Death at the Black Bull Read Online Free

car.
    When he got onto the paved road, he called Rosie. “I’m heading down to Redbud. Then I’ll stop at Hintons’ on the way back.”
    â€œGood idea, Virgil. Viola called again. She’s pretty upset.”
    â€œI’ll be back around five. Jimmy’s coming in around four, I believe. See you then if you’re still there.”
    The ride to Redbud took a little more than half an hour. It was due west of Hayward so he was driving into the sun. By the time he got to Redbud, he was working on a pretty good headache. Redbud was little more than a wide spot in the road and the boundary at the western edge of the county, nevertheless it was a good spot for Hayward Trucking since it was so close to the interchange at the interstate. Because of the operation, in the last ten years there had been a minor population boom. At the only light in town, a gas station had opened with a mini-mart, and across the street a fast-food restaurant. Lately, there had been talk that a large motel was going to be built.
    Virgil made a right at the one light, crossed the railroad tracks, and headed down the gravel road that dead-ended at Hayward Trucking. He had been there only once before and was surprised at how much it had grown. He saw at least ten semis parked perpendicular to the chain-link that encompassed the facility. Another couple were backed up to the loading dock. A few of the men were eating ice cream and standing next to an ice cream truck. He parked outside the separate office, which sat alongside a huge warehouse.
    There was a receptionist sitting at a desk just inside the front door. Virgil didn’t recognize her, but he did recognize a couple of people on the other side of the glass partition separating her from the inner office. They were busy at their computers, entering data from stacks of invoices or bills of lading.
    â€œCan I help you?” The girl looked to be in her early twenties and eager.
    â€œYes. I’d like to see Caleb Hayward if possible.”
    â€œI’m sorry. He’s not here right now and I doubt if he’ll be back much before five. Is there anything I can help you with?”
    â€œIt’s about one of your employees . . . Buddy Hinton.”
    â€œBuddy Hinton,” she said. “I don’t recognize that name. I’ve only been here a few weeks.”
    â€œYou might know him as Charles Hinton Jr., but that’s okay. I think I see someone who can help me.”
    Virgil stepped to the glass and knocked loudly. All the people inside immediately looked up. He gestured toward one of them. The man started walking quickly toward the door that led into the reception area. “This fella will be good enough,” he said to the girl at the desk.
    â€œHey, Virgil,” the man said as he came through the door.
    â€œStep outside for a minute, Carlos.” Virgil retreated through the door he had just entered. Carlos followed.
    â€œThere a problem?”
    â€œNot for you, Carlos. I need some info on Buddy Hinton. He still works here, right?”
    â€œWell, I guess so. I’m not sure. Haven’t seen him in a while. He usually does long hauls, but I heard there was some kind of dustup. I’m in the office usually, so the most I see Buddy is when we play ball together. Once the season’s over, not so much. I’m married, a couple of kids. My lifestyle’s a little different from Buddy’s. If I run into him down at the Black Bull, we’ll have a beer together, but that’s about it.”
    â€œDo you know who he had the dustup with?”
    â€œSorry, Sheriff. This is a pretty big place. Stuff happens.”
    â€œDidn’t realize this operation had grown so much.”
    â€œYeah, this place is always hopping. We ship all over.”
    â€œBut pecan harvest isn’t for another couple of months.”
    â€œWe’re pretty much year-round now. We have the two-week shutdown coming up, but