Mike flopped back in his seat. “Whoa. Go through that again. I feel like I’m jet-lagged.”
“From Sioux Falls?” Jennifer asked.
I didn’t mind going through it again, getting it firm in my own head.
“York knew Lukasik bribed the jury to get him off. But as you pointed out, turning him in could have been dangerous to York, too. This next bit is speculation, but considering his later behavior, it makes sense. He tried to coerce Lukasik into supporting him. When Lukasik refused, York reacted just the way he did playing cards. He caught on and didn’t let go. He kept track of Lukasik for three years. We can’t know if he followed other cases. Maybe Lukasik didn’t resort to bribery in any of them, but York was there when Lukasik got that surprise not-guilty verdict in the Bonedrin case.”
“Okay,” Mike said. “Then York blackmailed Lukasik and he’s been blackmailing him ever since in the form of a well-paying job where he didn’t work. Kept getting raises, too.”
“Exactly. Smart of Lukasik to set it up that way, too. No noticeable payments for nothing, which might look like blackmail. Just overly generous salary as part of the payroll. With York on the ranch, Lukasik kept a comfortable distance, infrequent and short visits. He hadn’t counted on his wife and son falling in love with the place.”
“Jennifer’s question,” Tom said. “Why now?”
“Right,” she said. “He’s been paying blackmail all this time, why kill York now.”
“Because,” I said slowly. “He’s dying. He’s wrapping things up.”
They all nodded.
“So, now what do we do?” Diana asked.
“We look at all the suspects and all the angles again to be sure. Then we really get to work.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
“Okay, we have a plan. But before we start, let’s take a breath and think this through.” It was the last thing I wanted to do right now.
Think? No. That came far too close to feeling.
I wanted to act.
Torpedoes?
Full-speed ahead.
Blowing up something — especially me — sounded good right now.
That’s why I had to slow it down. I wouldn’t be the only casualty if this blew up.
“There’s knowing what happened and there’s proving that’s how it happened. And if I can’t get it over the hump, the other side knows what’s coming and can build a stronger defense for any subsequent tries. Shelton would not thank me for that. And speaking of Shelton, we’d need him to have Hiram on hand.”
“You’ve been here before,” Diana said.
“I know. But this time it involves playing chicken with Norman Clay Lukasik, one of the top defense attorneys in the country.”
“The top,” Mike said dryly. “Just ask him.”
“That could be good. He’s full of himself. Cocky. That’ll make him easier to take. You can take him,” Jennifer said.
Tom was the only one who hadn’t spoken.
The others looked at him. I didn’t. He said, “I have no right to try to push you.”
That had more meaning than the others knew.
“But?” I prompted, none too gently.
The driest whisper of a grin touched the corners of his mouth. “But I’ll represent Tamantha’s interests in this by saying, do it. Go for it, Elizabeth Margaret Danniher.”
* * * *
We divided up.
For the drive to the grazing association, Mike and I were in his SUV, with Odessa and Asheleigh as passengers. All it had taken was telling Odessa that Norman Clay Lukasik would be there.
That left Richard Alvaro free for other duties.
Tom drove his truck, with Clyde, Diana, and Jennifer along. Paul Chaney and his uncle, Otto, were reserves if we needed more on the rustling.
Clyde was to call his father on the way, then have Kesler call Gable or Tom would call him direct. Either way, Gable would be told Asheleigh would be there. We figured that made him a sure-show.
And he was the second lever to get Norman Clay Lukasik over the hump.
I’d applied the first lever. Ego all the way.
“We’re bringing together the people from what happened — the important ones. We won’t be filming, but working out statements and sequences for later filming for a special we’re doing. You might not be aware, spending so much time away from here, that our specials on crimes have been well-received, including national and even international attention.” Hey, being aired in Canada qualified as international. “We need to have potential participants on hand at the grazing association now to be included in what airs.”
“This is very short notice,” came the important man complaint.
Biting back comments about murder investigations seldom allowing time for engraved invitations, I said, “If it weren’t vital, we would never ask it of you.”
“Well… I’ll see.”
I was fairly confident I had him.
Shelton was supposed to bring Hiram.
I figured it at fifty-fifty.
“Reenactment?” Shelton had repeated when I’d gone to see him at the sheriff’s department. He’d spread out the syllables with extra emphasis on the third — re-en-ACT-ment — to pile on the disdain.
I’d gone alone, the others busy with the other arrangements.
Besides, Shelton would get his back up regardless, but the fewer witnesses the better.
“Not an exact reenactment,” I said mildly, “even though we’ll be at the grazing association.”
“I don’t care where you’ll be. I’m not getting involved in amateur theatrics. Am-a-teur.”
“I have two cards to play here, Sergeant Shelton. The first—”
“You have no cards, Ms. Danniher. Not a one.”
“—is that you’ve been using me and Tom Burrell and Diana Stendahl and James Longbaugh to get information out of Hiram Poppinger.”
Another man would have invited my explanation by asking How could I have done that when we kept the audio off when you were talking in the interview room?
Shelton made me plunge ahead, uninvited.
“You’ve had Richard Alvaro reading Hiram’s lips as he answered my questions.”
Another man’s jaw might have dropped. Shelton’s left eyelid flickered.
“I understand the temptation. You never counted Hiram as your prime suspect, but his stubbornness in holding back things slowed your clearing of the underbrush. When James asked to bring in other people to talk with Hiram, you thought, what the heck. It might help.
“Especially with the ace up your sleeve of Richard’s ability to read lips. How did he learn? If you say it wasn’t from someone in his family, I won’t believe you. Someday somebody will do a study of the Alvaros and all their abilities.”
Because he knew how easily I could track it down, he answered. “Understand an older sister taught him when she was learning.”
“Uh-huh. Well, if he — or you — want to keep his ability a secret, tell him not to let on that he caught a Casablanca reference when he was too far away to hear it.”
No reaction. Though I suspected Richard would hear about it.
“I don’t hold the ploy against you, entirely. However, James might feel differently. And I don’t suppose your chain of command would be happy to have it reported on TV. Ah. I see you did not go up the chain of command.”
Tamping down triumph, I said, “The second card is that you owe me a favor.”
He didn’t squirm or deny. “You claiming this favor and canceling out all debt for yourself or for someone else?”
“Someone else.”
His steady look demanded more as the price of even possible cooperation.
“Tamantha Burrell.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Shelton arrived last with Hiram, escorted by Richard Alvaro and Lloyd Sampson. Plus another deputy, who stayed with the two official vehicles. That seemed excessive for one portly prisoner.
Portly and unhappy prisoner.
/> “Up that hill again? Wasn’t bad enough all the bother it’s gotten me into the first time I did it, and now you want me to do it again? York should’ve been killed years ago, all the upset, irritation, and misery he’s caused.”
Alvaro and Sampson directed him up the slight rise to where Furman York had been killed.
Shelton and I followed.
Scowl in place, he said, “This better work.”
Norman Clay Lukasik, striking a heroic pose at the brim of the upslope, like a captain of a sailing ship, interrupted, “In the future, call ahead of time to see if I’m available.”
He didn’t realize he came in a distant second to a fourth-grader for authoritarianism.
“Of course.” With luck, there would be no need to call him in the future. With lots and lots of luck.
I stopped, gesturing Lukasik ahead of me.
Shelton hung back slightly. Either guarding the pass or disavowing any involvement.
* * * *
“Who are these people,” Lukasik demanded.
As arranged, Mike shifted to stand near him in the rough circle we’d created. The lawyer didn’t appear to notice the move, but Shelton did. He sent me another sharp look.
Bypassing any prelude, I said, “Most of you know each other. For the others, we’ll do introductions as we come to them.”
Lukasik had to have a good idea of some, since his son had just taken Asheleigh’s hand in his, with her mother on her other side.
“Let’s go back to the morning of Furman York’s murder. From forensic evidence, we know he was standing approximately there—” I pointed to where the bootied footprints had congregated, now wiped clear by wind-driven dirt. “—when he struggled with someone and was shot with his own gun.”
Under his hat brim, Shelton’s face was rigid. But I could feel the heat of his fuming over forensic evidence. It sounded so much better than inference and deduction.
“As I believe you all know, his body was reported to authorities at approximately nine-thirty in the morning by Hiram Poppinger. York had been dead for a short time.”
“See?” Hiram said to Lloyd Sampson. “Killed by somebody else. They go away. Then I find him. Proves I didn’t do it.”
“The gap doesn’t prove you didn’t do it, Hiram,” I said. “You could have shot him. Been occupied with other things — staging the scene, for instance — and then reported the body.”
He started to growl. I talked over him.
“Hiram was here to do a favor for Clyde Baranski — to confront Furman York about suspicions he’d rustled cattle from grazing association members. He’d stolen cattle a couple ways, with Clyde a victim of the direct method the night before. Fence was cut and cattle removed from a field.”
I turned to the rancher.
“Clyde, you had other conflicts with Furman York.” Before he, his father, Tom, or anyone else could defend him, I added, “I know. Lots of people did. That’s why we need to get it all out in the open. He drew you into the fraud by a feedlot operator in South Dakota. You’d written a large check. It was only lucky timing that prevented a major loss. And then he hit you again with direct rustling.”
“Was he the only victim of Furman York?” Lukasik asked smoothly. A stab at Tom.
I raised a hand to quiet him.
“Clyde, I’ve already asked this of most, so I’ll ask you now, did you see Furman York the morning he died? And where were you that morning?”
“Didn’t see him. Where I was? On my place, examining York’s handiwork from rustling my cattle.”
“Is there proof of this charge against—”
I cut across Lukasik’s belated defense of his former client. “Yes. Shelton has the information. We’ll deal with rustling later. Stick with murder for now. Were you alone, Clyde? Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”
“Alone.”
I nodded. Why should he be any different? “What exactly did you ask Hiram to do for you?”
Clyde shifted his weight and stared at the ground. “Asked him to, uh, talk to York. Tell him to stay the hell away from me and my cattle. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t trust myself not to get myself in real trouble. Same reason I wasn’t telling my father, didn’t want him pulled into my mess.”
“Why Hiram?”
He looked up, a glimmer of amusement. “York hadn’t responded to reason, wasn’t even scared off by law enforcement breathing down his neck about that business in South Dakota. Thought Hiram’s, uh, unpredictability might shake him up.”
“Before your ranch was hit the night before York’s death, you already suspected him of rustling in the area, especially from grazing association members, didn’t you?” I asked.
Clyde’s gaze shot to his father.
“Yep.”
“Your father, Kesler Baranski, who works at the Lukasik Ranch, also suspected Furman York.”
As I shifted focus to Kesler, I was aware of Hiram relaxing because I hadn’t asked about Clyde’s advice to him on winning Yvette’s heart.
“Suspect, yep. No proof,” the old man said.
“What about you, Gable?”
He shook his head once. “Didn’t know there was rustling going on until… after.”
“But you knew.” I turned to his father. “Perhaps not that York was stealing from other people, but your own herd… Those flat cattle counts year after year told you something was wrong. That’s why you’ve stayed at the ranch for two weeks, when you usually only come for a few days.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I needed a rest, I came here for the fresh air and lack of stress. I have no interest in the ranch. I do not deal with such matters as herd count.” His mouth twisted on the last two words.
“No interest? Yet you’ve always seen to the payroll. At least as far as paying Furman York a princely salary.”
Shelton became more alert.
Across the circle of people, Jennifer named the sum. That drew a reaction from everyone except Odessa and Asheleigh.
As if that called my attention to them, I said, “Oh, yes, I need to introduce you all to Odessa Vincennes and her daughter, Asheleigh.”
“My fiancée,” Gable said immediately.
Nobody produced any congratulations, but the couple’s hands tightened, they looked at each other, and they didn’t appear to need any external approval.
After a slight pause, I added the punchline.
“Odessa was born Linda Pedroke. She is Leah Pedroke’s younger sister.”
That got reactions, even a few words. Along with instant seethe from Shelton, beside me. He’d make me pay for holding that back … later.
Diana and I had talked about how to say this next part. If it didn’t produce a result, I’d have a steeper climb. If it produced too much of a reaction, everything could fall apart.
“Odessa — Linda — came here to see where Leah lived her last months.”
“I came here to find Leah’s murderer and our parents’. I worked to come here. I saved and saved—”
“We saved, Mom. I worked, too. All my life. Saving for school and this move.”
Gable released Asheleigh’s hand to put his arm around her shoulders.
Odessa did not look at her.
The woman had a choice: Daughter or revenge? Though Odessa surely would say she sought justice.
Small compensation for her daughter.
As if the interruption hadn’t occurred, Odessa continued.
“York killed my sister.” Her thumb rubbed at her finger. “The trial killed our parents. And then I learned here about jurors being bribed to let him go. Those jurors are dead, like York. I cannot kill them.” She lifted her head and stared at Norman Clay Lukasik. “But you killed my parents. You deserve to die.”
“I have no idea what—”
“He is dying.” I faced Lukasik. “That’s the true reason you’ve stayed on at the ranch. You must be thinking about what will happen after you die. How the things you established will affect your
son, Gable. Because—” I looked around the circle. “—Gable was about to inherit being the victim of Furman York’s decades-long blackmailing scheme.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
“Absurd. You have no proof. You can’t possibly—”
“You think we can’t have proof because you’re obsessive about getting rid of ranch records, because you thought that was the only way the blackmail could be traced. It’s not.”
I glanced toward Jennifer. Lukasik tracked that look.
A sliver of confusion came into his eyes.
Of doubt.
“He said—”
“Shut up, Gable. Now.”
“But—”
“Not a word.” After that cracked-whip order, Lukasik turned to me, trying for his doubt-instilling sneer. “Let Elizabeth Margaret Danniher dig herself even deeper before we end this.”
I ignored his implicit threat, and explained to the rest, as quickly and succinctly as I could, how Furman York, knowing Lukasik bribed jurors to win his case, secured evidence when Lukasik repeated three years later, in Bonedrin, Colorado. Then York converted that evidence into a lifetime position of generous guaranteed income, room and board, free transportation, and more.
“Of course, he didn’t expect it to end so abruptly,” I concluded.
Odessa surged forward, but Tom, stationed beside her, cut her off.
She shouted at Lukasik, directly across from her, “I will kill you. I will kill you for what you have done. You murdered my parents.”
Asheleigh made a sound. Gable’s hold on her tightened.
“Kill me?” Lukasik repeated in nearly his best courtroom voice, turning away from her as unimportant. “You should thank me. I relieved you of the task your incompetence kept you from achieving for decades. You and all the rest. None of you acted, for all your whining about Furman York. Only I did.”
Norman Clay Lukasik confessing to murdering Furman York?
But he’d never confess.
That’s why we needed Shelton.
We thought — hoped — we could get Lukasik far enough into the corner of guilt with this confrontation that Shelton would take over, using law enforcement resources to fill in our broad outlines.
Reaction Shot (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 9) Page 30