Free Two Bits Four Bits by Mark Cotton Page A

around the
cemetery for awhile, locating other family member’s gravesites and
complaining about the lack of upkeep and shaking their heads at
evidence of vandalism on the headstones. Once the family members
resign themselves to let the funeral directors finish their job,
they will make their way back into town and eventually to the home
of the departed, where they’ll spend the afternoon visiting with
people they haven’t spoken to in decades and sampling the covered
dishes delivered by neighbors and distant relatives.
    Russell Chilton’s funeral
didn’t follow the typical pattern of a small-town Texas ceremony in
all respects, but for those who made every stop in the ceremony it
did take up the better part of the Wednesday following his death.
The crowd that gathered at the church included most of the business
and civic leaders of Elmore, as well as most of the staff of the
Elmore Bank & Trust. By the time I got there, it was standing
room only, so I lingered in the vestibule and chatted with people
whose original purpose in coming to Elmore was to attend the
reunion. When the vestibule got too crowded, I stepped back outside
and spotted Detectives Clemmer and Puckett talking to a uniformed
officer next to a police cruiser parked in front of the funeral
hearse. They may have been on hand to help out with the funeral
detail, but more than likely they were following standard homicide
procedure by taking inventory of those who attended the funeral
services for the victim. Clemmer, the older of the two looked up
and studied me for a few seconds before ambling over to where I was
standing.
    “Bob Clemmer,” he said,
offering his hand.
    “Buddy Griffin,” I said.
We shook hands and watched the steady procession of people into the
church.
    “Weren’t you at the
Chilton residence on Saturday morning?” he asked, digging a pack of
Camel cigarettes out of the pocket of his blazer and lighting one
with a battered Zippo.
    “Yeah, I’m a friend of
Kandy’s from high school. Down here for the reunion.”
    “Oh, yeah. Didn’t I hear
that you were on the job in Austin for a while?”
    “Twenty-three years,” I
nodded. “Worked homicide for the last twelve. Retired a few months
back.”
    “Really? That’s a long
time to work murders. Especially in Austin where you have one what,
every couple of weeks?”
    “Yeah, they keep coming
pretty regular. I can’t say I wasn’t ready to turn in my papers
when I did. But, it’s taking some adjustment.”
    He laughed. “I hear you.
I’ve been doing this for twenty-six years now and I don’t know what
I’d do if I gave it up. Of course we spend most of our time
tracking down stolen oilfield tools and talking to local sex
offenders about the benefits of moving to a larger city. Before
this one, we hadn’t had a murder here in almost two
years.”
    “I understand if you can’t
talk about it,” I said. “But do you have much to go on?”
    “Well, I don’t mind
talking, but this probably isn’t the time or place. Is there some
place we could talk to you later, after the funeral
maybe?”
    I gave him the location of
my parents’ house and told him that I would probably be there for
most of the afternoon after I put in appearance at Kandy’s house
following the funeral. With that, he rejoined his partner and the
uniformed officers who were waiting to perform their role in the
procession to the cemetery.
     
     
    * * * *
     
     

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
     
    Kandy’s house was crowded
with relatives, friends and business associates of Russell
following the funeral, and felt more like a cocktail party without
drinks than a post-funeral gathering of the bereaved. There were a
lot of people I didn’t know, so I ended up spending most of my time
in the kitchen, where some of Kandy’s female friends joked about
finally putting a man in his place as I washed and dried dishes at
the sink. I knew I was probably missing an opportunity to gather
information that might help solve