Silence in West Fork: A small town police procedural set in the American Southwest (The Pegasus Quincy Mystery Series Book 5)

by Lakota Grace

  Her tone wasn’t sarcastic or snarky. In fact, she sounded helpful in an efficient executive assistant sort of way. And that was good. I could really use some assistance to extract Thorn Malone from the deep hole she had dived into.

  “Start with how Shepherd’s daughter left Jil-Clair Industries.” I opened my notebook. “Thorn told me she got fired because of a theft of petty cash.”

  A look of pain flashed across Harriet’s face.

  “That was unfortunate. She’d been treading close to dismissal and happened to catch Jill in one of her off moments. Jill was a good boss, perfect in every way, but she was impulsive at times. Firing people before getting all the facts seemed to be one of her weaknesses.”

  That seemed to corroborate Thorn’s story. I was briefly lifted by Harriet’s words only to be dashed to the ground with her next ones.

  “Of course,” Harriet said, “There was the case of the threatening letter.”

  “Cooper mentioned something like that. I can’t believe Thorn would do something so childish.”

  “She didn’t,” Harriet said, “but I can’t prove it. Yet. Have you seen the letter?”

  I shook my head, and she handed over a sheet.

  “This is a copy that I received from Malcolm Vander, our CFO. Pay close attention to the signature. Did Thorn sign that?”

  The letter was clearly threatening: “I hate you! I hate this company!”

  The signature was a legible facsimile of Thorn Malone’s name. But was it real? I didn’t know. I’d never seen her sign anything. Her fingers were always busy, or her thumbs were, with her cellphone.

  “Look at this,” Harriet said.

  She pulled another sheet from a manila file on her desk and handed it to me.

  It was a job application, and the affidavit at the end was signed by Thorn. I examined it and then looked at the note bearing Thorn’s signature. The signatures looked identical. “I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

  “Here,” she said. “I always made copies of the personnel papers for Jill’s use. They were held in a duplicate file, here in Jill’s office. Look at this one.”

  Then Harriet handed me the third sheet, a second job application from Thorn Malone. The signature was totally different from the first application. One of the job applications had to be a forgery.

  “Which is the real one?”

  “Which do you think? Recognizing signatures is part of my job. I spotted the problem at once.”

  “Someone switched them,” I said.

  “Oh, yes. My guess is Malcolm Vander. He has a master key to the personnel office, although he’s not aware that I keep duplicate copies here, as well.”

  “Why?”

  “Why would he want to frame Thorn?” Harriet asked. “First, she’s a likely suspect. Putting blame on her diverts publicity from the company at a critical time. But more importantly, it takes suspicion away from other suspects.”

  “Like Malcolm Vander?”

  Harriet smiled and said nothing.

  “May I keep these?” I asked.

  “Of course. They are copies of copies. But they’re worth nothing without the originals.”

  “So where do we go from here?”

  I took a risk when I said “we,” but Harriet seemed ready to team up, and I wasn’t dissuading her.

  “Malcolm and Jill often disagreed. Violently. And he wasn’t in his office the morning when Jill was killed.”

  “Would you be willing to testify to that?”

  “Of course not. He’s my alibi, too,” she said.

  “You think he did it?”

  “Not directly. The thought of him hiking up West Fork is ludicrous. He’d not be caught dead in a place like that.”

  An unfortunate choice of words. But from what Cooper had told me about the company CFO, he was too fastidious a person to bloody his hands killing Jill Rustaine. But there were other ways to get rid of a boss who didn’t see things your way.

  “He could have hired an accomplice,” I said. “Who do you think that might be?”

  “Try Buzz Marks,” she said reluctantly.

  “The ranger at West Fork?”

  “And Claire Marks’ brother-in-law.”

  Ah, that was an interesting turn.

  “That doesn’t give him motive,” I pointed out.

  “This might.” Harriet leaned toward me. “Buzz was fired from Jil-Clair Industries four months ago for allegedly harassing staff members.”

  “Allegedly?”

  “Oh, he did that, all right. And more.” She stood up and brushed her hands as if ridding herself of something noxious.

  “Go investigate Buzz Marks. And tell that nasty detective to leave Thorn Malone alone. She’s innocent.”

  CHAPTER 17

  I had just awakened early the next morning when Ben stopped by my house. Reckless heard him before I did. He jumped off the bed and paced back and forth, whining. Soon there was that distinctive Ducati whine, coming up the hill and then off the paved road onto the softer dirt track of Deception Gulch.

  I just had time to pull on underwear, jeans and an old flannel shirt before Ben pounded at the front door.

  “Peg, you up?”

  “Come in, Ben.”

  I hoped that Thorn would be with him and the nightmare, or this part of it, anyway, would be over. Shepherd had put his daughter in my care, and I’d done nothing but allow her to get deeper into trouble. But when the door opened, only Ben stood there, his motorcycle helmet in hand. He let it drop to the floor.

  “Where’s Thorn?” I demanded.

  “Safe.”

  “Where safe?”

  He shoved dark hair out of his eyes and plopped into my favorite chair, leaving me the lumpy couch.

  “She needed to go on a Vision Quest, to straighten troubles in her mind.”

  “And you just left her. Where is she, Ben? We’ve got to pull her in. She’s facing a murder charge, and it only gets worse, the longer she’s a fugitive.”

  “They’ll never find her.”

  “Where?” I gritted my teeth.

  “The Rez. A place I know. She’ll be fine. I’ll return with her in three days. I promise.”

  I thrust my cellphone into his hand.

  “Call her.”

  “No reception up there.” He shoved the phone back my direction.

  Unfortunately, he was telling the truth. Big cities, even smaller towns, usually had landline phone service. But locations near Chinle and Kayenta on the Reservation still had dial-up modems and excruciatingly slow Internet. And many of those vast red-earth spaces on the Reservation didn’t have electricity or running water, much less cellphone technology.

  I shook Ben.

  “How could you do this? How could you betray me and Shepherd?”

  He twisted out of my grasp, clenched both fists, and looked straight ahead at something only he could see. “It is the Navajo way.”

  “Is it the Navajo Way to leave an innocent girl alone in the middle of nowhere with bad weather coming in?”

  He stood there stiffly, not saying a word.

  “Get out. Just get out!” I shouted. “And don’t be surprised if the next phone call you receive is from Shepherd. He takes harm to his daughter very seriously.”

  Ben disappeared before I could calm enough to apologize. Outside the Ducati roared to life, and then the sound dwindled into silence.

  There’d be no easy way to deliver this news to Shepherd, and I stalled. I dawdled in the shower until the water grew icy. Then I took Reckless on a run up the gulch to hunt for ground squirrels. When I got back, I brewed another pot of coffee.

  I checked my watch. Shepherd should be on the road from his home in Cottonwood to his office in Mingus. And he never answered his cellphone when he was driving. I could just leave a brief message on his voice mail.

  This morning must have been an exception, or maybe he recognized my number, because the phone only rang twice before the opening connection blaste
d in my ear. There was a squealing of brakes as the car halted, and then Shepherd’s gruff tone.

  “Damn it, Peg, where is she?”

  “Thorn is safe.”

  I resorted to the same non-reassuring language that Ben had done.

  “She’s not safe until she’s here, under my roof,” Shepherd stated flatly.

  And then I had to explain Ben’s open rebellion, and my still being unable to contact Thorn. I thought Shepherd would explode, but he surprised me.

  “Might do her good,” he admitted. “And Cooper Davis?”

  Count on him to remember the difficult. I should have called Cooper last night to let him know about this latest development and I’d forgotten to do that, too.

  “I’ll drive up there this morning and talk him into delaying the pick-up order.”

  Shepherd gave a low chuckle. “If Ben’s hidden her on the Rez, that tenderfoot won’t find her. Keep me posted.” And he disconnected.

  I suppose I should have called Cooper Davis then, but I figured I had a better chance of convincing him if I met with him in person. What was the worst he could do?

  * * *

  On the drive up, I avoided thinking about the conflict-to-come with Cooper Davis and concentrated on the sun glinting off the dark waters of Oak Creek. I passed West Fork with my windows lowered, breathing in the acrid smell of the fall leaves. A long line of cars gathered at the entrance. Ranger Buzz Marks was undoubtedly giving the tourists a hard time. Not my problem.

  I mentally added him to the review of suspects that I intended to offer to Cooper once I pulled him off the ceiling when he discovered Thorn Malone would not be making an appearance.

  The traffic was minimal in the switchbacks and I made the outskirts of Flagstaff in record speed. At the sheriff’s department front desk I asked for Cooper Davis and soon the sound of his heavy brogans echoed through the hall. The expression of shocked awareness on his face was worth the drive to Flag.

  “In here,” he growled, pulling me into a conference room.

  “Before you ask,” I said, “Thorn Malone is safe.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about that. She was to be delivered here last night for arraignment. She didn’t show. I called you. Twice. Didn’t you get the messages?”

  “Uh,” I began.

  “Obviously her attorney is not here, her father is not here, and she is not here. She was in your custody!” His face reddened with rage.

  I shrugged. “Did my best.” I was starting to feel like Ben Yazzie.

  “Well, your best is not good enough. I’ll have your badge for this.” He rose in full intimidation mode.

  No sleep last night, and then the set-tos with Ben and Shepherd earlier today. I’d had enough hassles without coddling this Yahoo’s sensitive feelings.

  “You don’t have authority to fire me,” I growled. “Different districts.”

  With that out of my system, I tried to regain a rational frame of mind, ignoring the sputtering man in front of me.

  “Sit down and listen,” I said. “Thorn Malone initiated an argument with her father and then called in a false 911 call. She was released, legally, to the custody of her attorney, Myra Banks.”

  I lifted one finger as he attempted to interrupt me.

  “Apparently the deputies tried to contact you, and you weren’t available. And now I’ve told you she’s safe. That should count for something.”

  Cooper settled back in his seat and ran fingers through his brush of a haircut. He breathed in and out. “I’m listening.”

  Briefly, I recounted what had happened: the abduction by Ben Yazzie and my subsequent visit with the said kidnapper later. I finished with the wild-eyed plan devised by the two to create a Vision Quest for Thorn.

  “So now she’s going to ‘find’ herself,” Cooper sneered. “Well, that’s a nice fairy tale, but I need her here, now.” He reached for his phone. “We can at least put out a be-on-the-lookout for her. The Reservation can’t be that big.”

  “You ever been on the Navajo Reservation?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “The most gorgeous country you’ll see in your life with amazing rock formations and wind blowing through forests of pinyon and ponderosa pine. But it comprises parts of four states with miles and miles of empty. If people don’t want to be found, they won’t be. And the Navajo Police are good at what they do, but not always helpful when another law enforcement agency trespasses on their territory.”

  “I wouldn’t be trespassing,” Cooper said sullenly.

  “It won’t work,” I said in a neutral tone. “The way I see it, other than losing the forensic proof on the murder weapon and misplacing the prime suspect who is not a prime suspect, not much progress is being made in this investigation.”

  I let the sentence drift off, testing the waters. Cooper could be an okay guy if he weren’t so stubborn and impulsive. I gave him what I hoped he’d take as a “gee-whiz I’m a non-threatening family liaison officer here” smile.

  “Look,” I said. “I’ll start. I went out to talk to Harriet Weaver.”

  “You what?”

  “I visited with Claire Marks, Jill Rustaine’s sister. She asked me, under my duties as family liaison officer, to retrieve a family photo from Harriet. But, when I was there, Harriet shared this with me.”

  I gave him a photocopy of the threat note.

  He waved it off.

  “I saw that already. So what? It just proves Thorn had motive to kill Jill Rustaine.”

  “But have you seen these?”

  I handed him copies of the two employment applications, each with a different "Thorn Malone" signature.

  He looked at them silently, comparing one with the other.

  “Different,” he acknowledged. He glanced up at me. “Where are the originals?”

  “Missing, Harriet tells me.”

  “Then these are useless.” He tossed them on the desk. “What else you got?”

  “Harriet says Malcolm wasn’t there the morning Jill was killed. His alibi is bogus.”

  “She’ll testify to that?” he asked.

  “No, unfortunately. Hers is, too. They are protecting each other.”

  “Figures,” he grunted.

  “What did you find out when you interviewed Silas Wooster?”

  “That crazy forest guy lives near West Fork? That ranger on duty told us to talk to him, but when the patrol got to his house, the man was gone.”

  I could have predicted that turn of events. The only reason Silas talked to me was that I was out of uniform. That, and he was curious what was going on in his forest.

  “You think he did it?” Cooper asked, his voice suddenly hopeful.

  “He could have, I suppose. He did appear there on the path, directing me to where Thorn was. But my gut says no. But he might have seen who did it.”

  “Your gut tells you.” Cooper’s tone was mocking, but he jotted a note in his book. “We’ll try again to reach him.”

  “Send somebody in a plain car,” I suggested. “He doesn’t like cops.”

  That was one. What other little red herrings could I drag in this detective hound dog’s path?

  “What was your impression of the folks at Jil-Clair Industries?” I asked.

  “Malcolm Vander cares more for the company and his place in it than he does for the murder of his boss. That may not be so unusual given the cut-throat nature of their business.”

  His words had the ring of personal experience. I wondered what ugly authority figures lurked in his own past.

  “Harriet Weaver was broken up over Jill’s death,” I said. “I respected her for that. But still, there’s something funny going on at that firm.”

  “You noticed that, too,” Cooper said. “It looked like a company on vacation. No cars in the parking lot, no people at the desks. Yet Malcolm said they were planning a big Initial Public Offering.”

  “Are you thinking a make-believe corporation?” I asked. “Local investor
s might catch on, but if you’re dealing with a world market, they could keep their true status hidden for a while. Their company logo has a certain appeal.”

  “‘We protect the world.’ Yeah, who wouldn’t want that?” Cooper agreed. “I asked Harriet for a list of employees that have had grievances. She said everyone loved her boss Jill.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  “What organization doesn’t have malcontents?” he said. “But both she and Malcolm assured me everything was hunky dory. We could get a subpoena to investigate the corporate records, but that takes time.”

  “Still, that could reveal the real financial state of the company. That would be a possible motive for murder.” I thought of Ben Yazzie’s computer hacking talents. He owed me, for getting mixed up in this.

  “I might be able to help you there, unofficially like,” I said.

  “If you do anything illegal, we can’t use it in court.” Cooper didn’t seem to be upset that I’d suggested it.

  “Nah, I’d be careful. But it would give you a reason to talk to previous employees, even so.”

  “Even so,” he mused.

  My legs were getting stiff, sitting in that little bitty chair in front of his desk. I stretched them out, and my left knee creaked. I definitely needed more exercise.

  “And there’s Claire Marks, Jill’s sister,” I said. “She claims she and her sister haven’t been in contact for years. But there have been financial difficulties at the family farm. That and I think I saw her in West Fork the day Jill died.”

  He perked up. “You approach her with that? What’d she say?”

  “Denied it. And says her husband can alibi that she was at the farm all day.”

  Cooper slumped back in his seat.

  “But possible motive. Anyone else in that grab bag of yours?” he asked.

  “Well, consider the park ranger at West Fork, Buzz Marks.”

  “Yeah, I met him. Looks like he’s let himself go. He’s got a connection to this?”

  I snickered, thinking of Cooper’s own pudgy form. But I pressed ahead with my case. “Harriet said he used to work for the company until four months ago when he was fired for malfeasance.”