by Linda Berry
He shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “Just a hunch.”
“Psychic,” Granger said with sarcasm.
“Any more psychic hunches you care to share?” she asked, looking for any nuance in his expression.
His face remained immobile, no hint of emotion. “Probably a domestic. Those wigwams are known to beat the crap out of their women.”
“How do you know this?” Sidney asked. “You spend a lot of time over there?”
“Just stop in for a beer now and then. Closest bar around.” His gaze traveled from her to Granger and back again. “So, who’s dead?”
“Nikah Tamanos.”
His face changed. A flicker of recognition quickly morphed into a mask of stone. “Don’t know her.”
“We heard you do,” Granger said. “You had a beef with her.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Their breath puffed out like smoke signals. Flakes were gathering on their hats and shoulders, and turning Stokes’s beard to white. Granger yanked on his fur-lined gloves. Sidney noticed the biting cold numbing her own fingers, but her gloves were in the Yukon. She slid her hands into her pockets. “What do you do for a living, Grisly?”
He shrugged. “Take folks out to hunt. Some trapping. Taxidermy.”
“We heard Nikah released a couple of your trapped animals. That right?”
“A couple? Bloody hell. She made it her mission to screw me. She not only released my animals, she destroyed my traps. I found five or six traps a month that had been messed with.”
“How’d you know it was her?”
“I came across one of my snares that had just been set off. I tracked her, and caught up to her as she reached her car, parked on a fire road. I gave her hell. She locked herself in her car and took off. Never said a word. No apology. Nothing. Just that look…”
“What look?”
“A look that said fuck off.”
“That must have made you mad,” Granger said, his face reddening with cold.
“Hell yeah, it made me mad.”
“You threaten her?”
Stokes sawed his jaw back and forth. Looked away.
“You threaten to skin her like a deer, Grisly?” Sidney asked.
He swallowed, gulped in a deep breath and puffed out a cloud of vapor. “I said that just to scare her. I didn’t mean nothing by it. I lost my temper. Who wouldn’t? She was messing with my livelihood.” He paused, said emphatically, “I didn’t kill her.”
“Where were you Friday night?” Sidney asked, feeling the cold penetrate her pants.
“Here. All night.”
“Can you prove that?”
He shrugged. “No. I live alone.”
“Your wife…?”
“She ran off a couple years back.” His tone was expressionless but something cold moved in his eyes.
“We might want to talk to her.”
“Good luck. She disappeared.”
Sidney and Granger exchanged a glance. That sounded ominous. “What’s her name?”
Stokes’s expression went through several transformations. “Dolores. Dolores Stokes.”
“You mind if we take a quick look at your operation?”
“Yeah. I mind.” He shot Sidney a long, chilling look. “It ain’t none of your business.”
“I’m investigating a murder. You threatened the victim,” Sidney said forcefully. “You make me come back with a warrant, we’re gonna tear your house and barn apart.”
“You fucking people just can’t leave me alone, can you?” His jaw clenched tight and she saw he was struggling to compose himself. After a long moment he said in a calmer voice. “All my licenses are up to date. I’m totally legit.”
“Then you won’t mind us taking a look around. What’s in the barn?”
“Shit.” The tendons in his neck strained as he turned in the opposite direction and began walking to the structure.
They followed.
Stokes opened a squeaky door and the stench of decay hit her like a smack in the face. Inside the dark cavernous space, the smell was almost overwhelming. There were antlers and pelts and animal heads everywhere—on the floor, hanging on the walls, strewn over the rails of empty stalls. She recognized bear, coyote, elk, fox, stag, and smaller animals—raccoon, woodchuck, even squirrel and rabbit. Looked like a lifetime of trophies. A slaughterhouse.
Sickened, Sidney felt a tightening at the back of her neck. Could this much slaughter be legal? She pulled out her phone and snapped a few pictures, then turned to Grisly. “Want to walk me through the tanning process, starting with a dead animal?”
“It’s all natural. Organic.” He exhaled a tense breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. “First, I peel off the animal’s skin to make a pelt.”
“A pelt is the animal’s skin with the fur still attached?” she asked.
“Correct. Then I dress it. To stabilize it.”
“To keep it from rotting,” Granger explained with a sour expression.
“What chemicals do you use?” Sidney asked.
“Formaldehyde and chromium.”
She whistled. “Toxic.”
“I wear a mask.”
“Anything else?”
He shrugged, a hard, unflinching look in his eyes. “Can’t tell you off the top of my head. The chemicals come pre-mixed.”
“Let me help him out, Chief.” Granger got on his phone, typed in something, then he scrolled through a website. “Got it right here.” He frowned at the screen, and read: “The process of tanning, dying, and shearing relies heavily on chemicals that include aluminum, ammonia, chlorine, chlorobenzene, copper, ethylene glycol, lead, methanol, naphthalene, sulfuric acid, toluene and zinc.” He looked up from his screen. “Which are all listed as carcinogens. Toxic to humans.”
“So much for natural and organic,” Sidney said with a shiver of revulsion. “Too bad all these toxins aren’t listed on the label of each garment. People might think twice about what they’re hanging on their bodies.”
“Look, this is all legal. Don’t like it, take it up with your congressman.”
The double doors in the back were opened to the outside and a flurry of movement caught Sidney’s eye. She and Granger crossed the barn and stepped outside, craving clean air. Under an overhang, a deer and a fox hung upside down. She couldn’t take her eyes off the amount of blood, steaming, pooling under the carcasses. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as wine. A darker shade of red stained the wall, which looked like it was regularly hosed off, but the blood had permanently saturated the wood. Half buried in the stained snow was a bobcat, ice forming in its shaggy fur. Crows were hovering over it, stealing an occasional peck at its corpse.
“Christ.” Granger’s face reflected Sidney’s disgust.
Stokes advanced toward the crows, waving and cursing. He grabbed the bobcat by a hind leg and pulled it under the overhang, bumping into the hanging fox. He pushed it out of the way and smeared blood over his hand. He crouched to clean his fingers in the snow.
Sidney’s gut churned. Why this inhumane treatment was legal, she could not conceive. Why people needed to adorn themselves in fur at the expense of an animal’s life, she could not conceive. She took a few more pictures. “I’ve seen enough,” she said, disgusted. “Let’s get out of here.”
She and Granger cut a path back through the barn and out into the clearing, gulping fresh air, with Stokes trailing behind. Their bodies formed a triangle, and Sidney inhaled his pungent odor of sweat and tanning chemicals. She backed off a step. She found the man vile and repugnant. “That’s a lot of dead animals,” she said scornfully.
He scowled. “All legal. Some go way back. Years. Others belong to my customers. I condition their pelts. Mount their heads. All legal. You can check.”
“I plan on it.”
Stokes’s scowl deepened. “The game warden stops by here every few weeks. Name’s Mead. Harper Mead.”
Granger scribbled i
n his notepad.
“Now if you’re done, leave. As you can see, I have work to do.”
“Just a few more questions,” Sidney said. “You mentioned abuse takes place at the village. Abuse against women is something you know a lot about. We’ve seen your record. You beat your wife, Grisly. That why Dolores left?”
The question caught him by surprise. He flinched. “She…she dropped the charges.”
“How long were you married?”
“Three years.”
Granger scribbled.
“She got family here?”
“Sister in town.”
“Name?”
“Eliza Mitchell.”
“Address?”
“Elm Street.” His eyes narrowed almost into slits. “Look, don’t believe a thing that bitch tells you. She never liked me.”
I wonder why, Sidney thought. “Tell us about the woman you sexually assaulted.”
“Didn’t assault nobody. I was never convicted.”
“Her name?” Granger held his pen poised over his pad.
“What are you digging up all this old shit for? I’ve had no arrests for years. This is harassment.”
“Her name?” Granger repeated, more forcefully.
“Fuck. Tammy Muehler.”
A chill made Sidney’s scalp prickle. Her eyes widened and locked on Granger’s. Tammy Muehler was the Stalker’s second victim. “She’s Native American.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“You seem to have a problem with the people at Two Creeks. Why is that?”
He shrugged. “They ain’t my people. If they left me alone, I’d leave them alone.”
“What do you mean by that? You retaliating for your traps being messed with?”
“No. I don’t have nothing to do with those people. Just drive through. Stop in at the General Store and saloon, is all.”
“How’d you and Tammy hook up?”
“Look, is this really necessary? It happened years ago.”
“Humor me.”
Frowning deeply, he kicked at a chunk of ice with his boot. “Hell. I stopped by the saloon one night. Just wanted to unwind. Grab a couple cold ones, and be on my way. This woman, Tammy Muehler, slithered over and sat next to me at the bar. Started sucking down whiskey like there was no tomorrow. I ignored her. She was a sloppy, loudmouthed drunk, singing with the band, laughing too loud, sliding off her fucking stool. I paid my tab and got up to leave and she asked for a ride home. I didn’t want nothing to do with her. I don’t hang with wigwams. Then I thought, hell, why not? I’ll do my fucking civic duty. Make sure she gets home safe. When I got to her place, she could barely get outta the truck. I had to half drag her to the door.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, compressed his lips, and studied his boots for a moment.
Probably considering how to present the rest of his story in a noble light, Sidney thought.
Stokes looked up with a fixed expression of indignation and continued. “Later, the cops showed up at my place and arrested me. She said I raped her.”
“Did you, Grisly? Did you take advantage of an inebriated woman?”
“Hell no. I dumped her off and left. I swear. A football team could have come over and raped her. She was too drunk to know the difference.”
“Only she wasn’t, was she? She had enough wherewithal to call the cops the minute you left.”
“She’s a lying bitch,” he said with such vehemence, spittle flew, and his shrill voice sliced like an ax blade through the quiet of the clearing. It was a long moment before he spoke again, his anger tamped down. “Okay. We had sex. But she came on to me. She wanted it. I just did her a favor. Long story short, the charges were dropped. That was that.”
Sidney’s shoulders tensed. Anger simmered in her gut. She had no doubt Grisly raped Tammy. She would have liked nothing better than to cuff him and take him in, let him rot in a cell, but she had no proof. No confession. She needed to dig up the old report, scour it, see if a rape kit had been conducted, see if any small thing had been missed. In many instances, it was some minute detail that broke a case. Her phone vibrated against her thigh, interrupting her concentration. It was Winnie. Sidney walked a few feet away and answered quietly, “Hey, what’s up?”
“The warrant for the safety deposit box is here in my hot little hands,” Winnie said. “Waiting for you.”
Sidney felt a little thrill of anticipation. Hopefully that deposit box would hold some answers. “Great. We’re heading back soon.” Sidney disconnected, and turned to Grisly. “We’re not done here. Don’t even think about leaving town. We’ll have more questions for you.”
With a look that explicitly radiated hatred, he turned his back and started trekking to the barn.
Only too happy to separate from his foul company, Sidney nodded toward the Yukon. “Let’s roll.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SIDNEY AND GRANGER strapped themselves into their seats. She pulled out of Grisly’s driveway, her fingers stinging with cold on the steering wheel.
“Man, what a freaking’ sleaze ball,” Granger said. “He makes me want to take a shower.”
“Yep. One pretty nasty character.”
“Don’t know how he can stand his own body odor. And that barn. I was trying not to gag.”
She wrinkled her nose, remembering. “A hell hole. Grisly’s a predator in every sense of the word.”
“When it comes to the Stalker, he fits the bill. He’s an experienced hunter who knows these woods. He doesn’t have an alibi for the night Nikah was killed. He’s tall and lean. He has a history with two of the victims.”
“He clearly hates women.” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “I have no doubt he raped Tammy. It’s not a stretch to imagine he’d go back and do it again.”
“Making her pay for calling him out. A lot of pieces fitting together.”
“We have nothing that warrants an arrest. Maybe Tammy can give us something. Contact her. Ask when we can talk to her.”
Granger dialed. After respectfully identifying himself, he asked Tammy if they could swing by. A long pause. “Tammy? You there?” Another pause. “Great. Thanks.” He disconnected. “She works in town at the Thunderhead Gift Shop. Told us to drop by any time, though she wasn’t happy about it.”
“Can’t blame her. Not an easy thing to talk about.” Sidney glanced at him. “Winnie’s got the warrant for the safety deposit box. The gift store’s a couple blocks down from the bank. We’ll hit both when we get back to town.”
“Can’t wait to see what’s in that box,” he said with a note of excitement.
“You and me both.” The squeak of the wipers directed Sidney’s attention back to the outside world. The snow had let up and patches of blue sky broke through the haze of clouds. As they approached the outskirts of Two Creeks Village, her stomach rumbled loudly, broadcasting her need for food.
“You on a starvation diet, Chief?”
“Not intentionally.” When entrenched in a case, Sidney often pushed through the entire day without eating. Not healthy. “You hungry?”
“You gotta ask?”
“You have a black hole where your stomach should be,” she chuckled. “Is there any place in the village to eat?”
“They make sandwiches at the general store.”
“Ham and Swiss sounds pretty good right now.”
“I’m craving roast beef with horseradish and chili sauce on rye. Badger, the owner, slow-roasts the beef on his outdoor grill. It’s super tender.”
She grinned. “Call ahead. Have two of those babies ready to go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Granger returned her grin and got on the phone.
***
The general store looked like it was straight out of an old western film: a red, wood-planked structure with a gable roof and a long, sloping porch that creaked when they crossed it. Bells jingled on the door as they entered and Sidney felt like she was stepping back in time. On the right was an old-fashion
ed deli area with an antique counter and a rounded glass case showcasing sandwiches, salads, and desserts. Behind the counter, shelves displayed Native American crafts and antique farm kitchen accessories. Shelves laden with goods ran the length of the scarred floorboards and refrigerated units took up the back wall. A young man waited at the counter and an older couple sat at one of the worn wooden tables. All heads turned as they shuffled in.
“Hey Granger,” the seated man said, friendly.
“Hey Pokie.”
The smell of rich coffee permeated the air and drew Sidney’s attention to the counter. She got in line behind the young man while Granger exchanged pleasantries with the couple, then he joined her.
Behind the counter, a heavyset man with a single black braid down his back glanced over his shoulder from an espresso machine and shot them a smile. He had a square, pleasant face with blunt features and sparkling dark eyes. “Hey Granger. Be right with you.” The machine stopped hissing. He placed a cup crowned with steamed milk on the counter, took the young man’s money, and turned to Sidney and Granger.
Granger introduced him as Badger Woods.
“Pleasure to meet you, Chief Becker.”
“Hey Badger,” she said. “Nice shop.”
“Thanks. Got your sandwiches ready. Just need to wrap ‘em up.”
The friendliness of the villagers encouraged Sidney to seize the moment. By now everyone in the village knew they were conducting investigations. Maybe these folks could be coaxed into talking. “On second thought, Badger, we’ll eat here. Give me a mocha latte, too. Large.” The desserts made Sidney’s mouth water. “And box up a piece of that chocolate ganache cake.”
“You got it.”
Granger ordered a no-frills coffee, black.
“Have a seat,” Badger said. “I’ll bring your order over.”
The young man, in his early twenties, dressed in faded jeans and a plaid lumberjack shirt, hovered nearby, holding his cup until they seated themselves at a table, then he ambled over. She and Granger looked up at him. Long hair, glossy and deep black, hung loose over his shoulders and his thin face was still and solemn. His chocolate-colored eyes locked onto Sidney’s with an intensity she found both disturbing and curious.