CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Det. Miller and Officer Hendrix located Johnny Hudson at home and escorted him to police headquarters without any major problems; but Det. Miller noticed that Johnny sat in the back seat glaring at Officer Hendrix as they rode in the black-and-white.
As they entered the Chief's office, he was talking on the phone. As he hung up, "That was Mable Zeeks. She wants an apology from you, or she’s gonna call Jonah McGregor at the Gazette and tell them you were drunk when you ran through her yard, and destroyed some of her prize rosebushes."
"Christ, I’ll call her later.” Miller moaned and shook his head as he pulled out his pack of Camels.
The Chief now standing, "Officer Hendrix, drive your cruiser to the garage, and have them air up your back tire. I noticed it was low. It's probably the valve stem."
"Yes sir," she replied and saluted him, then strutted from the office.
"Sit over here Johnny," the Chief said pointing to a chair near his desk.
"I'm sure you've heard about the two deaths. We’re investigating all the leads we have received; your name was mentioned in connection with one of these crimes." Miller stated.
Johnny sat down and crossed his legs with a bored expression on his face. Det. Miller noticed his new western style boots.
"In order to help us clear this matter up, tell us what you did on last Monday evening?" Frances said to his half-brother.
Jumping to his feet, "What the hell's going on?! I'm your brother and you're trying to railroad me! What kind of crap is this?! I'm not saying a damn word! Whoever said I'm involved told you a crock of lies!"
"Shut up and sit down!" Frances barked, "Get control of yourself. Stop hem-hawing around and tell us your whereabouts Monday night.”
"You said one of the crimes, which one?" Johnny growled.
"We’ll ask the questions,” Miller interjected.
Johnny looked at Det. Miller and bellowed, "You’re lucky you’re a cop, or I’d give you a knuckle sandwich!"
Miller blasted back as he leaned forward and doubled up his fists, “You name the time and place big boy! I’ll stomp your mangy ass into the dirt!”
“Stop it, both of you, just stop it!” The Chief boomed, "Now both of you simmer down. Johnny, if you're innocent, you have nothing to worry about. So start talkin’ before I lock you in a cell.”
“I was at Mike O'Malley's bar from five to around eleven…I had some beers and shot some pool. I left and went home to bed." Johnny mumbled.
"Did you go home alone?" Det. Miller asked.
"That’s right, all by myself," Johnny said as sweat was beading up on his forehead.
"You didn't leave the tavern at any time before eleven o’clock?" the Chief asked.
"That's right, just ask Mike, he’ll tell ya I was there the whole time."
"When did you last see Terri Helms?" the Chief asked.
"Who? I don't know any Terri Helms," he said lying straight faced through his wretched teeth.
"We have a witness who said he saw you beating Terri Helms at Darnell’s farm." Det. Miller was trying to rattle Johnny into a confession.
"That's a lot of bullshit! If your witness was there, then he's the one that beat her, not me!" Johnny shouted. This wasn’t his first run in with the law; it would take quite a bit to trip him up on his alibi.
The room became silent as the three men sat and stared at one another. Finally, Det. Miller said, "Nice looking boots you're wearing. They look new. Did you just buy them?"
Johnny glanced at his boots, "Sure, I picked them up over in Millersburg. They were on sale, so what's it to ya?" Johnny growled.
"Where are your old boots?" Det. Miller asked.
"We have enough information for now," the Chief suddenly interjected. Miller glanced at the Chief not sure what was happening.
"Okay, you can go," the Chief said as he called for an officer to drive Johnny back home.
The Chief waited for Johnny to leave before speaking to his old friend. "I've made arrangements for Beau Camp to be examined by a psychiatrist. We don’t have anything to really hold him on for now, so release him.”
Miller just sat quiet, not sure what just happened. He lit up a Camel as he finally got up.
"Wait a minute Thomas," the Chief said, "next month is my birthday, I’ll be sixty-five and I’ve decided it’s time to retire."
"They won't let you work until the end of the year?" He asked.
"I didn't ask, but I was assured by the Mayor that you'd be promoted to Chief, and Fairchild would be promoted to lead detective."
“You sure this is what you want?” You could hear the sincerity in Miller’s voice.
“Yes, I’m certain. My mind isn’t as sharp as it once was, so it’s time.”