Dead Broke in Jarrett Creek: A Samuel Craddock Mystery (Samuel Craddock Mysteries) by Terry Shames
Authors: Terry Shames
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the truth. When I ask Oscar, he reaches under the bar and pulls out a shotgun I’ve seen him brandish a couple of times. “This 12-gauge is all I need. Makes people nervous when they see a shotgun staring at them.”
I’m not due to meet Bill Odum back at headquarters for another hour, so I have time to corner Slate McClusky. I hope I don’t run into Angel again, but when I ring the doorbell, there’s no answer at all.
I’m turning to leave when a horn toots. Truly Bennett pulls to the curb and climbs out of his pickup, which is even older than mine. Truly and I go way back to when I was chief of police and got him out of some trouble. He is widely respected in the county for his ability to deal with livestock. If there’s such a thing as a cow whisperer, it’s Truly. Cattlemen often hire him to move their cows to auction or to help buy stock. He’s a good judge of cows and seems to know instinctively if there’s something wrong with one. When I had to be away for several days for knee surgery, I left Truly in charge of my cows and didn’t worry about them for one minute.
“Good to see you, Chief Craddock. What are you up to?”
“I guess you heard they’ve got me back at work.”
“I did hear that. Seems it’s all to the good for the rest of us.”
After we shake hands he goes around to the back of his pickup and lowers the tailgate. He takes out a ladder and lays it on the sidewalk.
“You heard that Gary Dellmore was murdered?” I say.
“Yes, sir. I didn’t know Mr. Dellmore, but then I don’t have a lot of use for banks.” He continues to work as we talk, pulling out paint cans, brushes, and tarps and setting them on the sidewalk.
“What are you up to?”
“You know I do a little painting on the side when the cattle business is slow, and Mr. McClusky hired me to repaint the east side of his house while they’re gone.” He points to the house. “The east side always gets a lot stronger sunlight and needs painting a little more often.”
“Gone? When are they leaving?”
“Nobody was here when I got here this morning, so I guess they already left.”
“Do you know where they were going?”
He scratches his head. “I’m not sure. He hired me last week and said they’d be out of here by today and I should get started.”
“Did he say how long he’d be gone?”
“No, sir.”
Now why didn’t Angel tell me yesterday that she and Slate were leaving today? I don’t know whether it’s suspicious or if she was simply careless.
Truly grins as I help him with the last of the cans. “Looks like that operation you had turned out okay. You’re moving around pretty good.”
“Should have done it a lot earlier. Stubborn.”
I go next door to find out if anybody knows where the McCluskys have gone. Nobody is home at the big house next door, and the house on the other side has been vacant since Scooter Jefferson died. But across the street Camille Overton is home and invites me in for a cup of coffee. She’s a tall, brisk woman with a ready smile. According to Loretta, Camille is a force in the Baptist Church ladies’ group.
“Usually I’d take you up on the coffee, Camille, but I’m a little pressed for time. Do you have any idea where Angel and Slate have gone?”
She peers across the street. “I don’t have my glasses on. Who is that man in their yard?”
“That’s Truly Bennett. He’s doing some painting for McClusky.”
“Oh, that’s all right then. Angel called me last night. She was supposed to come over this morning, but said she and Slate were going out to the resort for a few days. They left early this morning.”
“Do you happen to know their phone number out there?”
“Yes, I do. Let me get it for you.”
She’s back in a few minutes with a slip of paper with two phone numbers on it. She points to one of the numbers. “That second one is Angel’s cell phone. She said the phone might not be working out at the resort, and if anything comes up I
I’m not due to meet Bill Odum back at headquarters for another hour, so I have time to corner Slate McClusky. I hope I don’t run into Angel again, but when I ring the doorbell, there’s no answer at all.
I’m turning to leave when a horn toots. Truly Bennett pulls to the curb and climbs out of his pickup, which is even older than mine. Truly and I go way back to when I was chief of police and got him out of some trouble. He is widely respected in the county for his ability to deal with livestock. If there’s such a thing as a cow whisperer, it’s Truly. Cattlemen often hire him to move their cows to auction or to help buy stock. He’s a good judge of cows and seems to know instinctively if there’s something wrong with one. When I had to be away for several days for knee surgery, I left Truly in charge of my cows and didn’t worry about them for one minute.
“Good to see you, Chief Craddock. What are you up to?”
“I guess you heard they’ve got me back at work.”
“I did hear that. Seems it’s all to the good for the rest of us.”
After we shake hands he goes around to the back of his pickup and lowers the tailgate. He takes out a ladder and lays it on the sidewalk.
“You heard that Gary Dellmore was murdered?” I say.
“Yes, sir. I didn’t know Mr. Dellmore, but then I don’t have a lot of use for banks.” He continues to work as we talk, pulling out paint cans, brushes, and tarps and setting them on the sidewalk.
“What are you up to?”
“You know I do a little painting on the side when the cattle business is slow, and Mr. McClusky hired me to repaint the east side of his house while they’re gone.” He points to the house. “The east side always gets a lot stronger sunlight and needs painting a little more often.”
“Gone? When are they leaving?”
“Nobody was here when I got here this morning, so I guess they already left.”
“Do you know where they were going?”
He scratches his head. “I’m not sure. He hired me last week and said they’d be out of here by today and I should get started.”
“Did he say how long he’d be gone?”
“No, sir.”
Now why didn’t Angel tell me yesterday that she and Slate were leaving today? I don’t know whether it’s suspicious or if she was simply careless.
Truly grins as I help him with the last of the cans. “Looks like that operation you had turned out okay. You’re moving around pretty good.”
“Should have done it a lot earlier. Stubborn.”
I go next door to find out if anybody knows where the McCluskys have gone. Nobody is home at the big house next door, and the house on the other side has been vacant since Scooter Jefferson died. But across the street Camille Overton is home and invites me in for a cup of coffee. She’s a tall, brisk woman with a ready smile. According to Loretta, Camille is a force in the Baptist Church ladies’ group.
“Usually I’d take you up on the coffee, Camille, but I’m a little pressed for time. Do you have any idea where Angel and Slate have gone?”
She peers across the street. “I don’t have my glasses on. Who is that man in their yard?”
“That’s Truly Bennett. He’s doing some painting for McClusky.”
“Oh, that’s all right then. Angel called me last night. She was supposed to come over this morning, but said she and Slate were going out to the resort for a few days. They left early this morning.”
“Do you happen to know their phone number out there?”
“Yes, I do. Let me get it for you.”
She’s back in a few minutes with a slip of paper with two phone numbers on it. She points to one of the numbers. “That second one is Angel’s cell phone. She said the phone might not be working out at the resort, and if anything comes up I
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