Up Jumps the Devil

“Hello?”

“Merrilee?”

“Deb’rah? Did y’all find them?”

“Not yet. What I was wondering is, do you have a key to Mr. Jap’s shop?”

“Oh, sure. I keep spares of all his keys, just in case. Why?”

“Well, I just realized that we didn’t check inside here. I know it’s after nine and a long shot, but since I’m here, would it be much trouble to let me take a look?”

She sighed. “Well, no, not really.”

“I know I’m imposing, but if Adam is in there, he might be hurt.”

“Or Allen,” she said, tartly defending family honor, even if Allen was family only by marriage. “He’s missing, too, isn’t he, and his truck’s right there? He wouldn’t go far, not if he’s walking.” She sighed again. “Oh, all right. Let me put on some clothes. I’ll have the key up there in five minutes.”

As I sat alone in the darkness, waiting for Merrilee, it was the first time I’d had to think about Dick Sutterly’s death even though my family had turned the known facts inside out and upside down trying to figure if it involved Adam.

If this killing was linked to Mr. Jap’s, why on a public road, so seemingly spur of the moment?

Sutterly had been all over this section of land last Saturday morning. His own death would seem to clear him of Mr. Jap’s, but what if he’d seen someone entering or leaving the shop? And what if he tried to pressure that someone?

Allen?

Allen’s alibi was Katie Morgan and her brother. They’d probably lie for him in a heartbeat.

So say it was Allen that Sutterly saw. What does he do? See Allen out there on the road and say, “I’ll tell unless you—?”

“Unless he what?” asked my pragmatist.

Pays blackmail?

“Sutterly didn’t need small money and Allen hasn’t got big.”

Of course, when (if) Cherry Lou’s convicted, Allen will have the land. Big money potential there. And don’t forget that promissory note Dwight found in Sutterly’s truck. Why was it on top, if not to shake in someone’s face? Maybe Sutterly said he’d keep silent if Allen would honor the terms Mr. Jap had negotiated.

“But Allen thought that was a good deal. He was hoping Sutterly would be legally bound to pay off on that note when he got title. Your trouble is you just don’t want to think Adam’s involved.”

Whoever shot Sutterly killed Mr. Jap first, and Adam had no reason to do that.

“If Cherry Lou had signed the land back to Mr. Jap, he could have sold part of the road frontage right away and then Adam’s land would have been less valuable. No sixty thousand for him. ”

That argument thankfully ended when a car turned into the drive over beyond the house and circled around through the yard to park a few yards behind me.

By tilting my watch to the headlights, I saw it was closer to ten minutes than the five Merrilee had promised. I also saw that she’d sent Pete instead of coming herself.

I might have known. All she needed to do was pout a little about having to go traipsing up to Uncle Jap’s shop and good ol’ Pete would insist upon coming for her, anything to save Merrilee the least bit of aggravation.

Automatically, I pulled my keys from the ignition and met him at the shop door.

“Sorry to drag you out,” I apologized, “but Dwight Bryant said Adam and Allen were here together yesterday afternoon and since nobody’s seen them again—”

“It’s okay,” Pete said. “I don’t blame you for worrying. If Allen and Adam got to fussing, no telling what might happen. Allen used to be worse’n me for drinking and then getting in fights.”

He opened the padlock and left it hanging on the staple. Inside, we found the light switch and lit up the shabby old shop. Beer cans littered the workbench and floor beside two broken-down chairs, but there was nothing to indicate a fight of any kind.

“That Adam’s rifle?” asked Pete, pointing to the .22 propped against the old air compressor.

“Actually, it’s Zach’s.” And I was really glad to see it. “I’ve been worrying that he was lying out in the woods somewhere in a hunting accident.”

“Still could be,” said Pete. “Allen could have brought the rifle back and then took off in Adam’s car.”

“And Dwight did say Sutterly was shot with a small-bore weapon,” I said reluctantly. “Maybe I’d better leave it here till we know better. There might be fingerprints.”

“I hear Billy Wall’s out on bail. Don’t you reckon he killed Dick Sutterly, too?”

I suppose I could have told him. It would be all over this end of the county by next day anyhow, but I just shook my head.

“Sure he did,” said Pete. “He killed Uncle Jap, stole his money, and then he probably shot Dick Sutterly because Dick saw him here.”

“I grant you that’s probably why Sutterly was shot, but not by Billy Wall. Sutterly was up and down all the lanes Saturday. He must’ve seen—”

My mouth was in gear but my brain was on idle. I hesitated, abruptly made uneasy by something feral in the way Pete had gone absolutely still and unblinking, like a cat that suspects a vole beneath the leaves. And just as abruptly, I remembered how he’d tried to prevent Merrilee from coming in here that morning. “Aw, now, honey,”