Fifteen Coffins

by Tony J. Forder

  Forty

  Sydney blew by Chase Ebben’s personal assistant as if the slender woman in a pinstripe business suit was nothing more than a wisp of smoke. Without either a word or a knock on the door which bore his name, she burst into the man’s glass-walled office. Striding across to his desk, Sydney withdrew three listening devices from her shoulder bag and tossed them onto the open folder he had been studying. One of the bugs skittered and jumped into Ebben’s lap. The startled look on his face confused her, but sheer exhilaration continued to explode like fireworks inside her brain.

  Hank had attempted to talk her out of taking a direct approach. Then, after reluctantly accepting that she had her mind set on the confrontation, he’d told her he was coming with her. He had not required stitches following his skirmish with her intruder. Sydney had dressed his wound and cleaned the blood from his face and neck while he gulped down one of her cold beers. But even though he remained a strong and fierce ally, she refused his offer of further help.

  They argued back and forth about it, but Sydney was determined he should play no further part; that despite his early morning dust up, nothing had changed. She was resolute, and Hank had eventually agreed. He gave it his best shot, but had no defence to offer when she reminded him of their long-lasting friendship and of honouring her father’s memory by taking heed of Sidney Merlot’s only daughter.

  ‘Would you mind explaining yourself,’ Chase Ebben said, bringing Sydney back to the present.

  ‘I’m returning your property, Mr Ebben,’ she replied, glaring at him with open hostility.

  ‘Mine? I don’t think so. What are they, exactly? And for what it’s worth, who on earth are you?’

  ‘You know who I am. You know what these items are. You’ve been spying on me for days. Eavesdropping, having illegally entered my home to plant listening devices.’

  Ebben leaned deeper into his chair, interlacing the fingers of both hands and resting the thumbs on his chest. ‘Okay, let’s wind back. I’ve asked you who you are, so clearly I do not know you. I hear you telling me these are audio surveillance devices of some description, but again I had no knowledge of that prior to you informing me. Put those two responses together and you will hopefully conclude that I have not been spying on you, and I can categorically state that I have never been inside your home, either by invitation or having entered illegally as you claim.’

  ‘Claims which add up to slander, if I’m not mistaken,’ came a voice from behind Sydney.

  She whirled, and immediately recognised the man standing in the doorway, having seen his photograph in various newspaper and online articles. Sydney fixed him with the same furious glare she had previously reserved for Ebben.

  ‘Did your attack dog do all of this on his own, Mayor Jubb? Or was he given a direct order by you?’

  Chauncey Jubb’s eyes widened, but the smile that had been on his face when he first spoke to her remained intact. ‘If I were you, I’d be careful where I threw that mud, young lady. Words like that have a habit of sticking, even if they’re not true. Slander is a terrible thing, and if my colleague here wishes to prosecute you for what you have alleged here today, I would be only too happy to bear witness. I heard every word, and what I say counts for something in these parts, Miss..?’

  ‘You know my name.’ Sydney kept her cool, despite the threat. Her bluster was a tactic, every bit as much as his coolness under fire surely was. ‘And so does your dupe sitting here at his desk looking as if butter wouldn’t melt.’

  ‘Your unfounded allegations are mounting up. So I’m a liar, too. Me, the mayor of Moon Falls. And this loyal friend and colleague here is… a what? A sucker, a mug, a fool? Dupe is a nice word, Miss… whoever you are, but as fancy as it is, it’s likely to land you with a hefty fine or even a conviction in a court of law.’

  ‘I’d listen to him if I were you,’ Ebben said. When Sydney turned her attention back to him he went on, ‘Why don’t you take a few beats to collect yourself. When you’re more rational, tell us what it is you think is going on here. But please, assume for the moment that we have no clue who you are and start with your name.’

  ‘My name is Sydney Merlot, as you well know. I’m looking into the murder of Kevin Muller on behalf of his father, Dexter, again as you are fully aware. And you, Mr Ebben, are responsible for illegally planting three bugs inside my home. Perhaps you had one of your lackeys do the dirty work for you, but you gave the instruction. I suspect you were also given your own by the mayor.’

  ‘That is a swell story right there, Miss Merlot,’ Jubb said, coming around to stand beside Ebben. Everything he wore was too tight on his large frame, his cheeks inflamed as if his buttoned shirt collar and knotted tie were choking him to death. ‘But even if it were true – which of course it is not – why on earth would we be spying on you because you are running an investigation into the crazed psychopath who shot and killed fourteen of this town’s finest young minds? I mean, what would we have to gain by doing so, and why do you believe it would unduly bother us what you and Muller were up to?’

  Hands on her hips, Sydney dug her heels in. ‘That’s easy enough. You don’t want us getting anywhere near the truth.’

  ‘Uh-huh. Which is?’

  ‘The first part is becoming clear to me. Kevin Muller was not the gunman that day. He did not murder his fellow students. As for who did, I haven’t yet worked that out.’

  ‘I see. Then let me ask you this, have you taken your concerns to the police?’

  ‘The Sonora Police Department have already tried to intimidate me because of my involvement, so I don’t believe it would be to my advantage if I took this to them.’

  ‘Then how about the FBI? Which, now that I think about it, if you are Sydney Merlot that makes you the daughter of local investigator Sidney Merlot. And if I’m right, then you actually are an FBI agent. Am I correct?’

  ‘You are. But how do you know that about me? I thought you had no clue who I was.’ Sydney set her chin, her glare intensifying.

  ‘I didn’t. Not by sight, at least. Not until you gave up your name, and that rang a nice clear bell in my memory. I read about your father’s death a while back – my condolences, by the way. The article said he was survived by a daughter, Sydney, an FBI agent living in southern California.’

  ‘So, what of it?’ she asked, infuriated by his response. This pair had an answer for everything.

  ‘Well, are you acting officially here today? Only, it doesn’t seem to me as if this is proper procedure or protocol for the FBI, Agent Merlot.’

  ‘That’d be Special Agent, Mayor Jubb. And no, I’m on sabbatical so this is all in my own time and not in any official capacity.’

  ‘Uh, huh. I see. Well, then perhaps I should point you in the direction of the Tuolumne county sheriff’s office. Sheriff Lowe can often be found right here in Moon Falls. Back of the library. I’m sure he would be keen to hear from you.’

  Sydney was sick of all the bullshit, and she hoped it showed on her face when she spoke next. ‘I have nothing but contempt for the little game you’re both playing, gentlemen. It’s cowardly of you. I’m not going to do this any longer. Frankly, it demeans us all. Let’s be adult about this and accept that we all know precisely what’s going on here.’

  ‘Well, you don’t. Apparently.’ This from Ebben. His eyes were fixed and cold. He also appeared to have had enough of the charade. ‘You claim to know that Kevin Muller is innocent, but you are unable to tell us who is guilty. As to why either myself or Mayor Jubb would be interested in this beyond caring for the welfare of the people who live and work in this town, I couldn’t say. And neither can you, it seems. So, Miss Merlot, unless you would like me to pursue charges of slander against you, I think it’s time you left. And when you do, please take your fantasies with you.’

  Sydney took a moment to compose herself. ‘Mr Ebben, I’ve taken photographs of those listening devices. I have their serial numbers. I also have prints. If they are connected to you in any
way, I’ll find out and I will come back here. But when I do, I will have a warrant for your arrest.’

  Ebben grinned. His eyes crinkled in the corners. The bastard was enjoying himself. ‘Miss Merlot, please let me assure you of something. If I were the kind of person to break into someone’s home and plant a bug, I would not also be the kind of person to leave behind any verifiable trace of my misdemeanour. I don’t know what your own game is here, but I suggest you learn the rules before you try bluffing. As chief of staff and security for the mayor, I have the authority to escort you from the premises. To be honest with you, I’m rather hoping you’ll force me to do precisely that, and that you will also resist. I intend not to be gentle about it if you do.’

  Sydney shook her head. ‘Don’t bother yourself on my account. I’m leaving. I came here to say my piece and to return your property.’

  Job done, she turned quickly and walked away. She said nothing to Jubb, other than that which lay in the confidence of her gait.

  Forty-One

  The once prosperous mine had been closed for less than a decade. Prospectors extracted its rich vein of gold for eleven years from 1849, after which the miners scavenged in the surrounding hillsides as well as beneath the town that flourished on its northern edge. They pulled the final nugget of any significant value from the ground a year shy of five decades after the seam itself ran dry. For almost a century the mines stood empty, boarded up and designated a tourist spot, until the new landowners who were by then pulling copper from the land, stripped it all out, demolished its tunnels, and landscaped over it.

  At the foot of the grassy hill left behind reared a single stone marker, all that remained of a time people were destined to forget, yet one which also happened to be the era in which Moon Falls fully established itself as part of the Mother Lode.

  On the other side of the mound, a trail led up into the woodland preceding a steep climb towards the nearby mountains. Half a mile in, the rise hit a plateau on which stood three large log cabins. In the spring and summer months these structures provided a general store, a tourist information bureau and emergency station, plus the kind of diner in which the food was fast and plentiful, providing fuel for those about to encounter one of the many walking trails. Known as Falls Walk Village to the locals, the cabins closed for business on the final day of September every year, remaining shut for five whole months. The place was currently desolate, windows boarded up ahead of the winter snowfall.

  The area had the benefit of being both accessible and uninhabited at this time of year, which is why Sydney chose it as the perfect spot to hold her meeting.

  Finding Dexter Muller already waiting when she rolled up in her Dodge came as no surprise. The man had skin in the game and every reason to be anxious. He was standing by a decrepit water tower on land which had once belonged to the Miwok native American tribe. His back was to her as he stared down the hill towards what remained of the old mines.

  ‘That’s some view,’ Sydney said, joining Muller in gazing out upon the valley.

  ‘It’s beautiful. One of my favourite places in the whole wide world. Kevin and I came here often. Last spring we saw a bear in the distance. The snow had arrived early and hung around, so we figured the animal was drawn lower down the mountain in the search for food. Kevin loved it here, no matter what the season. This spot was special to my boy before they murdered him, so I think you can imagine what it means to me.’

  ‘You must miss him terribly.’ Sydney felt a surge of empathy. Her own recent loss created a close connection to the man.

  ‘I do.’ Muller nodded absently, his moist eyes not leaving the vista that lay before them. His Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘But in many ways I think the worst is yet to come. See, I so desperately want to prove my son innocent, but I wonder how I’ll cope when I no longer have that burning desire to feed me and keep me going.’

  ‘That’s when you’ll start falling back on your memories, Dexter. And it’s up to us to make sure they are all positive ones.’

  He looked across at Sydney, a sad smile on his face. ‘Whatever happens, I’ll always know Kevin wasn’t responsible. No matter what anyone else says, my memories of him will be favourable. He endured a lot in his few years on this earth, but he was a kindly soul and generally a happy one, too. It’s how I’ll always remember him.’

  ‘Sounds like you two had a strong bond. The same kind I had with my own father. It’s good to hear you speak about your son, Dexter. I’m still finding that part hard to deal with, but listening to you talk is inspiring. I hope you visit this spot often and hold your boy close to your heart when you do.’

  ‘Holding him close to my heart is the easy part.’

  Sydney was about to say more when Duncan Baxter’s vehicle swept around the curving bend of the gravel road at speed, and slid to a halt alongside her truck. He killed the engine and came over to join them.

  ‘I’m glad you both came,’ Sydney said, fearing the pair of them would walk away the moment she told them what she had to say next. ‘I asked you to meet me here at this time because I wanted a few minutes alone with you to discuss the reasons why I invited someone else to this meeting.’

  As expected, Baxter was the first to respond. ‘You did what? You asked somebody to meet with us here this evening without giving us the option to decline?’

  ‘That’s exactly right, Duncan. Because I knew if I told you who it was you’d do precisely that: decline.’

  Baxter threw up his arms and tossed his head back, stomping on the solid ground. ‘Please don’t tell me it’s Benton Lowe. Please tell me you at least haven’t done that to me, Sydney.’

  The look on her face told him his worst fears were realised.

  ‘Goddamnit!’ He slapped a hand against one of the thick wooden supports bearing the load of the water tower. Dust and debris flew up in a dense cloud around him. ‘That man is a part of the very establishment we’re working against. How can you not see that?’

  ‘He’s having second thoughts,’ Sydney pleaded in her defence. ‘Seriously, Duncan, Ben was so angry with me at first, but he’s come around to the point where he’s not only listening to me, but actively helping as and when he’s able.’

  ‘And that doesn’t cause you even a brief moment of suspicion?’ Baxter’s tone was derisory, the kind of scorn she had not encountered from him before. ‘Jesus, Sydney, what kind of cop were you? There’s every chance he’s siding with you so’s he can learn everything about what you intend to do. About what we intend to do.’

  Sydney swallowed hard. Hearing the exact same point being spoken by a second person within twenty-four hours caused her stomach to clench. She wanted to believe she was a better judge of character than to allow a bygone friendship to suck her in. Only now she wondered if she had made a huge mistake after all.

  ‘Hear him out,’ she said defiantly, not at all reassured by her own words. Doubt filled the space where only moments before certainty had prevailed. ‘Let me tell you what I know, explain what’s happened so far and where things stand. We’ve each had separate conversations and taken part in various activities, so it’s about time we brought all of that together. Please allow me to do that if nothing else. Then see what Ben has to offer. Judge him by his actions, not by the job he does or the duty he has. Is that fair enough?’

  ‘I’m okay with it,’ Dexter said. He’d been silent so far, but he nodded and met her pleading eyes. ‘I believe I have the most to lose if you’re wrong about him, Sydney. But if we are going to get to the bottom of this, we may need someone from the other camp to come across to our side. The sheriff may be our only hope on that score. I’ll hear him out. It’s the least I can do.’

  Baxter remained irate. ‘This sucks, Sydney. You suck. I thought you were better than this. Springing him on us is not cool. Not cool at all.’

  ‘But you’ll stay? You’ll let me update you all, and you’ll give Ben a fair hearing?’

  Nobody uttered a word for several seconds, before Dexter
turned to the ex-teacher and said, ‘Duncan, I appreciate everything you’re trying to do for Kevin. It means the world to me that you still believe in my son. Please… believe a little longer.’

  The atmosphere was teetering on the edge when Lowe’s cruiser swung into the parking area, tyres crunching on gravel and spitting it back out behind them. Baxter said nothing, but neither did he make a move to leave.

  After Benton joined them they exchanged brusque and tentative greetings, at which point Sydney wasted no time getting into it.

  ‘I requested this meeting because events are unfolding, and rather than us coming at it from different angles, I thought it best to put it all out there and, for those of us who want to stay in, come up with a single and unified plan of action.’

  ‘Now you’re sounding like an FBI agent again,’ Benton said with an easy smile.

  ‘You say that like it’s a good thing,’ Baxter muttered beneath his breath.

  Sydney frowned and shook her head at him. ‘Look, all I want to do here is make sure the right person either got punished or will get punished for what happened at the high school. I can’t imagine any of you not agreeing with that.’

  ‘Except not all of us believe in my son’s innocence,’ Muller remarked, glancing sidelong at the sheriff.

  Benton dropped his tight smile, saying, ‘Don’t kid yourself by thinking I’m the only one, Dexter. Syd is leaning towards your version of events, but even she is not yet entirely convinced.’

  ‘That may be true,’ Sydney admitted. ‘But I am a lot further down the road on that than you are, Ben. I guess where I’m still stuck is answering the if not Kevin then who question. But I’m hoping a meeting of the minds right here, right now, will bring me a step closer to making things more clear.’

  ‘Where do you want to begin?’ Baxter asked.