Switchback. Ch11 pt1
By sabital
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Abe Spooner’s booted feet rested on Mitch’s desk as he plucked imaginary fluff from his khaki pants. He held a half-smoked cigar between his fingers and his shaven head reflected the strip light above.
‘Okay, the situation so far is this,’ he said, his words directed toward his son, Josh, and Mitch’s second deputy, Howard Larkin; a nervous twenty-two year old who’d only been sworn-in by Mitch one week earlier. ‘We got three people dead from gunshot wounds and one person injured. Sheriff Cunningham being the one injured is at this moment in the County General under heavy sedation and constant guard, and, as far as we are aware, he is our only witness as to what happened up there in the early hours of this morning. Furthermore, and it really pains me to say this boys, he is also our only suspect.’
‘Um…’ Larkin said, a finger in the air.
Spooner made an expectant gesture with his eyebrows. ‘Yes.’
Larkin went on. ‘We, we also got a fatality in a house-fire across the street from the old Evans place, Sir, an elderly lady by the name of Dorothy Winkle.’
Spooner pursed his lips and eyed his son for a second before he looked back to Larkin. ‘We knew that, boy, but I’m curious as to why you feel the need to bring it up?’
‘Well I…’ he trailed off.
Spooner rose and walked around the desk. He put a hand on Larkin’s shoulder. ‘Look, son, we ain’t got time here for pussy-footin’ around, okay? One of our guys is dead; the other ain’t too well and could be facing a triple murder charge. You understand that don’t you?’
Larkin nodded. ‘Yessir.’
‘Good, now if you think you’ve got somethin’ important to say, I’d like to hear it. Otherwise, don’t you ever interrupt me again. You understand that too, right?’
‘Yessir.’
‘Okay, now what is it you want to tell me?’
‘It’s just, well, don’t you think it seems a little strange that the house across the street from where the shootin’ took place went up in flames at the same time? And I mean the exact same time, Sir. Kinda like someone was tryin’ to…’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know, maybe get rid of a possible witness.’
Spooner hitched up his belt, dropped the cigar butt to the floor and crushed it underfoot. ‘Tell ya what, Mr…’
‘Larkin, sir, Howard Larkin.’
‘Tell you what, Howie; it’s all right if I call you that ain’t it?’
‘Sure, most people do.’
‘Okay, Howie it is,’ he said, and placed an arm around the deputy. ‘If your hunch is right I’m gonna need someone I can trust to handle a delicate situation such as this, and I believe that particular person to be you. You follow me here?’
Larkin nodded again. ‘Yessir.’
Spooner smiled. ‘That’s my boy. Now, what I need is for you to find out if that fire was arson or accident. Your fire chief, Meade I believe his names was, well, he told me it was accidental, said it looks like the old woman fell asleep with a smoke while drinkin’ her moonshine. But if you’re right and he’s wrong, and it turns out to be arson, well that means your hunch is bang on the money.’ Spooner walked him out the door into bright sunlight. ‘And that could mean someone else was about last night, which can only help Sheriff Cunningham’s case.’ He turned Larkin round to face him. ‘Know what I mean, Howie?’
He smiled like a boy scout who just started a fire with sticks. ‘I sure do, and if it’ll help Mitch in any way I’ll go through those ashes inch by inch and on my hands and knees if I have to.’
‘Now that’s the kinda spirit that built good old America. You know something, Howie, I knew from the moment I set eyes on you I could count on someone as switched-on as you are. Now go on over there and find me somethin’ I can work with.’
‘Yessir,’ he said again, then left.
As Spooner watched Larkin walk up the road, Josh stepped out the door and passed him his hat.
‘Ya think he’ll find anythin’, Pa?’
Spooner sighed, pushed the hat on and pulled the brim down to shade his eyes. ‘I reckon that one would have trouble spottin’ a giraffe in a field o’ fuckin’ horse shit, Son. But at least he’s out the way for a while.’
Josh nodded. ‘If he’s right about it being arson, it could also mean Cunningham started the fire before he did the shootin’. And that ain’t gonna help his case.’
Spooner pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket. ‘I know, but there was no point in tellin’ him that,’ he said. ‘Light me.’
Josh struck a match on the seat of his pants and cupped it against the warm breeze.
Spooner puffed as he continued to watch Larkin disappear up the street. ‘I got a call from a Jake Granger this mornin’, mortician here, said his morgue was broken into last night, and seein’ as we can’t get near that Ferris place until the ME’s finished up there, might as well go check it out.’
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Poor Sheriff Cunningham isn't
Poor Sheriff Cunningham isn't only getting the blame for the shooting, but also the fire. I can't see how he'll get out of this situation with the evil monster back in the mirror.
Looking forward to next part and glad to be reading your story again.
Jenny.
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