The Dunn Deal

by Catherine Leggitt

I hadn’t thought how to approach her and, for an instant, words failed me.

  Zora Jane came to the rescue. “We’re sorry to bother you, Miss Boyd. I’m sure you are quite busy. Possibly we could make an appointment to speak with you later.”

  Constance glanced at her assistant. Rebecca shrugged. Looking as dumbfounded as I felt, she mouthed a few words that didn’t get voiced.

  “Very well.” Constance frowned and consulted her expensive Swiss watch. “I will be available in three hours. Come back then.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.” I focused on my cheapo Timex. “We won’t take much of your time.”

  “No,” Constance said with firmness. “You will not. I will give you fifteen minutes.” She turned back to her interview while Rebecca showed us out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “We’ve got two hours and forty-five minutes to kill,” I said while we returned to the Jeep after delivering our load to the Salvation Army. “Do you want to see where I found the entrance to the Star Mine?”

  Zora Jane raised her eyebrows. “Okay. But tell me again why you’re so interested in that mine entrance.”

  “Well, for one thing, whoever took Molly must be keeping her in there.”

  “How do you know they’re keeping her instead of…?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to voice the word either. Surely they wouldn’t kill my sweet dog. “Because Frankie loves dogs, that’s why. Mary said so. I’m positive he’s keeping Molly with all the other strays he’s collected. But that’s not the only reason I want to go out there. That mine figures into Baxter’s death somehow.”

  Of that fact I felt certain; I just didn’t know how to connect the dots yet.

  While we drove toward the mine, I reviewed my latest confrontation with Colter. “I got so angry with him, Zora Jane. But when I told Jesse, he could only see that the pending charges against me had been dropped.”

  “Well, that is something to praise God for! Aren’t you relieved?”

  “Sure. But I’ve been thinking about my conversation with Colter just before he decided to drop the charges. Something frightened him. He doesn’t want me to tell my story about seeing that purse under the chair at Mary’s house. Is he afraid I’ll talk to his superiors or to the media?”

  “Maybe both.”

  “I think so too, Zora Jane.”

  “Why would he be afraid of that?”

  “Because he’s involved with both Mary’s murder and Baxter’s.”

  “How is he involved?”

  That was the big question. What was Deputy Colter’s agenda? He was a dirty cop for sure. But what part had he played in the two murders? Zora Jane and I reviewed everything we’d learned so far. Discussing the clues while we drove brought certain things into focus.

  I mentioned that Leonard Pinzer was the person who told me that Mary was rumored to be a snitch.

  Zora Jane gazed out the window. “Leonard seems to attract confidential sources.”

  I turned onto the road where I’d found the entrance to the Star Mine. “I wonder how much Colter learns from listening to his stepdaughter talk about her friends. Maybe he bugged her phone.”

  Zora Jane shook her head. “Kids today don’t tell grownups much, especially grownups they don’t like. Plus, kids have cell phones nowadays. I never heard of anyone bugging a cell phone, although who knows. Maybe they can be intercepted. Anyway, I thought you said the Colters split up and Amanda moved in with her grandmother.”

  “Right, right, right.” I shook my head to clear the cobwebs.

  Zora Jane looked out the window while I steered the Jeep up the bumpy dirt road toward the Star Mine entrance. The tires kicked up tornadoes of red Nevada County dust. I clenched my teeth to keep from biting my tongue while we jiggled over rough terrain.

  After dodging assorted rusty machinery, I parked as close to the front entrance as possible and we got out. I pointed. “I hiked in over there, through that pile of machinery, and up the hill. That’s where I found the other entrance, about half a mile away, with a concrete barrier just like this one.”

  Zora Jane shielded her eyes to follow my finger pointing up the mountain to the right.

  “Do you want to hike up to see it?”

  She answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Sure.”

  What a trooper! Always ready for adventure. I sized up her shoes; brown leather flats with pointy toes that didn’t in the least resemble proper hiking shoes. “You’re a good sport, my friend.” I patted her arm when we started up the path, thankful that I’d once again worn my hiker friendly tennis shoes.

  We marched along without speaking at first, Zora Jane setting the pace in front with long strides. My short legs had to keep moving at a fast clip to keep up.

  After several yards, she stopped and turned to me. “Didn’t you say Mary mentioned guards?”

  I hauled up, panting and stared past her toward the hillside. “She did. She said they kept guards there all the time because of the valuables.”

  Zora Jane removed her brown and gold sweater, revealing the matching shell underneath, and tied the sweater neatly over her gold cinch belt. “Where do you think the guards would be on a day like today?”

  “I didn’t see anyone outside the entrance the other day. I’m guessing they wouldn’t stand around where they could be seen. It’s too hot outside anyway.” I frowned when something else occurred to me. “Although if they’re inside, I have no idea how they got in.”

  She studied me. “Perhaps we should ask God’s protection before we proceed.”

  So she did.

  When she finished, I quickened my pace and hurried ahead of her.

  Before long, we’d arrived at the crumbling concrete barrier where we carefully inspected the impenetrable wall. The opening behind appeared narrower than the main entrance, just wide enough to accommodate tracks for the ore boxes to be hauled out.

  Being half a foot taller than me, Zora Jane reached higher than I could to run her fingers across rows of scrapes along the top. “Maybe they get in by going over the wall. They could use a rope ladder or something to pull themselves to the top.”

  I stretched my arms as far up as they would go. “I couldn’t do that. But I guess someone taller and in better physical shape could.” Say, strapping young men.

  I peeked in the overturned ore boxes near the concrete. “Maybe they store rope ladders near the entrance where they’ll be handy.” But the boxes contained only rusted metal parts, no rope.

  Zora Jane crouched. “Did you see these footprints?”

  When she mentioned it, I noticed sizable boot prints heading to the left. Up ahead, the boot prints marched straight for the concrete barrier. Zora Jane followed them and I followed her. “Good thinking there, Sherlock. I wasn’t even looking for footprints.”

  She glanced up and smiled, then returned to tracking.

  The trail of footprints led along the face of the mountain several yards. To my uneducated eye, they looked fresh.

  Zora Jane stopped abruptly with her nose inches from a large boulder. “That’s odd. The tracks stop right here.”

  I followed her line of sight. “You’re right. They do. What do you think that means?”

  She shook her head, looking quite puzzled.

  We surveyed the boulder from top to bottom. Fully as wide as its height, the top reached just above my head. Zora Jane stepped toward the boulder again. Reaching in front with both hands, she pushed hard on the rock. I stepped up to help. The boulder didn’t budge though we pushed until my muscles ached. We ran our hands over the rough granite surface, but felt nothing out of the ordinary.

  “How could they move this big thing out of the way? There has to be something here.” She bent sideways to peer behind the boulder. “Aha!”

  My gaze followed her stare. Underneath the boulder, a scraped track ran toward the mountain.

  I leaned on my knees to rest, frowning. “Okay. What does that mean?”

  She pushed the
boulder from the side where she found finger holes. “It means…” The boulder squealed when rock scraped across rock and the boulder inched sideways. “It means that this rock is actually a sliding door.”

  Bracing my feet, I pushed with all my might. The boulder moved slowly out of the way.

  With great effort, we soon gained an opening of about ten inches. When we stopped, we panted as if we’d just finished a marathon. These two middle-aged ladies didn’t move boulders often enough to develop sufficient muscles for such a strenuous endeavor.

  “So.” I gasped for air. “That’s how they get in and out. Good work, Zora Jane. I never would have found that on my own, let alone been able to move the rock.”

  She beamed at me from upside down where she’d doubled over to recuperate.

  “Be as quiet as possible,” I whispered. “In case the guards are standing close to the entrance.” I peeked into the space, but saw only darkness. Sliding through sideways, I crept forward a few feet and then paused to listen.

  I waited several minutes for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. But no adjustment of my pupils could bring in enough light to enable me to see. Stillness permeated the dank cavern as if the quiet itself had form. When I satisfied myself that I could neither see nor hear anything, I inched back out, thankful for the little line of light from outside to lead the way.

  “Can’t see a thing in there,” I whispered to Zora Jane.

  We pushed the rock back into place. Moving it back was much easier. Even so, the work exhausted us and we leaned against the boulder to rest.

  “We need strong lanterns before we head in there again.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What about the guards?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. I wish I had a light that would let me see without being seen.”

  She looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard of something like that. I think the army has night vision equipment, but I don’t know where you’d buy it.”

  After resting a few minutes, we headed back down the path toward the front entrance where we’d left the car. A shiny spot just off the dirt trail caught my eye. Between the sun reflecting object and the path, a small puddle of mud suggested the presence of an underground spring. It didn’t look threatening. But when I attempted to step over it, I misjudged the distance and my foot slid into the mire. In an instant, the sludge sucked my foot in, shoe and all.

  I squealed like a lassoed calf.

  Zora Jane turned when she saw my predicament. “What are you doing?” She tried to conceal her smile behind one hand.

  I didn’t see the humor. “My foot is stuck.”

  In just a few seconds, my leg sunk in up to my knee. I pulled with all my strength, but the mud held fast. “The mud sucked my leg in. I can’t get it out.”

  She giggled.

  “It’s not funny, Zora Jane. I think it’s trying to pull me under.”

  She stopped giggling. “Oh, my dear let me help you.” She stepped easily over the mud and came up on my backside. Putting her arms around my waist, she pulled and I pulled. With a plop like suction releasing my foot popped out, minus the shoe and sock.

  The sudden release landed us both on the ground. I wiggled my muddy toes. When she saw my bare foot, she broke into a fit of laughter.

  “My shoe!” I moaned. “How will I find my shoe?”

  While her giggling turned to gales of laughter, I gingerly stuck one hand into the mud. Feeling with my fingers, I couldn’t locate my shoe. I pushed my arm in farther. Still no shoe. By now, my arm was up to its elbow in gooey Nevada County quicksand.

  Zora Jane composed herself a little. “I’m sorry, Christine,” she said with a small titter. “But that looks really funny.”

  I couldn’t imagine what amused her about a single-shoed woman with mud dripping from one leg and one arm stuck in the ground. “This mud hole has eaten my shoe.” With great effort, I extracted my arm and grabbed a tree branch lying nearby on the ground. I pushed the branch into the mud and stirred. Being longer than my arm, the branch went deeper, but didn’t snag my shoe. In utter frustration, I lugged the branch out and plunked down hard on the ground.

  Zora Jane stood beside me, one hand pressed against her mouth to keep the laughter from escaping. Such a thinly veiled attempt to disguise her amusement didn’t work. I could still see mirth in her eyes.

  Peering into the mud hole, I couldn’t keep the whine out of my voice. “What should I do?”

  She pressed her lips together and glanced away. “Are you sure you’re looking in the right place?”

  I gave a heavy sigh. “You’re not helping me.”

  My arm and leg were now crusted with a thick mud pack. “I can just hear Jesse.” I shook my head and mimicked his booming voice. “‘This could only happen to you, Christine!’”

  When Zora Jane caught my eye, we both burst into laughter. She sat down on the ground beside me and we howled until our sides hurt and tears ran down our faces.

  After a few minutes, I composed myself. “Seriously now. How will I ever find my shoe?”

  Zora Jane stopped chortling to pray. “Oh, Lord God, please release Christine’s shoe from this mud.”

  Would God answer such a silly prayer? Just in case He would, I grasped my branch and stuck it into the hole once more. I wiggled the branch around the perimeter a few times, pulled it out and pushed it in a slightly different spot, with no success. My sock and shoe had gone to China. Maybe that’s where all those single shoes stranded on highways come from. They’ve popped out of mud pits all over the world.

  Nevertheless, I persevered until all hope of retrieving my wayward shoe had vanished. Zora Jane also tried, somehow managing to keep herself spotlessly clean. Eventually, we had to abandon the search.

  Trudging back to the Jeep, great dollops of mud dripped off me with every step. I clomped along lopsided, wincing when my tender bare foot stepped on every pebble and sticker

  along the path. With nothing in the Jeep to wipe off the mess, I carefully eased my mud-encrusted body into the front seat. The mud on my jeans had already started to dry and flake off in places. My sweatshirt sleeve was wet and muddy to the elbow, my hand still covered in goop.

  Zora Jane started to whoop again when she saw my face while I settled into the seat. “I’m so sorry, but I wish you could see how you look. How did you manage to get mud on your face?”

  I glanced at the clock on the dash of the Jeep. In less than fifteen minutes, we were due at an appointment with a nationally syndicated newswoman and I was covered in mud and had only one shoe. Starting the Jeep, I planted my bare, mud-caked foot on the accelerator and zoomed away.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  First, we stopped at the church where I borrowed a hose to wash off as much mud as possible. Of course that didn’t solve the shoe problem, but I felt less like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Zora Jane composed herself sufficiently so that she only chuckled softly now and then, mostly when she looked at me.

  I turned the car heater up full blast, hoping to quickly dry my clothing, and away we flew to Kmart to buy another pair of shoes. I slogged into the store with one shoe off and one shoe on like “Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John” in the Mother Goose rhyme, dripping wet from one side and sweating like a pig from the heat in the car.

  People stopped to stare. Of course, I had to buy a pair of socks first so I could try on shoes. Then I couldn’t find a pair of shoes that fit. In the interest of time, I settled on flip-flops several sizes too large. By the time we located a parking space downtown and hurried up the hill to the hotel, we were a full half-hour late for our appointment.

  Constance Boyd had not waited.

  I stamped my flip-flopped foot. “Now what?”

  Zora Jane searched the street. “Where would she go next?”

  We asked a few people milling outside the hotel, but no one knew where she’d gone. I flopped inside and approached the front desk. A man with white hair curling over his ears peered over the t
op of his spectacles. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Constance Boyd,” I said. “We had an appointment with her, but we were… unavoidably delayed. Do you know where I can her?”

  He frowned. “Sorry, I am not authorized to disclose that sort of information.”

  I started to object, when the cameraman I’d offended earlier wandered by. I left the front desk to apologize. My conscience pricked me. “Listen.” I stepped toward him. “I didn’t mean to criticize you before. Please forgive me.”

  The cameraman stopped abruptly, shifting the large video equipment on his shoulder, and produced a blank stare. His gaze took in my wet clothing, wilted hair-do, and exposed toes. “Oh, you. From the hall.” He nodded, his stare brightening. “You seem a tad wet. You still chasing Miss Boyd?”

  Zora Jane stepped up from behind me. “Do you know where she went?”

  “I heard mention she wanted to check in at that fancy bed and breakfast in Nevada City…what’s its name? The one at the top of Broad Street.”

  “Morgan House?” Zora Jane suggested.

  He nodded again. “That’s it.”

  I pumped his hand, thanking him more profusely than necessary and we hurried out to the Jeep. On the way to the car, we passed an army surplus store.

  “Look at this. I never noticed this store before.” I peered in the window. “Maybe they’ve heard of those night vision things you mentioned.”

  A door chime tinkled when we entered. The place smelled musty. A scruffy man in army fatigue pants sauntered out from the back. But my eyes had already spotted a display featuring night vision goggles.

  Intent on chewing his large wad of gum, the salesman didn’t take note of my wet clothing. “Can I help you?”

  I pointed to the goggles. “How do these work?”

  His voice sounded robotic as if he’d repeated the same sales pitch many times. “By amplifying the lower portion of the infrared light spectrum, the goggles pick up light that normal vision can’t see. Thermal imaging captures the upper portion of the infrared light spectrum which is emitted when heated by objects like warm bodies.”