Free Scare Tactics by John Farris Page A

over to Daimler’s when they’re through with it. I’ll talk to Ike Daimler later about arrangements.”
    “Yes, sir. The two boys that found her are in Arby’s office, and the Bazemores are in mine.”
    “Let the kids go, they’ve told us all they can.” The Sheriff got up. “I want to talk to the Bazemores. Give me about ten minutes, then we’ll take another statement from them.” Grange nodded. “I didn’t think too highly of what they was telling us the first time,” he said, and followed the Sheriff out of the office.
    In Grange’s office Nealy and Gaynell Bazemore were sitting in a couple of thinly upholstered chairs pushed back against one wall. Gaynell, a caffeine addict, was on the fourth cup of coffee she’d had since arriving at the Sheriff’s station. Her eyes were red and dry. Nealy twisted his hands slowly and chewed aspirin.
    “Morning, Nealy,” Stone said. “Keeping you all busy down there at Lockheed?”
    “Yes, sir, they are for a fact.”
    “Gaynell, how are the kids?”
    “Oh, Curtis is just growing like a weed since he had his tonsils out, and Kipper’s the same old booger bear.”
    “Your mama making it okay?”
    “Well, you know, her sciatica’s acting up, but Mama’s always been the bravest soul. You can’t keep her down—you know Mama.”
    “I ought to. Best-looking woman I never married.” He said this with an attempt at a smile, then sat on the edge of Lieutenant Grange’s desk and sipped at the mug of coffee he’d brought in with him, which had Garfield the cat in a Santa Claus suit on the side. Stone looked at the Bazemores, mildly but with a slight air of disapproval that soon had Nealy so ill at ease he couldn’t find the right attitude for his body in the straight-backed chair. The phone rang, but Stone ignored it.
    Gaynell burst out, “I want you to know we’re just heartbroken about this!”
    Stone sipped coffee and continued to stare at them.
    “Do you know who did it?” Nealy mumbled, keeping his head down and his eyes on the scuffed black-and-white tile floor.
    “No.” Stone put his mug down. “You know, I took Taryn into my own house when she had no place to go. It was that or the county shelter, nobody else in the family could do a thing with her. She was, what, barely ten years old? By then I reckon it was already too late. Now, Roberta, if she hadn’t of been bedfast, might have been a powerful influence, but it was all just too much for me to cope.”
    “Well, God bless you for trying to help her!” Gaynell said passionately.
    “Nealy, are you fixing to be sick?” Stone inquired of the squirming man.
    “No.” Nealy cleared his raspy throat. “Reckon there ain’t a thing left on my stomach to heave up.”
    “You’re welcome to go out and use the bathroom, then come back.”
    “No, I appreciate it, Sheriff, but I think I’ll be okay.”
    “Why don’t you go on out anyway, take a turn down the hall, have you a drink of water, let your head clear, if you know what I mean. So you’ll be ready to tell me the complete truth when you get back in here. Otherwise the two of you just might be sitting right where you are for the next couple days, and I ain’t crapping you negative.”
    Gaynell looked appalled. Nealy stared steadfastly at the floor, his clenched hands between his knees. The phone rang again. Gaynell, Mrs. Coffee Nerves, jumped slightly.
    Stone smiled bleakly at her. Gaynell’s mouth turned down at the corners, and she looked hatefully at her husband.
    Stone said, “Folks, I have been in law enforcement for thirty-three years. Set here thisaway the Lord knows how many thousand times and heard all the stories there is to tell. You want to know how many people have lied to me in thirty-three years? It’s a simple computation.” He leaned forward to emphasize his point. “They all lied. They lied a little, or they lied a lot, at least to begin with. Now, I hope you’re only lying a little, Nealy. And that you honestly