Now I wasn't too proud of myself. I was growing myself a monster, I thought, and the stranger was beginning to make my insides decidedly uncomfortable. He was crowding out my soul, making it hard to breathe. My heart hurt.
And there wasn't even any satisfaction.
Lugmor had wrapped his bleeding hand in a filthy rag. He blew his nose with an equally filthy rag he carried in a pocket of his overalls, then dried his eyes with the back of his hand. "Thanks, Robby," he said in a trembling voice. "I appreciate your being a friend to me. You'll find out I'm telling the truth. Rod was no fag, and he didn't kill himself and your nephew. You want a drink?"
"No."
"Why don't you sit down?"
"You sit, I'll stand. I want to ask you some questions."
"Shoot," he said, grinning nervously as he eased himself down on the arm of a broken chair and leaned forward eagerly. "God, Robby, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."
"At the cemetery you mentioned that Jake Bolesh was working for a company. You meant the Volsung Corporation, didn't you?"
"You got it, Robby. The Volsung Corporation. This county hasn't been the same since they built that place."
"Does Jake own land?"
"Nah. He sold his place when he was first elected sheriff. He lives in a house in Peru City."
"How do you know Jake is taking money from Volsung?"
"Everybody knows it, Robby. He's got a fancy car, fancy clothes, and he takes vacations in Hawaii. The reason nobody cares is because just about everyone around here gets money from Volsung one way or another. They get cash in the pocket if they lease land, and they get lower property taxes because of all the taxes Volsung pays. Also, Volsung donated a big park over by Polliwallow; it's got a swimming pool and everything. Folks around here think it's really something for a big company like Volsung to set up right in the middle of Peru County. Nobody wants to rock the boat."
"You think the Volsung Corporation had something to do with the boys' deaths?"
"Nah, I'm not saying that. I'm saying that everybody wants to keep things quiet because that's the way Volsung wants it; they're pretty secretive about what they do down there. Murders attract attention. It's like this great big building filled with gold plopped down on the prairie one night, and nobody wants to blink or talk too loud for fear they'll wake up and Volsung will be gone."
"Why did Volsung cut you off?"
Lugmor flushed, ground the stumps of his teeth together. "Jake caught me checking out one of the plots they planted on my land; you're not supposed to do that. He reported me. The next day the plot was plowed under and I was off the payroll. Jake also made sure the word got around so that nobody else would make the same mistake." He paused, stared at me with his bloodshot, rheumy eyes. "I'll tell you something, Robby. You see a drunk in front of you, but there was a time when I was a pretty damn good farmer. I know plain old ordinary field corn when I see it."
"Field corn?"
"Yeah. If I'd had pigs or cows, I could've fed it to 'em, or I could've ground it up for silage. No good for anything else. There's nothing experimental about plain old field corn; it'll grow anywhere-which is a good thing, since most of those plots are half-filled with weeds."
"Experiments need controls. How do you know your plot wasn't a control?"
Lugmor scowled. "I know what field corn looks like; I don't know anything about experiments or controls."
"How long has the Volsung Corporation been here?"
"A little over three years. They put the place up fast-matter of months. One minute there's nothing but prairie out there, the next thing you know there's this big building."
"Did Rod ever mention a place called 'Mirkwood' to you?"
"No, can't say that he did."
"What do you think Jake Bolesh does for Volsung?"
His eyes suddenly came to life, glittering with fear. "You're not gonna' tell Jake I've been talking about him, are you?"
"No."
"Okay. The way I figure it, Jake provides them Volsung guys with extra security. He's got patrol cars cruising around there all the time. He makes sure the farmers stay off the lands they've leased out, and he keeps an eye out for strangers nosing around-things like that. Like I said, I think he's paid to keep things nice and quiet."
"If what you say about the Volsung people being big taxpayers is true, they might figure they're entitled to a little extra security. And, considering what everyone in the county gets out of the company, I can understand why no one would object. They'd probably vote Bolesh out of office if he didn't give them extra service."
Lugmor scowled again. I wasn't making him happy, but I had to make an effort to see things from the points of view of the Volsung Corporation and the people of Peru County.
"For a thousand bucks a day, Robby, I'd think you'd be on my side."
"You're paying me to try and get a fix on things, Coop, to try to find out what really happened. It may be that things are just the way Bolesh says they are. Now, who in the county actually works inside the building?"
"Nobody."
"Nobody?"
"That's what I said." Lugmor was grinning now, as if he'd finally cored a point in some mysterious game we were playing. "There's maybe a half dozen young guys paid to run a weeder through the plots now and then, but that's it."
"What bars and restaurants do the Volsung people go to when they come into town?"
Another grin, another score. This one he savored, smacking his lips. "They never come to town," he said at last.
"Their people never come out of the building?"
Lugmor nodded. "I told you it was a funny place. Oh, the shifts change every few weeks. They bring in people, supplies, and equipment in little airplanes. They got a landing strip out there. You can see the planes coming in real low over Peru City, and I saw them unloading once."
"There must be somebody there who handles the local contacts."
"Not that I know of; if anyone knows, it would be Jake. He's the one who tells the local boys with the weeders what to do."
"How much do they pay for the land they lease?"
"Five hundred dollars a month per acre."
"Someone must have contacted you at the beginning about leasing acreage."
"Guy never gave me his name. It was a phone call, and the guy just said he worked for the Volsung Corporation. Contract came in the mail, same as the checks."
"What was the return address on the envelopes?"
Lugmor raised his hand and cocked a thumb toward the southwest, Duck Pond and the prairie beyond.
"No other corporate address in New York? Chicago?"
"Uh-uh."
"Who signed the contract and the checks?"
"I never looked."
"You have a telephone book?"
"I haven't had a telephone for better'n two years, Robby. If it's a listing for Volsung you're looking for, I'll bet everything I've ever owned that it isn't in there."
"Coop, according to the newspaper stories I read, you found the bodies. Is that right?"
Lugmor opened his mouth to speak, but only managed to produce a gagging sound.
"Coop," I prodded, "it's important."
"Just a minute," he mumbled. He rose, picked up a flickering lamp and shuffled through a door. I heard the sound of a cabinet door being opened, and I went after him. I caught his arm just as he was raising a jug to his mouth; obviously, Coop Lugmor still managed to distill alcohol. This batch smelled raw.
"I need this bad, Robby." His eyes were wide and pleading.
"In a minute," I said, wrestling away the jug. "I have to know exactly what happened, and what the scene looked like when you got there."