Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel by Warren Williams Read Free Book Online Page B

search an area from both directions. Too many things could be hidden in the weeds to be seen on one pass.”
    “You mean I might find another condom on the way back?”
    “Don’t make me have to walk over there and bitch slap you , Billy Ray.”
    No other words were spoken until the men had walked back past the Sheriff’s pickup . They were almost to the junkyard house when the deputy asked, “See the field here on my side of the road? What’s up with that string of pipes on wheels?”
    Lester stopped, took off his hat, and wiped his brow with a big blue handkerchief from his back pocket. “That would be for irrigation , son. If you were to take a ride in an airplane and look down on this part of the country, you would see dozens of circles like that, big circles, most a quarter-mile in diameter, crop circles is what they are.”
    “You mean like from the UFO’s?”
    “No, no, no. Lord, give me strength. Look, we don’t get a lot of rain here in this end of the state. Ever heard of the Dust Bowl? Back in the 30’s it was. The Panhandle, right here where you’re standing, was caught in the worst of it. These days, the farmers have learned about better methods to hold the ground down , but they still don’t know how to make it rain, least not consistently . That contraption you’re looking at waters the crops . It’s called center-pivot irrigation . The nozzles, those tubes you see all along the length of the pipe, is where the water comes out. The holes in the nozzles—the sprinklers—vary in size so that the water is distributed evenly all along the path. There’s an electric motor at the center to keep the thing moving. I think it makes a complete revolution about once every three days or so, something like that.”
    By now the deputy was staring at the man across the road. “My, my, Sheriff, sometimes you do amaze me.”
    “I’ve a wealth of hidden talents and vast knowledge on a plethora of subjects yet to be revealed my boy. Keep walkin’.”
    Billy Ray had no reply to su ch a line of obvious bull shit and asked instead, “How ‘ bout the house—the junky one—check it out now?”
    Lester turned to look at the sun and thought about it. “No, w e’ll do that tomorrow, that is if the girl hasn’t shown up by then. Let’s get on back to the Parker’s.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    C hapter 7
     
    Mrs. Albert Parker came to the door looking even more gaunt and haggard than Lester remembered from earlier in the day. Her eyes were hollow , dark, and lifeless ; the lines in her face like ruts in a muddy road. It was as if she had aged ten years in only a few short hours. A pocket on the side of her dress bulged with used tissues.
    “Ma’am?” the Sheriff asked, “Any news?”
    “None,” she said, as her eyes grew watery once again.
    “Mrs. Parker, do you think it would be all right if my deputy and I looked around a little bit? I’d like to see Melissa’s room if I could, maybe get a photo that I could borrow for a while?”
    “A picture, yes, of course . I have several. Melissa is our only child you know. Please come in.”
    The door swung open with the invitation and as Imogene stepped away, Lester turned to Billy Ray and lowered his voice, “Check all those out-buildings where the machinery is, the barn too.”
    “What if Albert shows up?”
    “Shoot him.”
    “ What ?”
    “Just deal with it , Billy Ray. I’ll meet you back at the pickup.”
    The interior of the Parker home was like a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting . The furniture was eerily similar to the television setting of Happy Day’s or Leave it to Beaver. Off to the right, Lester caught a glimpse of a spotless kitchen . A blue Formica table with chrome legs and matching vinyl chairs filled most of the room . The living room had a hardwood floor with colorful throw rugs, a stone fireplace with a print of The Last Supper above the mantle, and an oversized easy chair—presumably Albert’s—in front of a small