Murder at the Jubilee Rally Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Also by Terry Shames

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Also by Terry Shames

  Samuel Craddock mysteries

  A KILLING AT COTTON HILL

  THE LAST DEATH OF JACK HARBIN

  DEAD BROKE IN JARRETT CREEK

  A DEADLY AFFAIR AT BOBTAIL RIDGE

  THE NECESSARY MURDER OF NONIE BLAKE

  AN UNSETTLING CRIME FOR SAMUEL CRADDOCK

  A RECKONING IN THE BACK COUNTRY

  A RISKY UNDERTAKING FOR LORETTA SINGLETARY

  MURDER AT THE JUBILEE RALLY

  Terry Shames

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First world edition published in Great Britain and the USA in 2022

  by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd,

  14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE.

  Trade paperback edition first published in Great Britain and the USA in 2023

  by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd.

  This eBook edition first published in 2022 by Severn House,

  an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd.

  severnhouse.com

  Copyright © Terry Shames, 2022

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The right of Terry Shames to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0934-4 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0968-9 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0958-0 (e-book)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This eBook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  For Winter Fate Morvant and the Deuce

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  As we recover from two years of pandemic life, I want to begin by acknowledging those who kept me going when it seemed as if we’d never be the same again. To David, Geoffrey, and Winter; to Carol, Joan, Mary Ann and Jerry, Anne and Ray – all members of our ‘pod,’ my deepest love and thanks.

  And much love and thanks to the members of the Crime Scribblers Salon, led by the incomparable Craig Faustus Buck. Our Friday night Zoom meetings have been a mainstay of my life for over a year. I also want to express appreciation to the ‘Usual Suspects’ Zoomers, led by Keith Raffel.

  My thanks would not be complete without acknowledging the writers of all the books that I read in the past couple of years, too many to name. Our lives would be impoverished without books, so deep appreciation to those who write them.

  And where would I be without readers who continued to send me letters telling me how much they love my books? Thank you one and all.

  A special nod to Janet Reid, who over the past few years has taught me how to end a book. She kept saying, ‘You’re not done yet. You need one more twist.’ And she was right.

  And finally thanks to my agent Kimberley Cameron for connecting me with Severn House Publishing, and to Carl Smith, Piers Tilbury, Martin Brown, and all the others who work behind the scenes at Severn House to produce such beautiful books.

  If you enjoyed the book, please consider writing a review at your favorite review site. To stay in touch with me, you can subscribe to my newsletter at www.Terryshames.com.

  ONE

  ‘Let the fireworks begin,’ Lester Pierce, the mayor, leans over and whispers to me. You’d think we were about to host the gunfight at the O.K. Corral instead of a town hall meeting. He bangs his gavel and the last stragglers dive for their seats. Although this meeting will probably be as tedious as all the others, at least our new city council meeting room is a lot more comfortable than the old one, with modern folding chairs that replaced the metal ones, and air conditioning that works. The room is painted a nice beige and decorated with vintage photos of Jarrett Creek. There’s also a big bulletin board with flyers and announcements, some already out of date.

  I’m sitting at the table at the front of the room, because Lester insisted that as chief of police I should be at the head table to help work out a solution to tonight’s topic. I note that the unusually large crowd of thirty or so attending the emergency meeting have divided themselves into two sides of the aisle: pro and con. The issue is whether to shut down the town during the yearly Jubilee Motorcycle Rally out at the lake. Proponents of the move say it’s a heathen event that brings in an unsavory element. They want to shut down businesses so the bikers have to go to Bobtail, ten miles away, to do their shopping, and stay out of our town with their loud machines and rowdy behavior. It’s no surprise that business owners are opposed. As are those who don’t want to be inconvenienced. So the ‘anti’ side of the room is larger.

  I don’t know why, after years of indifference to the Jubilee Rally, this year people got riled up about it. They actually tried to ban it altogether. Six months ago, Lily Deverell formed a committee to take a petition to the state of Texas, signed by two hundred of our fearless citizens. The state makes a fair amount of money from the rally so, to no one’s surprise, they rejected the request. After that Lily came up with the ‘Shut Down the Town’ movement.

  Lester calls on Lily, as head of the committee, to make the case. About forty, with a round face and hair cut like a helmet, Lily always wears eye-popping clothes. Tonight she’s sporting electric green pants and a blinding-yellow sleeveless blouse that buttons to her neckline. Her voice quavers at first, as if she’s nervous
about addressing the crowd, but passion takes over as she speaks. She concludes by saying, ‘There’s no reason why we have to put up with their loud music and the roar of those motorcycles, and their vulgar behavior. The way they tear up and down the highway, it’s not safe to get out on the road.’

  There are murmurs of ascent from the people on her side of the room.

  Spurred on, she says, ‘Alls I’m saying is that even if the state lets them have the rally out at the lake, we don’t have to allow bikers to run wild in our town. It won’t kill us to shut down our stores for a week.’ She plops down, looking pleased with herself.

  There’s a smattering of applause, and then Amber Johnson gets up. Amber couldn’t be dressed more differently from Lily. She’s wearing a short blue skirt that shows off her legs and a white top with a plunging neckline that shows off her ample bosom. Her dark hair is in a ponytail.

  ‘Y’all know I have a family to take care of, and shutting down my store for a week would be a problem,’ she says, her voice shaking. ‘I don’t approve of the way some of those bikers behave any more than you do, but they’re not all like that. I know from experience that most of them are good people who just like to get together and have some fun. Bottom line is, I can’t afford to lose the money they bring in.’ She tugs her skirt down over her shapely hips before she sits down.

  Amber and her husband were members of a motorcycle club when, a few years ago, the driver of a pickup truck lost control of his vehicle and plowed into a group of club members riding on a country road. One man was killed; Amber’s husband Mike’s back was broken and he’s on disability now. Amber had broken bones, but she recovered. Since then, she’s had to shoulder the burden of running their convenience store.

  Lily Deverell jumps up again, without waiting to be called on. ‘Amber, it’s possible some of them are good, God-fearing people. I don’t know. But every year somebody gets drunk and loses their temper and a fight breaks out and somebody gets hurt. If they kept it out there at the lake, it would be one thing, but remember how two years ago they had a big brawl at the Two Dog?’ She looks to me at the central table at the front of the room, and I nod. It’s true, there was a set-to at our town’s only bar, but that was a rare event. My police department hardly ever has any problems with the rally because they have their own security and the highway patrol is out in force.

  Lily isn’t done. Her face is red as she sputters, ‘I’m tired of my kids seeing how they act rude, and the way they dress so vulgar, like they don’t have any respect for themselves or anybody else. Drinking, carousing and roaring up and down ’til all hours.’ She finally stops to draw breath.

  Lily’s husband is hunched over as if he wants to be anonymous. When she stops talking, he pulls her down into her seat.

  Amber stands up again. Her face is white and her big calf eyes look on the verge of tears. ‘I’ve got to make a living, and you think that’s easy?’ She looks around the room, meeting people’s eyes. ‘It’s hard. I’m lucky to keep a roof over our heads and supper on the table. And as for you,’ she speaks directly to Lily, ‘you’re upset because your son is a troublemaker and now that he has a motorcycle you’re scared he’s going to raise hell. And that daughter of yours looks like she’s going to be just like him, made up like somebody out of a vampire movie. Maybe it’s them you need to worry about and stop sticking your nose into everybody else’s business.’

  The room is stunned into silence.

  Lily gasps audibly. ‘How dare you talk about my kids that way! Maybe you ought to look to your own behavior.’ She starts to get up and her husband, Harold, grabs her arm.

  ‘Lily, sit down.’

  She throws him off and rises. ‘I don’t have to stay here and be bad-mouthed.’ She climbs over people to get to the aisle and heads for the door.

  Her husband goes after her.

  Amber has grown pale and reaches out to steady herself on the back of the seat in front of her. ‘Lily, I shouldn’t have said that. Come back.’

  Harold catches up with his wife and says something to her. She lets him lead her to the nearest seat, across the room from Amber.

  ‘Let’s all just settle down,’ Lester says. ‘We’ll take a break for a few minutes and partake of some of the coffee and cookies.’ We’ve already done that once, but people rush back there as if they’re starving.

  I go back to get another cup of coffee and take a couple of sugar cookies. My buddy Gabe LoPresto ambles over to me. I’m surprised he’s here. He’s a building contractor whose business won’t be affected one way or another by the rally.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask. ‘You don’t have any dog in this fight.’

  ‘You know me, though, I like to keep my oar in. Besides, this is one of the stupidest ideas I ever heard and I was sort of curious to know what was going to happen.’

  ‘Well, Lily’s got a point, the bikers do cut up and make a lot of racket.’

  ‘You sound like you don’t care for the rally. I don’t particularly either, but a lot of the businesses in town count on the extra income from this week. Lily doesn’t have enough to do with her time, if you ask me.’

  Lester rushes over to us. ‘Got any ideas?’ he says. He’s a scrawny guy with a long, horsey face. I didn’t give him enough credit when he first became mayor. He was tentative and seemed in over his head. But he’s settled in.

  ‘Why don’t we just curtail the hours in the evening?’ I say. ‘A curfew. Won’t do much, but it might satisfy the do-gooders.’

  ‘I like it,’ Lester says, nodding.

  He corrals us back to our seats. No one seems to have sneaked out during the break.

  ‘Folks, I think if we put our heads together we can come up with a compromise,’ Lester says.

  ‘What do you mean “compromise”?’ Bill Kazinski grumbles from the front row.

  ‘He means everybody gives a little and gets a little, Billy,’ Maureen Washington says, with a wry tone, digging her elbow into his side. Everyone laughs, relieved to have the mood lightened, even if just for a minute. A high school teacher with a sharp tongue, she is a close friend of Kazinski’s, a guy who normally thinks women should be seen and not heard.

  ‘I know what it means, smart Alec,’ he says. ‘I just want to know what it means in particular.’

  ‘Now look, y’all,’ Lester says. ‘We can’t stop the rally. They’re contracted with the state, and it’s happening whether we like it or not.’

  ‘I move that we table the discussion and bring it up again next year.’ Gabe LoPresto is reared back in his seat like he’s king of all he surveys, with one leg crossed over the other at the knee, showing off his flashy black boots.

  Indignant cries at his suggestion break out all over the room.

  ‘No,’ Lily yells. ‘It’s time we took action. Every year we just let it happen. But not this year.’ She jumps to her feet again. ‘I move that we shut down business the week of the rally.’

  Lester has to pound his gavel at the outcry.

  ‘We have two motions. Anybody want to make another one?’

  I can see this going on for another hour, so it’s time for me to make a move. ‘Mr Chairman,’ I say, when the noise has died down, ‘I’d like to put a proposal on the table and let everybody discuss it.’ I feel the sigh of relief running through the room.

  ‘OK, Chief. What’s your plan?’

  I glance at LoPresto, who’s grinning. ‘We could have a business curfew. Something like eight o’clock. Post signs at both entrances into town announcing it. Any business found open after that without a good reason will be fined. That might keep bikers out of town in the evening hours.’ We’re a small town and most businesses like hair salons, real estate offices and the like close at six anyway. Even the few cafes usually shut down by nine.

  Lester looks at me, a smile playing on his lips. ‘A sound suggestion. Any discussion?’

  There are nods and murmurs.

  I hope no one in the room actually believ
es the police will monitor the curfew. Besides me, I have two full-time and two part-time deputies. The town can’t afford overtime pay for any of us to be monitoring the town’s business habits. But we’re here in the interest of taking a stand tonight, and if we can rally enough supporters for the compromise, we can go home.

  And that’s exactly what we do, with exceptions made for the town’s two gas stations and motels. After the decision is made, the Chamber of Commerce president says she’ll contact her members and urge them to shut down at eight.

  Once the meeting is adjourned, Lester says, ‘You know we can’t make them do it. Plus we’ve got businesses that aren’t part of the Chamber of Commerce.’

  ‘We’ll send out a city-wide notice,’ I say. ‘That’s all we can do.’

  Afterwards, I nab Gabe LoPresto and ask him if he’ll slap together some signs for us to post at either end of town. He says he’ll have them out as soon as he can tomorrow morning.

  TWO

  For the last thirty-plus years, I’ve kept a herd of twenty-five Herefords in the pasture behind my house. I never had dreams of becoming a big-time rancher, I just wanted to raise a few cows. My wife Jeanne indulged me, but when my mother heard about it she sneered that I was pretending to be a gentleman farmer. That may be, but I get a lot of pleasure out of spending the early morning hours tending to them.

  It’s going to be a fiery hot day and I need to be sure they aren’t suffering in the heat. People think cows are sturdy, but they can actually be delicate and prone to all kinds of odd illnesses if they’re stressed by heat. I used to depend on Truly Bennett to keep an eye on their well-being, but he’s been out west in the Lubbock area for several months setting up a ranch for a wealthy man who retired and decided to become a cattleman with a big spread.

  My dog, Dusty, doesn’t seem bothered by the heat. While I check on the cows, he scares up a squirrel and they keep each other busy until I’m ready to go back up to the house. When I took in Dusty last fall, the vet told me he was a Border Collie, and they tended to be smart. Neither proved to be true, but Dusty’s a good dog, a brown and white mutt with a frizzy muzzle. The fact that he doesn’t behave well is more my fault than his.