Coal Miner's Slaughter

by Elise Sax

  Thankfully, he left the room to hammer something.

  “I hope he has good aim. I don’t want him injuring anything important,” Tilly whispered to me. “Did you notice he doesn’t have any body hair? He’s as smooth as a baby. I could see everything. Everything. It’s been a long time since I saw everything.”

  “I’m worried about you, Tilly. Your face is red. How’s your breathing?”

  “I can’t seem to take a deep breath.”

  “That settles it,” I told her. “You’re coming with me. Too much Dick Boner is bad for your health.”

  “Are you sure? I might need some Dick Boner in my day.”

  “Nuh uh. You’re coming with me. I don’t want to return home to a dead body. I’ve already got the mayor on my back and exorcists who want to tie me to a bed. I can’t afford one more corpse in my life.”

  We stood in front of Inga’s door, wearing work boots and pink kitchen gloves, with our hair pulled back. There was police tape draped diagonally across the door.

  “Let’s think about how to break in,” I told Tilly. “I could try a paperclip, or…”

  Tilly pushed gently on the door, and it swung open with a loud creak. “Old door,” Tilly said. “Inga probably didn’t have a key anymore.”

  We ducked under the police tape and walked inside. It was pretty much exactly how I remembered it, except Inga was gone and so was the bucket of resin.

  “Holy cow. This is gross,” Tilly said. “What on earth are we supposed to do here?”

  “Look for clues, but don’t mess anything up because we’re doing this in secret.”

  “How would anyone know if it was messed up?”

  She had a point. It was a nightmare. We could do whatever we wanted in the apartment and no one would ever notice.

  “What kind of clues are we looking for?” Tilly asked.

  “Anything that can point a finger to why Inga was murdered, and we want to know as much about her as possible. Who she knew, where she went, that sort of thing.”

  “She was hanging around a lot in the old coal mine. That I know.”

  “We’ll have to check out the mine, too,” Tilly said.

  I shuddered. My husband had tried to kill me in a mine back in California. My friend Gladie had stopped him, and that’s where he was arrested, but just thinking about going into another mine made me queasy with unease.

  We began to search through the area where Inga was found.

  “Look, a Time magazine from 1953,” Tilly announced, holding up the magazine. “Do you think it’s worth something?”

  “We’re not here to make a buck. We’re looking for clues.”

  “Sheesh. You’re such a killjoy.”

  We found a lot of disgusting and bizarre things, like a dozen plungers and a whole collection of headless dolls. “Chewing tobacco. Blech,” I said, finding a tin of it. “And a toothbrush with blackened bristles. I hope she didn’t use it.”

  “Don’t worry. She probably didn’t brush her teeth at all,” Tilly said.

  We worked through the room and moved on to the kitchen and bathroom. Finally, we made it to the bedroom, but we were so exhausted and filthy by then that Tilly wanted to give up.

  “We probably got a good case of MRSA by now,” she complained. “There’s nothing here but junk and that Time magazine that you won’t let me sell. Let’s go before we stumble on rabid rats.”

  “You’re probably right,” I said, plopping down on Inga’s bed in exhaustion. “Yowza, this bed is lumpy. How did she sleep on it?”

  Tilly and I locked eyes, and I knew that we were thinking the same thing. I fell to my knees on the floor and lifted up the mattress. “Do you see anything?” I asked Tilly.

  “Holy smokes. It’s the Wells Fargo wagon under here!”

  She put her hand in and took out a couple bundles of cash, which were sealed in Ziploc bags.

  It turned out that Inga was loaded.

  We dug all of the cash out from under the mattress and laid it on the kitchen table after we cleared the trash off of it. We sat at the table and stared at the mountain of money.

  “How much do you think there is?” Tilly asked.

  “A lot. More than the Time magazine is worth.” Tilly opened one of the Ziplocs. “What’re you doing?”

  “We need to count it.”

  “And then what?” I asked.

  “We can have that conversation after we find out how much there is.”

  The cash was all in twenty-dollar bills and fifty-dollar bills. We stacked it in thousand-dollar amounts. When we were done, there were one hundred fifty stacks. We stared at the table of money for a long time without saying anything.

  “One hundred fifty thousand dollars,” Tilly said, finally. “That could solve a lot of problems. You could fix your house. I could go on an around the world cruise and probably buy some favors from Dick Boner.”

  “It’s not our money,” I said, staring at the money.

  “But it could be.”

  “That would be stealing.”

  “I can’t believe it’s Inga’s money,” Tilly said.

  She had a point. “Maybe there’s a big market for coal jewelry.”

  “If that’s true, I’m going to visit that mine today.”

  But I didn’t think there was a big market for coal jewelry. Not this big of a market. “Where else could she have gotten this money?”

  “Maybe it’s old money,” Tilly suggested. We searched through the bills, looking at the dates, but there was nothing dated older than ten years ago.

  “Maybe Inga was into something dirtier than coal,” I said.

  “Maybe. I’ll tell you one thing. I would have killed her for a hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

  I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “You hit the nail on the head, Tilly. The killer knew about the money, but he couldn’t find it.”

  Tilly gasped. “She wouldn’t tell him where it was, so he drowned her in the bucket.”

  I got my phone out and took pictures of the table of money. “We have to put this back,” I told her. “We’ll call it into the Sheriff’s Department later.”

  “What? All of it?”

  “All of it.”

  “But…”

  “I’ve got exorcists following me, Tilly. I need good karma.”

  “I don’t need good karma. I’m almost dead. I don’t give a rat’s ass about karma.”

  We battled it out, but I won, and we returned the money under the mattress. It was a harrowing battle, and once again, I was amazed at the strength of the ninety-year-old woman.

  “I’m going to need to put antibiotic ointment on my scratches,” I told her as we walked out of Inga’s building.

  “Hey, if you mess with the bull, you get the horns.”

  I rubbed the scratches on my arm. “You need to cut your nails. They’re a health hazard.”

  “Amazing that they went right through the rubber glove,” she said, studying the pink rubber glove. “Buy me lunch. It’s the least you can do after you took away my around the world cruise.”

  We walked to the diner and washed up in the bathroom. We sat in a booth, and I ordered fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Tilly ordered a steak, French fries, and apple pie a la mode, since I was buying.

  “How’s it going?” Adele asked us, and I shot Tilly a warning look not to spill the beans about the cash. If she did, half the diner would be rummaging under Inga’s bed within five minutes.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “George was looking for you. He was burning sage at your regular hangouts,” Adele said.

  “Is that what that smell is? I thought Morris burned today’s special.”

  Faye came in and sat at our booth. “I’m picking up lunch for Norton and me,” she said, breathlessly. “I can only stay a minute because we’re having a run on Martian crystal keychains. Anything going on? I need gossip from our planet for a change.”

  “My carpenter is working on the house,” I told her
.

  Faye’s face turned pink. “He’s a little eccentric, but he does good work.”

  “He has no body hair,” Tilly told her.

  “Who?” Adele asked.

  “Dick Boner,” I said.

  “Oh, him,” Adele said. “I went out with him in high school. He wore clothes back then. I think he decided to own his name and embrace his brand.”

  We all nodded and drifted off into thoughts about the naked carpenter, I assumed.

  “Did you solve the Inga murder yet? Any suspects?” Faye asked.

  “How did you know I was investigating her murder?”

  “Nora told me.”

  “How did Nora know?”

  Adele laughed. “Someone dies in Goodnight, Matilda Dare is going to investigate. Everyone knows that.”

  Jeb and his friends walked by on their way in and stopped by our booth. “Look, it’s Tilly the Liar,” he sneered.

  “How old are you today, Tilly? Two hundred years old?” one of Jeb’s friends taunted her and laughed.

  “I’m a columnist now, and I’ll smear all of you in print if you don’t back off!” Tilly yelled.

  I put my hand on her arm. “I’m not a journalism expert, but I don’t think you can do that,” I told her.

  “Killjoy,” she muttered.

  “Listen, girlie,” Jeb told me. “I heard you’re investigating Inga. Don’t be stupid and search in that mine of hers. No matter what anyone says, it’s not safe.”

  “Are you worried about me?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I like that you’re writing an article about me.”

  Jeb and his friends sat down at a table on the other side of the diner.

  “Wow, you thawed him out. That’s good gossip,” Faye said.

  When we returned home, Dick had left for the day. Klee had left the office too, but Silas was still typing. “We’re putting out a smaller version of the paper for a few days until we work out the Jack situation,” he told me, still typing.

  “We can’t allow the kid to drop out of high school. I guess we have to hire someone who can legally drive,” I said.

  “We’ll figure it out. We’ve signed up his mother for a fruit of the month subscription service. That should soften her up.”

  I wasn’t as optimistic. I didn’t think apples would do the trick.

  I called dibs on my bathtub before anyone else could. I soaked off whatever grossness I had picked up at Inga’s place, and I added bath oil to the tub to get ready for my romantic date with Boone. I still didn’t know where he was taking me, but I was thrilled for the night out.

  A little after six o’clock, he knocked on the kitchen door, and I answered. He was dressed in jeans and a blue V-neck sweater. “You ready?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

  “Oh, yes,” I said. My voice was just as deep and gravelly as his. My hormones were jumping out of my pores. It was all I could do not to jump on him and wrap my legs around his waist. I wished Boone shared Dick’s penchant for nakedness. I wanted to get naked with him so bad.

  “Don’t forget your bathing suit,” he said.

  “It’s awfully cold for swimming.”

  Boone put his arm around my waist. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  We drove for a couple hours, away from Goodnight. Boone played jazz on the radio, and we sat in more or less silence for the whole ride. I had no idea where we were going. It looked like we were heading to nowhere, out in the wilderness.

  “Here we are,” Boone said, suddenly and turned onto a small dirt road, which was full of potholes.

  “Where? Where are we?” I asked.

  “At our romantic date.”

  “Hmmm…” I said, because it didn’t look romantic at all.

  Boone parked his truck in a makeshift parking lot with a smattering of cars. We got out of the truck, and Boone held my hand.

  “You’re going to love this,” he said.

  I was pretty sure that I wasn’t going to love it. I would have bet money I wouldn’t love it. Lots of money. Inga amounts of money.

  “What’s that sound?” I asked as we walked. The noise got louder until I recognized the twinkling of bells and then soft, relaxing music.

  “It’s romance,” Boone said, waggling his eyebrows.

  We walked around a bush, and a building came into view. It was one-story, made of beautiful wood. Above large double doors, Serenity Hot Springs was written in bronze, which had turned into a spectacular blue patina.

  “Hot springs,” I breathed. “I love hot springs.”

  “Hot springs, spa, and restaurant.”

  “Oh,” I breathed.

  Inside, there was a roaring fire in a gigantic stone fireplace. As the sun set outside, the light from hundreds of candles lit up the large room.

  “Come on,” Boone told me, and I followed him into a small restaurant. It was candlelit too. We were seated at a small table by a window with a view of the hot springs outside and the mountains beyond.

  “This is nice,” I said and giggled.

  “Romantic,” he said, delighted that I was delighted.

  We ordered and held hands on the table. Boone caressed my palm, which made me warm all over, and I giggled again.

  “I’m glad we got the chance to get away from the Goodnight craziness,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “I’m glad too.”

  “You look beautiful, of course. But more than that, I have to admit that I enjoy spending time with you.”

  “You do?”

  Boone smiled and squeezed my hand, gently. “Despite the injuries. Despite the broken bones. Yes, Matilda. I love being with you.”

  Love. He used the word love.

  “I like being with you, too,” I said.

  The food came, and we ate while we talked about the hot springs, the beautiful starry sky, and everything we enjoyed to eat. When we finished, I caught Boone watching me while we left the restaurant. We locked eyes, and his face turned serious.

  Tonight was the night. I was sure of it. We were going to take our relationship to the next level. We were going to do the horizontal Mambo, and it was going to be romantic.

  We were handed thick towels, and we changed into our bathing suits in private changing rooms. Boone was waiting for me when I left my changing room. He took my hand and brought it to his lips.

  “We have a couples massage after our soak,” he told me.

  “Oh,” I breathed.

  I didn’t know if Serenity Hot Springs had hotel rooms, but if not, Boone and I were so going to have sex in his truck. It was a done deal. Guaranteed.

  We had a choice of hot springs. We chose one that was nestled next to a mountain. Lights were strung outside, offering some illumination, and the light from the stars was breathtaking. The weather had gotten even colder after sunset, and I wrapped the towel tightly around me as we walked to our hot spring.

  Steam rose off the water, and I sighed with pleasure when I stepped into it. It felt ten times better than a bathtub. The water was heavy, full of minerals, different than bath water. It soaked into my skin and relaxed me totally. And there was something special about being submerged in hot water when the temperature outside was reaching freezing.

  Boone swam toward me and took me into his arms. He kissed me with more passion than he had ever shown before. His lips tasted like the mineral water and were hot on mine. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and met his kiss with my own. It felt otherworldly to be kissing and touching while thoroughly aroused in the slippery, heavy water.

  We kissed for a long time, taking short breaks only to gaze into each other’s eyes.

  Oh, yes. This was really going to happen. It was going to happen in a big way.

  “I hate to do this, but we have a massage appointment to get to,” Boone said while he kissed the side of my neck.

  “That’s okay. I’m ready for a massage,” I said because I knew that after the massage, we were going to do dirty stuff to each other. Lots of dir
ty stuff. Oodles and oodles of dirty stuff. Filthy dirty stuff. The best kind of stuff.

  Boone got out of the water first and held a towel for me. “Be careful where you walk,” he told me. “There are some icy patches now.”

  I got out and he wrapped the towel around me. He held my hand and took a step. His foot hit a patch of ice, and he slipped. His feet went up from under him, and he fell hard, head first on the cement.

  I thought I heard a crack, but Boone didn’t scream. In fact, he wasn’t making a sound. He was lying on his back, and his eyes were closed. And he wasn’t moving.

  Chapter 8

  “Boone!” I cried. “Get up! Don’t die!”

  Oh, God. The exorcists and the mayor were right. I was possessed. Death followed me. I had demons inside of me.

  “Help! Boyfriend! Romance! Help!” I yelled.

  A man in a bathing suit pushed me out of the way. “I’m a doctor,” he said and checked Boone. “He’s alive. He’s breathing. But I’d wager he’s got a doozy of a concussion.”

  “What happened?” Boone asked, coming to. “Where am I?”

  “You slipped,” I told him. “You hit your head.”

  Things moved quickly after that. The doctor and another man carried Boone inside, and a few minutes later, we were in a helicopter on our way to a hospital.

  “I’ve never been in a helicopter,” I told Boone, raising my voice over the sound of the helicopter. Boone was lying on a stretcher, and I was belted into a seat.

  “I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion,” he said.

  “The doctor said your brains are scrambled.”

  “I’m fine,” he said and threw up.

  It turned out that Boone did have a concussion, but it was a mild one. The hospital released him in the wee hours of the morning with a prescription to rest. Amos organized to have Boone’s truck returned to the house, and Adele picked us up from the hospital and drove us home.

  Boone slept all the way there in the backseat. Adele patted my knee every few minutes, as if she knew that my plans for hot sweaty snuggle bunnies had been thwarted. When we arrived home, the dogs were upset that their breakfast was late, but I had to keep them waiting longer while I tucked Boone into his bed.

  “You haven’t killed me yet,” Boone whispered and turned onto his side.