Ollie scratched his head. “Your dad?”
“Yes, Ollie. My dad . Remember him? Grady Dunham, town drunk?” I stuck my hand out about the level of my eyebrows, about five foot six. “Maybe yea so high.”
“Hey, hey.” Ollie actually waggled his finger at me. “No need to be sharp about it. Matter of fact, I haven’t seen your dad in weeks.”
This was very odd. “I just got a call from Deputy Morgan that my dad was being held down here. Isn’t that him back there?”
“No,” said Ollie. “It’s old Johann Strait. What would I be holding your dad for anyway?”
“Assault.” If Ollie didn’t know whose arm Dad had broken, I wasn’t going to tell him.
“Now why would a Sheriff’s Deputy bring someone into the city police station on an assault charge? They would have taken him to El Dorado to see the judge, or at least dumped him in the county lock-up there.” El Dorado was the county seat, a tender subject as Augusta was the original seat of Butler County. “You been drinking, Vernon?”
“Ah, no. But why would Deputy Morgan tell me he was being held here?” My stomach dropped to somewhere around my knees, as I suddenly felt dizzy. It was the missing envelope. Could the whole telephone call have been a set up? My gosh, was I a prize stooge.
“How do you know he was with the Sheriff’s Department?” asked Ollie. “I don’t know of any Deputy Morgan over there.”
“Well, he told me on the telephone he was a Deputy.” That sounded stupid as soon as I said it. But it wasn’t like I could have asked him to hold his badge up close to the handset.
“Hey,” said Ollie reasonably, “Anybody can use the telephone. It’s a free country. I could call you up and say I’m the governor. How would you know the difference?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” I muttered glumly. I mulled things over. I should go over to the house and see if Dad was home. I didn’t really want to talk with him, but I needed to know where he was and what, if anything, had happened to him. Nobody but me cared about Dad anymore. I was all he had — a sad comment on both me and the old man.
One more thing occurred to me. “Ollie, you ever hear of an Army captain named...ah...Marcus. No, Markowicz. Yeah, Markowicz. Know anything about him?”
Ollie got a funny look on his face, and glanced around the little office as if to see if anyone was listening from behind the file cabinet. “He was in here today asking questions about your buddy, Floyd Bellamy.”
That couldn’t possibly be good news, no matter how I tried to stretch it. “What kind of questions?”
Ollie looked even more uncomfortable. “I can’t rightly say. Military stuff. You know.” His tone of voice reminded me that he and Floyd had served our country, brothers-in-arms even while they were across the world from each other. I, the town gimp, had stayed home safe and warm with all the girls.
I tried again. “Tell me this. Is Floyd in trouble? Or is this something else, maybe a background investigation?” Floyd or no Floyd, my aircraft was in danger. I could smell it coming.
Ollie scratched his head again and stared down at the gum wrappers on his desk. “Take some advice, Vernon. Stay away from Floyd Bellamy for a few days. I know you’ve been palling around with him more than usual lately.” Still not meeting my eye, he raised his hand as if to stop traffic, or maybe wave me off. “I didn’t say nothing to the Army investigators, but your name is gonna come up if they keep asking around. I don’t know, you might ought to take a business trip to Kansas City or something. Augusta probably isn’t the best place for you right now.”
Ollie folded his arms and finally met my eye, giving me his best cop stare. The interview was over. I’d probably already learned more than I was really supposed to know.
“Thanks, Ollie,” I said. “I appreciate it.” I made an effort to sound like I meant that, covering my anger and confusion.
I
“Yes, Ollie. My dad . Remember him? Grady Dunham, town drunk?” I stuck my hand out about the level of my eyebrows, about five foot six. “Maybe yea so high.”
“Hey, hey.” Ollie actually waggled his finger at me. “No need to be sharp about it. Matter of fact, I haven’t seen your dad in weeks.”
This was very odd. “I just got a call from Deputy Morgan that my dad was being held down here. Isn’t that him back there?”
“No,” said Ollie. “It’s old Johann Strait. What would I be holding your dad for anyway?”
“Assault.” If Ollie didn’t know whose arm Dad had broken, I wasn’t going to tell him.
“Now why would a Sheriff’s Deputy bring someone into the city police station on an assault charge? They would have taken him to El Dorado to see the judge, or at least dumped him in the county lock-up there.” El Dorado was the county seat, a tender subject as Augusta was the original seat of Butler County. “You been drinking, Vernon?”
“Ah, no. But why would Deputy Morgan tell me he was being held here?” My stomach dropped to somewhere around my knees, as I suddenly felt dizzy. It was the missing envelope. Could the whole telephone call have been a set up? My gosh, was I a prize stooge.
“How do you know he was with the Sheriff’s Department?” asked Ollie. “I don’t know of any Deputy Morgan over there.”
“Well, he told me on the telephone he was a Deputy.” That sounded stupid as soon as I said it. But it wasn’t like I could have asked him to hold his badge up close to the handset.
“Hey,” said Ollie reasonably, “Anybody can use the telephone. It’s a free country. I could call you up and say I’m the governor. How would you know the difference?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” I muttered glumly. I mulled things over. I should go over to the house and see if Dad was home. I didn’t really want to talk with him, but I needed to know where he was and what, if anything, had happened to him. Nobody but me cared about Dad anymore. I was all he had — a sad comment on both me and the old man.
One more thing occurred to me. “Ollie, you ever hear of an Army captain named...ah...Marcus. No, Markowicz. Yeah, Markowicz. Know anything about him?”
Ollie got a funny look on his face, and glanced around the little office as if to see if anyone was listening from behind the file cabinet. “He was in here today asking questions about your buddy, Floyd Bellamy.”
That couldn’t possibly be good news, no matter how I tried to stretch it. “What kind of questions?”
Ollie looked even more uncomfortable. “I can’t rightly say. Military stuff. You know.” His tone of voice reminded me that he and Floyd had served our country, brothers-in-arms even while they were across the world from each other. I, the town gimp, had stayed home safe and warm with all the girls.
I tried again. “Tell me this. Is Floyd in trouble? Or is this something else, maybe a background investigation?” Floyd or no Floyd, my aircraft was in danger. I could smell it coming.
Ollie scratched his head again and stared down at the gum wrappers on his desk. “Take some advice, Vernon. Stay away from Floyd Bellamy for a few days. I know you’ve been palling around with him more than usual lately.” Still not meeting my eye, he raised his hand as if to stop traffic, or maybe wave me off. “I didn’t say nothing to the Army investigators, but your name is gonna come up if they keep asking around. I don’t know, you might ought to take a business trip to Kansas City or something. Augusta probably isn’t the best place for you right now.”
Ollie folded his arms and finally met my eye, giving me his best cop stare. The interview was over. I’d probably already learned more than I was really supposed to know.
“Thanks, Ollie,” I said. “I appreciate it.” I made an effort to sound like I meant that, covering my anger and confusion.
I
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