Switchback. Ch13

After a slab of fruitcake and a fistful of chocolate-chip cookies, Carter put his plate back on the tray. His stomach protested this action but pride wouldn’t allow him to reach for more.

          ‘John Maynard said Cunningham was under heavy sedation, do you know if he spoke to anyone beforehand?’

          ‘As far as I’m aware he was in no condition to speak, but Dennis Meade, our volunteer fire chief, he got to him first. I haven’t spoken with Mead myself because he spent half of last night dowsing a fire across the street from there, but I can give you his address.’ He pulled the pen from its holder and took a yellow legal pad from his desk drawer. He scribbled for a few seconds and tore out the small yellow sheet. ‘I’ve no idea if Spooner has questioned him yet, with a little luck he has and nothing will get back to him that you’re asking questions.’

          Carter took the slip of paper. ‘So Spooner isn’t yet aware of my presence in Leyton Falls?’

          ‘He’s not, and I’d like it if you kept it that way for as long as possible. The longer he’s unaware the more freedom you’ll have.’

          ‘We both know my badge is useless here, so if Spooner thinks I’m on his side, if he thinks I’m here to assist his own investigation, then maybe he’ll show a little professional courtesy.’

          The judge smiled, almost laughed. ‘Mr Carter, your badge isn’t the reason you’re here. John Maynard reckons you’re the best detective he has, and I very much trust his judgement. And badge or no badge, you don’t get a rep like yours by sticking to the rules. And believe me; as soon as Spooner discovers I called you in he’s not going to welcome you with open arms, he’s going to look for the first excuse to get at you. You drop litter, he’ll arrest you and make sure you resist.’

          ‘In that case I don’t have much choice but to stay under his radar, but sooner or later our paths are going to cross, and if I have no choice but to resist there’s a good chance he won’t like the outcome.’

          ‘And if and when that does happen, I’ll make some calls. I still have friends out in Putnam, friends who owe me … elaborate favours shall we say. They may not like it and it will leave a bad taste in some of their mouths, but they’ll see things my way.’

          ‘So I take it Spooner won’t be sending information your way?’

          ‘No, he only reports to the Putnam County Sheriff’s Office.’

          ‘And how many did his office send out here?’

          ‘They called me this morning, purely out of curtesy of course, to say they were sending Spooner and two others. Guarantee one of them is his son Josh, but I’ve no idea who the third will be.’

          Carter nodded. ‘Has anything hit the local newspaper?’

          ‘The Leyton Falls Ledger has a small office half way along West Street; man named Jack Ryland runs it.’ The judge opened another desk drawer and took out a clipping he’d taken from the latest edition of the Ledger and passed it to Carter. ‘He’s only reported on the fire across the street because there was still the deputy’s next of kin to inform, which Spooner would’ve done this morning. So the piece on the shootings will no doubt make tomorrow’s headline.’

          ‘What about the Ferris’ next of kin?’

          ‘The Ledger only goes out in Leyton Falls; they won’t see it until after they’ve been informed.’

          The clipping taken from the Ledger’s front page was a colour photograph of a house in flames with one fire truck in the right hand foreground and two fighters hosing the flames. The headline read: “Flames of Glory”.

          ‘Dorothy Winkle,’ said the judge in way of explanation, ‘was the only one who perished in the fire, no next of kin. She had a still in her back yard she called Old Glory, so I guess that headline is Jack’s idea of sensationalism.’

          ‘Was the still the cause of the fire?’

          ‘No, Jack’s report goes on to say that according to Dennis Mead who is our volunteer fire chief,

          ‘There’s a small newspaper office half way along West Street, “The Leyton Falls Ledger”. Man named Jack Ryland runs it. He’ll be able to print anything you need, cheap too.’

          ‘Will it be open on a Sunday?

          ‘It’s a newspaper; it’s open every day, Ryland works from four in the afternoon until four in the morning.’

          ‘Has his paper reported on what happened last night?’

          The judge opened another desk drawer and took out a clipping he'd taken from today's edition of the Ledger.  ‘Only on the fire across the street, there was still the deputy’s next of kin to inform which Spooner would’ve done this morning, so the piece on the shootings will no doubt make tomorrow’s headline.’

          ‘What about the Ferris’ next of kin?’

          ‘The Ledger only goes out in Leyton Falls; they won’t see it until after they’ve been informed.’

          The visible half of the Ledger’s front page was a colour photograph of a house in flames with one fire truck in the right hand foreground and two fighters hosing the flames. The headline read: “Flames of Glory”.

          ‘Dorothy Winkle,’ said the judge in way of explanation, ‘was the only one who perished in the fire, no next of kin. She had a still in her back yard she called Old Glory, so I guess that headline is Jack’s idea of sensationalism.’

          ‘Was the still the cause of the fire?’

          ‘No, Jack’s report goes on to say that according to Dennis Mead the blaze had started inside the house.’

          ‘And the fire occurred around the same time as the shootings?’

          The judge nodded. ‘Within minutes of each other, but the fire isn’t the issue, Mr Carter; the issue is finding out who fired those shots last night. Because I can assure you as eggs is eggs, Mitch Cunningham isn’t our man.’

          ‘What makes you so certain of that?’

          The judge folded his arms and sat back. ‘One night, around six years ago, Mitch Cunningham shot and killed a thirteen year old boy by the name of Frank Howler. Two of the Howler boys, the other being Vernon, aged eleven, had broken into McCarthy’s hardware and gun store and stole a twelve-gage shotgun and ammunition plus some other items. Mitch was on his way home when he saw someone come out the store with a shotgun. It was Vernon who came out but Mitch didn’t know it at the time. Frank was already in the car they’d stolen and was outside the store waiting to drive off when Vernon fired the shotgun at Mitch’s cruiser before he got in.

          ‘I should tell you at this stage that it was dark and Vernon was tall for an eleven-year-old, and Mitch, not knowing they were kids, fired at the car as it took off. After three shots the car came to a stop when it veered off and struck a tree. Mitch approached and instructed them to throw out their weapon, which they did. When he moved closer he heard Vernon shouting for Frank, shaking him, telling him to wake up, to get out. Then Vernon climbed from the car with the left side of his face splattered with blood, and when Mitch looked in he saw Frank slumped over the steering wheel with the top half of his skull spread over the windshield. It took him some time to get over what he’d done, and for two years Mitch wouldn’t so much as carry a loaded weapon. And you’re the only other person who knows that now.’

          The judge sat back, laced his fingers over his chest.

          ‘Since then he hasn’t even fired his gun at a shooting range. He tried several times but couldn’t bring himself to squeeze the trigger. I know this because I was with him on two of those occasions. He aims and then he shakes like a cold-turkey alcoholic trapped in a free all you can drink liquor store. Shots in centre abdomen and forehead are something Mitch Cunningham isn’t capable of.’

          ‘If he was that affected by what he’d done why was he still allowed to serve?’

          ‘As I just told you, Mr Carter, I have friends who owe me, the same kind of friends I’d be calling on your behalf, should you resist.’

          Carter couldn’t shake the feeling that that sounded like some form of threat, a warning to tow-the-line. He stored it, continued. ‘So if you’re convinced Cunningham didn’t fire those shots, then are you saying there had to be a fifth person in that room?’

          ‘That’s what you’re here to find out, Mr Carter.’

          The judge rose from his seat, picked up his cane and went to look out over the rear garden.

          ‘A couple of hours ago I called the Chief ME, a Miss Grace Hunter, and to say we had a very long and enlightening conversation is a bit of an understatement. Among other things she said six shots had been fired last night, but she could only locate four spent rounds. There was one in the back of Mr Ferris’ head, which had only stopped because of a mirror; another was behind him which had passed through his back. One was in the wall where Mitch’s deputy had been stood when he was shot. And the fourth was in the wall near the door where Mitch had been stood as he was shot, and two rounds had gone through the window.’

          He turned back to face Carter.

          ‘The two rounds that killed Mrs Ferris are the window ones, the shot to her abdomen exited her back and also the lower half of the window. And judging by the position she was found in, Grace reckons Mrs Ferris was kneeling at the point the second shot was fired, the one to her head. That shot exited the window a little higher.’

          ‘So what do you find odd in that?’

          ‘There were four empty shells in the gun they found in the room, and two slots had nothing in them at all. The gun was a Colt 45, same as Mitch’s gun, which itself held two empty shells, bringing the total to six.’

          ‘In which case you’re wrong about Cunningham and he did discharge his weapon. Twice.’

          The judge moved back to his desk. ‘And that’s just how a jury would see it, Mr Carter, which would put him in centre frame.’

          ‘It would, but it also could mean he was acting in self-defence.’

          The judge sat, pulled the chair into the back of his knees. ‘Okay, let’s look at it like that, as though Mitch had fired those two rounds, which,’ he said, a finger held high in defiance. ‘I still believe he did not, but if he did, if he was the one who shot Mrs Ferris, then he killed an unarmed woman.’

          Carter leaned forward. ‘Am I missing something?’

          The judge also leaned in, his fingers laced in the centre of the desk. ‘During that conversation I had with Miss Hunter, she told me the hammer of the gun she believes shot Mitch and his deputy was missing, but after a fingertip search of the room, one of her assistants located it embedded in the doorframe. And the only way it could’ve gotten there was by the gun being thrown across the room from approximately where Mrs Ferris was. And if the gun was thrown by Mrs Ferris, it had to be thrown when she was still very much alive.’

          Carter nodded. ‘Which would mean Cunningham fired on an unarmed woman.’

          ‘Indeed it would.’

          ‘Did the ME come up with any scenarios? How the whole thing went down?’

          ‘Yes. The two shots that killed Peter Ferris and the one that killed Deputy Walker along with the one that hit Mitch in his neck, were all fired from where Mrs Ferris was found, and by Graces early deductions, no higher than two feet from floor level.’

          ‘So the shooter was kneeling, which means those four shots could’ve been fired by Mrs Ferris.’

          ‘Yes, but the two shots that killed her were fired from the opposite direction at very close range and from the same spot and the same height. Powder burns ejected from the barrel were found on Mrs Ferris’ dress and also on her forehead.’

          ‘What about prints?’

          ‘With a little luck Grace will convey those results to me sometime tomorrow morning. I’m certain they’ll find Mitch’s prints on his own gun, I just hope they don’t find them on the other, but if they do, it’s a guaranteed fix.’

          ‘Okay,’ said Carter rising from his seat. ‘I think I’ve learned all I can for now, Judge. Please tell your wife she is a fine cook and the fruitcake and cookies were splendid, and she really should box and sell them.’

          The judge also rose. ‘I’ll be sure to let her know.’

          ‘And the place you said you’d made a reservation in my name, do you have directions.’

          ‘Oh, yes, the “Pineview Lodge” as I said it’s a nice place run by nice people. I’ll print you off a map of the town and mark out all the places we’ve spoken of; it’ll help you get around a whole lot quicker.’