Out To Get You (Vance Custer Novellas Book 1) Read online

  Out To Get You

  A Vance Custer novella

  By

  Jochem Vandersteen

  KINDLE EDITION

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Sons of Spade

  All Right Reserved

  * * * * *

  Out To Get You: Vance Custer #1

  Copyright © 2014 Jochem Vandersteen

  Cover by Keith Dixon, photo by Skeely

  Edited by Sean Dexter

  * * * * *

  Out To Get You

  ONE

  Driving into little tree, I saw absolutely nothing that would suggest I would be facing certain death a few days later. It seemed like your average, sleepy small town. The place where mom’s apple pie was still baked the way it was supposed to be and the local diner didn’t have a franchise logo on the window. I liked it. It had a nice ambiance, something a writer could work with. I wasn’t sure the case I was here for would lead to much of a story, but with my significant other on tour I felt like leaving my place, to avoid being confronted by her empty side of the bed.

  I parked my 1969 Chevy Nova in front of the quaint little home my GPS told me belonged to the person I was here to visit.

  It was one of those homes people only build for themselves in small towns. Lots of wood, nice porch. It even had a little plaque on the door that read Home Sweet Home.

  I rang the bell and waited a few seconds for the door to open.

  The women that opened the door had dark eyes, dark hair and an deep tan. Her teeth were nice and white and formed a big smile between full lips. I think I noticed a few strands of grey between the dark ones. She seemed to be a good-looking forty.

  “Vance Custer?” she ventured as she saw me.

  “In the flesh,” I said.

  “Yes, I recognize you from the pictures on your book jackets. Good to see you. Please come in. I’m Ellen.”

  I followed her inside. Her burgundy summer dress made a swishing sound as she walked. It looked good on her.

  She ushered me into the kitchen. No fancy appliances like espresso machines or those massive smoothie machines that would look more at home on a steam locomotive. Just a lot of pots and pans.

  She asked me if I wanted a drink and I settled for a cup of coffee. She brewed a pot full while we talked.

  “I’m really happy you were willing to come over. It must have been quite a ride, all the way from New York.”

  “I go wherever the story takes me,” I said. “And yours sounded interesting enough.”

  “Really?” She took two mugs from a cupboard. She had to reach a bit for that, full breasts straining against the fabric of her dress. I’m in a steady relationship, but not blind.

  “Yeah, it intrigued me.”

  The coffee was done, she poured it into the mugs and handed me one. We sat at the kitchen table.

  “I wasn’t sure about that. I mean, a lot of people seem to think I’m crazy,” she said.

  I took a sip of coffee. Nice and strong. “Not me. Not from the first things you told me. Please, tell me again what you want me to investigate.”

  “Okay… My husband, Burt Gifford, was killed in a car accident four months ago. He was hit by a car and died on the spot. The police found the car a few miles from there that night. There was a bottle of whiskey inside. It was stolen earlier that night. According to them, it was the work of a joyrider. They never found out who drove that car.”

  “I’m very sorry about that.”

  “Yeah. Thing is, not only am I angry the driver got away, I’m also not sure it was an accident. Burt was very agitated the last few weeks. Worried, you know. And he seemed to be… very aware of his surroundings. You might say paranoid.”

  “Paranoid?”

  “He was always looking over his shoulder the last few weeks. Checked if the doors and windows were locked before bed. He never used to do that. I mean, there’s about zero crime in this town.”

  “Did you talk to him about his behavior?”

  “I did, but he just told me it was my imagination, that nothing was wrong. Maybe if he’d told me what was going on… Maybe we could have prevented this together.” Tears welled up in her big dark eyes like stars in the night sky.

  I put a hand on hers. “Don’t blame yourself. If it was really murder it would have been hard to avoid.”

  She nodded, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, maybe…”

  “So, you want me to investigate his death and prove it wasn’t an accident?”

  “Yes, maybe that will get the State Police involved or something. Our cops just don’t have the experience or apparently the interest to properly investigate this.”

  “Okay. You know how I work, right. You sign a contract that gives me all book and movie rights to this whole story. For that you get all my investigative skills.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m well aware of that.”

  I shook her hand. “Fine. Let’s get the contract signed so I can start. I do want to warn you, though… As an investigative reporter and true crime writer I have considerable investigative abilities, but I’m not a homicide detective. I didn’t get the training and I don’t have the resources. What I do have is a bulldog mentality, some helpful contacts, and years of experience writing about crime.”

  “I’m well aware of your reputation. It speaks for itself. There are lots of criminals off the street because of you , Mr. Custer.”

  “Please, call me Vance. And thanks.” She was right, I’d done well enough for a writer. The books I sold even made it possible for me to live pretty comfortably, not to mention the stuff that got bought by TV networks.

  TWO

  i drove to the place where Burt’s body had been found, Ellen was sitting in the car with me. She insisted on coming along so she could show me the exact spot and answer some questions. I wondered if this wouldn’t force her to relive her husband’s death, but she wouldn’t hear of letting me go alone.

  “You and Burt haven’t got any kids?” I asked her as I drove.

  “No, we couldn’t. My ovaries had to be removed when I was in my late twenties. Cancer.”

  “Whoa, that’s heavy. Must have been a hard time.”

  “Yes. I’d just met Burt. I only came to live here a few months ago, working for the town’s only accountant’s office. He stuck by me the whole time. He could’ve ended our relationship easily, as new as it was then, but he didn’t. That showed me how much he loved me. We got married pretty quickly after that.”

  “I can imagine. You really know what someone means to you when you go through the dark times.” Personally, I hadn’t gone through any of those yet with my girlfriend, Selene. So far it had just been happy times of dining, wining, and hanky-panky. Maybe that was why I wasn’t sure if she was the one I was going to marry. And Selene? She was just too rock ‘n roll to talk about it.

  As if she could read my mind, Ellen brought up the very subject. “You’re together with that metal singer, aren’t you? Selene Dix?”

  “That’s right. Wikipedia?”

  Ellen blushed. “Guilty.”

  “Don’t worry about it, everybody googles everyone these days. And with a few successful books out by me and a few successful records by Selene, it’s pretty easy to find stuff about us.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Good. I hope things are going wonderfully between you. It can’t be easy… She has to be on tour a lot. And there are probably groupies, huh?.”

  “Hey, cut it out. You’re starting to get me worried!” I was only half-joking. “I guess it works out for us, though. I’m often away from home chasing some story, too. So no o
ne’s left at home feeling lonely and miserable.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that. When I got married, I couldn’t stand the thought of spending another day apart from Burt…”

  Her voice sounded a bit shaky. I glanced at her. A tear slid down her cheek. The wounds were still fresh. Steering with my left hand, I put my right on her shoulder.

  “I guess I’ve got to face my fears,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. Are you sure you want to go on with this? It might keep reopening those wounds.”

  “I owe it to Burt to do everything in my power to find truth about his death.”

  I gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “You’re one tough cookie, Ellen. You should be proud of yourself, and I’m sure Burt would have been too.”

  “Yes, I guess he would be,” she said and then pointed outside. “Wait, there it is. Here’s where the accident happened.”

  I parked the Chevy by the side of the road and we got out. We were near a crossing. There was a car repair shop, a barber, and a diner close by. There was no other traffic. I just couldn’t believe how quiet it was at three o’clock in the afternoon.

  “He left the barber over there, walking to his car probably, when the car came around the corner and hit him,” Ellen said.

  I took a look at the barber’s, took a look at the street where the car would have come from, took a look back at the barber shop again.

  “That’s a considerable distance. He would have heard or seen the car coming. Obviously the car must have been going really fast,” I said.

  “Yes. That’s what the only witness said.”

  “Who witnessed it?”

  “The owner of the repair shop. He was just getting into a car he’d fixed to test-drive it.”

  “Sounds like I should talk to the guy. Let me get a look at the street first.”

  I kneeled down on the road and had a good look. No skid-marks. There was a hint of blood, though. I was kind of hoping Ellen wouldn’t notice it. I took a look over my shoulder. Ellen was standing behind me, summer wind whipping at her dress. She was rubbing her bare arms like they were cold, but in fact the wind was quite warm.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what I expected to find there crouched over the hot asphalt. I guess I hoped it would give me a better handle on what happened here. I’m no accident investigator so wouldn’t be able to gather any forensic clues. I’m better at interviewing people. It made sense to talk to the witness.

  I got up, brushing a bit of dust from my jeans. I took off my sport jacket and put it in the car. It was warm enough to just wear my old college T-shirt.

  “Let’s go see the witness,” I said.

  “Sure, let’s walk over there,” she said.

  THREE

  The car repair shop was as small as you’d expect it to be from a town like Little Tree. Not more than a shack with a garage. The name Chuck’s was painted on a sign on the roof.

  The door to the garage was open. We walked in. Inside, the walls were covered with tools suspended from crooked nails. I noticed there were also some pictures of naked ladies tacked to the wall, something that isn’t really accepted in the city anymore. Apparently you got away with it here. It wasn’t like people could choose from a lot of other repair shops anyway.

  Two legs were visible from under a scarred and battle-weary Buick parked in the garage.

  I coughed twice. The legs rolled from under the car, revealing the person attached to them. It was a guy in his forties. He sported a five o’clock shadow and bad teeth.

  “Hi Ellen,” he said. “And who’s the big guy with you?”

  I guess at six feet I almost qualify for that description. “Name’s Custer. Vance Custer.”

  “Not a local, huh?” the guy said.

  “Nope. I guess you’re Chuck?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Vance is a writer. He’s here to write a story about Burt’s death,” Ellen said.

  Chuck sighed. “Can’t let it go, can you?” He wiped the grease off his hands with a rag he kept in the pocket of his coveralls. I wasn’t sure it would get his hands much cleaner.

  “You know I won’t rest until we know what really happened to Burt,” Ellen said. “Vance will be able to help me with that.”

  Shaking his head Chuck said, “I just don’t want to see you hurt, Ellen. You gotta put all this behind you if you ever wanna move on in your life. You can’t keep dragging his death up.”

  “I won’t be able to continue my life if the truth doesn’t come out,” Ellen said.

  Chuck smiled, shook his head a little. “No stoppin’ you, huh? All right. Tell me what I can do then?”

  “I’d like to hear your story. Everything you saw and heard,” I said.

  “Well… I was just walking out the door, getting ready to test-drive the old beater Chevy I’d been working on when I heard that damn car drive over, engine growling like crazy. It was a wonder the driver could keep that thing on the road the way he was driving it. I saw Burt leave the barbershop getting ready to cross the street when that driver finally lost control of his vehicle. Plowed into Burt hard. I could hear his bones break…” He glanced over at Ellen like a kid caught stealing candy. “Shit, sorry Ellen!”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay. I want Vance to know exactly what happened. Don’t try to spare my feelings.”

  “Okay… Well, yeah… That’s what happened I guess. I ran to help Burt, almost got run over by that madman driver myself. Just managed to jump away. Car sped off like a bat out of hell.”

  “Could you see who was behind the wheel?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid not. I was too busy not getting killed to notice. I just managed to memorize his plate.”

  “In your honest opinion… Do you think it was an accident?”

  Chuck shrugged. “Hey, had to be, right? Who else would drive like that?”

  “Maybe someone wanting to kill Burt and make it look like an accident?”

  “Yeah, but who would want to do that. Ol’ Burt wouldn’t hurt nobody.”

  “That’s right, he wouldn’t. But someone had a reason to want to hurt him, I’m sure of it.” Ellen’s chin jutted out, looking strong, determined.

  “I just can’t see that,” Chuck said.

  I could. “There was a bottle of whiskey found in the car… But if the driver was drunk, do you really think he could’ve kept that car straight, coming down that road?”

  Chuck spat on the floor. “You’re as determined as she is, aren’t you?”

  “At least. I might not be a 100% sure Burt was murdered, but I’m not going to quit investigating until I get to the bottom of the story.”

  Leaning back against the car he’d been working on, Chuck said, “Sounds heroic. But if you’re thinking about playing the hero to get in Ellen’s panties be careful… Us locals don’t like it when men take advantage of our widows.”

  I jammed a finger in my ear, poking inside. I had to be sure I heard him right. “Sorry? Are you kidding me?”

  “You heard me,” Chuck said, arms crossed.

  “I don’t need anyone’s protection,” Ellen said, blushing. “And there’s nothing sexual behind Mr. Custer’s reason for helping me. Pure business.”

  “Sure,” Chuck said. “I guess we’re done then.”

  “Guess we are,” I said and walked out the door with Ellen.

  FOUR

  “I’m not sure if I should be angry or flattered,” Ellen said as we walked to the car. “I mean, part of me is angry Chuck doesn’t mind his own business and thinks I’d spread my legs for anyone helping me. Another part of me is flattered he and the people of Little Tree seem to care for me.”

  “I guess that’s how these small towns work. If you live there, you’re family. Both a blessing and a curse,” I said.

  “Yeah, I guess. What do you want to do next?” she asked.

  “I think it would make sense to visit the police chief,” I said.

  “All right. I can show you the way.”

&n
bsp; “Okay,” I said, opening my car door so she could get in. “Have a seat and point me the way.”

  It was a short drive to the police station. Town as small as Little Tree, everywhere was a short drive.

  The station looked more like a grocery store than a police station. Police Plaza it wasn’t. It only had one story and precious little parking space. One police cruiser was parked there. I parked my car next to it and got out, accompanied by Ellen.

  Inside we were greeted by the desk sergeant, a heavyset black woman chewing gum.

  “Hello, Ellen.”

  “Hi, Clarice. How are you?”

  “Doing fine. Who’s the looker with you?”

  I smiled. “I’m assuming you’re talking about me? I’m Vance Custer.”

  “I know you. Read some of your books!” Clarice said. “I’m telling you, all that stuff in those books of yours is something you’ll never encounter over here. What takes you to our neck of the woods?”

  “I’m helping Ellen get some closure with the death of her husband.”

  “Closure? You’re a true crime writer, not a therapist, right?” Clarice said.

  “By closure, I guess I mean finding out the truth.”

  “The chief already did that. Terrible accident involving a drunk joyrider. Awful we weren’t able to find out who the driver was, of course. But that’s about it. I’m guessing it was some kind of vagrant who left town right after. If it had been a local, town this size, we’d have him locked up by now.”

  “Still, I’d like to talk to Chief Lombard to get a little more background on it,” I said.

  “The chief won’t like you meddling into his affairs,” Clarice warned.

  “Please, Clarice. Do me a favor and call the chief. I really think Mr. Custer will be able to gather some new insights into the investigation,” Ellen insisted.

  Clarice sighed. “Okay, Ellen. Since I like you so much. But remember, I warned you.” She held up a finger. “Just a sec.”