Clements jerked the Jeep onto the shoulder and began slipping past the semi on the right, picking up speed. The three vehicles were approaching a long leftward curve now, and Garza eased into the left lane to see if he could pass the semi. The road was clear for several hundred yards-except for a broken-down truck on the right shoulder, directly in Clements’s path. With the way the road curved, and the semi’s large load, Marlin knew Clements couldn’t see what lay ahead.
Garza and the driver of the semi both spotted the imminent disaster and reacted: Garza pushed firmly on his brakes and put some distance between the cruiser and the semi. The semi began to drift over into the left lane to give Clements a chance to see the truck in his path.
But it was simply too late-and Clements was going too fast now.
He finally spotted the truck and tried to accelerate and cut back in front of the semi. He almost made it, but he clipped the rear of the broken-down truck in an explosion of glass, and began to spin. The rotating Cherokee careened across the highway, bounced off a guardrail, and finally came to a stop in the middle of the highway.
But now Clements was sitting broadside in the path of the semi.
The driver was standing on his brakes, leaving trails of black rubber. Marlin winced: He could see Clements’s terrified face as the semi closed in on the driver’s-side door.
The semi finally began to lose its momentum and drop some speed. It was traveling no more than five miles an hour when it thumped into the Cherokee and pushed it for ten yards down the highway. But the sight of that massive metal grille closing in on him made Maynard Clements pass out cold.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
By the time Marlin and Garza arrived at Blanco County Hospital, deputies were executing a search warrant on Clements’s home and property.
The small hospital was quiet, as usual, but Marlin could sense a buzz of excitement among the staff. Rumors had already spread about Clements’s involvement in the Gammel homicide.
Marlin and Garza proceeded to room 107, where they found Deputy Ernie Turpin posted at the door, as Garza had requested. Garza asked him for details.
“Couple of busted ribs, is all,” Turpin said. “I been poking my head in there every few minutes. He’s awake-I know that much-but not responsive to the doctors. They don’t know if it’s shock or what.”
Inside, Marlin and Garza found Maynard Clements lying quietly, staring upward. His eyes moved in their direction as they entered, then continued to study the ceiling.
Garza pulled a chair up next to the bed, and Marlin hung back behind him.
After a few moments of silence, Garza said, “Maynard?”
Clements gave a small nod.
Garza pulled a small tape recorder from his breast pocket and hit the RECORD button. “Maynard, I’m going to record this conversation, okay?”
In a weak voice, Clements said, “I understand.”
“Now, I’m going to read you your rights, just so we’re clear on what the situation is here.”
Clements didn’t respond.
Garza recited the Miranda warning from memory, then asked Clements if he understood. Maynard gave another small nod.
“Please answer aloud, Maynard.”
“I understand my rights,” Clements whispered.
Garza let a few minutes pass, then quietly said, “Maynard, my deputies are searching your home right now. Your Cherokee, too. All your possessions. I’ve got a pretty good feeling they’re going to find evidence tying you to the death of Bert Gammel.”
Marlin noticed Garza had said “death” rather than “murder.”
Garza continued: “See, no matter how clever you think you are, there’s always something you leave behind. A tire track or a shoe print. Maybe a puddle of tobacco juice. That means DNA evidence, which is almost impossible to beat.”
Clements gave Garza a quick glance, then went right back to looking at the ceiling.
Garza stopped for a moment and crossed his legs. “You grew up here, Maynard, so you know how the people are. You know the kinds of sentences juries come back with. And I’ll be honest with you, Maynard: The district attorney is gonna go for broke on this one-because everything points toward Murder One. You understand what I’m saying to you here?”
Clements squeezed his eyes shut.
“But…” Garza took a small pause. “A confession could go a long way toward helping you out. The only thing the D.A. likes better than a guilty verdict is getting a guilty verdict without having to go to trial. If he can avoid-”
“I did it,” Clements croaked-so quietly Marlin almost missed it.
Marlin felt a charge of adrenaline travel through him, a rush of excitement unlike any he had felt in years. But he struggled to remain perfectly still-like a hunter standing among a herd of deer who haven’t sensed his presence-afraid that any movement would spook Clements back into silence.
“I know you did,” Garza said softly. “Tell me about it.”
Tears sprang from the corners of Clements’s eyes and ran down his temples. Garza passed him a tissue, which Maynard accepted with his left hand, grimacing in pain.
“It’s just like Marlin said: He was bribed, and so was I. But then it all went wrong.”
Clements quit speaking then, for so long that Marlin wondered whether he had changed his mind about confessing. Marlin followed Garza’s lead and simply waited.
Clements seemed almost unaware of the men in the room, as if he were talking to himself, when he finally continued, in a whisper: “We each got twenty thousand dollars in cash. We agreed to lie low for a while, not spend any of the money, until we were sure we weren’t gonna get caught. But Bert couldn’t do it. He got cocky, started showing off with the money…buying things, like that Explorer. He’d flash the money around, acting like a big shot.”
A nurse peeked her head in the door, offered a quizzical look, and Marlin shook his head at her. The door slipped shut quietly behind her.
“Then what happened?” Garza asked gently.
“We had arguments about it. Several times. He said I was paranoid, that we were home free.” Clements’s face contorted in despair. “Then he tried to blackmail me. Said he wanted my share of the money or he’d go to the cops and tell them it was all my idea, that he had nothing to do with it. He double-crossed me.”
Clements paused again.
“I can understand your frustration, Maynard,” Garza said. “What’d you do about it?”
Clements wiped his eyes. “I shot him. I set up near his deer blind…and then I shot him.”
Garza nodded and asked Maynard if he wanted anything to drink. Maynard shook his head. Garza then asked Maynard to give him a recap of the morning he had shot Gammel, and Clements complied.
He had driven onto the Bar T Ranch-next door to the deer lease where Gammel hunted. He had picked a day when he knew the foreman at the Bar T would be out of town at a cattle auction. In the early afternoon, he found a good spot under a cedar tree. Then he waited for Bert Gammel to show up. He didn’t bring any cigarettes because of the telltale smoke-and he was trying to quit anyway. But he was so nervous he needed something. So he had chewed some tobacco. “Guess that stuff
Garza asked a few more questions until he had the full story. Then he went back to the bribery.
“What did you receive payment for, Maynard-you and Bert? What was the money for?”
An expression of pure shame crossed Clements’s face. “To look the other way on some concrete that didn’t meet code. The builder wanted to use a lower grade and pass it off as spec. To save a bunch of money.”
“Who was the builder?” Garza prodded.
