Back to Wando Passo by David Payne (books to improve english txt) 📕

“Perfectly natural, Mr. Hill, perfectly natural,” said Thomason. “I’d feel the same way in your place. Anybody would.”

“Has anyone accused you of anything?” said Sneeden. “Has one single word been said to that effect?”

“Oh, wait,” said Ran, “I get it now. The sergeant here’s the good cop. You’re the bad. Correct?”

“I’m the county medical examiner, Mr. Hill,” said Sneeden. “I don’t know who these people are, what happened to them, how long they’ve been buried there, whether they died of foul play, natural cause, or what….”

“Well, Yorrick has birdshot rattling in his brainpan,” Ransom said, “so for starters, I’d rule out natural cause.”

“Could have been a hunting accident, a soldier killed at war, suicide—there’s a dozen reasons I can think of shy of murder why people end up getting shot.”

“Can you think of a dozen reasons why they end up in unmarked three-foot graves?”

Sneeden’s jaw took a prognathous jut.

“He’s onto something there, Doc,” said Thomason. “You’re on my wavelength now, Mr. Hill. There’s a story here, and it don’t look to be a good one, but the truth is, we don’t know what the story is, and it’s our job to find out. That’s all we’re trying to do here, and the reason we’re asking you is because they turned up on your property. It don’t go no fu’ther than that. Any information or assistance you can give us in a helpful spirit, we’d most appreciate.”

“Well, I know who they are,” said Ran. “Would that qualify as helpful information?”

The officers both blinked.

“I seem to have your attention now,” said Ran, making a transparently insincere effort to conceal his glee. “They’re Harlan and Adelaide DeLay, gentlemen, my wife’s great-great something-something grandparents. That’s Adelaide right there.” He pointed to the portrait.

“What makes you think it’s them?” asked Thomason.

“He came back from the war in 1865, showed up in downtown Powatan, started here on foot, and neither he nor Adelaide was ever seen again. They’ve been missing in action for, what, a hundred and forty years, give or take? As chance or fate would have it, I heard the story of their disappearance for the first time yesterday, not long after I…” Found the pot, he was about to say, but the voice said, I wouldn’t go into that if I were you, and Ran, for once, agreed. “So who else is it going to be?”

“Well, he’s right on one thing,” Sneeden said to Thomason. “The second set’s a woman.”

“The second set of what?” asked Ran.

“Remains,” the sergeant said.

“How did she die?”

“We’ll have to wait for the state ME to weigh in on that, Mr. Hill,” Sneeden answered. “I did note a shattered rib on her left side, which would also be consistent with a gunshot.”

“They’ll do osteometrics and carbon dating up there in Columbia, Mr. Hill,” said Thomason, “which should tell us if them dates check out. What’s your theory anyhow? Somebody murdered ’em?”

Ran shrugged. “I’d put my money on a murder-suicide.”

“Shot her, then killed himself?”

“Or maybe she shot him,” Ran said.

“Usually works the other way,” said Sneeden. “Nine times out of ten.”

“Hey, let’s not be sexist,” Ransom said. “This is the twenty-first century, as people keep reminding me.”

“What you figuring for motive?”

“Maybe he was too sarcastic for her tastes.” Ran gave his watch an aggressive glance. “And on that note, gentlemen, I’ve given you all I have, both fact and speculation. Now, unless you plan to arrest me and put me on the chain gang breaking rocks, I have someplace I need to be.”

“You ain’t going out of town, are you, Mr. Hill?” asked Thomason. “Reason I ask is just in case we think of any fu’ther questions.”

“I’m going to pick up my kids at preschool in Powatan. Do you want me to surrender my passport?”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Hill,” said Sneeden drily.

“Then I’ll let you show yourselves out. I believe you know the way.”

“B’lieve I do,” said Thomason, and smoothing down his comb-over, he reapplied his hat.

“Bastards,” Ran said as soon as they had left. “Rat bastards!”

And he’d known, hadn’t he? He’d known! That morning things were simply going too damn well. The universe, apparently, had gotten wind: Ransom Hill, for once, was on the verge of happiness; he’d actually had sex with his wife! Call in the Doom Patrol! Let the Harpies shit some droppings in his Frosted Flakes! Let’s restore some freaking order, for the love of Mike, before this poor loser starts thinking he’s actually entitled to a break….

Feeling a little sorry for ourselves? the voice piped up.

“Fuck you, too!” Ran shouted, loudly, in the empty room. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on! Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Yours, of course. But, really, Ransom, what’s the big deal? You know you’re innocent, right?

“Hell, yes, I’m innocent! I’m innocent as hell!”

All this happened a long time ago.

“Way to hell and gone back when!”

The story—whatever it is—has nothing to do with you, correct?

“Damn straight!”

So why are you so hot and bothered?

“Hey,” said Ransom, “I’m not sure I like where you’re going with this.”

All I’m saying is, Sneeden makes a certain point. From the way you’re acting, you’d almost think this touched a nerve.

“Bullshit!” said Ran. “Bullshit! I have no such nerve. This is me, for Chrissakes—me! I’m a freaking pacifist. I dodged the draft, or would have, if it hadn’t ended three months before I became eligible. Hell, I was once a vegetarian—for thirteen years, I didn’t even break an egg!”

Oy, don’t remind me.

“Who are you, the Joker? This is serious business.”

You’re right, it is. Which is why it seems a little strange that you didn’t give them everything.

“What do you mean? I gave them everything except a pint of blood.”

How about the gun?

Stopping in the middle of the room, Ran glanced toward the vacant hooks above the door where the Purdey had formerly hung. “What do you me—Oh, wait. Wait, I get it. If that’s the murder weapon, maybe they could…”

Match it to the shot?

“Right, right. Excellent.