The Blight Way by Patrick F. McManus Page B

on his head were combed over from ear to ear and glued to his scalp with some kind of spray. He wore clean striped overalls with a blue work shirt showing at the neck. “I think you’re right about that, Pap. Seems to me everything is going haywire these days.”
    â€œWhich brings me to the problem at hand,” Tullysaid, tugging on the corner of his mustache. “Deedee down at the café tells us that everyone in town knows about the killing out on the old mine road.”
    â€œReckon that’s true. I figure it takes maybe an hour for a newsbreak here at the station to reach everyone in town.”
    â€œNewsbreak?” Tully said. “I thought this was a gas station, not a radio station. Anyway, who dropped the word here?”
    â€œLem Scragg. There were three or four guys hanging around shooting the breeze when Lem come in and said there was a dead guy up at the ranch and he’d heard there were two more over at the Last Hope Mine Road. Next thing I know there was just Lem and me standing here. The others had gone to spread the word. Been a long time since we’ve had any decent news like that.”
    Pap said, “I figure the Scraggs had to be involved in this some way.”
    â€œI wouldn’t put it past any of the Scraggs,” Ed said.
    â€œBut if you guys said anything about it on the police radio, old Batim would have heard. He got himself a police scanner last year. Anymore, we get most of our police news through Batim.”
    â€œIt was Buck, I bet anything,” Pap said. “Probably blabbing everything over the radio.”
    â€œDoesn’t rule out the Scraggs being involved in this thing,” Tully said.
    â€œIt sure doesn’t,” Ed agreed.
    Tully said, “You hear anything, Ed, anything that might give us a lead into this mess, call my cell phone.”
    â€œSure. Hey, how come you brought Pap along?”
    â€œNot for his social amenities, that’s for sure,” Tully said. “Mostly, he knows quite a bit about Scraggs and murder.”
    â€œYep,” Pap agreed. “I got to admit, though, that this trip has pretty much satiated my appetite for both.”
    â€œMine, too,” Tully said. “I’ve got my Crime Scene Investigation Unit headed up here. A state patrolman’s guarding the site now. How long before the whole town knows that, Ed?”
    â€œTake about an hour. We do what we can with limited resources.”
    Tully and Pap went out and got in the Explorer.
    Pap rolled and lit another cigarette. Tully didn’t complain. It wouldn’t do him any good, anyway. The Explorer’s ashtray was already full.
    The old man said, “You know that orange fluorescent tape at the opening to the mining road? Well, whoever put that up was probably directing the boys in the Jeep into the ambush.”
    â€œYou may be right,” Tully said. “Otherwise it would be hard to spot that road entrance in the dark.”
    â€œThere might be a useful fingerprint on that tape,” Pap said.
    â€œWe should have cut it down. Thanks for telling me now.”
    That’s why he had brought the old man along. Tully couldn’t believe his own stupidity, except he had been a bit overloaded. He braked hard, made a bootlegger’s turn on the highway, and headed back through Famine toward the old mine road. Details! he thought. I hate the details.
    The radio squawked. It was Florence, the 911 operator, back at the office. “We got the local press here demanding we tell it what’s going on.”
    He pressed the talk button. “Copy, Florence. Thanks. Put Barney on.”
    Barney’s voice came over the radio.
    â€œHi, Bo!”
    â€œHi, Barney. What do you need to know?”
    â€œWe heard you had a murder up there at Famine. Eliot won’t tell me anything.”
    â€œThat’s what Eliot is supposed to do, not tell you anything. We had three murders in fact. But I can’t