Ричард Деминг - The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK®

By its sound he judged the car was now just beyond Indian Butte when he switched on the gas pumps. He knew it would stop, because cars coming from the east always did. Except for ranch houses, the Jollys’ filling station and General Store was the only sign of civilization for the 125 miles from Ripple City in that direction, and for the 65 miles to the nearest town west.

Headlights appeared from around the curve circling the butte just east of the store. The car slowed and swung into the filling station. It was a new but dust-laden four-door sedan with four men in it.

Bringing the car to a stop before the gas pump, the driver said, “Fill ’er up, Pop.”

The four men got out to stretch. They were all somewhere between 30 and 40 and all were dressed in darkly conservative business suits.

As Ed inserted the hose nozzle into the tank vent, the driver, a lean thin-faced man with a large nose, said, “How far’s Hooker’s Gap, Pop?”

“Sixty-five miles.”

The driver glanced at a wrist watch, then turned to a stocky man with heavy features and thick flat lips who had climbed from the back seat. “It’s not quite ten yet, Mark. We’ll be in well before midnight.”

The stocky man nodded. He said to Ed Jolly, “You’re really isolated out here, old-timer. How do you make a living?”

“Oh, a dozen or more cars a day take this toad,” Ed said. “Everyone stops, because there’s no place else to go. Most generally they have a drink or a snack besides buying gas, and a lot of them buy stuff from the store. We have a little grocery department, mainly for the convenience of nearby ranches, but tourists buy stuff too. Then we got a couple of sleeping rooms that people rent now and then.”

“A drink, you say?” a gaunt, emaciated, and chinless man asked. “You got a bar here?”

Before Ed could reply, the stocky man said in a definite tone, “Nothing doing, Sliver. There’ll be no drinking until our business is finished.”

The fourth man, short and burly and red-faced, said, “You live out here all alone, Pop?”

“No, my wife Mary’s inside, in case you want a snack and some coffee.”

No one took the suggestion. The stocky man named Mark gazed around. Noting the dim outline of the big structure behind the store, he asked, “What’s that building?”

Following the direction of his gaze, Ed said, “Barn. We don’t use it, except to garage our pickup. Fellow owned this place before us raised a little livestock on the side. We keep a few chickens, is all.”

The stocky man continued to gaze around, his expression contemplative. “You have two sleeping rooms, you say?”

“Uh-huh. One double bed and one twin bed, so folks can take their choice on how they want to sleep. Five dollars a night per person, with breakfast thrown in.”

The tank overflowed. Ed cut the valve and hung up the hose. He cleaned the windshield, then asked, “Check under the hood?”

The lean driver said, “No, it’s okay,” and glanced at the amount registered on the pump.

It registered $3.10. The driver handed Ed four $1 bills.

“Keep the change, Pop.”

“Well, thanks,” Ed said. “Mighty good of you.”

“Let’s get moving,” the stocky man said crisply, and climbed in back.

As though they were soldiers obeying the command of a superior officer, the other three immediately climbed in too. Ed watched the twin taillights out of sight, then shut off the gas pumps and went back inside to report the ninety-cent tip to Mary.

“Must be businessmen going to a conference somewhere,” he guessed. “Stocky fellow seemed to be the boss at least, the others all snapped when he spoke up. Probably the company president, and the others all work for him.”

He plucked an apple from the box on the counter, tossed it in the air, caught it behind his back, then started eating it.

Just before 4:30 the following afternoon the sound of a car traveling at high speed came from the west. Ed, who had nearly perfect pitch although he had never attempted to develop his potential musical talent, recognized the engine sound.

“Those business fellows coming back,” he said to Mary. “Maybe this time they’ll have a snack.”

He was waiting at the pumps when they drove in. The car didn’t pull up before the pumps, however. It swung in before the entrance to the General Store. Three of the men got out, the driver remaining behind the wheel. The stocky Mark carried a black, obviously heavy satchel.

“Get our overnight bags from the trunk,” Mark ordered the two who had got out of the car with him. Then he said to the driver, “Park it in the barn, Joey, and be sure to close the door.”

Ed, who had come over from the pumps, looked at the stocky man inquiringly.

“We’ve decided to rent your two sleeping rooms,” the man said. “You don’t mind if we use your barn as a garage, do you?”

“Course not,” Ed said. “Plenty of room. There’s nothing in it but our old pickup.”

Joey, the driver, had handed his keys through the window to the emaciated and chinless man called Sliver. The latter unlocked the car trunk, lifted out four overnight bags, slammed the trunk lid, and handed back the keys. The burly, red-faced man picked up two of the bags, Sliver picked up the other two, and they went into the store.

Joey started the car engine, backed and swung into the dirt lane leading to the barn. Ed followed the stocky Mark inside. The other two had set down the overnight bags just inside the door, but Mark hung on to the heavy satchel.

Mary was behind the snack counter.

“This here is my wife, Mary,” Ed said. “My name’s Ed Jolly, incidentally. Mary, these gentlemen and a fourth one who’s putting the car in the barn want to stay the night.”

“How do you do, gentlemen?” Mary said courteously.

The red-faced man and the gaunt Sliver muttered barely audible greetings. Mark said, “Glad to know you, Mrs. Jolly. My name is Mark Jones. This is Sliver Smith and Puffy Brown.” He indicated first the gaunt, chinless man, then the red-faced one. “The guy who will be along in a minute is Joey Black.”

Mary smiled acknowledgment of the introductions and came from behind the counter. “I’ll show you the rooms and let you decide who sleeps in which.”

Mary led the way through the door leading to the back hallway off which were their own bedroom, the two guest rooms, and the bath. Sliver Smith and Puffy Brown picked up the four overnight bags and followed. Mark brought up the rear.

The lean thin-faced Joey came in the front door.

“My wife is showing the others the rooms,” Ed said. He pointed to the door leading to the rear hallway. “You’ll find them through there, Mr. Black.”

“Huh?” Joey said. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

He disappeared through the indicated doorway. Ed rubbed his chin and frowned.

When Mary reappeared, alone, a few minutes later, she was delightedly clutching two $100 bills.

“They’re going to stay several days,” she said breathlessly. “Mr. Jones paid me ten days in advance and said if they leave sooner, we can keep the change. I tried to tell him we’d adjust the rate for so long a period, but he said never mind.”

Ed was still frowning in the direction of the rear hall. After 55 years of marriage, Mary was sensitive to his moods almost to the point of being able to read his mind.

“What’s the matter?” she asked quickly.

“That fellow Joey—the driver. His name isn’t Black. When I called him Mr. Black, he looked blank. Then he caught on that the stocky fellow had told me that name and covered up.”

Mary gazed at him puzzledly. “You’re sure?”

“Uh-huh. Think about the other names—Jones, Smith, Brown. Funny that four fellows traveling together should all have such common names. And why would they want to spend several days here? There’s no hunting or fishing around here, nothing to do but look at the desert.”