“Okay, now,” Scully said, “everything’s all right. It’s all right, now, Minnie.” He came forward, spun the robber’s companion around, made her lean against the counter, legs spread, and thoroughly searched her. Satisfied, Scully handcuffed her hands behind her back. Only then did he approach her male companion. Howell put the shotgun on safety and stepped forward, too. The man in the leather jacket was sprawled backward across a second checkout counter, eyes and mouth open. There was a hole in the middle of his chest. Scully took hold of an arm and turned him halfway over. His back was an enormous mess. Blood dripped down the stainless steel counter onto the floor. “Jesus, Minnie,” Scully said, “what you loading in that thing?”
“Dum-Dums,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “Jesse got ‘em for me last year. They robbed me twice before, and they ain’t going to do it again.”
“This one sure ain’t,” Scully agreed. He looked at Howell, then at the car outside. “Nice going, John.” Scully looked at him worriedly. “You all right?”
Howell looked at the hole in the plate glass store window and at the shattered windshield beyond. He didn’t seem to have hit anybody. He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Yeah, I guess so.” Suddenly, the entire plate glass window collapsed with a crash. Howell jumped a foot.
7
Howell opened his eyes slowly and listened. There had been a noise, he thought. He had been sitting on the sofa with a drink, about to doze off, when he heard a car door slam. He couldn’t make himself move until the knock came on the door. When he finally swung his legs off the sofa, it seemed that every muscle in his body cried out. He struggled to his feet and walked stiffly to the door. It was Scotty MacDonald – or, these days, Miller.
“Hello,” she said, cheerfully. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks, come on in.” He switched on a lamp and threw a couple of logs on the embers of the fire. “Drink?”
“Sure, bourbon, if you’ve got it.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve got it.” He looked at the bottle. He had made a large dent in it already.
“I think you’re still in shock,” she said, taking the drink and peering at him.
“What?”
“Bo’s been telling everybody that this guy had drawn down on him with a hunting rifle when you pumped one off at him through Minnie Wilson’s store window and saved his life.”
“Well, that might be going a little far.”
“Not to hear Bo tell it. You know, that sort of action rattles the system if you’re not used to it. It can make you stiff and sore all over, like you’ve been beat up.”
“That’s an excellent description of my condition right now,” Howell agreed.
“I did a piece on it once. Interviewed some Atlanta cops about what it was like after action. I think what happens is you get this huge rush of adrenalin, then when it’s over, you sort of have a hangover.”
“Well, I had a pretty huge rush, I guess. I was scared out of my tiny mind.”
“That’ll do it. Say, have you had dinner?”
“No.” He looked at his watch; it was nearly nine o’clock.
“Neither have I. Have you got any food in the house? I’ll fix us something.”
“Yeah, there’s a bunch of groceries in there. I didn’t even put them away.”
She walked toward the kitchen. She looked terrific in those tight jeans, Howell thought. She looked pretty good all over, really. She was petite, but beautifully put together. The T-shirt stretched tightly over her ample breasts, and the sweater thrown over her shoulders lent a cocky air to the way she walked. The short hairdo made her look cockier still. Almost butch.
“Jesus,” she called from the kitchen, “all you’ve got in here is chili. Is that what you live on?”
A few minutes later they were eating chili and crackers and drinking beer. “All right, what are you doing working in Bo Scully’s office?” he asked. He had been waiting for her to bring it up, but she hadn’t, and his curiosity had got the better of him.
“Just that,” she replied, scooping up a mouthful of chili. “Best little worker he ever had, he says.”
“Come on, you’re using a false name and references. What’s up.”
“I got a really good tip that Bo’s dirty,” she said.
“So what else is new? What sheriff isn’t these days?”
“No, I mean real dirty. Drugs. And in a big way.”
“I thought that was a coastal phenomenon, or south Georgia.”
“Folks up here like their grass and nose candy, too, I guess.”
“The paper sent you up here – you’ve been here what, a month?”
“About that. They didn’t exactly send me. It was more like they let me come.” She scratched her nose. “Actually, they fired me.”
“What for?”
“I asked them to. I reckoned it would take two or three months to get a story out of this, and they wouldn’t assign me to it, so I asked them if I could do it without pay, sort of a leave of absence. I asked them to fire me just to cover my tracks at the office.” She took a sip of her beer and gazed thoughtfully across the dark lake. “I think Bo knows somebody at the paper.”
“So?”
“Well, he knows there’s a reporter up here, I think.”
“He’s on to you already, then?”
She grinned. “Nope. He’s onto you.”
Howell set his beer down. “Me?”
“Sure. I think he thinks the paper has sent you up here to get something on him and that this book you’re writing is just a flimsy cover.”
“Swell. That’s all I need. I’m lucky I wasn’t the one shot this afternoon.” Suddenly, his mind caught up with that notion. Maybe that was why Scully had wanted him in that store with a shotgun. Then old Minnie had done the shooting first and spoiled everything.
“No, no, I don’t think he’s like that, I really don’t.”
“Listen, getting mixed up in big drugs has a way of making a murder or two seem a reasonable thing. I’d better straighten him out pretty quick on why I’m here.”
“You do that, and you’ll blow me,” she said, gravely.
“So, you’re blown. That’s better than me getting blown away.”
“Come on, now, John, you used to do this sort of thing, you know. I’ve read your stuff; I’ve read your book. There’s something going on up here, and I want it. You’d want it, too, in my place, you know you would.”
“Listen, don’t pull that old newspaperman’s camaraderie bullshit on me,” he said, banging his beer on the table. “Why should I have to spend all my time up here looking over my shoulder so you can work on something so flimsy that the paper wouldn’t even assign you? I don’t think you’ve had enough experience with these country sheriffs to know how territorial they are, how dangerous they can be. Bo Scully is a very powerful man right here on his own turf, and I don’t need him on my back.”
“Oh, come on, he’s not going to mess with you. Your brother-in-law is Denham White; you’re married to the daughter of a man who was one of Eric Sutherland’s closest friends. Bo isn’t going to do anything to annoy Sutherland.”
“I’m not so sure Sutherland would be all that annoyed if something happened to me. I’ve only met him once and…” He thought of that meeting. “Jesus, I’ll bet he must think I’m investigating him. He behaved that way, anyway.”
“Why would Sutherland worry about being investigated?” Scotty asked.
“I wonder,” Howell said. “I guess you know why I’m up here.”
She grinned. “You mean that cock-and-bull story about writing a book?”
“Now listen…”
“Oh, we hear all the local news in the sheriffs office. Bo likes to know what’s going on.”