Feast Day of Fools (Hackberry Holland 3)

He closed the book and placed it on his knee and stared out the window. Not far down the road, he could see a tree limb that had fallen across the telephone line that led to his house. Just as he got up to c

heck the phone, he saw a cruiser turn off the road into his drive, its emergency bar rippling, its siren off. Hackberry stepped out on the front porch and watched R. C. Bevins get out of the cruiser and walk toward him on the flagstones, his face somber. “You tried to call?” Hackberry said.

“Yes, sir, your phone’s out. Your cell must be off, too.”

“It’s in my truck. What is it, R.C.?”

“We’ve got a homicide at the Ling place. The victim appears to be Hispanic. From the exit wound in his head, I’d say somebody used a hollow-point. A ten-year-old girl had been left in Ms. Ling’s care and saw it all. When her mother came for her, she found the girl locked in a pantry. Ms. Ling is gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“From what the little girl said, there were six guys in masks. They took Ms. Ling and a friend of the dead man on a helicopter.”

“How long ago?”

“A couple of hours.”

“Did you print the victim?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get a priority with AFIS.”

“Pam is already on it. Who do you reckon are the guys with the chopper?”

“Josef Sholokoff’s people.”

“The little girl said the dead man and his friend spoke Spanish. She also said the friend had a pistol on one hip and a long knife on the other.”

“What else did she say about him?”

“She said he was tall and that he had funny shoulders. She said they were too wide, like he had a stick pushed sideways inside his shirt.”

“That’s Krill.”

“What would he be doing at Ms. Ling’s place?”

“I don’t have any idea, none at all.”

“You okay, Sheriff?”

“How long have you been trying to get me?”

“About fifteen minutes. There wasn’t no way you could know the line was down.”

“Was Ms. Ling hurt?”

“The little girl said a guy shoved her down. The same guy held a knife at the little girl’s throat. She said they all had gloves on, and the shooter called the dead man a greaseball. You think these are the same guys who crucified Cody Daniels?”

“What’s your opinion?”

R.C. scratched at his eyebrow. “I think we got a special breed on our hands,” he said. “I think all this is related to that Barnum boy we got locked in our jail. I’m not sure if we done the right thing on that.”

PAM TIBBS WAS waiting for Hackberry when he arrived at the jail. She was not wearing makeup, and there were circles under her eyes. “What do you want to do?” she asked.

“About what?” he said.

“Everything.”