An End to a Silence: A mystery novel (The Montana Trilogy Book 1)
Page 8
Ward stood his ground, said nothing, and the man sniffed loudly and wiped snot on his jacket sleeve.
“You either butt out or I knock you out,” he said to Ward, but Ward remained unmoved by the threat.
“Troy, say what you gotta say to me and get the hell out of here,” Cherry said, finding a crumb of confidence, drawn from Ward’s presence.
“You ain’t saying a lot, cowboy. Cat got your tongue?”
Ward felt his eyes drying as he hadn’t blinked since the man had entered the diner. “I’m the strong, violent type,” he said, and the man called Troy made an exaggerated gesture of surprise and then laughed nervously. His eyes seemed like they were doing a quick calculation and then he looked at Cherry again.
“Fuck it, then. Cherry, I need some money, so please”—he held out his right hand—“kindly oblige.”
Ward kept quiet.
“Ain’t got nothing to give. And ain’t giving nothing. No more, Troy. No more.”
Troy smiled. “I don’t think you heard me. I need some money. Now please kindly oblige and give me some fucking money.”
Ward remained completely still but his muscles tensed.
Cherry spoke again but this time louder. “I will tell you one last time, Troy. I am not giving you any more money. I’m finished with that. Finished. You listening to me? So please leave.”
“Hmm. Well, I guess I will just have to take what I come for, won’t I, bitch.”
And Troy’s hand shot out in Cherry’s direction, but before it had half crossed the distance between them, Ward’s hand flashed out and grabbed Troy’s arm. In one fluid movement he squeezed and twisted the arm and with his other hand shoved Troy’s upper body onto the counter. His hand slid up Troy’s back and grabbed the back of his head, slamming his temple into the marble effect surface of the countertop. Troy let out a startled yelp. Jesús barked and pounced and Cherry snatched his airborne leash just in time to stop him sinking his teeth into Troy.
“Now, I don’t know if your hearing is impaired there, but I heard the lady tell you loud and clear that she wanted you to leave, so we can do this the easy way or the hard way. From my experience of these situations, and I’ve been involved in one or two of them, the easy way is the most salubrious. So I’m the generous kind and I’ll give you a couple of seconds to think that over. Give me a holler when you’ve made up your mind. Jesús. Quiet.” And he squeezed Troy’s neck, crunched his face into the countertop and twisted his arm up his back, and before two seconds had elapsed Troy was ready to choose.
“Okay, okay. Let me up. I’m going, I’m going. I don’t want no trouble.” And his voice was now more of a whimper. Ward squeezed hard on his neck and then released, shoving Troy away as he did so. Troy stumbled and nearly fell but managed to steady himself as his momentum carried him towards the door. He spun around.
“This is not over, bitch. And your new fucking boyfriend had better fucking watch out.”
Ward made a movement as if to lunge at Troy and Troy was out the door quicker than a cockroach. He looked back through the window, but then turned and jogged down the street, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.
Cherry turned to Ward, tears pooling in reddened eyes. “I am so sorry about that.” She fell into Ward’s arms and he stroked her head.
“Now, there’s no need to apologize there, missy. None whatsoever.” She let the tears flow now. “I’m guessing that’s your marital history right there.”
Through a sob Cherry said, “I’m sorry. I’m trying to sort out a few issues.”
“He into you for money?” Ward asked.
“He has a habit. I offered to feed him food but all he wants is to feed his habit.”
“What’s he into?”
“Oh, everything. Anything he can get his hands on. He’ll do anything to get high.”
“But he ain’t getting high tonight.”
“He’ll probably end up knocking over a pharmacy tonight. Wouldn’t surprise me none.”
Ward’s bright blue eyes widened and then shrunk into a squint. “He steal morphine?”
“Oh, he’ll take anything looks like high. He’d kill for it if he wasn’t such a coward.”
Ward loosened his grip on Cherry and pinched at his chin.
“I told him no more but he comes back and I never had the strength to say no till now. Till now.” She stared into Ward’s eyes. “And now I’m scared he’s gonna do something dumb.”
“He ain’t going to do a damned thing while I’m here. That I guarantee you, ma’am.”
Cherry sniffled and laughed at the same time. “I love how you call me ma’am. Makes me feel like someone important somehow.”
Jesús let out an audible sigh and they both laughed.
“You mind if I walked you home?”
“That’s okay. I can find my own way home.”
“You don’t need to be being brave now. You have been threatened and it would make me feel a whole lot better if you let me escort you, make sure you get home in one piece.”
“I got to stop at the bank deposit.”
“There you go. You’ve got cash and—”
“Okay, all right. I’ll take the escort. Sheesh.” Cherry smiled when she said it.
30
The boy is in the boat. Bill O’Donnell had been relieved that the boat was still there but at the same time had known it would be. Nobody came to this part of the lake unless they had a good reason to and he couldn’t see no reason, good or otherwise, to bother. No paths led to this point – the elk-carved track skirted off north and to backtrack south would mean picking your way through thick woodland where tangled scrub had also taken in the places trees had been felled and then later replanted and even the most determined explorer would most likely not want to pick their way through here. The boat had lasted over twenty years, thirteen of those since O’Donnell had left the woods in ’72, but he had been back many times and had regularly patched it up and retouched it with Shellac. A tarpaulin cover, tied off at bow and stern and weighted down with rocks, had kept the weather out.
He carefully places the boy in the boat and then climbs into it himself and the early morning orange glow of the sun swathes the lake and jumps off in bright flashes, sparkling from the small waves that are pinched up by the gentle breeze that blows from the west, sweeping down off the mountains. He embraces the beauty of that and his exhausted mind grabs at each twinkle, taken as a moment of solace, but, each time he grabs, his grief rips the moment from him and lets it drown again. This makes his heart leap up and down and in his shattered state he thinks for a minute that it will burst open and reveal a thick black goo of cold congealed blood. And then he vomits over the side of the boat but hardly anything comes out. The retching makes his body shudder and tense and he suddenly feels every single step he has taken in every muscle in his body.
He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and he places one oar in one of the oarlocks and, with the other, pushes himself off. He will stay close to the shore and that will take him longer but he feels like he wants to be near firm ground without knowing why he feels that.
He constantly fears he will fall overboard and drown and not be able to finish what he has started and that wearies him ever more and then he sleeps while still rowing and he knows that an unseen force is rowing for him and when he wakes he sees his wife and he sees his daughter and they are calling him from the shore and he turns to them and waves and they both wave back with both arms and he sees that they are distressed as they run along to keep up with his swift row strokes and he hurts so badly in muscle and spirit and he cries and cries out time and time again but then he wakes again and he is silent and the world is silent save for the slushing of the water against the bow. And he wonders where the morning birds are and he feels cold in his sweat.
He’s nearly there.
31
They dropped the cash off at the bank deposit and stopped at a bar called Ned’s Yard and Ward ordered two beers.
“I’m planning on staying in the motel for a spell. See how it goes.”
“This town is better for having you. My experience of the police. Well…”
“I meant what I said back there,” Ward said, “I won’t let him hurt you.”
“My hero,” Cherry said as she removed her coat and scarf and hung them on the back of the bar stool where she sat. “So, tell me a little about yourself, cowboy. What’s the story?”
“Not a deal to tell, ma’am.”
“There must be something. Where did you grow up? What schooling did you get? What made you become a cop?”
He decided to answer the last question and left the others floating. “My great-grandfather was a Texas Ranger. My granddaddy too. My dad broke the chain and became a teacher but I decided I wanted to follow in my ancestors’ footsteps. Sounded exciting, way my granddaddy used to tell it.”
“And it isn’t?” she asked.
“Well, you know. It’s a job and not as glamorous as all that. It brought me here so I got to meet you and I’m glad for that.” He took a long, slow drink of beer then so that he couldn’t talk for a few moments. Give Cherry a chance to speak.
“You ever get scared? I mean of desperate people doing something foolish and shooting you?”
“No, ma’am.”
She leaned back and took a good long stare at him. “You, sir, have a very nice way about you.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you,” he said, and wiped the cheek.
“It’s bad luck to wipe off a kiss you know.”
“It is?”
“Sure it is,” she said, and she kissed him again. “Don’t you dare wipe that one off,” she said.
“No, ma’am,” Ward said, and she playfully punched him on the arm and he faked pain.
They talked for two more beers. When she had told him she had a daughter, she said she hadn’t mentioned it before because she’d thought it might put him off.
“Now why would it do that?” Ward asked.
“You know. Not all guys like a ready-made family.” And then she realized what she had said and quickly corrected herself. “Not that we’re now a family or anything. Fuck, that ought to scare you off!”
“I don’t scare easily,” Ward said.
Cherry told Ward that five-year-old Laurie was with her grandparents over in Bozeman for a couple of days, feeling under the weather. Actually, they were Troy’s parents but they had disowned him a while ago on account of his various issues. They were nice normal people, Cherry had said, and she wanted them to play a role in Laurie’s upbringing. Troy, wisely, stayed away. His father Joe, an old-fashioned type who espoused hundred-and-fifty-year-old Montana values when it came to drug abuse, had said he would shoot Troy down dead if he ever stepped on his porch again. He took good care of his guns and Cherry didn’t for a minute doubt that he would use them if Troy did show.
Cherry’s own parents had leapfrogged Idaho and landed in Spokane following work and they weren’t as accessible and, besides, she had her issues with her mother, and her father for that matter. They weren’t ‘live in your pocket’ parents. They got on with their own lives and were biding their time before they retired down to Florida, at which point, Cherry assumed, she would probably only see them once a year on one of the major holidays. She was kind of philosophical about it and that surprised Ward, who was close to his family even though he didn’t see them much either. But he talked to his mom and grandmother regularly by phone. His mother had tried to get him hooked up on Skype but that sort of thing just confused and exasperated Ward.
“Thank you, cowboy, for an unexpected evening” was the last thing Cherry said to Ward at her door. She kissed him briefly on the mouth and he didn’t wipe it off. As he left he thought suddenly of Alice White and that made him feel uneasy and he wanted to go back to Cherry but didn’t know why. He told himself he would call her when he got back to the motel but he realized he didn’t have her number. When he did get back, he lay on the bed and stared at the dreamcatcher and knew that sleep was way beyond the horizon.
32
The Westmoreland Echo was the first thing Ward noticed on McNeely’s desk. He was a little later this morning as he had driven straight to the Honey Pie but it was in darkness. Didn’t open till eleven anyway but that didn’t calm Ward’s nerves, which had been on edge since last night. The story under Pete Larsson’s byline carried a photo of Newton, and Ward knew that it would take another notch out of Newton’s steadily faltering psyche.
So he was surprised when Newton emerged from his desk as sprightly as a keen young rookie. Newton strode over to McNeely’s desk and plucked the newspaper from it and tossed it into the trash can.
“Ward,” Newton said, and he walked back to his desk and picked up a box and gestured towards two more. Ward nodded and he picked up the other two boxes. He followed Newton towards the door and just as they had almost reached it, Gammond appeared.
“What you got there?” Gammond said.
Both detectives stopped and turned toward Gammond. Ward looked at Newton.
Newton said, “Just my things. Taking them home.”
Gammond stared at the boxes for a long spell and nobody moved. Then Newton took the lid off his box and tilted it towards Gammond. Gammond saw the photographs that Newton had had on his desk. He waved a fat hand at them both and walked to his office.
In the parking lot Newton walked straight to Ward’s Alfa Romeo, and Ward put his boxes down and popped the trunk. They put the boxes in the trunk and Newton opened the box with the photos inside. He lifted up the photos and Ward saw the papers relating to the Ryan Novak case concealed beneath them.
“Your wife?” Ward said, and Newton nodded. “We’re going out on a limb here.”
“I know it.”
“Okay. I’ll take a look at this later,” Ward said, and he dropped the trunk lid.
Back inside the warm station McNeely said to Ward, “We are where we were. We have no meaningful forensics from the first scene. All we got is the latents from the windowsill. We’ve sent away for DNA tests on those but we won’t get the results back for a day or two. Plus, if he’s not in the fingerprint database, chances are he won’t be in the DNA one. From the second scene we have even less.”
Ward said, “Okay. We’ll leave the second scene for now. Statements? How we doing with those?” He directed that at Poynter, who leaned on the dividing screen that backed against McNeely’s desk. Ward wondered if that was his favorite position in the whole world.
“Everything we got is in the file on your desk, sir,” said Poynter, standing up straight just long enough to say it before returning to his perch.
“Okay, I’ll go through those. Let’s keep looking. There has to be something we haven’t found yet. I know it looks like we haven’t got a whole lot but now might be time to throw all this in the air and see where it lands. Go back over the evidence. See if there’s something we’ve missed. Look again at the crime scene photos. Try to think if there’s anybody else we need to talk to. If we need to ask more questions we go ask them. Somebody out there knows something.”
Ward’s desk was like his motel room. Stuff still in boxes and arranged neatly, apart from the file containing statements that Poynter had put there. He had barely sat down at his desk since his arrival at the station. Never liked sitting at desks. He figured detective work was best done on foot and not in front of a computer screen. He was tucked into the corner of the open-plan office with a short screen offering minimal privacy. It was department policy. Suggesting openness and accountability. Ward was okay with that as he didn’t intend to spend more time than he needed to there. He remained standing as he opened the file of statements.
A half hour later he looked at his watch. And he decided Cherry couldn’t be put off. He grabbed his Stetson and coat and made for the door. As he did, Mallory wa
s standing by the water cooler and he stepped in front of Ward and faced up to him.
“I hear you cowboys are all fags,” Mallory said through teeth as big, white and gapped as a well-tended picket fence.
Ward wasn’t expecting Mallory to be such an outwardly stupid dick as to insult a more senior colleague but he guessed that he had gotten away with being a dick for such a long time that it was accepted around these parts. Mallory was a big man. Tall and well built. But Ward confidently knew that he could drop him with one punch. But he just paused and sighed, looking at Mallory with doe eyes.
“You got nice lips,” Ward said, and Mallory stepped back, his lips suddenly pursing and covering up his dazzling teeth until the lips seemed to disappear altogether. He let Ward pass and made a little sound of disgust from the back of his throat. “Catch you later,” Ward said.
McNeely had seen the exchange from where she sat eating a salad from a plastic container, and she smiled. Mallory saw her and he stared at her for a couple of seconds then turned and walked.
“Asshole,” McNeely said through a mouth full of leaves.
33
The Honey Pie was open for business and Ward felt relieved. But that relief was short-lived as Cherry wasn’t there. The girl working was someone called Sally who had been called in to cover Cherry’s shift.
“I need her phone numbers, cell and home,” Ward said, and Sally eyed him with suspicion until he produced his badge.
“She’s okay, right?” said Sally, as she wrote down the numbers on her pad and tore them off.
“Everything’s fine, ma’am,” Ward said. “I just need to talk to her.” And he left the diner and called the cell number. Cherry answered after four rings.
“It’s me. Ward,” he said, trying not to show too much concern. “How you doing? I just went to the diner and you weren’t there.”