Chapter 9
I had done more than my five thousand dollars’ worth of work for Ted Simpson. I had about ninety five million dollars’ worth of annoyance. Walter Farley was on my list of least favourite people.
I decided to call Mr. Simpson directly.
“Simpson here,” he answered, on the second ring.
“This is John Wesley Tucker, Mr. Simpson. I need to meet with you, to discuss something that’s come up.”
“It better be damned important. Did Walter tell you to call me?”
“Yes sir, it is important, and Walter doesn’t know I’m calling.”
I could hear the wheels in his head grinding.
“Alright, can you come by my office at the end of business today?”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be there about five o’clock.”
“Fine.” He hung up.
Tony had run a list of every late model Chevrolet Impala, registered to owners here in East Texas. It was far too many cars. Even allowing for the parameters we had set, there were just too many to follow up on. We were only looking for blue cars. There were thirty-seven, late model, blue Impalas, registered in just the few counties closest to Tyler. We were aware the owner of the vehicle might not be the same person as the driver we were looking for, so we couldn’t really eliminate anyone. We couldn’t ask the police and sheriff’s departments in all those counties to investigate the owners and any possible drivers of every blue Impala, without probable cause.
Tony had run all thirty-seven owner names through the various criminal data bases. He got several hits. There were five out of the thirty-seven, in three different counties, with arrest or criminal records. One of them had been interviewed and released already. There simply wasn’t any probable cause, to justify a detention and questioning of any of the rest of them.
I happened to look to my left, as I was approaching the parking lot where I had met Dustin. Was that him in the shadows between the wall and the end of the strip mall? I couldn’t turn left because of the median. I had to go all the way up to the next light, and do a U-turn.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I could see Dustin clearly. I hit the speed dial on my cell phone, but Tony didn’t answer. I left him a quick message, as I parked in front of the strip mall, just a dozen feet from the corner of the building.
Dustin was smiling again as I approached him.
“You that angel, Good Angel,” he said.
“Hello, Dustin. How are you?”
“You know how I is. I done told you.”
I was confused
He grinned, then he did his little shoulder roll dance move. He ended with a laugh.
I laughed too. He had gotten me.
He looked serious.
“You ain’t done. He ain’t gone. The war goes on.”
I nodded.
“Yes, Dustin, I know. I need your help.”
He shook his head.
“Nah, suh, it’s not my war.”
I needed to be careful with my questions. I didn’t want to lose him. I was hoping that Tony would get my message and show up quickly.
“We’re looking for the car with the reindeer flying over the football.”
He nodded a silent answer.
“You said it was like the sky, right?”
He nodded again.
“We’re looking for a blue car with a reindeer flying over a football.”
“You stupid for a angel,” he snorted.
What did that mean?
“Are you saying the car isn’t blue?”
“The sky ain’t light in the dark of the night.” He indicated.
He looked me in the eye.
“Dustin, are you saying the car is black?”
He chuckled.
“Look at me. You think I’m black? That car is darker than the belly of a cypress swamp at midnight.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Oh yeah, Mister Angel, I sees it from time to time. It was the bad angel done it, he that took her.”
“Have you seen it again?”
“I done told you, I sees it, from time to time.”
He started to sort of rock back and forth.
I noticed a plain white car pulling into the parking lot.
Dustin saw it too.
“Who dat?” he asked.
“He’s a friend of mine, Dustin. His name is Tony. He’s your friend too.”
Tony got out of his car and walked over to us.
“Dustin, this is Tony.”
“Uh huh, ‘Tony Baloney’, you messed up warrior”
What did that mean?
Tony looked at me, clearly puzzled.
Dustin nodded, he was still rocking. He pointed at the sky.
“He say you be wounded and hurtin’ bad.” He indicated Tony.
Tony shot me an angry look.
I needed to get this back on track.
“Tony, Dustin told me the car we’re looking for isn’t blue.”
“Yeah, what color is it, purple?” he asked, facetiously.
Tony was clearly angry.
Dustin laughed. He was still rocking. He closed his eyes.
“They ain’t watching. Folks say they do, but they ain’t. Ain’t nobody, got no time for that. They’s singing and laughing and dancing. A lifetime here ain’t but a minute there.”
What was he talking about, now?
“So much joy, no sorrow there, so much joy, ain’t got no care.”
I had been worried about losing Dustin, but now he had completely lost me. I looked at Tony.
He was scowling, as he directed a question at Dustin.
“Dustin, did you see the man who took the little girl?”
Dustin stopped rocking, and frowned.
“They say evil ain’t got no face. But the bad angel do.”
“What does he look like?” I asked.
Dustin looked back and forth between me and Tony.
“He look like me, he look like you.”
Tony had had enough. He turned and headed toward his unmarked Crown Victoria sedan.
“They is beautiful, you see um soon.” Dustin called after Tony.
Tony got in his car and started it up.
I had to ask.
“Dustin, who is beautiful?”
He nodded at the plain white car leaving the parking lot.
“That wounded warrior’s wife and boy…”
I couldn’t get anything useful out of Dustin. He was our only witness and most of the time, he seemed witless. He talked nonsense and riddles. We would never be able to use him as a witness in a trial. I was discouraged. Too much time had gone by. It looked pretty hopeless.
Dustin looked at me intently.
“Keep on keepin’ on, Good Angel. You is winning. I got me one more word.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“I tell you next time. I got to get to gittin’. I got my rounds.”