........
Episode
6
Sophie
Keaton opened her eyes. She sat up, listening. Was it a dream? Or
did she hear a shotgun?
It
could have been a dream; the memory of waking up to that very sound
when she was six, going out to find her mother lying in the front
yard. Her father, drunk and barely able to stand, leaning on his
shotgun, was cussing her. “You'll never question me again, you
shrew!” he screamed. After that she stayed with her aunt in
Thaxter country until she was old enough to run away from home
without anyone coming after her.
It
could have been a dream. But it didn't seem like a dream, it sounded
different, not so close up. Sophie put on her robe and went to the
back door.
Out
through the trees lay Thompson Bog, a place to stay away from, day or
night. Lights shone in the distance and she felt a chill that was
not from the growing cold of the night. She walked in her bare feet
down through the yard to the edge of the trees, when she stopped
suddenly. There was a voice. It was the voice of the man who had
just left her, Chief McLean.
“Somebody
call for an ambulance! Can anybody hear me?” screamed McLean. As
Al Gaither came upon him, McLean sat holding Martha Sawyer in his
arms, her eyes were glazed over and blood poured from her side. On
the bog, a dark figure stood up in a small boat. The man lost his
footing and steadied himself with his shotgun.
“Dare
we move her?” yelled Al, trying to assess the situation.
“I
don't know. She's been shot.”
“I'll
go for help. The hospital is not far,” Al yelled over his shoulder
as he turned and headed for his car.
McLean
called after him, “Sophie Keaton's house is on the way, up Turner's
Trace, she's got a phone, that'll save time.”
Al
ran as fast as he could, then stopped short at the chief's Chrysler;
the keys were still in it. He jumped inside and sped down the road,
the last instruction still ringing in his ears.
As
he pulled out of the dirt lane onto the two-lane blacktop, he
narrowly missed hitting Harlen Eldridge's car. Eldridge recognized
the face of his hired detective in the chief's car and followed for
news. He spun around and drove after the big Chrysler toward
Sophie's place.
Sophie
was just opening the front door when the Chief's Chrysler pulled into
her driveway. But it was not the chief who got out, it was a
stranger.
“I
need to use your phone. Chief McLean says you've got one.”
“In
here,” said Sophie and she threw the door open. She had heard her
name yelled across the swamp by the man who had left her less than an
hour before. Now came a stranger in his car to use the phone.
“Hospital?
I need an ambulance right away, it's an emergency, someone's been
shot. Down Old New Hope Church Road to Thompson Bog.”
As
he followed his hired private eye in the chief's car, Harlen Eldridge
saw a familiar Ford tearing down the two-lane at breakneck speed; it
was his son-in-law, the detective. Harlen slowed a little, letting
the Ford get some distance, then made a u-turn and sped up to keep
pace. One thing was for sure, thought Harlen, Frank knew the way.
They were heading for the Miller place.
Chief
McLean sat on the ground holding Martha Sawyer's head on his lap. He
smoothed her forehead with his left hand as he held his handkerchief
to the wound at her side with his right.
“Don't
you worry, Martha. Ambulance is comin', then they'll get you to the
hospital and fix you up proper.”
Out
on the bog, the dim lantern bobbed gently, set in motion by Collin
Miller trying to steady himself in the unstable boat. He had shot at
a prowler, someone who came to take his Clara. Now he was standing
in water and his boat was sinking.
Off
to one side of the pier, a figure was rising as if out of the swamp.
The strange, formless shape limped across the few feet of swampland
that separated them and into the beam of Chief McLean's flashlight,
lying on the ground next to him. It was Ed Riggs.
Before
either could speak, the roar of a car engine caught them. The black
Ford pulled up to the trailer and skidded to a stop. Without turning
the lights or engine off, Frank Morton got out, his gun was drawn.
Behind
the Ford, another pair of lights appeared. The large Chrysler slid
to a stop behind Morton's car and the door flew open.
Frank
Morton saw the figure, dark and formless behind the bright beams.
The man raised what looked like a rifle and yelled, “Morton!”
Morton
fired. The man faltered. He fired again. The man staggered against
the car, slumping into the light from the dome through the open door.
Frank fired a third shot before he realized that his target was
Harlen Eldridge. What he thought was a rifle had been his
father-in-law's walking cane.
Frank
felt the pistol taken from his hand, his arms pulled behind him and
handcuffs closed on his wrists. He slowly turned his head to see
Chief McLean's unmistakable scowl directed at him. Beyond the chief
lay Martha Sawyer, her head on the muddy lap of Ed Riggs. The
sinking feeling that he felt a moment before continued as he realized
that he had all but confessed to Ed Riggs, the man still alive and
sitting on the ground next to Thompson Bog.
Ed
Riggs sat on the front stoop of the Miller trailer in the glow of the
single bare bulb from inside and the headlights from three police
cars. The doctor was dressing his leg. Chief McLean came up and
rested a foot on the stoop.
“You
gonna be OK?” he asked his Detective Sergeant.
“Yeah,
Jethro, now I am. The Miller girl is in the swamp, weighed down - I
think by the cinder-block anchor from old man Miller's boat.”
“Yeah,
we figured. Miller's devastated, but he's also under arrest for
shooting Martha.”
“She
gonna pull through?”
Chief
McLean looked at the disappearing taillights, the waning siren as the
ambulance jostled up the dirt road back to the county highway. “I
don't know. She was hit pretty bad. She came out here looking for
you, you know.”
“She's
a good girl. And Frank?” asked Ed.
Chief
McLean sucked in a hard breath.
“In
cuffs. He shot Harlen Eldridge in cold blood. My guess is he killed
the Miller girl too.”
“Yeah,
that's my guess too. I think she might have put the screws to him,
wanted him to leave his wife or she'd tell, something like that.
There's a mark on her head could have been a pistol butt.”
“You
saw her up close?” Chief McLean turned back to look at the
detective's face in the glow of the car lights.
“Yeah.
It's a picture that I won't get out of my head soon.”
Martha
Sawyer died from her wounds before she reached the hospital. She was
never aware that they had found Ed Riggs in the swamp.
Collin
Miller was charged with murder. He died in jail of a heart attack
while awaiting trial.
Ed
Riggs filled out his report and went home for a much needed rest.
Chief
McLean went back to Sophie's place where he poured himself a stiff
drink and fell asleep on her lap.
Edna
Morton eventually divorced her husband, liquidated her holdings and
moved out of state, returning to her maiden name of Eldridge.
Frank
Morton was charged with the murder of his father-in-law and that of
Clara Miller. The Miller girl was found to have been pregnant at the
time of her death. Frank received consecutive life sentences.
Al
Gaither returned home to find his wife waiting up for him. She
looked up from her book. “Rough night?” she asked. “No, about
usual,” he replied.
To
this day, no one has moved into the trailer at Thompson Bog.