe if you’d been nicer to me, I could have helped you out …

  No. Even Chowder couldn’t do anything for her in a situation like this.

  Big Ed sighed. He pushed himself up from the chair, walked toward the dining area.

  “You want another whiskey?”

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself.” He took the bottle from the silver service tray, came back to his chair, sat down. He seemed unaffected by the presence of a dead body on his couch.

  “You don’t seem too upset about Rita,” Helen said.

  He paused mid-pour, squinted at her.

  “What am I supposed to do? Have a good bawl?”

  “She was your daughter.”

  “Stepdaughter.” He set the bottle down, sipped from his tumbler. “And she left home a long time ago. She was always a handful, even at sixteen.” He nodded at the couch. “I can’t say I’m surprised at how it ended for her.”

  “That seems … pretty cold.”

  “It may surprise you, Marshal, but your opinion don’t mean squat to me. And by the way, that was quite a show you put on in the woods, screaming your head off.”

  “I was trying to get help. I thought we might be able to save her.”

  “Maybe. Maybe you were just scared shitless.”

  “Hey, here’s a thought. Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

  He cracked a crooked smile.

  “Okay. Fair enough.”

  He polished off the whiskey, set down the tumbler. He stared at Rita’s body for a moment, then got up and went over to the couch. He tugged a corner of the Indian blanket free and laid it over her face. He turned to look at Helen.

  “I meant what I said about you heading back to Sacramento. Once your car is running, there’s no need for you to stick around.”

  Rita’s knees showed through the holes in her jeans. They were black with forest grime. She had begged Helen not to leave her alone in the cell. As if she knew her life was at risk. But Helen had to be a hard-ass, punish Rita for running. She’d abandoned Rita in jail, wrists cuffed. Like a trussed Thanksgiving turkey.

  Well, if she couldn’t save Rita, or her own career, there was one thing Helen could do. Help catch the goddamn killer.

  “Sheriff … if you don’t object, I’d like to assist with the investigation.”

  “How?”

  “Just … be an extra pair of hands.”

  “Why?”

  “Because … I feel responsible.”

  Big Ed nodded. “You shouldn’t have left her alone in the jail, that’s for sure.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  “Anyways, Edward will get some other deputies up here in the next hour or so. You’d probably just be in the way. Better you head home.”

  “Respectfully, Sheriff, I’d like to stick around.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “My town. My jurisdiction. My investigation.”

  “You’re right. It’s your jurisdiction. I’m not looking to interfere. Or step on any toes. But Rita was my charge. And now she’s dead. I want to help apprehend her murderer.”

  “That’s real nice, Marshal, real commendable. But like I said—”

  Helen stood up.

  “You actually don’t have the authority to kick me out of Kill Devil Falls. I may not be officially part of your investigation, but I’ll remain here till I’m good and ready to go. You can bitch and moan about it. You can ignore and exclude me. Or you can make use of the fact that you have a federal law enforcement agent right here on your doorstep. Who knows? I might even prove useful.”

  Big Ed puffed out his cheeks and looked up at the ceiling.

  “And let’s not forget, Sheriff. Rita was your stepdaughter. It’s going to look a bit odd to the FBI and marshal’s service, don’t you think? I mean, she was locked up in an old museum, for God’s sake. Where you left her, guarded only by her stepbrother. The whole thing is just … very peculiar.”

  “What are you saying, Marshal?”

  “I’m saying, you could probably use an objective witness such as myself to dispel any rumors of improprieties before they get started.”

  The sheriff glared for a moment, then cracked another one of his crooked smiles.

  “You’re a sharp one, now, ain’t you?” he said.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Just remember who’s the boss.”

  “I will.”

  “I call the shots.”

  “Got it.”

  “You’ll follow my orders.”

  Helen mentally crossed her fingers behind her back.

  “Yes.”

  Big Ed looked down at his dirty pants.

  “I’m going to go upstairs and wash up. You might want to get some of that blood off your face. There’s a bathroom down the hall, back of the stairs.”

  “Thanks.”

  Helen trailed Big Ed into the hallway. He pointed to a door, then trudged up to the second floor.

  Helen walked down the hall, opened the bathroom door, flicked on the light. The claw-footed tub, squat toilet, and cracked porcelain sink were all vintage, circa 1940s. A radiator hissed testily in the corner.

  Helen removed her coat and hung it over the side of the tub. She turned on the faucet, waited a long while for the water to heat up, washed Rita’s blood from her hands and face. A yellow embroidered hand-towel, which may have once been white, hung on a ring set into the wall beside the sink. She decided against using it, instead dried off with wadded-up toilet paper. She gathered another handful of toilet paper, ran a little water over it, wiped down her coat.

  She checked her phone when she sat down to pee. No service. She flushed, washed her hands, shook them dry, and was reaching for her coat when everything went black.

  Helen felt her way to the bathroom door, slid her hand along the wall until she located the light switch. She toggled it up and down to no avail. She opened the door, poked her head out. The lights in the hallway and living room were off as well. She fumbled for her coat, slipped into it, remembered the flashlight in the pocket. She turned it on, stepped into the hallway.

  “Sheriff?”

  She heard his boots coming down th
e stairs and flicked the beam of the flashlight up to his face. He threw a forearm across his eyes.

  “You mind?”

  “Sorry.” She lowered the light. “What happened?”

  “Electricity went out.”

  “You don’t say,” she muttered under her breath.

  Big Ed opened the hall closet, started rattling around inside.

  “Dammit,” he barked. “I told that idiot … here they are.”

  He removed two halogen lanterns, switched one on, set it on top of the cabinet. It provided a bright circle of illumination. He pulled a down jacket from the closet, shrugged into it. He’d changed his pants but was still wearing the gun belt.

  He switched on the second lantern, and without saying a word to Helen, opened the front door and went outside. Not sure of what else to do, she followed.

  Big Ed descended the porch steps, walked a half dozen yards down the street. Teddy approached from the direction of the jail, flashlight in hand. They met in the middle and had a brief conversation. Teddy trailed the sheriff back up to the porch.

  “Looks like the power’s out all over town,” Big Ed said.

  “That happen often?” Helen asked.

  “Now and then. Edward, go fetch my shotgun.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Helen moved aside to allow Teddy through the front door.

  “So what now?”

  Big Ed set his lantern on the porch, pulled out his pack of Camels, lit a cigarette. “Same as before. We grab Lawrence.”

  They paraded down Main Street, the sheriff with a lantern in one hand and a shotgun in the other, like a trio of cowpokes heading for a shootout.

  “What did dispatch say?” Big Ed asked.

  “A tractor trailer overturned on 89 and some passenger vehicles were involved,” Teddy said. “It’s gonna take a while to sort that out.”

  Big Ed grunted. “If the goddamn bikers weren’t causing such a ruckus in town, we’d have more deputies to spare.”

  “What about that shooting in Sardine Valley?” Teddy asked.

  “Nobody knew a thing about it,” Big Ed said. “Prank call or misunderstanding, I really don’t know. A long goddamn drive for no good reason.”

  They passed the Trading Post, the last of the commercial buildings, and a scatter of abandoned houses, all shadows in the night. Eventually they came to a double-wide trailer parked on a grassy lot. A gasoline-powered generator hooked up to a side panel chugged noisily, providing electricity.