Chaingang

The low-rent housing started about fifty yards off the road on some corner pastureland where an old single-wide was visible behind a thicket of weeds. Royce thought about knocking. Asking his questions real friendly.

Next to the broken mailbox a piece of rubber tire lay coiled like a dead blacksnake. He'd seen Kelly McCauley before. A slightly heavy young woman with a child's hands, big, bouncy breasts, and a provocative if rather porcine look around the eyes and nose. She lived there—in the trailer—and the look of the place stopped him.

Maybe he thought her old man would hassle him, coming up to the crib to rap with little Mama. Everybody was always sniffing around Kelly. Checking out those big, soft handfuls of love. Hanging around the city administration building, where the jail was, trying to get a look down those low-cut things she wore to work sometimes. Maybe Kelly had a little problem, too.

Or maybe he could imagine her slamming that door in his face when he started asking questions about what she overheard her boss, Chief Kerns, say about this and that. That's striking pretty close to the lunch bucket. If Kelly had half a brain, she'd clam up. Next thing—Marty Kerns would be bringing him down to the jail for a little talk and a late night swim in the fish tank.

Whatever brought him to his senses in time stopped him dead and turned him around, sent him back to his ride, and headed him on down Waterworks past Diane's Hairquarters and around the corner.

One of his fave pay phones was located in front of a ma-'n'-pa grocery. He stopped. Got out. Dropped change and dialed the McCauley residence. Three rings.

“Hello."

“Is this Mrs. Kelly McCauley?” he asked, putting as much hard twang in it as he could muster.

“Yes."

“Mrs. McCauley, this is Sheriff Guthrie. Are you the lady works for Marty Kerns over in Waterton?” Tough and coarse, with most of the resonance coming right out of the nasal passages. A rumble he could almost feel in his face.

“Yes, sir.” A little question mark in her tone now. The voice she used when Marty got pissed at her. Her deferential kissy-ass voice.

“Ma'am, I understand that you have been overheard making some statements that several persons are being sought in missing-persons cases in Waterton. Do you know you could get in serious trouble repeating what you heard there on the job? That's privileged law enforcement information."

“I don't know what you're talking about."

“Don't bother denying it, ma'am. Marty Kerns has already heard the tape, and so have I. You were recorded in a surveillance of another investigation, and you were taped at a place of business called Judy's Cafe, Mrs. McCauley. Your voice has been ID'd as being the one who divulged information about an ongoing case. Don't you know that's punishable under three different Missouri statutes?” He was really getting into it. In the pause for air he could almost hear her brain going a mile a minute. Trying to remember what she might have said. He pushed it. “Now, why did you tell Mr. McCauley that all these other persons were missing?"

“I didn't say that,” she blurted. “I just was telling him about the one Perkins case. And, you know, I might have said that Rusty Ellis and them Poindexters was missing, too. That's all I told him, honest. It was just them three cases, and they wasn't related at all. And what I say to my husband don't go any further.” She was starting to get hot about it.

“Chief Kerns is not pleased about you talking like that in public where anybody can hear you. You know better than to be discussing cases like that."

“I'm sorry.” She put a little whine back in her tone.

“What else did you hear about the Poindexters or Rusty Ellis or Sam Perkins? Did you overhear other things about the case?” He knew the second he said it, he'd lost her, but he was patting his pockets looking for notes, a pen, something to write on, trying to keep his voice in character, and he knew as he uttered it that it didn't sound official enough.

“Who the hell is this, anyway?” She was smarter than she appeared. He mumbled something about being in touch with her later and hung up. Back in the car and hooking back to Cotton and down King's Road in the direction of the Perkins house. More cocaine paranoia with claws perched on his shoulder, ready to go for the throat.

“Hi.” She was surprised to see him at her door.

“I—” He choked up and coughed, so full of information, he couldn't pull it all together. She knew it was something bad.

“Come in and sit down, Royce. You're so pale you look like you're about to pass out."

“Something's wrong, babe. I don't know what the hell's happening here, but...” He shook his head, not believing the thoughts bouncing around inside it. “Sam isn't the only person missing.” He took a deep breath.