JUDE

Chapter 1

“She never mentions the word addiction, in certain company,” ejaculated the overloud alarm clock.  Jake moaned.  6am already?  Where the hell did the weekend go?  And why did it feel like a tom cat shit in his mouth?

Without cracking an eye, he reached a heavy hand over and hit snooze.  Ten more minutes would do him, and his employer, a world of good.

“You up?”  The soft feminine voice said beside him.

Jake grunted.

Sally’s new naked boobs, worth every penny in his opinion, pressed against him.  “I said,” she purred tracing a wet path around his ear with her tongue.  “You up?”

Eyes still closed, Jake gave a lopsided grin.  He dragged her perfectly manicured hand under the covers.  “I am now darlin’.”

She talks to Angels, they call her out by her name.

It was just after 7:30 when Jake left the house, smile on his face, protein shake in one hand, black hair still wet from the shower.  He was late, but it was oh so worth it.  Ever since Sally’s boob job the sex was hot, erotic, and more often than when they were newlyweds.

He folded his six foot three frame into Sally’s red Honda.  As much as he loved his wife of five years, he hated the Honda.  She raved about the wonderful gas mileage and resale value, but the car made him feel melancholy and more than a little traitorous.  

The Japs took his grandfather’s left eye and part of his left hand on December 7,1941.  Jake was just a teenager when his grand dad died of prostate cancer.  But, still remembered the “Lest We Forget” stories the man wove about Pearl Harbor whenever reminiscing.

The sound of the engine as he shifted gears and pulled onto old highway 30 made him think of the thunderous buzz of a Jap plane engine.  The way his grand dad looked down at his half burned hand and shook his head while describing the rising sun emblem on the wings of the enemy fighters.

It might be a Jap car, but he installed the stereo system and it was 100% made in the USA.  He shook thoughts of grand dad away and punched the radio.  News, damn.  He hated drive time radio in the Arizona desert.  Two fuzzy stations came in from Phoenix, three hours southeast.  One decent station came from Kingman, two hours northwest but played more commercials than music.

He leaned over and riffled through the bag of cds Sally kept on the passenger side floor.  He groaned.  Classical and jazz, not his idea of drive time music.

Damn, and double damn.

He couldn’t wait to get his truck out of the shop.  He made a mental note to check on it today.

He scanned the flat endless desert and empty road ahead.  Old highway 30 was once a main artery through southwestern Arizona.  As the state grew though, first highway 89 and then later 93 took most of the traffic away from Jude, the town he called home.  And this old highway saw very little traffic now since Jude’s population decreased every year since 1968, until it stagnated somewhere around 1000 souls a couple years back.

Like most teenagers raised in or around Jude, Jake couldn’t wait to get out.  His mother ran off when he was a toddler, New York girl too overwhelmed with ranch life.  He was raised by his dad and his grand dad, working summers and after school on the family cattle ranch.

Jake received a football scholarship to play for the Sun Devils at Arizona State University in the eighties.  His grandfather died of prostate cancer his sophomore year and his father refused to let him take a semester off to come home and help with the ranch.  At the time he was secretly relieved, seeing Jude as a place which might grab hold of him and never let go.

A knee injury his junior year snuffed any hope of a professional ball career.   But his degree in Criminal Justice served him well.

He went to the police academy in Phoenix after graduation and within one year was promoted to detective.  A few years later when his dad got sick with lung cancer, Jake took a leave of absence and came back to run the ranch.  Jude seemed smaller and dirtier, but not quite as prison like as when a teen.  The familiar caring faces of people he knew his whole life comforted when the cancer was really bad.

After his dad died, while trying to decide what to do with the ranch, Sheriff Maxwell retired.  With encouragement from several local families, Jake ran in the next election for Sheriff, and won.  The job didn’t pay a lot, and there wasn’t much action, but it allowed him to oversee the ranch while earning a living doing something he loved.  

Jake clicked on the air conditioner and watched as slivers of heat danced in the air above the pavement.  He sipped the protein drink and grimaced.  No matter how many times he drank one, they still made his toes curl.   And with no music to distract him, every mouthful was a carnival of agony to his taste buds.  But, combined with a regular weight lifting schedule, they helped keep his athletic frame more athletic, less middle aged, at forty. 

He pulled into the spot marked “Sheriff” in front of the cinder block police station in Jude.  Technically Jake was the Drake County Sheriff.  The Sheriff’s office was in the Drake County Courthouse in Drake.  But, Jude could no longer afford its own police force, or certainly didn’t make it a priority when voting.  So his unofficial office was situated in the heart of downtown at the old police station, on Main street, where city law enforcement, by default, came to him.

“Morning Sheriff Steel,” Deputy Tracy Adams addressed him from behind the counter in the front office.  Tracy was a wiry woman in her mid thirties, dark blond hair pulled back severely from a scarred face.

Eight years ago, while working for the highway patrol, Tracy was hit by a semi tractor trailer.  She was working an accident on highway 93 during a rare thunderstorm.  Visibility was low and the trucker didn’t see the lights until it was too late.  She was in a coma for three months.

The surgeons repaired her face the best they could, but it was far from her one time natural beauty.   And she’d walk with a limp the rest of her life.

“Morning Tracy,” Jake said moving toward his office in the back.  “Anything going on?”

Deputy Adams shrugged.  “You just missed Rina.”

“Rina?”  Jake stopped and looked at the large German Sheppard laying behind the counter.  “What was she doing here?  Something wrong with Cesar?”

The dog, the only other deputy the county would approve, upon hearing his name, looked at Jake.

“No, he’s fine” the deputy said.  “I think she was fishing for information.”

“Information?” Jake cocked an eyebrow.  Rina McMyers, the county’s only veterinarian and his one time sweet heart, was as adept with rumors as with animals.

Deputy Adams sighed.  “She was at Kelly’s Café this morning.  Ike Miller was in there telling everyone his cousin Wallace, in Carr County, found a severed limb on his back forty.  Nothings come down on the wire yet,” she looked meaningfully at Jake.  “So I don’t know if it’s true.”

Jake whistled low.  Three months ago the Carr County Sheriff’s office investigated the death of a Jon Doe.  Except the only thing they found of said Doe was a severed right hand and right leg.  Jake itched to help out, do a little detective work.  His offers were soundly rejected, in fact he only garnered the smallest bits of information and always unofficially from fellow officers.  The Carr County Sheriff, Steven Myrr, was Sally’s ex-lover.

He hated asking for second hand information.  “Did she say if they think its from the same Jon Doe?”

Deputy Adams grimaced.  “No, but I don’t see how it could be.  Unless of course, the Jon Doe had two right legs.”

Jake nodded.  “Call your friend, what’s her name?  The dispatcher over there?  Tova?  Call her and see what you can find out.  If I remember right, Wallace Miller’s ranch abuts Ike’s.  If that limb was found close enough to our county line, I might be able to get in this go round.”

“Yes sir,” Deputy Adams said and picked up the phone.

“I think I’ll go to Kelly’s for coffee,” Jake said.  “Ike may still be there.”  Jake went into his office, took his service revolver from the locked cabinet and holstered it.  He grabbed a hand held radio from the charger under the window on his way out.  Cell phones were unreliable at best in Jude, and he didn’t want to miss any information.  He hefted the radio in the air and held up three fingers, Tracy gave a thumbs up.

Jake made his way down Main Street, past abandoned shops and businesses sprinkled between boutiques and record stores, to the café on the corner.  Cheerful red and white awnings framed spotless shiny windows to help welcome customers. The picture window on the east side sported big white letters reading “Kelly’s Café.”  The lack of trucks on the street out front made Jake grit his teeth.  The morning crowd had come and gone.

Of all days to be late.

The bell on the door announced his arrival.  The smell of bacon and eggs hit his nose almost as fast as the cool air dried the slight sheen from his face.  If June was any indication, it was going to be one hot summer.

Jake saw Jose busing the last of the red formica tables.  The black and white linoleum was freshly mopped, and except for Kelly sitting in the corner going over receipts not a single person lounged.

Jake made his way to Kelly’s booth.  Her dark head bent and intently studying a list of numbers on a sheet of paper in front of her.  She did not look up.  He sat down across from her placing the radio on the table with a click, the red pleather bench sighing with his weight.

“Where is everyone?”  Jake asked.

She lifted her forefinger to silence him without looking up.  Her lips moved and her eyes scanned the paper.

She grunted, smiled, and scribbled a number at the bottom of the paper.  Finally she brought brown eyes up to his blue.  She reached into her apron and produced a cigarette and lighter.  She lit the cigarette and dragged hard.  When she exhaled her entire body seemed to release tension.  The brown tendrils, loose from her pony tail, framed a face no bigger than a child’s.

Jake raised an eyebrow.  “I thought you quit.”

A petite shoulder shrugged.  “I did.  Don’t you see the sign on the door?”

Jake’s eyes flashed to the rectangular sticker on the glass just below the bell.  He could see the back, which was brown and said nothing.  On the front though, facing the street, were the words “no smoking” which everyone in town seemed to read and then ignore.

“State made me put that up when they passed that no smoking in public law last month,” she blew smoke through her nose and dropped the remaining cigarette in the coffee cup at her left elbow.  She smiled showing perfect white teeth.  “You here to enforce it officer?”

Jake sucked his teeth and smiled.

During daylight hours, Kelly’s Café was the social, political, and intellectual hub of Jude.  Kelly ran the place while her three sons and husband took care of the ranch.

While growing up in Jude, Kelly was on Jake’s social peripheral.  She was several years his junior and kept a circle of very tight girl friends.  She was a petite no nonsense brunette with a ready smile and cooking skills unmatched in local cuisine. 

Her bread and butter consisted of lucrative contracts she made with local ranchers.  She fed their ranch hands three meals a day.  The ones close to town, came to the café.  The ones too far out, received meals via catering truck.  The ranchers were happy to feed their help on the job, and Kelly was happy to collect the profits.  Thus her café thrived when other businesses failed.

Since becoming Sheriff, Jake spent a lot of time in Kelly’s Café, often taking most of his meals there.  A kind of flirting friendship began between them but grew into an honest mutual fondness.

“I think a warning will suffice Ms. White,” Jake mocked.  “Now tell me, where is everyone?  I’ve never seen the café so deserted.  New recipe?”

Kelly leaned back and crossed arms under her ample bosom.  “Ha. Ha.  They are all out doing the same thing you are.”

“What’s that?”  Jake asked.

“Collecting information about the,” she made quote marks with her fingers and dropped her voice.  “The severed leeeeeeg.”

Jake rolled his eyes.

Kelly laughed in earnest.  “I was going to call you when Ike started the tale, but I saw Rina leaving.  I figured your girlfriend would want to be the one to tell you.”

“Not funny,” Jake said.  “She is not my girlfriend.  Sally would eat Rina alive.”

They both laughed and though her smile stayed in place, Kelly’s eyes couldn’t hide the spark of seriousness.  Sally was once in Kelly’s inner circle.  There was some sort of falling out years ago.

Five years ago when he started dating Sally, she insisted he end the friendship with Kelly.  He refused when she couldn’t give him one good reason.  After they married his friendship with Kelly cooled a bit.  He drank shakes in the mornings and usually brought his lunch. Sitting across from her now, he couldn’t remember the last time they talked as friends.  He missed it.

“How are the new boobs?”  Kelly blurted and then blushed.  Jake frowned and she held up a hand.  “Sorry.  It’s none of my business.”

“You’re right,” Jake said but smiled to take some of the bite from it.  “It’s not.”

“Speaking of body parts,” Jake said.  “What exactly did Mike say about the leg?”

Kelly groaned.  “A boob and leg man I see.  Or maybe just a one track mind.  Can I get you something while we talk?”

Jake shook his head. 

“He was nursing a hangover so I don’t know how much what he said is real, and how much was imagined.”  Kelly said.  “He and Wallace got drunk last night.  Do you know Wallace?”

Jake grimaced.  “I’ve met the man once or twice.”

“Then you know what an argumentative drunk he can be, and lord knows Ike’s liquid mouth isn’t much better.”  Kelly said and stacked the receipts in a neat pile.

“They ended up getting into an argument about where the property line is that divides their two ranches.  Something about a great grandfather cheating one of the sons.  I don’t know.”  She shook her head.  “So Wallace and Ike ride out to the property line to argue some more.  Wallace stopped to be sick.  That’s when he saw the leg.  Picked it up and brought it back to the truck.  Ike says he told him to put it down, it was evidence.  They were gonna call you but were both drunk and driving, so they agreed to wait till morning.  Except Wallace decided after getting home he couldn’t wait and called his old buddy Sheriff Myrr.  Seeing how the Sheriff handled the last case.”

Jade’s brow furrowed.  “So were they on Ike’s land when they found the leg?”

Kelly shrugged.  “I don’t know Jake.  Truth is, I don’t think they even know for sure.  Ike started out saying the leg was on his property when Wallace picked it up.  But you know how  Ike likes attention.  I noticed he changed that little detail about twenty minutes into the story.  Then he said it was on Wallace’s property.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing is a big hoax perpetrated by those two dummies.”  She shivered.  “At least I hope it is Jake.  If its not we could have a serial killer or something.”

Jake rubbed a thick hand over his face.  “Don’t get ahead of the game Kelly.  We don’t even know if it’s true.  Sheriff Myrr isn’t going to share any information with me either.”

Kelly gave him a lopsided smile.  “You’re right about that.”

Kelly knew Sally’s history as well as, if not better than, Jake.  “You don’t always win when you win.”  She said.  “Doesn’t matter she took two lovers between him and you.”

Jake scowled.

“What?”  Kelly said defensively.  “I’m not being catty.  It’s the truth.”

“I know,” Jake said.  “But I don’t much like hearing about her past lovers.  In that Sheriff Myrr and I see eye to eye.”

Kelly snorted.  “Men.  You all like to think you’re the first.”  She scooted out of the booth and stood up.  “Anything else Jake?  You hungry?”

Jake picked up his silent radio, stood, and looked down at the brunette.  “Nah.  I’m gonna go see Ike.”

Kelly smirked and rolled her eyes.  “Good luck with that.  It was good seeing you Jake.  Why don’t you come by this week for lunch?  Make it after the rush.  We’ll talk.”  She picked up the receipts, turned and walked toward the back.

Chapter 2

“Any luck?”  Jake asked Deputy Adams when he got back to the station.  The old building didn’t have central air conditioning any more, and the window unit was outmatched by the heat.  He took a chair right in front of it and put his feet up on the desk.  He reached down and rubbed Cesar behind the ears.

“Nothing yet about the leg,”   Deputy Adams said without looking up from a report she was filing.  “My contact works second shift and won’t be on for a few more hours.  I’ll call her after lunch.”

Jake closed his eyes and tried to imagine the little air conditioner was cooling the back of his neck.  “How well do you know Ike Miller Tracy?”

Tracy slammed the file cabinet shut.  “He’s a rancher, who likes to drink.  A lousy drunk.  Weak.  I busted him for DUI when I worked highway patrol.  Why?  You gonna go talk to him?”

“Well that all depended on your answer,” he patted Cesar, then linked hands behind his head and looked up at the water stained ceiling.  “But seeings how you and he have a history, I guess it will be me.”

Tracy shrugged.  “Well now that’s up to you Sheriff.  But Ike Miller has no respect for the law.  He’s young and got a big mouth on him.  If it’s information you’re after, best catch him tonight at Baker Street Bar.  He’s usually ten sheets to the wind by nine if Arty doesn’t cut him off first.”

Jake raised eyebrows. 

Deputy Adams shrugged “What?”  She turned toward the computer.  “I live in town Sheriff.  Nothing much here after Kelly’s closes up at 7.  Most people who are out, are at the Baker Street Bar.”

Jake stood up and headed for the door.  “I need to go check on my truck.  I have the radio.”

“Ok,” Deputy Adams said and started typing on the computer.  The clicking keys and soft whir of the window unit escorted him out the door, back into the heat.

Jake made his way north on Main past more closed up shops and going out of business banners.  He stopped in front of a 1950’s looking gas station.  The pumps were a dingy stainless steel with round coca-cola signs on top.  The windows in front of the station were too covered with grime to see through.  He heard metal clinging on metal and made his way toward the sound.

Two legs in greasy blue coveralls stuck out from underneath a white and orange ambulance inside the one bay garage.

“John,” Jake said.  When the legs didn’t move and the clanging continued he raised his voice.  “John!”

“What?”  Came the disembodied voice from under the ambulance.  “Oh damn, hold on.”

Jake waited carefully avoiding the many dark wet stains on the garage floor.

After a few more minutes of banging and even more grunts, Johnny Rider rolled out from underneath the vehicle.

“Howdy Sheriff,” he said and spit a dark stream of tobacco juice.  Another dark wet spot appeared on the concrete.  “Spose you’re here to pick up your truck?”

“Yeah John if its done.”  Jake said.  John owned the only gas station in Jude and was an exceptional mechanic.  But in all the years Jake knew him, he never saw the man clean, or in anything but these same overalls.  His hair was thick with grease, his fingernails dark and dirty.

John smiled showing missing teeth.  “Well it ain’t.  I have to wait for the new alternator to come in.  I tried reworking your old one, but it’d already been done afore.  So now,” he spit another brown stream.  “We have to wait for it to come in from Prescott.”

John stood and wiped a big silver wrench with a red stained cloth and placed it gently in an immaculate red tool box.

“I may be heading over to Prescott today,” Jake said.  “I can pick it up.”

“No you can’t,” John said and spit.  “It ain’t in Prescott yet.  It’s on backorder.  When it comes in I’ll let ye know, or they can just mail it.  A day is the only difference.”

Jake sighed.

John spit and used the red rag on his hands.  “Whatcha drivin now?” 

“My wife’s Honda,” Jake mumbled.

“Honda you say?”  John said and laughed.  Spit.  “The missus lets you drive her purty little car huh?”

Jake shrugged.  “She works in Kingman during the week, comes home on the weekends.  She called in sick today so I could use her car.”

“Your wife stays in Kingman during the week by herself?”  John asked and almost swallowed his chew.

Jake nodded.

John crinkled his brow.  “I remember hearin somthin bout her being a lawyer.”

“She is the assistant district attorney for Holbert County,” Jake said.

“And she only comes home on the weekends?”  John asked again.

Jake was still learning to accept it so the questions made him uneasy.  Her hours were long and driving over two hours one way was not realistic.  They fought hard in the six months since she took an apartment, and the position, in Kingman.  But it didn’t look like a fight Jake could win.  Besides, the makeup sex was almost worth it.

“When do you think my truck will be ready John?”  Jake asked getting back to the reason for his visit.

John leaned back against the ambulance and spit.  “How is it you don’t have an official vehicle Sheriff?  Seems to me if the county can give Deputy Adams a vehicle to haul that mutt around in, they ought to give the Sheriff one too.  And these,” he pointed a greasy thumb toward the ambulance.  “Fire department got three new ones.”

Jake sighed.  He gave Deputy Adams the official vehicle because she lived in town and took most of the weekend calls so he could actually see his wife once in awhile.  But he didn’t feel like explaining that to John.  “Next fiscal year we are getting another vehicle John,” he said instead.

“Glad to hear it,” John said and spit.  “I reckon, all things considered, your truck will be ready by the middle of next week.”

Jake groaned.

John held up a greasy hand.  “Meanwhile, you can use the truck in the back if you’re willin.”

“Thank you,” Jake said.  “I could use it.  I’ll swing by with my wife tonight and pick it up.  Is that ok?”

John shrugged and spit.  “Keys are in it.”

Jake turned to go but John’s words stopped him.  “Feller drivin this here amblance said he went out on a call last night, over on Ike Miller’s place.  Said he picked up a leg.  No body mind ya, just a cut off ol human leg right out in the middle of the range.”

Jake turned back to face John.

“He said it was on Ike Miller’s ranch?”  He tried to ask nonchalantly.

John spit.  “Yup.  You know that little creek runnin through his property?”

Jake nodded.

John spit.  “Sometime ago Ike tried puttin in some concrete pillars, was gonna put a fence round his land or some such thing.  Ya know them Millers, they always fight and feud about property.  Anyhow, Chino was drivin this here monster and wasn’t payin close mind.  Went right over the top of one.”

“Was he hurt?”  Jake asked.

John spit.  “Nope.  But he bent the x frame pretty bad.  He brought it here so I could pound it out.  He’s fraid he’ll have to pay for it if his supervisor finds out.”

Jake’s brow creased.  “Doesn’t he have to pay you?”

John laughed and spit.  “Nope.  He’s my wife’s nephew.  Little piss ant is always gotten into more shit.  Moved down here from Utah a few years back and worked for a nursery, ya know one of them plant places in Paulden.  Got fired when he crushed a truck with a scoop while loadin mulch or some such.  Crazy kid.”

“So is he around?”  Jake asked casually.

John spit.  “Yup.  At the café eatin pie no doubt.  Kid loves pie.”

Jake thanked John and stepped carefully away from the garage.  The sun beat down and the haze of heat coming off the street made him squint and sweat.  He was half way to Kelly’s Café when he saw a tall thin man walking toward him wearing dark sunglasses.  The bright orange ambulance shirt identified him as the driver.

“Excuse me,” Jake said.  “Are you Chino?”

“Yeah?”  Chino said.  “Somethin wrong Sheriff?”

Jake gave him an easy smile.  “Nothing son.  I just wanted to ask you a few questions about last night.”

“Look,” Chino said.  “I’m tired.  Been up all night.  Sheriff Myrr called me last night and told me to high tale it over to Ike Miller’s place, and to keep it on the down low.”

“Were you on the north or south side of the stream?”  Jake asked.

“I don’t know,” Chino said.  “I bogged down on a concrete something or other before I could cross the stream.”

“Who did you pick up?”  Jake asked.

Chino ran a hand through spiked brown hair.  “I didn’t pick anyone up man.  Once Sheriff Myrr helped me get off the pillar, cussin me the whole time too, I took a human leg back to the Carr County Coroners Office.”

“Why didn’t Sheriff Myrr call the coroner to transport the limb?”  Jake asked.

“Beats me man,” Chino said.  “All I know is he calls me special on my cell phone to do him a favor, then treats me like I am a lap dog.  Like an unfavored lap dog.  Jerk.”

Jake pulled the small notebook from the front of his jacket.  He took Chino’s contact information and headed back toward the station.

He met Deputy Adams coming out of the station, Cesar on her heels.

“Where you headed?”  Jake asked.

“The Ward’s Bed and Breakfast,” she answered from behind mirrored sun glasses.  “Seems the last guest took more than just a few towels.”

“Like what?”  Jake asked.

Tracy shrugged.  “Jewelry, keys, money, things like that.”

“When you get back,” Jake said.  “We’re going to take a ride.”

Deputy Adams smiled.  “Find out something?”

“Maybe,” Jake said.  “Can you think of a good reason for the Carr County Sheriff to call a county ambulance to pick up a body part, instead of the county coroner?”

Deputy Adams scowled.  “Only if he wanted to keep things low key.  The Coroners meat wagon does draw attention.”

“Yeah,” Jake said feeling the sweat on his back.  “But I think he did it because he found the leg in our county.  Standard Op says he should call the county coroner, meaning the DRAKE county coroner.  No way Tom would go out on a call for Sheriff Myrr without calling me first.  So why not have a county ambulance do the transport?  The chain of custody is still good.”

“That wily bastard,” Tracy said.  “Why is he doing this?”

Jake shrugged.  “That’s what I intend to find out.  Go take the Ward’s report, then come back by here and pick me up.  We are going to the Carr County Courthouse.  I need to talk with Sheriff Myrr.”