The Cold Dreary Days of Misty Valley A Wife's Quest for Justice: Philip R. Jordon by Philip R. Jordon

Author:Philip R. Jordon [Jordon, Philip R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-08T05:00:00+00:00

“I believe ‘im,” Wiley affirms to the others. “We didn’t find no blood at his place when we went to pick ‘im up fer

questionin’.”

“Or on his clothes neither,” Skeeter volunteers.

“Right,” Wiley nods.

“So that should clear me of any wrong, sheriff,” Charles suggests. “Not so fast; not necessarily, Charles,” Wiley warns. “For all we knows, you coulda done a real thorough job of cleanin’ up the evidence.”

“If you think I did, sheriff,” Charles reasons, “then why wasn’t the truck all cleaned up?”

“Well, you coulda run outa time and run home,” Skeeter surmises.

“O.K., Skeeter, that’s ‘nough,” Wiley calms him. “What we want ta find out is whose blood is in the truck.” “An’ onit too,” Skeeter adds.

“That’s right,” Wiley nods.

“How’re ya gonna find that out?” Russ seeks to answer.

“We got a expert comin’ down here from Asheville,” Skeeter reveals, “who’ll use DNA testin’ to identify the party to whom the blood belongs.”

Skeeter blushes, wondering if he made a grammatical error. “In the meantime, Charles,” Wiley recommends, “I’d advise ya not ta leave the county fer a couple a days til we get to the bottom of this troublin’ si’cheration.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sheriff,” Charles reassures him. “Good,” he concurs. “Now I ‘preciate ya’ll sittin’ here a spell so’s we can hash this out an’ try ta ‘rive at a proper conclusion,” Wiley tells them all.

“If that’s all for now, sheriff,” Charles relates, “I gotta get back to work.”

“Shore,” he replies, “but stay available if I need ta speak wit’cha some more.” “I will, sheriff.”

“Thanks, you can go.”

“Thank you, sheriff.”

“Sorry ‘bout yer truck, Charles,” Dave regrets, “Hope ever’thin’ turns out well fer ya.”

“Thanks, Dave.” Charles gets up quickly and starts to leave by the shop door. Russ watches him and smiles, seeing that things are working out as he had planned. Earl and Clyde breathe a sigh of relief.

“Well, gentlemen,” Wiley announces and he and the rest arise, “I guess that’s it fer now. Ya got anythin’ ta add, Skeeter?”

“No, sheriff, ya covered it all.”

As each goes his own way, the sheriff turns to address them all:

“Oh, uh, fellahs, ain’t none o’ ya seen Will Hawkins the last couple o’days, have ya?”

They all stop and stand motionless, glancing at one another. The sheriff continues: “His wife Dee called an’ said he ain’t come home Saturday night. Does any of ya know where he might be?”

“He tol’ me he was comin’ in ta check on his car Friday night,” Dave answers. “Did any of ya boys see ‘im?” “Yeah,” Russ divulges, “he did come here but left right away, right Ray?” “That’s what happened.”

“How’d he feel ‘bout his car not bein’ ready?” Dave inquires.

Oh, he just ‘bout blew a gasket,” Russ replies, “when we tol’ ‘im it wouldn’t be ready fer at least a week.”

“Yeah, I knows,” Dave assents, “He was madder than a hornet when he called me on the phone too.” “Which one is his car?” the Sheriff asks as he scans the shop. “It’s that red Mercedes over yonder,” Dave reveals. “Pretty fancy, I’d say,” the Sheriff expresses admiringly.

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