A Purple Place for Dying Read Online Free Page B
Author: John D. MacDonald
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Hard-Boiled
the trots. She'll get over it, he says. And Mona knows well enough that she could never get so far Jass couldn't have her brought back, and give her a good whipping when he gets her back. She's just got a little passing case of the hot pants, McGee. Now what were we supposed to do? Spend a week crawling all over this up and down country looking for a body that isn't there? You did good, McGee. You had me almost believing you. You know, this is the sort of thing they tell me her daddy, old Cube Fox, used to pull, only he did it better."
"You're not making any sense, Sheriff."
"I'll tell you what makes sense. She's got foolish friends who would try to pry her loose from Jass Yeoman. That little car is stuffed off in the brush someplace. She and her teacher are hightailing it out of here by now. She's scared of Jass and she wanted to get the best head start she could. If we thought her dead, it might give her another week to get hid good and take the edge off that case of hot pants. But it doesn't work. Soon as we get down to the car I'll get hold of Jass. Eight to five he has her right back home tomorrow or the next day. And she'll be eating off high places for two weeks once he gets through welting that fancy tail of hers. What are you anyhow? Some kind of actor friend from her New York days?"
"Are you a good Sheriff?"
His eyes went small. "It isn't an elective office in this county."
"It shouldn't be an elective office anywhere. Amen to that. So think like a good law man. If that was the scheme, where is the trimming?"
"What?"
"If it was a cute trick, wouldn't anybody with a grain of sense plant some kind of misleading evidence? Animal blood. Some sign of a struggle. A button off her clothes. Something, for God's sake, to make it look better."
Little ripples of muscle ran along the line of that square jaw. "I can play that game too. Maybe no evidence makes it look better because you'd then be able to say what you just said."
"That's like the game of guessing which hand the pebble is in. I know one thing, Sheriff. I saw her go down. We can play a lot of guessing games. But I saw her dead."
He shook his head. "I don't want to be hard on a man trying to do a favor for a friend. I could book you for malicious mischief, I guess. Next time I see Miz Yeoman, I'll tell her you gave it a good try."
"Do you have good lab people?"
"Got the use of them, McGee. We got a central CID for the neighboring ten counties."
"Why don't you turn them loose around here?"
"Don't give up, do you? There's no need for that. We'll have a line on that pair by midnight. From here they run one of three ways. Vegas, Mexico or New York. Old Jass will reach out a great long arm with a little snap hook on the end of it and he will pull her right back home. Come on. Let's get out of here." We went out into the late slant of October sunlight, soon to slide behind the big mountains far beyond Esmerelda.
"The way I see it, it's Jass's fault," he said. "He let her range too far and wide before he brought her back and tried to settle her down. She could have got all the education she ever needed within fifty mile of home, and that's the way it would have been for her if Cube lived. But I guess Jass wanted her fancied up."
We all trudged back down to the cars. I heard Homer and Dave muttering to each other, snickering from time to time. Everybody seemed to be so damned certain of everything, I decided not to send them up that rock slide to find the place where somebody had planted the charge to blow it down.
Sheriff Buckelberry sent Homer and Dave back onto patrol. He called in and asked his communications to give him a phone hookup to Jasper Yeoman, then changed his mind. "Too many unauthorized people tuned in on this net," he explained to me. "No need to start them all laughing."
"If I had to guess the weapon," I said, "I would say about a.44 Magnum. If a man had taken a full swing with an eight-pound sledge and hit her right between the shoulders,
"You're not making any sense, Sheriff."
"I'll tell you what makes sense. She's got foolish friends who would try to pry her loose from Jass Yeoman. That little car is stuffed off in the brush someplace. She and her teacher are hightailing it out of here by now. She's scared of Jass and she wanted to get the best head start she could. If we thought her dead, it might give her another week to get hid good and take the edge off that case of hot pants. But it doesn't work. Soon as we get down to the car I'll get hold of Jass. Eight to five he has her right back home tomorrow or the next day. And she'll be eating off high places for two weeks once he gets through welting that fancy tail of hers. What are you anyhow? Some kind of actor friend from her New York days?"
"Are you a good Sheriff?"
His eyes went small. "It isn't an elective office in this county."
"It shouldn't be an elective office anywhere. Amen to that. So think like a good law man. If that was the scheme, where is the trimming?"
"What?"
"If it was a cute trick, wouldn't anybody with a grain of sense plant some kind of misleading evidence? Animal blood. Some sign of a struggle. A button off her clothes. Something, for God's sake, to make it look better."
Little ripples of muscle ran along the line of that square jaw. "I can play that game too. Maybe no evidence makes it look better because you'd then be able to say what you just said."
"That's like the game of guessing which hand the pebble is in. I know one thing, Sheriff. I saw her go down. We can play a lot of guessing games. But I saw her dead."
He shook his head. "I don't want to be hard on a man trying to do a favor for a friend. I could book you for malicious mischief, I guess. Next time I see Miz Yeoman, I'll tell her you gave it a good try."
"Do you have good lab people?"
"Got the use of them, McGee. We got a central CID for the neighboring ten counties."
"Why don't you turn them loose around here?"
"Don't give up, do you? There's no need for that. We'll have a line on that pair by midnight. From here they run one of three ways. Vegas, Mexico or New York. Old Jass will reach out a great long arm with a little snap hook on the end of it and he will pull her right back home. Come on. Let's get out of here." We went out into the late slant of October sunlight, soon to slide behind the big mountains far beyond Esmerelda.
"The way I see it, it's Jass's fault," he said. "He let her range too far and wide before he brought her back and tried to settle her down. She could have got all the education she ever needed within fifty mile of home, and that's the way it would have been for her if Cube lived. But I guess Jass wanted her fancied up."
We all trudged back down to the cars. I heard Homer and Dave muttering to each other, snickering from time to time. Everybody seemed to be so damned certain of everything, I decided not to send them up that rock slide to find the place where somebody had planted the charge to blow it down.
Sheriff Buckelberry sent Homer and Dave back onto patrol. He called in and asked his communications to give him a phone hookup to Jasper Yeoman, then changed his mind. "Too many unauthorized people tuned in on this net," he explained to me. "No need to start them all laughing."
"If I had to guess the weapon," I said, "I would say about a.44 Magnum. If a man had taken a full swing with an eight-pound sledge and hit her right between the shoulders,
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