Midnight Visitors 18

Tubby sat in his cell in semi confinement all through Friday waiting. For appearances sake, mindful of Simon's occupation of the adjoining cell, Abbott locked the cell door. Tubby was quite happy for the opportunity to catch up on his personal reading. He had sent a note to Fletcher, telling him of his predicament and asking for his help.

It was evening before Heyes, Abbott, Brubaker and Preacher looked up as Fletcher Callaghan walked into the sheriff's office.

"Mark have I got it right you've arrested Tubby for Mercer's murder?" he asked, without preamble. "What are you doing here?" The last was to Brubaker.

"I have a client─" Brubaker said, gesturing to the cellblock.

"You're my lawyer," Fletcher frowned.

"I can be both," Brubaker shrugged.

Fletcher grunted and turned to Abbott. "Well is it true? Have ya arrested Tubby?"

"Yes."

Fletcher stood hands on hips and looked thoughtful.

"Well now that is a shame because now I have to do … THIS!" Before any of them could react, Fletcher had drawn his gun. "Guns on the table please." He looked between them, trying to work out where any threat was likely to come from. "You first, Rembacker. Thumb and forefinger only. Nice and slow."

Heyes had paused with his hand above his gun and he now reconfigured his fingers as ordered.

"Now take a step back."

Heyes did as requested.

"Your turn Mark."

"Fletcher what is this?" Abbott asked, as he complied.

"Justice." Fletcher indicated with his gun, Abbott should step back, before he turned to Brubaker. "You too, Mr Brubaker."

"I'm not armed. Mr Callaghan, I-I would strongly advise you not to do this," Brubaker spluttered, hands held shoulder high.

Fletcher grunted. "Too late. I'm doing it."

Suddenly he swept his gun round to point at Preacher, who had taken the opportunity to creep forward.

"Don't try it Bible Man."

Preacher stood still, raised his arms and grinned. "When the Good Lord presents opportunities─"

"Don't try that again. Or the Good Lord will be presenting me with opportunities. Ya armed?"

"Only with the words of the Almighty."

"Yeah well I'm looking for someone more reliable." Fletcher motioned to Abbott. "Check him."

Abbott moved across the room. After a moment's hesitation, he made an exaggerated show of frisking Preacher. He found nothing but a bible.

"Satisfied?"

Fletcher nodded.

"Now Mark, I want ya to take the keys and open the door." When Abbott hesitated, Fletcher cocked his gun. "I'm not messing with ya, Mark. Do it."

Abbott took the keys from his desk drawer and slid the bolt on the cellblock. He opened the door and stood waiting for further instructions.

Fletcher ushered the four man in.

"Well it's about time you got here," Simon said, getting to his feet.

"Shut up," Fletcher snapped. "On ya feet, Tubby. I'm taking ya outta here. Open the door to Tubby's cell if you please Mark."

"Fletcher I'd rather stay here." Tubby looked worried at what his friend was doing on his behalf.

"And let them hang you?"

"I didn't kill Mr Mercer. I keep telling them. Mr Rembacker is close to figuring it all out."

"Yeah, that's what worries me. Out now or someone gets hurt."

Heyes looked at Tubby, who was gripping the bars tightly, and nodded slightly. Tubby looked back, a pained expression on his face. "When he does, Fletch, I'll be in the clear," he said, quietly.

"Any more talking an' I'm gonna shoot someone. We can start with Rembacker if ya like," Fletcher said, deliberately pointing his gun at Heyes.

"Alright, alright, I'll come out. Don't shoot anyone."

Tubby held his hands up and slid out warily as Fletcher ushered Heyes in. He immediately sat on the bunk to watch events unfold.

"Lock him in Mark."

"What 'bout me?" Simon cried. "Ya've gotta let me outta here."

Fletcher hesitated and everyone looked at him expectantly. "Let him out, Mark."

Simon almost pushed Abbott out of the way in his hurry to escape. Fletcher ushered Abbott and Brubaker into the same cell, relieving Abbott of the keys as he went and handing them to Tubby.

Tubby fumbled with the lock. "I'm sorry, Sheriff."

"It's alright, Tubby," Abbott reassured him.

Simon had run into the office and almost immediately returned with Abbott's gun.

"Now there's one man here that I've gotta score to settle with … ." He pulled back to the hammer and pointed the gun at Heyes.

"Wouldn't do that, Boy," Preacher warned, his hand closing on his arm, pushing it and the gun downwards.

"Take ya hand off me," Simon growled, wrestling his arm free. "Maybe I oughta start with you." The barrel of the gun swung towards Preacher.

"No one's shooting anyone." Fletcher laid a hand on Simon's other arm and squeezed to get his attention. "Put that gun away. We're already in enough trouble as it is. D'ya want to add murder to it?" Fletcher reasoned, quickly.

"That's right, Simon. This is not going to play well in court," said Brubaker. "Put up your gun. Now."

On his bunk, Heyes crossed his legs and touched his fingertips to his lips. Here was an interesting development.

The standoff lasted several more long moments with Simon looking between Fletcher and Brubaker. Eventually, he uncocking the gun and nodded in defeat. Fletcher ushered Preacher into the cell across the aisle. Tubby locked the door, giving him an apologetic look.

"We'll be leaving ya now. Good night, gentlemen." Fletcher tipped his hat politely and followed Simon and Tubby out.

The four men in the cells looked at each other in silence as they listened to the sounds of escape from the main office.

"Well now this is just great," Abbott fumed, when they heard the front door shut.

"What's going to happen now?" Brubaker wanted to now.

"Now, now, sheriff. This is exactly what we were hoping for," Heyes said, leaning over, his hand sliding down inside his right boot.

"It was?" Abbott frowned. "I'm pretty sure I didn't bargain on being incarcerated in my own jail!"

"Remember I said something had to happen? To force Fletcher into showing his hand. Well it just did."

"Yeah ya did but I didn't expect Fletcher to break Tubby and Simon oughta jail."

"I don't think he knew Simon was here but Fletcher's certainly in a lot of trouble now," Heyes rolled his eyes.

"I'll say," Brubaker said.

From his boot, Heyes pulled a thin bladed knife.

"I can't believe it," Abbott said, pacing up and down. "I never expected him to do that." He shook his head.

"Neither did I, Mark," Heyes agreed. "Exactly. Certainly not with Mr Brubaker here."

Abbott groaned. "It's gonna be ages afore we can get after them. Patterson won't stop by until 9 o'clock in the morning. They'll be long gone by then."

Heyes looked across at Preacher. "J lend me your pectoral cross if you please?" he asked, politely.

"Awh now, Al I dunno. The last time ya used it for what you're gonna use it for now, ya bent it."

Heyes grinned across at him. "Well in that case, I'll bend it back," he said, pleasantly. "D'you want to wait for Patterson? Like the sheriff says, they'll be long gone by the time he gets here. We really oughta be getting after them as soon as we can."

Preacher sighed and reluctantly unbuttoned his tunic. Nestling against his rather grubby henley was a large, base metal cross. The downward member had a distinct kink in the bottom right edge. He took it off, wrapped the chain round it and slid it along the floor across to Heyes.

"Thank you," Heyes said, as he picked it up.

"Ya will look after it?"

"'Course."

"What are you doing?" Abbott asked, having retreated to the bunk in despair, anticipating a long wait.

"I don't think I've ever been this side of the bars," Brubaker said, conversationally, to no one in particular.

"Er sheriff, if you don't want me to offend your sensibilities, I suggest you look away now," Heyes advised.

Heyes selected the reverse of the point he'd used previously and stuck it in the lock, preventing the mechanism from turning. Reaching round to the outside, he inserted the tip of the knife in the lock from that side. Several moments of face pulling and wiggling the knife in the lock later, Heyes, with a pleased grin, was pushing open the cell door.

"I'll see if they left the keys," he said, handing Preacher back his cross. "See good as new." He deliberately avoided Abbott's scowl.

Sometime later, when they had regrouped in the office, Preacher took down a rifle from the rack. Abbott gave him a glance and turned his attention to Heyes.

"What now, Rembacker? I can raise a posse but we've no idea where they were heading. It's too dark to pick up their trail and by first light they'll have a big lead on us."

Heyes pinched his bottom lip, in thought. "You might want to round up your two deputies Mark but we won't need a posse. I know where they've gone."

"Ya do? How?" Abbott was incredulous.

"I heard part of their conversation as they left. Tubby insisted they go to his house first. He's concerned about his Ma." He paused. "He also said it loud enough so we'd hear … well … I heard. J and me'll head on over there and see if we can stall 'em. Round up your deputies, Mark and … ." Heyes gave a wide grin. "Arriving in the nick of time will be just fine."

Abbott gave his usual frown, shook his head, followed by a nod.

"What about me?" Brubaker asked.

Heyes and Abbott looked at each other. Neither really wanted the lawyer with them.

"Can you use a rifle?" Abbott asked, taking one down from the rack.

"Yes." Brubaker gulped. "Well I think so."

Heyes rolled his eyes and nudged Preacher's arm. "C'mon we're losing time."

ASJASJASJASJ

"I don't like it Heyes," Preacher said, as he and Heyes skulked in the bushes outside the Wilson house.

"Now you're sounding like Kyle. What don't you like?" Heyes asked, patiently, keeping his voice down.

"It's too quiet. Lovina is in there."

Heyes looked sideways at his friend. "Lovina?" Although dark, Heyes could see his friend was embarrassed.

"Yeah, Lovina. She and I kinda … hit it off … ." Preacher spluttered. "Now's not the time for this conversation, boy Concentrate on the matter in hand."

Heyes grinned briefly and did as instructed.

"It's too quiet in there, Heyes. D'ya think we missed them?"

Heyes growled. "I'm beginning to think that as well."

He drew his gun. With practised ease, he pulled back the barrel latch and rotated the barrel downwards. Five chambers were already loaded. With a glance at Preacher, he hesitated before loading a sixth, sighed and decided against it. He closed the gun up.

"Okay, cover me and I'll take a look."

Preacher grabbed Heyes' arm as he started to rise.

"No I'll go."

Heyes looked at him.

"Ya've got more to lose than me."

ASJASJASJASJ

Preacher heard a muffled sound. As he crept closer, he began to discern what it was. The sound of someone trying to yell for help through a gag. He had an awful feeling he knew what it was.

He scuffled around the side of the house, checking for unlocked windows as he went. He had almost given up finding one and was contemplating smashing a pane to get in, when the latch on the kitchen window gave. He opened it quickly, pulled himself up over the sill and clambered awkwardly over the sink. He cursed when his long tunic caught up on the pump. Once free, his eyes went ceiling ward. He mouthed the benediction, automatically sketching a cross: spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch.

Certain there was no one else in the house, he made his way quickly to the room from where he'd heard the noise. It was Lovina. Gagged, with arms and legs tied to a chair. He removed the gag first.

"They've got my boy J," she cried. "My poor boy."

"It's alright Lovina. Help is at hand. Al is outside and the sheriff is on his way."

Preacher freed her and because she was distraught, he told himself, took her in his arms.

"It's okay Lovina. They won't harm him."

"How do you know?" she demanded. "I've never liked that Simon Long. He's bad people J."

"I know. I know," Preacher shushed. "Fletcher will see him alright. He always has done, hasn't he?"

Lovina nodded, and snuggled her head against Preacher's shoulder.

It was a few minutes, before Preacher raised his head.

"Sounds like the sheriff now," he said, hearing movement.

Outside, Heyes had risen to his feet at the arrival of the sheriff and the two part-time deputies, neither of whom looked fully awake.

"Think we missed 'em, Sheriff," he said, apologetically. "Where's Mr Brubaker?"

Abbott grunted. "Expected as much. Awh, I left Brubaker at the office. Not expecting him to be of much use, so I told him to stay there and co-ordinate things." He shrugged when he saw Heyes' look, to indicate he didn't know what things either. "Where's Wedgewood?"

"He scouted round the back."

"I'm here," Preacher said, opening the front door.

"Anyone in there?"

"Jus' Lo…Mrs Wilson."

"Is she alright?" Heyes asked, starting for the door. He stopped when he realised Abbott should perhaps be going first.

"They tied her up and gagged her but yeah she's alright." Preacher stood aside to let Abbott and Heyes through, before following. The two deputies brought up the rear.

"Sheriff, they took my boy," Mrs Wilson cried as soon as she saw Abbott.

"I know, Mrs Wilson. We'll get him back safe and sound don't you worry." Abbott patted her hand, reassuringly. "Now did they say where they were going?"

"No. No. I didn't hear."

"They didn't say anything at all?" Heyes asked.

Mrs Wilson frowned. "It was all so sudden. I was asleep." She gasped. "Here I am in front of you all in my nightclothes … ." She sounded shocked but didn't look shocked.

"Now Lovina, don't you worry 'bout that. Ya look fine." Preacher dropped onto the chair beside her and took her hand. "Lovina think. Did they say anything at all? It might help us find Theodore."

Lovina smiled at Preacher. "Thank you dear," she touched his cheek fondly.

Heyes and Abbott swopped smiles.

"Want me to get Annie, Sheriff?" Patterson, the part-time deputy, asked. When Abbott looked at him, continued "Y'know to sit with … ." He waved a hand at Mrs Wilson. "'Till we get back?"

Abbott nodded. Patterson sped away to fetch his wife, from a few doors up.

"The only thing I did hear them say was something about Forty-Nine. I don't know what that means."

"Forty-Nine? Does it mean anything, Mark?"

Abbott looked blank. "Not to me." He turned to Stoner, who shook his head.

Heyes crouched by Mrs Wilson's chair. "What were their exact words, Mrs Wilson?"

Mrs Wilson frowned as she tried to remember. "Theodore asked where they were going. Fletcher started to answer but that Simon Long interrupted so I didn't hear. He's an awful man. I've never liked him not even as a boy."

"Lovina … ," Preacher started.

Mrs Wilson sighed. "As they bundled Theodore away, he looked over his shoulder at me and … he mouthed something. J, he looked so scared!"

"Mrs Wilson, what did Tub … Theodore mouth to you?"

"Exactly what I heard before. Forty-Nine." She looked at Heyes and then up at Abbott. "What does it mean?"