Culver moaned and strained against the ropes. Ozzie said, “Oh Jesus, he’s hurt bad.”
“Yes, he is,” Jim Tile said. “You can take him to the doctor after we have our talk.”
“Promise?”
“You’ve got my word.”
“Is Culver going to jail?”
“Well, I don’t know. Attempted murder of a police officer, that’s a life term here in Florida. Agg assault, use of a firearm in the commission of a felony, and so on. I just don’t know.”
Ozzie said, “What about me?”
“Oh, same goes for you. You’re his partner, right?”
Ozzie’s eyes got wet. “Momma ‘spects the truck back long time ago.”
“She’ll be worried,” Jim Tile said.
“Can we go soon?”
Jim Tile folded up the newspaper and leaned forward. “First you answer some questions.”
“Okay, but go slow.”
“Did Dickie Lockhart get you boys to kill Bobby Clinch?”
“No, Jesus! Honest we didn’t.” Ozzie’s nose was running. “I liked Bobby, so’d Culver—”
“Then who killed him?” Jim Tile asked.
“I don’t know.” Ozzie sniffed loudly, trying to get the snot off his upper lip. “I got no idea,” he said.
Jim Tile believed him. He said, “Tell me about Mr. Pickney.”
“Who? Help me out.”
“The guy who played Davey Dillo at the high school.”
“Oh, the reporter,” Ozzie said. “Sir, I didn’t drown nobody.”
“Who did?’
Culver made a gurgling sound, opened his eyes—showing the whites—and shut them slowly again. Ozzie cried and said, “We gotta get the truck back to Momma.”
“Then tell me about Morgan Slough.” Jim Tile held a teacup to Ozzie Rundell’s lips. He took a loud sip, swallowed twice, and began to talk. Jim Tile sat back and listened, saving his questions for the end. He figured the least interruption would confuse Ozzie beyond redemption.
“Okay, a few days after Bobby Clinch died, Tom and Lemus came by the bait shop for coffee. They were saying how somebody was trying to make it look like Dickie done it, except it was an accident—Doc Pembroke even said so. But Tom and Lemus, they said how somebody went to the newspaper with a made-up story that Dickie kilt Bobby, and now this detective from Miami was goin’ around asking about Bobby and what happened at the Coon Bog. Culver ast who would try to set Dickie Lockhart up like that, but Tom said there were about a million guys jealous of Dickie would do it in a flash. He said they’d try to make it look like Bobby caught Dickie cheating in some tournament.
“So Culver hears all this and gets worried because, right before the Curl boys come by, this reporter fella had been in asting about Bobby’s boat and the funeral and such—see, they sawed up his Ranger into a coffin. Mr. Pinky, he seemed real interested so Culver told him Larkin’s place had done the carpenter work. The man said thanks and went off.
“Jeez, when Tom and Lemus hear all this they say we’ve got to get over to Larkin’s right away. Culver was busy with some customers so he told me to ride along in the truck, which I did. On the way over Tom and Lemus said if we don’t do something fast, the newspaper’s gonna do a big write-up about how Dickie murdered Bobby Clinch, which we all knew was a lie, but still it would ruin Dickie and make him lose the TV show. They said we better stop this guy and I said yeah, but that was before I knew what they meant. What they meant by stopping him. Sir, can I have some more tea?”
Jim Tile held the cup for Ozzie.
“The green truck, that was Tom and Lemus’s,” Ozzie said.
“Oh,” said Jim Tile.
“Anyway, we get to Larkin’s and there’s the guy out back by the dumpster. Ott Pinky. I recognized him right off, and Lemus says: Is that the guy? And I say yeah, it is.” Ozzie paused. “I got in the back of the truck, the green truck.”
Jim Tile said, “And Mr. Pickney rode up front? Between the Curl boys.”
“Yes, sir. There’s a deer camp on the Sumter property. Maybe sixteen miles out. We took him there for the rest of the day. See, I thought mainly they was just gonna ast him questions.”