“You’ve got to be kidding me. There are probably two thousand custom cutters in town, and I’m supposed to go chasing after a B-and-E on the Thompson place?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, Sheriff,” Susan Clayton, the dispatcher said. “Maren’s Code Four on a mutual aid-“
“Yeah, yeah. . . Call me if anything interesting happens. Show me Code Three to the Thompson Place,” I said as I turned away from the forest of campers, tents, combines, trucks, and custom combine crews that now littered the fairgrounds.
It was the first day of rain the crews had seen in weeks. The party was notable – I figured a fistfight couldn’t be far behind.
Pissed, I slammed the truck into gear and threw more than a few rocks as I jumped onto the highway. The Thompson place was abandoned – what was left of it was on the far Northeast corner of the county just South of Danbury, Nebraska.
The dirt roads would be a skating rink in the rain.
I’d learned early on that harvest brought a little trouble – you couldn’t multiply the population of a city by a factor of five with testosterone-filled single men in their twenties, work them half to death, and not expect some problems. Even with that considered, the string of low-rent burglaries we were experiencing was rather odd.
Copper theft, after all, was pretty much a big-city crime. While it was lucrative, it . . . Just wasn’t the type of thing that happened in my county.
Until now.
*****
It was too dark to see exactly what the car going around the corner in front of me was in the downpour. It was definitely big – if I’d had to guess, I would have called it a light blue classic Pontiac. Even my truck was starting to slip a little as the rain settled in.
I could have been pulling into the Thompson place or Busan, South Korea for all I could tell. The rain was incredible.
What I could see of the place looked as empty and hidden in the trees as it always had when I’d wandered by doing something that was actually important. As far as I could tell, it was like any other abandoned farmstead that sat off the road behind a line of windbreak trees.
Allowing myself one final breath of exasperation, I put the truck at the end of a battered concrete walkway, turned my collar up, grabbed my flashlight, and stepped into the gloom. Even through the downpour, I could see the reflection of the front door’s glass was at a funny angle.
The door was open.
I snapped dispatch a quick update over the radio before I closed my truck’s door and headed up the pathway.
A family would have brought life to the place when it was brand new, but abandonment had allowed more than a few ghosts to take up residence in the place.
As I shined my light around, the boot and shoe tracks in the dust over the old hardwood floor told me some of them wore about a size nine.
Clearing the rooms one at a time, I found no copper piping or wires, no doorknobs on the inside of the house, and no one, ghost or otherwise, was around.
*****
“Hey Steph.”
“And what’s the mighty sheriff up to tonight?”
I reflexively glanced at the Bluetooth display on the dash like I could see her. “Slogging through the mud, chasing copper and antique fixture thieves.”
“High crime in Decatur County.”
“Sarcasm isn’t sexy, you know,” I said as a grin tugged at my lips. “We can’t all be responsible for protecting freedom. You catch him yet?”
“Op is in a few hours. I should be home day after tomorrow.”
“Is Johnny Carr flying you into McCook?”
“I’ll let you know when I have flight info. Any idea who the crime lord is?”
“Someone bored.”
“That doesn’t really limit it down in Kansas, does it?”
“Sarcasm still isn’t sexy.”
“I’ll bet you are,” she purred.
“I’m drenched, muddy, and smell like a rat’s whorehouse.”
“Like I said…”
“Come home,” I said. “This state is lonely without you.”
“Catching criminals is sexy, you know?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You always do.”
“Sweet dreams…”
Her voice was another purr. “Bye…”
Someone was bored. It wasn’t a lot to go on, but it resonated for some reason. Well, there we’re probably three bored someones, judging by the tracks left in the dust on the floor. Three bored someones that knew their way around, because no one new to the area would have even known the Thompson place was even there.
As I walked through the downpour to the front door of my dark apartment, I realized I had a lot of work to do. It was back to the basics – means, motive, and opportunity.
*****
“Can I help you, sheriff?”
“I’m interested in your architectural hardware. Who are you buying from?”
“We have a couple different dealers. I don’t keep track of who sells us what.”
“If it’s a couple, I’ll take the names.”
“I don’t keep track,” Cindy said. “Honestly, I don’t care that much.”
“So, how does it happen?”
“They come to the store and show me what they have. If I like it, I buy it cash. If I don’t, I send ‘em packing. There’s nothing wrong with what I do.”
“Unless you’re buying stolen property, Cindy.”
“I know the law. I’m not in any trouble, since I didn’t know.”
“Now you know, so now you’ll be in trouble. Hinges, door handles – stuff like that . . . If anyone shows up with it, you call me as soon as you can,” I said as I handed her a business card. “I want a description and a license plate, if you can get it.”
“Or?”
“I’m an easygoing sort of a guy, but I’m not unwilling to make it my life’s work to shut you down. I’ve done worse to better.”
“A threat, sheriff?”
“A promise, Cindy. “
I wasn’t bothered by the fact that I didn’t hear anything back right away. Prudence and convenience said it would have been nice, but nothing said my guys were even selling their wares, to say nothing of doing it in-county.
It was, at least in this case, beneficial. I had transport duty to see to for the rest of the day. We didn’t get long-term stays in our holding very often, but it was time for me to haul our convicted pedophile over to Colby to transfer him into the state DOC’s custody.
I was looking forward to it. The place would smell a lot better with him gone.
*****
“Sheriff, we got a call from Elysian Fields. Three residents are out past their bedtime.”
Okay . . .
“I don’t’ make the news, I just report it,” Susan, the dispatcher snapped. Her ability to read my thoughts had been sharpening disturbingly.
“I’m still about fifteen minutes out.”
“You’re closer than Maren. She’s on a 10-62 with the new rook.”
I cringed. “Doesn’t she need backup more than the nursing home?”
“How much trouble is she going to get into at the Sams place? Nobody lives there – someone passing by just noticed flashlights. It’s probably kids finding a new place to smoke.”
Isn’t Elysian Fields a stupid name for a nursing home?
“Listen, I didn’t name the place that either, you know.”
I smiled in spite of myself as I keyed the mic. “Maxwell out.”
“Burton O’Neill, Clark Rogers, and John Fredrick, right?” I wrote the names down in my notebook. “Do any of them have access to a car?”
Allison, the rest home administrator, shook her head. “None of them. It’s against policy, anyway.”
“And policy says all residents have to be in by ten?”
She nodded. “Or signed out. These guys are neither. We’ve checked.”
“Girlfriends?”
The young lady looked flabbergasted that I’d even ask. “Well, yeah.”
“Did you check their rooms?” My eyebrows raised reflexively.
“Well . . .no, but . . .”
“Let’s go.” I followed her to the first of many nondescript doors, demarcated with the number four and little else. When she reached out to knock, I pulled her arm back, and put my ear to the door instead.
“Oh, Burt . . .” I heard a breathy woman’s voice exhale in a gust.
I nodded back down the hall. Once a safe distance away, I said, “We found ‘em. You want me to take them in for disorderly conduct?”
*****
“I’m Burt.”
“Clark Rogers.”
“John Fredrick.”
“People were worried about you three last night,” I said with my best don’t mess with me tone.
“My prescription for the blues is up to date,” Burt said. “Doc says I’ll be okay.”
“Me too,” Clark said.
“I’ve still got everything working the way God intended,” John said with a wry grin.
“Do any of you gentlemen have a car?”
Their heads shook in unison.
“My son comes and runs us about a bit,” Burt said. “Sideways of that, The ‘fields gets us to the doctor and such.”
“What do you all do for fun?” I asked.
“Dominoes.” Burt said.
“Westerns.” Clark snapped.
John just grinned and nodded.
“You all farmed, back in the day?”
“It was either that, or building pianos. I’m getting kinda senile, sonny. Not sure I quite remember,” Burt said.
Trying not to show any frustration, I asked, “You all are local?”
They nodded in unison.
“You gonna ask what positions we used next?” John asked, his grin still radiant.
“Nope. You gentlemen have a nice day.”
I went back through what I knew as I drove back to the station. It wasn’t a lot. The only thing odd to go on, the B&Es excepted, was the call from the home last night. Allison had been running the place at least as long as I’d been here. She seemed smart and capable – smart enough to know where here people were and where they weren’t.
The three cranky old buggers had been about as helpful as I’d assumed they would be, but it still wouldn’t hurt to check their backgrounds a little bit.
Oberlin was a small town and Decatur wasn’t a huge county. Most everyone was busy with harvest, so there wasn’t a lot of time for shenanigans.
*****
“Hi.” I walked up to the ten-wheeler idling at the pump on the far corner of the gas station.
“Sheriff.”
“Nice day for recycling, isn’t it?”
The truck driver smiled. “It’s always a good day for recycling with Plains Metals.”
“Got any copper tubing onboard?”
“Got a warrant?”
“Got four hours while I pull your truck apart bolt by bolt for a road safety inspection?”
“You got no grounds for that.”
“You’re dripping oil out a wheel seal.” I didn’t have to look, because there’s always a wheel leaking on an older truck. I knew it, and so did he.
“I got copper on, sure.”
“You pick it up in my county?”
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a notebook. I dug out my phone while he flipped to the right page, nodding after the picture snapped. “Your tank’s full.”
“Are we good, Sheriff?”
“Do you think he was a thief?”
“It was a lady,” the guy smirked. “She had it in the trunk of this big ‘old classic Mercury. Nice car.”
“New customer?”
“I bought from her a couple of times before.”
I stared at him, thinking hard. He probably just wasn’t smart enough to realize most folks don’t regularly find car truckloads of used copper tubing. “You see somebody more than twice a month with salvage copper in my county, I want to know about it, are we clear?”
“As glass, Sheriff.” The driver hesitated like he was going to extend his hand, before he reasoned I didn’t seem to be in a shaking mood.
“Go have a nice day back at Plains Metals.”
*****
“Hey Allison. Yeah, I’m doing fine. Can you tell me who’s in room four?” I squared the tablet I’d written the license plate number from Eunice Mackey’s Mercury on. “Eunice Mackey? Cool. Thanks.”
I circled Eunice’s name on my tablet, then added an arrow and wrote ‘Burt O’Neill’ and circled it too. That was the name she’d said when I’d leaned into the door the other night.
I was sure of it. At least on the surface, the meaning was obvious.
The county tax register only had one Mackey, living here in the old part of town. Not much of a walk from The Fields, either. In fact, it was almost a straight line.
My cell started ringing in my pocket. Caller ID announced that it was Stephanie.
“Hey Steph.”
“Johnny Carr’s dead, Sam.”
The abruptness shocked me more than the detail. A simple Op had obviously not been as easy as they’d planned.. “You okay?”
“Fine. It could’ve been me.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You know you’re free now, right? There’s no one running you anymore.”
The thought had occurred as soon as she’d said it. I was embarrassed by the happiness it brought me. Johnny Carr had been an asshole that had used my own actions to imprison me, but I’d done the crimes, too. There were worse places to pay the time.
“When’s your flight?”
“I’ll be in at eleven tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there.” The silence became uncomfortable. “It wasn’t supposed to be you.”
“There’s no one running me anymore either. We can do what we want now.”
I knew that, too. “I love you, Steph.”
“See you tomorrow, sheriff.”
*****
Eunice Mackey’s Mercury was sitting in font of Cindy’s Antiques and Party when I passed by. I wanted to believe that my phone call would be incoming, but the reality of the situation was obvious. Cindy had decided to push her luck. I didn’t have a warrant, so I couldn’t legally search anything. Whatever I found lying in the open was fair game.
I pulled in – I had little to lose and plenty to gain. The older woman on the customer side of the counter was nonplussed while the look Cindy gave me was the perfect combination of fear and rage. It told me absolutely everything I needed to know without saying a word.
“Can I help you, sheriff?” Cindy was hard to understand through clinched teeth.
“Do you have anything for a Sesame Street party?”
“Not a thing. Sorry.”
“No problem.” I stepped back out and walked next door into the grocery store. Snacks were important on any good stakeout.
Stephanie’s car was the weapon of choice – it didn’t get seen out often enough to be associated with me. She loved her Mini, but to me, it was… Well, mini. The little thing was cramped and uncomfortable as far as I was concerned, but it got the job done.
Eunice Mackey’s daughter, son-in-law, and grandson all lived in the house a block down East Avenue from where I was sitting. Her daughter had driven her back to Elysian Fields, and the Mercury was sitting in the car port, where it should stay all night.
There was only one way to find out if it actually would.
*****
I followed the Mercury all night. The only time it completely stopped was back in the garage of the little house on East Avenue. I then watched three shadows step out confidently into the night. While I was sure that their shenanigans would annoy the good folks up at the fields, I wasn’t about to run three grown men in for staying out past their bedtime.
My cell rang just as I was pulling away from the curb. I stoped in the middle of the quiet street and answered. “What’s up, Maren?”
“Super Sleuth and I were doing a drive-through, and he spotted a jimmied door on Cindy’s Antiques. Smash and grab.”
“Get Cindy out of bed. Contain and process, Maren. I’ll be down in a bit.”
“What do you have that’s so important?”
“Getting had by a bunch of retired farmers, evidently.”
Allison was a lot more certain about not letting me in this time. There weren’t any bed checks being done, so it was down to me trying to watch the long, low-slung building surround by trees in the middle of the night all by myself.
They could hide, distract me, or just wait me out – I wasn’t going to catch anyone going back into the building.
I knew who was doing what. I had a good idea how everything had been fenced, and I knew where they were hiding it. The only problem was ninety percent of what I had was circumstantial. Even the most lenient judge in the county wasn’t going to give me a warrant to search the Mackey place based on what I had.
I needed a new plan.
*****
“It’s a little funny.”
“I don’t see the humor myself, Steph.”
“You’re getting outsmarted by a bunch of old fogeys.”
“That’s why I’m getting outsmarted,” I said. “Have you ever heard the expression that old age and treachery will overcome youth and good intentions every time? They’re bored – they don’t have anything better to do than cause trouble.”
“They’re helping someone, Sam. Don’t you see that?”
“Robin Hood? You’re too romantic.”
“It’s probably a grandkid. Any of them have one local?”
I nodded. “One. He’s a high school senior.”
“That’ll be the why, then.”
“Son of a bitch. They’ve found a bulk buyer. That’s why they jacked the store – it was the only way they could get enough inventory.”
Stephanie smiled. “Stakeout time.”
“Eh, I can cut a corner on that.”
“Allison, I need into Burt O’Neill’s room.”
She stared tiredly. “I assume you have a warrant.”
“I assume you have all of your books in line for the Kansas Department of Aging and Disability Services.”
“A threat?”
“An assumption,” I smiled.
She weighed the consequences and likelihood of a lawsuit from Burt O’Neill against the cast iron certainty of an inquest by the government. I watched the calculations being made, and I saw my side take the advantage.
“I’ll remember this at election time.”
“I dearly hope you do, because I might keep six of your residents out of the hoosegow.”
“It doesn’t make it legal.”
“Don’t you have a page in the resident agreement allowing inspections for contraband?”
“Yeah.”
I smiled again. “Then it’s extra legal. I’m happy to help. Let’s go. Now.”
*****
O’Neill was sitting in a recliner watching television when the door opened. He didn’t look much in the way of surprised to see us, almost like the occasional bedcheck was expected.
“Allison, sheriff,” he said dismissively.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. O’Neill.”
“It’s kind of late for a social call,” he said as he stood and straightened his pajamas. “What can I do for you?”
“Cut the shit. I know you and your pals have been out stealing architectural salvage from abandoned farmhouses around the county, and your lady friends have been marketing it to antique stores and online marketplaces.” I matched his unblinking stare.
“We didn’t steal anything, sheriff. We took what was ours – you haven’t been here long enough to know the history of those houses.”
“Is your name on the tax rolls for them now?” I asked. The look on Burt’s face was all the answer I needed. “Then it’s stolen property.”
“Why, Burt?” Allison whined, caught somewhere between embarrassment and anger. “You’ve never had money troubles.”
“At first, we were trying to get money for Eunice’s grandbaby to head off to school, but… then we started having fun,” Burt grinned.
I took a deep breath. “You’ve got a major sale coming up. That’s why you jacked Cindy’s Antiques. I was in front of the Mackey place – you didn’t take it to the car, so it’s here.”
“Likely,” Burt grinned.
“Y’all have raised some hell, you know that, don’t you?”
Burt nodded.
“Cindy needs to find the money for her losses back in her store, Burt. I don’t care how it happens, Burt.”
He nodded.
“And the shit stops. Westerns, dominoes, and girlin’ from here out.”
Burt nodded.
“I let you get away with this, the next time something happens, you’re criminals.”
Burt nodded.
*****
Oberlin swung a decent Fourth of July. Harvest had just ended, so people were ready to let their hair down for a minute. The harvest had been a good one, so they had a little money to do it, and since the crews had left the fairgrounds, they had a place to gather. It wasn’t quite a festival, but it was more than a party.
Stephanie and I had fun. You can mix business and pleasure – technically I was on duty while I stumbled over the light fantastic with her as music blared through low-quality speakers. It got a little weird when one by one, Burt and Eunice’s gang filed up to shake my hand.
“What was that about?” Stephanie asked after she’d extricated herself from a potential dance with John Frederick.
“Crime, punishment, and maybe the lack thereof.”
Steph’s smirk seemed knowing as she wrapped her arms around me. I couldn’t dance, but I was okay with holding a pretty girl while she did.
“High crimes in Decatur County. You ready to go back to DHS? They need another operator or two. We did great things, Sam Maxwell.”
I did think about it – Steph and I shared more than a few memories of when it had all come down to her and me, and we hadn’t dropped the ball. Exciting, maybe a little romantic, and patriotic as hell, we’d done some great things.
I’d done some good here, too. And I felt good – I couldn’t always say that about the old days.
“Let’s talk about something truly important. Do you want to get married?”