Father Knows Death Part 25

Butch seemed to enjoy his role as kind of a bully. I thought that joining a motorcycle club probably only empowered his sense of worth. And if he really was that hung up on Susan, he seemed like he was more than capable of hurting someone.

"So he decided he was just gonna leave, since I wouldn't," Butch said. "So I followed him here to the fairgrounds."

"What did you do to him?" Susan said, her hands on her cheeks.

Butch chuckled. "Well, it was sort of an accident. He wouldn't listen to me. I tried to get him to listen to me. For you, Susan. I tried to talk to him for you."

Susan was crying now, tears running over her hands, which were plastered to her cheeks. For the first time, I felt a little sorry for her.

"I gave him a little shove," Butch said. "And he didn't really like that. And, then, when he took a swing at me, I shoved him a little harder."

Susan sobbed quietly, her cries echoing up the stairs of the grandstand, and I didn't say anything.

Butch shuffled his feet. "He sorta hit his head-on a brick-and didn't get up."

"He was dead?"

Butch hesitated, then nodded.

"So you just put him in the freezer?" I asked.

He hesitated, then nodded again. "Didn't really know what else to do with him."

"Call the police," I said. "Or an ambulance. Nine-one-one would cover all your bases. He took a swing at you. You could've claimed self-defense."

"Yeah, those didn't occur to me," he said, shrugging.

Clearly.

"And let's face it," Butch said. "I pushed him. I knew it would come out about me and Susan. I knew what it would look like. Putting him in the freezer seemed like the right thing to do."

That was something I never expected to hear anyone on the planet say.

"And you knew eventually I'd get to Susan," I said.

Butch chuckled again. "Well, I saw the opportunity to push you that way."

He certainly had and I'd let him do it. He'd subtly pointed me in her direction and I had strolled right down that path. I'd jumped to conclusions and a.s.sumptions and it had put me right at the end of a handgun.

Well done.

49.

Butch moved Susan and me to the bottom of the grandstand at the far end of the arena, farther away from the gate, the gun still trained on us.

"So now what?" I asked.

"Good question," he said, rubbing his chin. "I can't just trust you to keep your mouths shut."

"Oh, I will!" Susan said. "I won't say anything!"

He rolled his eyes. "Right. That'll happen right about never."

"So then what?" I said.

I wanted to figure out what I was dealing with and also buy some more time. So far, I was getting the time, but nothing was coming into my head as to how to save Susan and myself. Butch may have killed George, but it did seem to be accidental to me. So maybe he wasn't ready to deliberately kill anyone.

"Well, I gotta figure out where to put your bodies," he said, his mouth twisted in thought.

Or, maybe he was.

Susan let out a loud whimper.

At the far end of the arena, I could see movement behind the fence, but I wasn't sure who or what it was. I tried not to look, because I didn't want Butch to turn around. He wasn't close enough for me to leap at him if his attention was diverted elsewhere. I needed to just keep him occupied.

"You think you can just shoot us and get rid of us and no one will know?" I asked. "Butch, the entire town saw me on the back of your bike at the parade. I mean, you spoke to my wife and arranged a ride for her. People aren't going to just forget that. It ties you directly to me."

He thought hard for a moment, temporarily stumped. Then a slow grin spread across his wide face. "I can make it look like Susan did it. Everyone also saw her leave. I tried to help, but she knew you were asking too many questions and, since she killed George, she figured she had to off you." His grin grew wider. "Then I found her with the gun, we struggled, and the gun went off." He snapped the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding the gun. "Bingo!"

I hated to say it, but that actually sounded like a decent plan. He could probably come up with someone who knew about Susan and George, so he could make that connection. And people had seen me talking with Susan.

Butch was actually turning out to be smarter than I'd antic.i.p.ated, and that was a problem. I really wanted to see my wife and daughter again, and my new child for the first time. I did not want to die at the fair.

There was more movement behind the fence. I tried not to look at it.

"People will hear the gunshots," I said. "And then you'll have to move our bodies. Gonna be tough to do when everyone starts pouring into the fairgrounds here soon."

His grin faded. He hadn't considered that and it was a roadblock in his grand plan.

The gate at the end of the arena started to move. Quietly.

"Look, if you go to the authorities now," I said, "you can tell them it was an accident. If you kill us, there's no going back. There's no way out. Don't make it worse for yourself, Butch."

"I appreciate the offer to help, Deuce," Butch said. "But I don't think your TV movie of the week logic is gonna work for all of us." He smiled. "I got a truck. I'll figure out a way to get your bodies out of here. I'm sure it'll work out."

Susan whimpered again.

"Your brothers in the Petal Dawgs know you killed George?" I asked, reaching for what I figured was the final straw.

Butch's face darkened. "No. They do not."

"I don't think they'd like the fact that you hurt one of your own," I said. "You told me something like that."

"Which is why they can't ever know," he said, the lines in his forehead thick and deep. "I'd be removed from the brotherhood. Forever."

The gate at the far end was almost open. I could see what was there.

Salvation.

But I needed to keep Butch occupied.

I slid in front of Susan, obscuring her view of the gate. I didn't want her to give anything away.

I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket. "Too late, Butch."

He looked at me, confused. "Too late? For what?"

"I've recorded all of this," I lied, holding up the phone. "Everything you've just said? I've got it."

His eyes locked onto me, processing my words. "Give me the phone."

"No," I said. "Let us go and I'll delete it. You can handle the murder how you want. Tell everyone it was an accident or something. But you've got to let us go."

"Not gonna happen."

I shrugged. "Okay. Your choice. I'm sending this now to several people." I made a show of tapping on the phone.

Butch hesitated, then started walking quickly in my direction. "Gimme the phone, Deuce."

"Too late, Butch," I said, shaking my head. "I'm sending it now. I gave you a chance."

He took several more steps toward me and leveled the gun at me. "Then it's too late for you."

And then a tidal wave hit.

50.

Water streamed from one of the hoses inside the paper-mache Earth, knocking Butch to the ground. Victor held the hose steady and Butch rolled farther away in the mud of the arena floor, the gun now lying in a ma.s.sive puddle.

I leapt over the railing, splashed down in the mud puddle, and grabbed the soaking wet gun. The water stream shut off and I aimed the gun at a coughing and dripping Butch.

"You got him?" Victor yelled from inside the Earth.

"Got him."

He said something to the driver of the pickup and they pulled forward, toward us. The driver pulled around so that the Earth came up next to me.

"Cops are on their way," Victor said, laying the hose down.

"How'd you know?"

"I got your voice mail," he said. "Thanks for waking me up, by the way. I was napping. I got to the parade and saw all the chaos. And your wife, on the back of a motorcycle."

I had a moment of panic, wondering if it was all some sort of elaborate setup and Julianne was in danger. But I quickly ruled that out. Butch had made it clear that he'd acted alone and no one knew what he'd done.

"She told me that you'd taken off toward the fairgrounds," he said. "I got over here and peeked through the fence. Saw you there and decided I liked you better alive than dead." He motioned at the truck. "They were coming through the grounds and I commandeered them."

"Commandeered?"

"Okay, I saw the kid driving the truck and a hose hanging over the back and paid him fifty bucks," he said. "By the way, you owe me fifty bucks."

"Noted."

"I'm a.s.suming there's a good reason that dude was holding you at gunpoint?"

I quickly explained to him what had happened and what I'd learned from Butch's confession.

Victor shook his head. "Man, I was sure that old woman was the one. She fooled me."

I nodded. Butch had caught me by surprise. He'd never been on my list. Even though I hadn't known anything about his relationship with Susan, I'd overlooked him. That night at the board meeting, the way he'd gone after the board, I'd pegged him as a good guy, a guy who was on the same side as me.

Wrong.

Deuce Winters, failed detective.

I shielded my eyes from the blazing sun with my hand. "Can you handle this? I need to get to . . ."

"The hospital," Victor said. "Was wondering if you'd get around to remembering about that." He hopped down out of the truck and pointed at the driver. "You get this guy to the hospital and there's fifty more bucks in it for you. Interested?"

The driver grinned. "For sure."

Victor glanced at Butch, who was still on his back in the mud, a resigned expression on his wet, muddy face. Susan was sitting still on the bleachers, sobbing her eyes out. "Yeah, I can handle these two. Go."

"Thanks, Victor," I said, handing him the gun and climbing into the truck. "For everything."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, frowning. "I'm the best."

As the pickup roared out of the dirt arena, I wasn't about to tell him that he was, but I silently agreed.

51.