The Bear Mountain Secret

by Gayle Siebert

  “About Bearon? I haven’t figured that out yet. About Trent? Well, I’m at a loss. You have to know he won’t be safe inside.”

  “I know.”

  “He might make friends, though. He did last time.”

  “He might.”

  Clint scratches his head, smooths his hair and takes a drink of his beer. Then he looks Kevin in the eye and says, “you’re takin’ a chance tellin’ me this.”

  “Yeah. But from the look on your face when I told you about Bearon and Kiersten—well, I thought you might be, how should I put it? Agreeable to making something happen.”

  Clint looks around the room to make sure there’s no one close enough to overhear, before hissing, “you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

  “What if I am?”

  “Suppose he was gone. He owns the Lodge. Don’t we need that? New owner might not go along with our, er, business.”

  “He’s got no will and he’s got no relatives. The Lodge will go to the government and with that lease we got registered on it, we’d have one foot in the door already. Pillerton can pick it up for a song. They love the business model, thinking about expanding their own business along the same lines. They already have tunnels they can put holding cells in.”

  “What’s in it for me? I mean, besides getting even for him horning in on Kiersten? Just so you know, I don’t care what happens to hoes, but I wasn’t done with that one. He should’ve asked.”

  “I agree. What he did was underhanded. But as you point out, she’s just a ho. You can settle that score, and get a pay bump at the same time. Pillerton agrees you don’t get paid enough for all you do. For me, it means a promotion to Exalted Leader, so you can see why I’m glad they quit taking fingers!” he snorts. “It’ll mean a bigger share of the pot. Once I’m in the Triumvirate, I’ll make sure you get a better deal. I’d get you set up for Purification. Once you’re Purified, you’re in on Communions, too. You’ll love the Mingling.”

  “You move up to Exalted Leader?”

  “Yup. Third in command. No more second-rate room on the backside.”

  “Oh yeah? That sounds nice, for you. Doesn’t sound like much for me, though. Once you’re Exalted Leader, there’s no way I can hold you to your promise of a better deal.”

  “That’s true. You have to trust me.”

  “Trust a lawyer?”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “Kidding,” Clint says, eyes narrowing. “Everyone knows lawyers are trustworthy. You wouldn’t be in with these guys otherwise.”

  “Pfftt! You think you’re being funny, but it’s true. If they didn’t trust me…” Kevin exhales with a scowl. “Anyway. You know I can’t give you anything in writing. We can’t even talk about this except face to face. If you’re in, I’ll set up a meet with Hayward and Preach. Totally on the Q.T., of course.”

  “Of course.” Clint’s jaw is clenched and his brow furrowed as he drinks but says nothing. Finally he sets the drink down, looks Kevin in the eye and says, “I’m in. So, me and you, partners? Didn’t see that coming.” He picks up his glass again and with his left hand, moves the coaster around in small circles. “You know Preach and Hayward better than I do. You think either of them’s got the smarts to run the operation? Bearon does most of it. Bearon and Evan. Those other two are just dead weight. I think the only reason they’re in is because they were left over from the old crew. What good are they?”

  “Preach does the sermonizing.”

  “Not very fuckin’ well.”

  “That’s true. So what are you thinking?”

  “I was just thinkin’. Why settle for third in command?”

  Thirty-one

  Plans for dinner

  BEARON’S ONLY PROBLEM now is to find out what Danielson drives. Since their yard is surrounded by trees, there’s no way to see any of their vehicles and if he skulks around waiting for one of them drive away, it’ll be noticeable. The Range Rover doesn’t exactly blend in, not in this part of the world where everyone drives a pick-up, and the red Volvo’s no better.

  He’s thinking of buying a beater. Private sale. It’s going to be complicated, though. He could get Bob or one of the other guys to take care of it once he finds a suitable vehicle. He’s settled on that idea and is at the computer looking at ads on Used Dark River when it comes to him there’s a much easier way.

  “Fuckin’ shit,” he mutters, and gives his forehead a couple of thumps with the heel of his good hand. What’s wrong with me? he wonders. My brain used to work better than this! He doesn’t need another car because he doesn’t have to ID the vehicle himself. He has to sub-contract part of the job anyway; why not have them ID the vehicle?

  Taking two days to come to this realization is troubling. His body failing is bad enough, and now his brain is letting him down, too?

  Before, he was the guy who did everything. If he got under a car now, he’d be all week getting back out and it’s doubtful he’d be able to see well enough to do what needs doing when he was under there anyway. He has to pay not only for the sabotage, but to have the vehicle ID’d in the first place.

  Maybe he should put the idea on a back burner and think about it some more, in case Evan’s right. But there might not be another opportunity like this one, and time is running out. Once this Kathy woman is out of the way, he needs Trent to disappear before the hearing, because he’ll be taken straight from the courthouse to lock-up. The window of opportunity to have him dealt with is shrinking, too.

  He leans back in his chair and rocks for a few minutes with his eyes closed, enjoying a mental slide show of his years when he was the go-to guy for the big bosses: first for Nick in Pillerton, then Hank in Dark River. The good times when his body was whole and the only pain he had was sore muscles after a workout or hangover headaches.

  He wasn’t running the show like he is now. His house was supplied by his employer and he never had more than a thousand dollars in his bank account, but he had a Harley, a five liter Mustang, and a beautiful dog. Someone else called the shots but they listened when he had ideas. His best buddy, Arnie, was President of the local HA and he was VP.

  He was respected, even though he wasn’t part of the Triumvirate, and he sure as hell didn’t need the Communion or the Mingling or extortion to get laid. All he had to do was sit near the stage and he’d have the dancers all over him. He knew the upstairs rooms of every titty bar in town.

  He knows it’s a miracle he survived and he’s lucky to be alive. But when the pain won’t go away and it hurts to even move, it seems more like bad luck.

  I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself or to second guess myself either, he thinks. He gives himself a mental kick in the ass, picks up the phone, and dials.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  RICK AND KATHY come up the stairs from the basement into the kitchen and take stools at the island where Wilson has set out a tray with crackers and antipasto. He’s busy slicing cheese and garlic sausage to add to the spread.

  “A snack to hold us over until dinner. Home made and vegan! Wilson and I made a huge batch,” Astrid says, and points to the antipasto. “A beer, Rick? I don’t think I have to ask Kathy what she’d like.”

  “Sounds great,” Rick responds, and Kathy agrees.

  Astrid hands Rick a beer and gets a glass of white wine from the box in the fridge, setting it in front of Kathy as she asks, “everything okay downstairs? Need more towels or anything?”

  “Are you kidding? This place is better than a five-star hotel, Astrid,” Kathy gushes. “I love it here! I can’t wait until you guys come with our horses, so we can return the favour.”

  “That’ll be soon,” Astrid says. “We’ve got the clean-up and maintenance crew scheduled. Hopefully we’ll have a new barn manager soon. Can’t go and leave all the barn chores to Wilson.”

  “You could, if it come to that,” Wilson says, “although I might git one of the boys from the mill to help with the grunt work.”

  “Sure,” Astrid sa
ys, “if you can find one that doesn’t mind shovelling horse shit.”

  “Or try to smoke it,” Wilson scowls.

  “Thanks for this,” Rick says as he opens his beer. “That was quite a deal, your barn manager getting arrested. Wonder how long he’d been dealin’ outta your barn, anyway.”

  “Probably from day one,” Wilson says. “I think the little rat bastard was foolin’ around with the girls, too. Course we’ll never know fer sure ‘bout that. Long’s they’s consenting adults, can’t do nuthin’ ‘bout it anyhow.”

  “Bad reputation for Heather’s House, though,” Kathy says. “Just lucky you twigged to the drugs. Is he in jail? Or going to jail?”

  “Dunno,” Astrid replies. “Cops wanted us to keep him on. Said it would help with their ongoing investigation. We just couldn’t.”

  “So, they’re looking further up the food chain,” Rick says. He takes a long pull on his beer, and reaches for a slice of garlic sausage. “Jake must’ve had other customers besides the girls in the house.”

  “He did,” Astrid says. “There was a lot of traffic in and out. We were unaware. When we talked to staff about it, they said, ‘oh yeah, we wondered how he had so many friends coming to visit and why they never stayed long’. Really stupefying they didn’t mention it long ago. Besides the drive-ins, so many of the girls at Heather’s are into drugs. What a great cover, working out of a women’s shelter. Jake should’ve paid us to let him live there. Live and learn, I guess,” Astrid chuckles as she pours herself a glass of wine, then slides onto the stool next to Kathy. “Any updates on the inheritance?”

  “Mister Big Balls Robertson hasn’t gotten back to me. I really didn’t expect he would. Penny’s been looking into the ownership of the Lodge, not getting far on that front either. It’s owned by a numbered holding company, which is owned by something else. I can’t follow it all. So convoluted! It would be so much simpler if she could find a name and a phone number, but no luck so far. Like we talked about, I’m really hoping to meet the owners tonight, since the Lodge is closed to the public most of the time. I might not get past the front gate if I just showed up there.”

  Denver comes in the back door in time to hear Kathy’s last remark. He says, “No, you might not. In fact, you probably wouldn’t.”

  “I thought they might let me in if I said I just wanted to talk to him because he might be a relative. Who could object to that?”

  “No normal person. Worth a try, I guess. But it would be better if Kiersten introduced you,” Astrid opines. “She said she would.”

  “But if he’s not there tonight?”

  “Then we can try tomorrow.”

  “Doubt the owner would be there Sunday.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Denver asks. “The owner is the last one who gets time off.”

  “That’s true for our insurance agency, right, Runty?” Rick contributes. “For the managing partner, anyway.”

  “Well, if he’s not there, maybe we could stay an extra day or two,” Kathy says. “Godzilla’s already freaking because she has to work Monday. Might as well give her something worthwhile to bitch about.” She takes a cracker, scoops antipasto onto it and pops it into her mouth. “Yummy,” she says, and washes it down with wine. Then she asks, “how are your girls? Where are they, anyway?”

  “They’re down in the playroom now,” Denver says as he gets a beer and joins the others on stools around the island. “I’m thinkin’ we’re gonna have to build an unclimbable fence with a locking gate around the yard. When I went out to check on them just now, Lisey had juice boxes and granola bars in her lunch kit. She was leading Kylie out to the pasture when I caught up with them. Told me Heather was taking them down to the river for a picnic.”

  “Gawddamighty!” Wilson exclaims, “them little stinkers! They was in the sandbox last I saw them. I wondered why Lisey was up in the pantry. Didn’t think nuthin’ much of it though.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Astrid says. She looks at Rick and Kathy and explains, “Elise is the Keeper of the Food. I swear, she keeps a running inventory of everything. But going down to the river! They know they’re not allowed to go there! My god, Denver!”

  Denver reaches an arm around his wife and gives her a squeeze. “I wasn’t kiddin’ about the fence.” He looks at their friends and explains, “Heather is Lisey’s invisible friend.”

  “Oh, I remember you telling us she had one.”

  “And did we tell you Heather was the little Hazen girl who drowned down there? We named the shelter in her honour.”

  The colour drains from Kathy’s face. “Yes,” she says quietly.

  “Dangerous time of year to be goin’ to the river, usually,” Denver says. “It’s still low this year though, since the fall rains haven’t showed up yet. Although it looks like there’s rain further up the mountain, so the river could rise quick. Storm could be comin’ our way. Wind’s already pickin’ up.”

  “We take them to the river when it’s hot. There’s a nice little swimming hole. But they’re not allowed to go to the river without an adult and Lisey knows it! The Hazen kids weren’t supposed to go to alone, either,” Astrid tells them. “Bridey was baking a birthday cake for her little girl and shooed her out of the house with Junior and the neighbour boy, Johnny Fletcher, so it would be a surprise. Bridey showed me where it happened. Oh my god, Denver! It was about this time of year! Heather’s fifth birthday was the day she drowned. What is going on with Lisey?” Astrid bites her lower lip and draws a quick, deep breath.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, babe,” Denver says.

  “But we’ll get started on that fence anyway,” Wilson says. “If we git that puppy we been talkin’ about, it’ll keep it in too.”

  “Lookin’ for a puppy?” Rick asks.

  “Yeah. Company for Tippy. The girls are at an age to enjoy a puppy, too.”

  The conversation turns to merits of various dog breeds, and then what is appropriate dress for dinner.

  “When you told me how elegant and ritzy the place was, I brought a dress,” Kathy says. “Rick brought a sports jacket.”

  “We’ll all get gussied up, then,” Astrid says; she pushes the thought of her daughters going to the river alone to the back of her mind. Still, she hopes for a good, unclimbable fence sooner rather than later.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  THE FIFTEEN-PASSENGER van Danny Hardy rented for the occasion pulls into the Danielsons’ yard as arranged. Everyone else got on at the Tempo Gas Bar on the outskirts of Dark River. They all introduce themselves as they take the last four seats, and enjoy lively chatter on the trip up the mountain. Once they turn off the highway the road is narrow with a steep incline. Dizzying drop-offs are a mere meter from the roadbed in many spots.

  “I wouldn’t want to be driving this road in snow,” Rick observes, to a chorus of agreement from the other passengers.

  “Or anytime,” Kathy says. “I hope it doesn’t start raining.”

  “It gets a little hairy sometimes,” Danny tells them, “but I’ve driven worse roads up on some of our leases. Don’t worry. I got this!”

  They were the last passengers to get on so they’re the first off when they get to the parking lot at the Lodge. As they get out of the van, a truck arrives and backs into a parking space nearby.

  “Hey,” Denver says, “that truck’s the same model as mine.”

  “What are the chances? They’re so rare,” Astrid says.

  “Yeah, I know. They’re everywhere. That one is maybe a year newer, though. Wonder if he’s had problems with rim leaks on those chrome wheels. Oh, that’s Brent,” Denver says when he recognizes the driver. “That’s not his truck. He must’ve just got it. Come on, Rick, I’ll introduce you.” The two men head across the lot.

  “Oh great! A chance to talk trucks.” Kathy says.

  “This could take half an hour. We might as well go in and get our table,” Astrid turns to Kathy and asks, “You don’t want to stand around out in the cold to
talk about trucks with them, do you?”

  “Lord, no! I get enough of that back home. I’d like to go to the ladies room before we get seated, anyway,” Kathy says. “That was quite a ride! A lot higher elevation here, I guess. It’s not much of a road.”

  “Yeah. But like Danny said, he’s driven these roads lots since he drives the crummy so he’s used to the van, too.”

  “Crummy?”

  “That’s the van that takes the fallers up into the bush. It’s not really crummy, we’ve replaced the crappy ones since we took over but it doesn’t matter how shiny and new they are, they still call them crummies.”

  “Well, he’s a good choice to drive this one, then. But it’ll be dark when we go back down. I’m not looking forward to that!”

  “Maybe it’s better if we can’t see out.” The wind is billowing her skirt so she has to hold it down. “It’s chilly! I’m not used to bare legs. Let’s get in out of the wind.”

  Inside, they spot Kiersten between two large floral arrangements, marking names off the seating plan. With all the other people ahead of them, she doesn’t notice them, so when she turns away and leads a couple in, they go down the hall to the ladies room.

  “The manager, or owner, that’s his office there,” Astrid says, indicating the door at the end of the hall just before she pushes into the ladies room.

  “Oh, good. I’ll go see if I can talk to him.”

  “If you wait until after dinner, Kiersten can introduce you.”

  When they get back to the lobby area, they find Rick and Denver chatting with Kiersten.

  “Hi, Kiersten! Wow, look at you!” Kathy says. “You look like a movie star!”

  “Thank you.” Kiersten leans forward and says in an almost-whisper, “I picked this dress out but they paid for it. They wanted me to look high class.”

  “Well, it worked!” Kathy tells her. “Not too high class to join us peons later, I hope?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I, er, can’t stay very long.”

  “Well, we have to go when the van leaves anyway.”