He dialed Harlan Glover's number before continuing but he was out. He left a call and went back to his work.
When he finished, there were only two aps which interested him besides Shirley Dalton's. "The only thing against these two, is they're too young. Both right out of school. I'll go on and interview them. Keep them in mind if we grow and are authorized to hire more or if, heaven forbid, we need to replace anybody again soon."
He pushed the applications aside and dialed Harlan's number again. "I'll try again in case he's come in and planning to call me in the middle of my bowl of stew."
A Marble County Deputy answered. "Yes, sir. He's just coming in now. This is Sheriff Larkin, isn't it?"
"Yes, I called earlier. Tell him if he's in some kind of rush, he can call me back."
"He's headed this way."
"Cas!" Harlan's voice boomed as if he were still outdoors. "I had a call from you, got a handful of them here, I just got in. Have you got some news?"
"Yes, I have. Do you know where the Prime Cut plant is?"
"Yes, it's up in the northern part of the state. Big place, best I can remember. Next county above you on the state map. Don't tell me they're involved in this cattle rustling?"
"No. I don't think they are. Not directly, anyway. It looks like that's where our flock of Crows took the cattle they stole to have the meat cut up."
"Have you talked to them at the plant?"
"No, I've just found out about it. It seems the Crow boys go up there and get the meat cut then come back and sell it on the way home. They've sold some here in Maryvale. Remember the tracks I found in the alley? We thought they were casing the jewelry store, or maybe the bank?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, that wasn't it. They made them when they were unloading meat at the grocery store. I took that picture you sent over there and showed it to Cortez Lorenzo and he identified them as 'the meat men'. They told him they were selling what the plant didn't take from them."
"I don't think the plant does that." Harlan said doubtfully. "They go to the sales barns and buy their own, I think."
"I didn't think so. But that is where they got the meat cut up, or that's what they told Lorenzo."
"Lorenzo's cooperating with you?"
"Yes. He's to call me next time he hears from them. We'll be waiting for them."
"Let me know when it goes down. As soon as you call me I'm going out to their place and pick up some things I know are there. Those hides I saw, for one thing. They've got the brands on them."
"Okay, I'll call you."
* * *
Cas cleared off his desk about mid afternoon, putting away the three applications and making a note on his desk calendar to set up the interviews.
"Gladys," he slowed down passing her desk. "I'll be out a couple of hours, I'll call in."
He drove to the country club and explained to the man at the gate he wanted to talk with the dining room manager, not sure if that's who he needed to see or not.
The security man must have phoned ahead. The manager, maître d'hôtelor whatever he called himself came to meet him when he entered the dining room. He didn't look too happy to see Cas.
"Is there something I can do for you, Sheriff Larkin?"
"Yes. I would like to speak to the waiter or waitress who waited on Judge Spruce and his wife the last time they had dinner here."
"I'm not sure when that might have been."
Cas didn't buy that 'know nothing' smirk and gave him the date of Denise Davis's death. "It was a Friday," he added.
The manager had got the message in Cas's eyes and tone of voice and said smoothly, "I'm not sure if he or she is here. Shall I ask and check into it for you?"
"Please."
Cas frowned at his back. "That must be an art, making everything you do sound like a tip required service." He decided he'd talk with someone even if he had to go into the kitchen himself and ask around.
The maître d'returned with a woman a little past middle age, plain but honest looking. She wore no makeup, had on a skirt that came well below her knees and wore sensible shoes. She stood quietly as she was introduced to Cas as Mable Morris. The maître d' stood beside her as if he'd taken root.
Cas put on one of the painfully insincere smiles he had developed to deal with people who had an above-the-rules attitude like the maître d's. "Will you excuse us, please?"
Storm clouds gathered on the maître d's face. He stood a moment staring into eyes as determined as his own before turning without a word and walking away. The waitress looked down at her shoes as if she had done something wrong.
"I'm not going to say anything X-rated," Cas smiled at the woman. "Or challenge you to arm wrestle either."
The woman laughed a little at that. "No, sir. I didn't think you were."
"Has the maître d' said something to you about the night the judge and his wife had dinner here?"
The only answer was an uncomfortable expression tinged pink by embarrassment.
"All I want to ask you is if you remember what time they left. Do you remember?"
Mable Morris nodded slowly. Reluctantly.
"You do, but, you would rather not say? Or you have been told not to say?"
A slight glimmer of hope appeared in the pale blue eyes.
"It's all right. I notice your name is Morris. Are you related to Chad Morris?"
"Yes, sir. He's my cousin."
"And you are Amish?"
"Yes, sir."
He smiled. "I didn't see any wagon out there by the BMW's and golf carts."
"My husband and boy bring me to work," Mable confided, feeling a little more at ease.
"Let me see how I can put this and keep us both out of trouble." Cas worked on it. "Do you remember about when the judge and his wife came in?"
"Yes, sir. It was a bit after seven forty-five. One of the other waitresses came back from her break then and they were just being seated."
"I see. Do you remember what they had for dinner or about how long they were here in the dining room?"
Mable's brows drew together. "It was a night we had oriental food and I believe they ordered pepper steak as an entree with other things. Egg rolls for one. I remembered because," she looked away as she explained. "The judge is sometimes a little impatient and pepper steak takes a long time to prepare."
"So they were here quite a while then?"
Instead of a definite yes she answered, "They had some drinks from the bar first and some appetizers."
"Would you say they were here an hour or more like two hours?"
"I guess if I had to say, they were in the dining room about two hours."
"That would make it about a quarter of ten or ten o'clock when they left."
"Left?" Mable's face was strained, as if she might be trying to translate words in a foreign language.
"There's something about the time they left," Cas thought studying her face.
"That's when the judge and his wife left the dining room?"
"Yes! Yes, they left the dining room."
She had pounced on it eagerly. Cas caught on. "They left the dining room but they went into the bar?"
Mable's smile said it all.
"Thank you, Mrs. Morris. I would never ask you to choose between your job and what you know is right. But, if I have to ask you when the Spruces left the dining room, may I count on you to testify?"
"I would rather not, sir."
"I know. And I probably won't need to ask you."
"Yes, sir. If I had to say."
"Thank you."
As they talked, Cas had heard the sound of a piano and a horn. He followed his ears to the bar.
The man holding a saxophone came to meet him and held out his hand. "Jon Gibson," he grinned. "Is my music that bad?" He eyed Cas's badge.
Cas laughed, openly admiring the horn. "If it was, I probably couldn't tell. I want to ask you some questions if you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind. I can use a break." The man playing t
he piano played softer, glancing their way.
"You play here regularly?"
"No, just passing through. We'll be here a couple more days."
Cas pulled out a newspaper with a picture showing the judge at a charity fund raising dinner. "I want to ask you if you remember this man... remember seeing him here at a certain time."
Cas gave him the date of Denise's death. "It was a weekend, Friday night. He was here with his wife. Do you remember seeing them?"
"Yes, I do." Jon Gibson's smile lit up his eyes. "A cool dude. He liked our music."
"Cool dude?"
"He got around the floor good for an old guy and he was definitely a good tipper. Isn't that right, Joe?" He raised his voice a little, turning toward the pianist. Joe gave that a thumbs up.
"What I want to know is how late was he here? Do you know or can you make a guess?"
"Oh, I know, all right. It was about midnight because that's when we quit playing. The guy was a pretty good dancer and tipped Joe good to play the old standards he liked. I know it was about midnight because I didn't want to make him mad. But he got himself in gear and left about five minutes before Goodnight Sweetheart, which is, I guess what he'd have wanted." He grinned again remembering that Friday night.
"And you and your band will be gone in a few days? Just passing through, you said?"
"Yes, we're already booked, gotta move."
"Do you mind if I record this? Get the answers to the questions I asked recorded and get a statement from you? About the date and the time they were here and left?"
"No, it's okay by me."
Cas pulled his small recorder out, identified himself, Gibson, and the time and place. He then repeated the questions he had asked. It was firmly established the judge and his wife had left about five minutes till midnight on the night in question.
"Come by my office tomorrow or the next day and sign the statement I'll have typed out for you."
"I'll be there. That all you need?"
"Yes. Thank you for your cooperation."
Chapter 18
The morning he was supposed to meet Hannah, Cas waited in the parking lot hoping she would be on time this time.
Hannah arrived five minutes early. She parked her car and came to him where he stood beside his car.
She smiled as if she'd seen him checking his watch a few minutes ago. The thought that maybe she did spooked him a little.
"I made sure there was nothing to stop for this time."
Cas returned her friendly smile mentally kicking himself for being spooked.
"Have you? Is the reason you called me you've found the place where the Davis girl was killed?"
"I'm not sure but I found a place that's a good possibility. If it isn't, at least you can tell me what you feel about the place. But I am sure it's where at least one meeting was held by the club I've been investigating. Denise went to several of their meetings. I want you to tell me what you can about the place even if it doesn't turn out to be the scene of the crime."
Cas paused after he got seated, his hand still on the door. "It might be very unpleasant for you if this is the place where it happened."
"I know," Hannah nodded. "Feeling what that boy felt wasn't pleasant either. But if it will help I'll at least know it was worth the unpleasantness."
As they drove Hannah told him about some of the things she had seen. "It's not a thing that can be controlled, as I told you. You see what you see or you don't see anything. I don't understand it any more than anyone else does. When I was growing up, I didn't know other people didn't see things too— that it was something different."
Cas was puzzled. "I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me."
"I didn't know that other people didn't see what was happening or had happened, or even would happen to people they were close to. Or people they knew. I didn't know that seeing things was unusual. I didn't give it much thought until one day when I was in high school. Someone I didn't know very well lost her mother's credit card. She was in one of my classes but I didn't know about her losing the card. Right after it happened when I passed close to her in the hall, I saw this bearded man. He was giving a clerk a credit card with her family name on it to pay for something. I told a friend about it and it got back to the girl and her family. Someone really had used the card and bought things with it. They wanted to know how I knew and I couldn't tell them. I learned the lesson fast and well from that, not to say anything to anybody about what I saw."
"I can sure understand that." Cas was sympathetic. "So you were cured of talking about it if not of seeing the visions? What do you call them?"
"I don't know. 'Seeing'. I guess."
"But that cured you of talking about it."
"You'd think so." Hannah's face was grim. "But it was hard to do. Two or three times after that I saw people in danger and tried to warn them. It did no good. They wouldn't listen to me. I couldn't help them. All it did was make people think I'm a little strange, or trying to be a witch or something. It took a long time to get over people's fear and aversion, or whatever it was. Some that remember me still think I'm weird or must be evil somehow. I finished the two year college in our area, married, and moved away while my husband was in service. When he was killed I sold the small house we'd bought in Fort Craig. Then I moved here as soon as there was an opening I could qualify for at the library. I don't want anyone here in Maryvale to know anything about my being able to see things that have happened or are going to happen. If I can be of help to you, I'm glad. But I don't want anyone else to know."
"I won't betray your confidence, Hannah. As I told you I didn't write your name down in the notes in my file. There is no need to write down your home phone number either since it's in the book. And I'll call you at the library when I need to talk to you."
"It's all right to call me at home if you need to but I'm at the library every day."
"I won't call at all unless there's an emergency of some kind."
"Thank you, Cousin Horace," Hannah smiled.
Cas grinned, then said more seriously. "We're almost there. I'm afraid this is where Denise was attacked. We'll soon know."
At the judge's place he parked by the old barn and led Connie down to the ruin by way of the path he had found. They walked slowly. Cas knew she could feel the presence of those who had come this way to the meeting place.
"So many young people," was her only comment until they arrived at the door with the rusty hinges.
Cas opened the door wide and propped it open with a rock he found nearby.
"Would it help for you to go just inside the place in the dark first? Or will my flashlight make any difference in whether you see anything or not?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't think it will."
Cas stepped inside first. "Wait just a minute. I came prepared this time."
He reached into his pocket for matches and lit all the candles on the table before turning on his flashlight.
"All right, Hannah. This must be a place they met more than once, from a description one of the students gave me. Tell me what you see or if you see anything?"
Hannah turned slowly looking around, not making any comment.
Cas began to have doubts. He'd had no experience with psychic phenomena and didn't know what to expect. He devoutly wished he could do something to help or take some of the burden from her.
Having lit all the candles, Cas stood still. He was behind the table with the candles on it, almost directly under where the goat's head was hung. As he watched, Hannah went back to the door and started walking around the area. She went slowly around the wall and talked about her feelings as she moved.
"The room is full, crowded with young people. Some of them are scared. Some of them are excited. They think they may learn something that will give them power, or prestige. A few are skeptical, but it affects them in different ways. Some are curious about what is going on. One or two are resolving not to come again."
She neared the table t
o Cas's left. "Here is one who is mean. He's enjoying being back there on the back side of the table set aside from the others. He feels he is more important than they are."
Cas moved a little to give her more room, not interrupting.
"There is someone else here on the other side. He's uncomfortable. He does not want to be here, but he's afraid. Not afraid of supernatural things, but the person standing between them. Here behind the table."
"How many are back here behind the table, Hannah? These three or more?"
"Three. The mean one, the uncomfortable one, and the one in the middle who's evidently the leader."
"Can you see them?"
"Not clearly, though all the candles are lit like you have them now. I can see them dimly, and their outlines in the candlelight."
"Can you tell me what this leader is feeling?"
"I can feel what he is feeling. He thinks the people gathered here are like sheep. He feels power, and he likes it."
Cas watched as she went on past the table and stopped at the first bench against the wall.
"Oh! They're here!"
Hannah's face was so contorted Cas felt goose pimples prick up on his arms. He held his breath.
"She, the girl named Denise, she's enjoying herself. This is another time, not the meeting. There is no one here but her and a boy. He's the one who was at the table. The leader. Denise has an empty take-out drink cup in her hand. She tosses it away. She feels a bit drowsy, but pleasantly so. She seems amused about something he is saying to her."
"Who? If you know it's Denise, can you see them well enough to know who he is?"
"Yes, I know he's the leader I saw. The one who was standing behind the table at the meeting. She's laughing. He's turning his head now, not pleased at her amusement. I see the forehead and the side of his face and his hair. He's the one who carried her into the woods."
Cas didn't dare move or make a sound. He waited while Hannah rested a few seconds, then continued.
"He's asking her something. She laughs a little and gets up, as if to end the conversation. He gets up too, growing angry at her reaction to whatever he said. She starts laughing again. He picks up a knife from the table and makes a threatening gesture with it. He's angry, embarrassed. He brandishes the knife. She is not afraid of him. She is still laughing heartily as she turns to face him."
The Devil in Maryvale Page 19