Black Oil, Red Blood

Chapter 30



Delmont was in the middle of presiding over a slip and fall case when his clerk, a rosy-cheeked youth of twenty-two years, nervously sidled up to the bench and whispered into Delmont’s ear.

“Chief Scott’s on the phone for you,” she said.

“Well tell him I’m in the middle of a hearing, for crying out loud. He can wait.”

“He says it’s urgent—a matter of life and death. He’s refusing to leave me alone until I put you through to him.”

“Oh, all right,” Delmont grumbled. “I’ll take it in my chambers.”

Delmont banged the gavel and called a twenty minute recess.

Once in his chambers, he slammed the door behind him and picked up the phone.

“You know I got better things to do than talk to you right now, don’tcha?” he said.

Chief Scott was breathing hard on the other end of the line. He sounded like he’d been running. “You know where I am right now? Do ya?”

“I don’t, and I don’t care.” Delmont pulled a cigar out of his jacket and eyed it, debating whether or not he had enough time for a quick puff before heading back to the bench.

“I’m out in Chandler’s creek on the Jonas property. Old man Jonas called the station this morning and said a couple of crazy drivers came careening through his fields and took out half a barn and a length of barbed wire fence. One of ’em lost control and wound up in the creek. You are not gonna believe who was in the back seat.”

Delmont decided that a cigar just might hit the spot. This sounded like it could be a long conversation. He bit the end off and spit the tip on the rug. The janitor would clean it up this evening.

“So how come I care?” Delmont said.

“Because it was Frederick Lewis, and he’s deader than a doornail! Shot right through the forehead, just like that Schaeffer guy.”

Delmont swore.

“And besides that, have you seen the news? First the explosion, and now they’re accusing PetroPlex of some kind of conspiracy, and there’s a whole lot of evidence to back it up!”

Delmont frowned and flipped on the television. Sure enough, on every channel, some news reporter was playing audio with voices that sounded like Lewis and Fitz.

“It’s bad,” Scott said. “Real bad. I got a call with intel that Nash and Taylor went to Lewis’s house this morning. And now he’s dead and the press is all over PetroPlex. Those two are out for blood! It’s just a matter of time before they’re on to me and you. We’re gonna get caught!”

Delmont’s heart rate started to rise a little. He lit his cigar and took a long puff. The nicotine calmed him down some.

“Listen here,” he said. “You gotta keep calm. You gotta get out there and find Nash and Taylor and shut them down.”

“How am I supposed to do that? They could be anywhere! And they apparently ain’t afraid to put a bullet through somebody’s head!”

“You’re a cop,” Delmont said. “You have a gun, too. If you see them, just shoot first.”

“I been behind a desk too long,” Scott moaned. “I’m out of practice. I’m not cut out for stuff like this.”

“Hey!” Delmont barked. “Pull it together!”

“What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?”

“It ain’t over ‘til it’s over,” Delmont said. “Get out there and do your job. Whatever happens next is up to you. If you can find ’em and shut ’em down before they do any more damage, then we win. Got it?”

“Okay,” Scott said. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t try. Do.”

Delmont hung up the phone and took a long drag on his cigar. He felt nervous. Could he really trust the darn fool to find Taylor and Nash before they did any more damage? How much had they uncovered already? Would the trail lead back to Scott and him eventually, or would PetroPlex be the only one taking the hit?

He was unsure of what to do. He glanced at the clock. There were still eighteen minutes before he was due back in the courtroom. He thought he’d take a walk to clear his head.