Circles in the Snow

by Patrick F. McManus

  Sheridan studied the pickups in the lot. “Well, she favored a big green truck, but I don’t see it. I don’t know whether she owns it or the ranch does. Same difference, I guess. C’mon in. I’ll show you their house.”

  He turned the key in the lock and opened the door, and they went in. The living room was richly furnished, dominated by a huge flat-screen TV. Those things are practically ubiquitous, Tully thought, pleased at having remembered the word. He wished he had said it out loud for Sheridan’s benefit. The foreman led Tully down a hallway paneled in dark wood of some kind. “Mr. Fester’s office is right here,” Sheridan said, taking out a key and unlocking the door. The office was large and had a huge metal desk. A leather couch stretched halfway across one wall. The foreman checked a pad by the phone. Several phone numbers were printed on it, followed by names. “That must be hers,” he said, pointing to a number with the name “Hil” after it.

  Tully took out his pen and pocket notebook and wrote down the number. “Thanks. I’ll get in touch with Mrs. Fester. I’m sure you’ll hear from her, but I’ll let you know what we turn up. By the way, can you tell me how they got along?”

  Sheridan hesitated. “Okay, I guess. He let her do whatever she wanted, and he did what he wanted. He got upset with her from time to time, though, and would give her a pop.”

  A pop? Tully imagined an orange soda and was horrified at such cruelty.

  Sheridan went on. “Yeah, ever so often she would show up with a black eye. Riled the crew no end. They would have lynched Mr. Fester if I let them, and I was tempted sometimes. She’s much younger than him, beautiful and very gentle and nice, but she can be feisty, too. She’s plenty smart. I think every one of the crew is in love with her. You could find several good suspects for his murder right here on the ranch, Sheriff.”

  “Sounds like quite the lady.”

  “Yeah, she is. I never understood why she put up with Mr. Fester. Maybe that’s why she spends half the year in Mexico.”

  “You ever visit the ranch down there?”

  “Yeah, I do. Mr. Fester sends me down there several times a year. Ranching isn’t what it used to be, Sheriff. You’d expect someone like me to be out breaking broncos and branding steers, but I’ll show you where I do most of my work, when I’m not running off rustlers.”

  He led Tully down the hallway and opened a door. They went in. “This little office is mine, where most of the work gets done.” He pointed to a computer on a desk and a swivel chair. “There’s the bronco I ride and the herd I drive, Sheriff. Sometimes seems as if I’m in that saddle all day and half the night.”

  Tully smiled. “And here I’ve always wanted to be a ranch foreman. You do much with the Mexican ranch?”

  “Quite a bit, at least on the computer. That’s some spread. Makes this one look like a gopher colony. Mr. Fester’s idea was that one day he would have me manage that one, too. He even hired the Spanish teacher at the Blight City High School to teach me the language. So I already know un poco español.”

  “Sounds as if you and I know about the same amount. Maybe we had the same teacher. So what do you think Mrs. Fester will do with the Mexican ranch?”

  Sheridan shook his head. “I have no idea. She likes Mexico a lot and unlike me speaks fluent Spanish. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sold this one and kept that one.”

  “One last thing. Do Mr. and Mrs. Fester share a bedroom or do they each have a separate one?”

  Sheridan frowned. “Well, they do have separate ones.”

  “Would it be all right if I took a look in Mrs. Fester’s bedroom?” He interpreted the look on Sheridan’s face as implying, “This sheriff is one weird dude.”

  “I guess so,” the foreman said. He pushed open another door.

  Tully walked in, looking around. The bed was neatly made and the furnishings extremely plush. “Okay if I look in her closet?”

  Sheridan shook his head, apparently in disbelief, but then said, “Sure, go ahead.” Tully slid back the closet doors and peered down at the shelves beneath the clothing. They contained dozens of pairs of footwear, about every kind imaginable. He had never seen so many shoes except in a shoe store. “Mrs. Fester much of an outdoors person?”

  “Oh, yeah, she loves hiking in the woods and mountains, usually going out by herself. Sometimes she camps out alone. Used to drive the boys crazy but didn’t seem to bother Mr. Fester much. I don’t think there’s a single wild plant or bird she doesn’t know the scientific name of. She picks a lot of huckleberries and wild mushrooms and sometimes brings us huckleberry pies or big skillets of fried mushrooms. They are scrumptious! I tell you, Sheriff, she is one terrific lady.”

  Tully held out his hand. “Sounds like it, Mr. Sheridan. Thanks for the information and for showing me around. If I learn anything about Fester’s murder, I’ll give you a call.” Sheridan’s grip was stronger than he had expected, for someone who rode a chair and wrangled a computer. “Oh, by the way, Jeff, can you tell me the day Mrs. Fester left for Mexico?”

  “Yeah, it was December third.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “You got any suspects, Sheriff?”

  “Yeah, the whole town of Silver Tip, to start with. Oh, one last thing. I’d expect that Mrs. Fester’s being such a lover of nature, she would have at least one pair of hiking boots in her closet. I didn’t see any.”

  Sheridan looked puzzled. “That’s odd, Sheriff. I know she has a pair. She wears them half the time. She loves to explore out in the desert, though, and probably took them to Mexico with her.”

  “Thanks for all your help, Mr. Sheridan. I’ll keep you informed about our investigation and you can pass along to Mrs. Fester anything you think might interest her or might suggest to her something that would help us solve this murder.”

  “You bet, Sheriff.”

  Tully started to leave but suddenly stopped and turned around. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Sheridan, does Mrs. Fester have a room where she works on hobbies or anything like that?”

  “Why yes, she does, Sheriff. She had it built as an attachment to the back of the house, so it could be furnished with heat, water, and lights from the house. She spends a lot of time working on her hobbies in there. Would you like to see it? I don’t think she would mind.”

  “Yes, I would.”

  Sheridan led him back through the house to a cozy room obviously added on to the house and with an entrance from the enclosed back porch. Several tables held neat stacks of cloth. A workbench along one side contained a variety of tools that might be used for tasks Tully had not a clue about. One little instrument in particular caught his attention, a vice of some sort, but for what purpose he had no idea. “Well, Mr. Sheridan, it appears that Mrs. Fester is one talented lady. I can’t even guess what all these instruments and tools are for.”

  “Me neither, Sheriff. She has a room just about like this one down at the Mexico ranch. In fact, she seems like a very happy lady, particularly when her husband isn’t around. And from what you tell me, I guess he won’t be anymore.”

  Tully nodded. “Yeah, Morg Fester is history. In any case, I will try to get in touch with Mrs. Fester, pass along the bad news, and find out what her plans are for returning to the ranch.”

  Sheridan walked him out to the Explorer. As Tully started to climb in, he glanced at a barn some distance from the house. He turned to Sheridan. “What’s that big green round thing hanging on the side of the barn?”

  Sheridan turned and frowned. “Oh that.” He laughed and shook his head. “That’s some of Mrs. Fester’s doing. She thinks cows should have a Christmas too. The green thing is a big wreath. She decorates that whole barn with lights and trimmings for Christmas. Last year she had a truckload of apples hauled in and dumped in a pasture for the cows, a Christmas present for them! I expect she has something like that on order for their Christmas this year, too, but I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Cows eat apples?”

  “They loved these. You ever see a c
ow smile, Sheriff?”

  “No, and I don’t want to. Well, thanks for your help, Mr. Sheridan. I’ll let you know if I turn up any evidence related to the murder.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  After leaving Sheridan, Tully drove up the road for a dozen miles, looking the ranch over. The place was gigantic. One feedlot contained what must have been a couple hundred cows, Tully estimated, with two hands rolling bales of hay off a flatbed truck to feed them. After turning around, he headed back to the knoll. So far there seemed to be no shortage of suspects in the murder of Morg Fester. Tully doubted any of his cowhands had undertaken the task. They didn’t seem that energetic or ambitious. There simply wasn’t that much of an upside for one of them to kill the boss, as far as he could tell.

  Chapter 4

  When Tully came to the knoll, his CSI unit was already out processing the site. The Explorer slid to a stop and he radioed the office. Florence answered.

  “Hi, Flo. Get me Daisy, please.”

  “She’s right here, Boss.”

  Daisy came on. “Yeah, Bo?”

  “Daisy, any word about what’s happening with the robbery in Pine Flats?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  Tully thought for a moment. “I have to check with Lurch to see what he’s come up with on Fester’s murder, and then I’ll head up to Pine Flats first thing tomorrow. So I probably won’t come into the office today. I’m a little worried about that Burk kid. He’s been pretty wild ever since he flunked out of college. No crimes that I know of, but he makes a good suspect in some of the weird stuff that’s been going on up around Pine Flats. If you talk to Pugh and Toole, tell them to stay on their toes. That robbery could turn into a nasty business.”

  “Gotcha, Boss.”

  Tully hung up, got out, and looked around the crime scene. The Unit was standing over next to the woods. “You and Pap find anything, Lurch?” he yelled.

  “Some stuff, Boss!” He plodded over to Tully. “Pap is pretty amazing when it comes to tracking. But I don’t know if what we found means anything.” He too displayed no clue he had ever worn snowshoes. “The body was lying on a foot of snow that had frozen and crusted over sometime after Fester was killed. The crusted snow left a pretty good imprint of the body. The snow falling when Fester was killed amounted to about eight inches, about six inches of it on the victim. That was the second snow of the year and should give us a good estimate of the time Fester was killed. I’ll check the weather reports at the TV station when I get back to see what I can come up with for time of the first snow in this area. I doubt the ME can do any better than that for time of death.”

  “Very good, Lurch. Anything else?”

  “Now we get into extreme guessing, Boss. I checked the body at the ME’s and calculated that to shoot our man in the back, the killer had to shoot from the edge of the woods directly behind him. Dimples in the latest snow indicate it filled in tracks coming out of the woods and going back in. Pap pointed that out. The distance from the tracks to the body was almost exactly twenty yards. If the shooter had driven up in a vehicle on the road, the victim probably would have turned around and been looking at him. If it seemed to him the guy was going to shoot him, he would have been ducking and dodging and running for cover, in which case he wasn’t likely to be shot right in the middle of the back.”

  Tully nodded. He would have smiled but hated giving Lurch too much encouragement. “So you figure the shooter had been hiding in the woods, stepped out after Fester walked by, and shot him. Anything else?”

  “Well, the shooter must have known the vic came by here at a regular time and been waiting for him, meaning he knew Fester pretty well. So Pap and I followed the dimples in the new snow to see where they led. The woods are very thick back in there and there’s virtually no wind to move the snow around. We tracked the dimples and found a bump in the snow, dug it out and found several pieces of chopped-up wood, some of it blackened from being burned. I took a piece that wasn’t completely burnt, to see if I can get some prints off it, although not likely, given the snow and everything. It kind of indicates the shooter had to wait quite a while for the vic to show up, so he built a fire to keep warm, far enough back in the woods so it and the smoke couldn’t be seen from the knoll but close enough he could hear the sound of any vehicle pulling up and stopping. Pap and I suspect the shooter slipped into the other side of the woods about five o’clock or earlier, while it was still dark.”

  Tully shook his head. “Lurch, you and Pap are absolutely amazing!”

  “Thanks, Boss.”

  “Anyway, I leave it to you to match up the time of the killing with the first snowfall. I’m headed in. Where’s Pap, by the way?”

  “He headed home. I’d love to track with him again. He didn’t seem to mind teaching me some of the stuff he knows.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Lurch. Pap is kind of an ornery cuss and pretty much does whatever he wants when he wants. Sounds as if he might have liked you. That would make one.”

  Tully changed his mind about going home and got to the office late in the afternoon. Florence, the radio operator, apparently having heard the klocking of his boots approaching, stuck her head out from behind the partition that separated the radio room from the briefing room. “I just put fresh coffee in your thermos, Boss. Should be nice and hot.”

  Tully took his Picasso thermos off the shelf and filled a cup.

  “Thanks, Flo! You got anything to eat back there?”

  “Half a combo of Italian pizza. Lots of black olives on top and it’s delicious.”

  “Sounds perfect! You done with it?”

  “Yep. I’ll hand you the box.”

  “Wonderful, Flo! Once again you’ve saved my life. I may give you a raise.”

  “Any time soon?”

  “Probably not while you’re young enough to appreciate it.”

  Florence handed him a large flat box still warm to the touch. After thanking her profusely, he carried the box into his office, opened it on his desk, and sank into his leather-padded office chair with a long sigh. When he had finished the pizza and the last few crumbs in the box, he opened his pocket notebook and dialed the number inside.

  A man answered in Spanish.

  Tully asked, “Usted habla inglés?”

  “Si,” the man replied. “What can I do for you, Señor?”

  “Do you have a lady registered there by the name of Mrs. Morgan Fester?”

  “We do not give out the names of our guests over the telephone, Señor. If you give me your name and number, I will give her your message and maybe she will call you back.”

  “If you can do that as quickly as possible, sir, I will greatly appreciate it. This is Sheriff Bo Tully in Blight City, Idaho. I have some bad news for her. Ask her to please call me at her earliest convenience.” He gave the man his office phone number.

  Daisy buzzed him a few minutes later. “Hillory Fester on line two, Boss.”

  He picked up. “Mrs. Fester?”

  “Yes, Sheriff.”

  “Mrs. Fester, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you regarding your husband.”

  “Oh, I already know. It was quite a shock. Jeff Sheridan called and told me about your visit. I asked myself who on earth would want to kill Morgan. But then so many people came to mind, I was a bit overwhelmed.”

  “I would certainly like to see a list of those people, Mrs. Fester. Please write down the names and the reason each might want to kill him, if you happen to know. I realize that’s a lot to ask, right after you’ve heard such terrible news.”

  She burst out in a bitter laugh. “Sheriff, I’m afraid my own name would top the list. Maybe the reason I’ve never killed him, he gave me all the money I wanted and let me do whatever I could think of. He, of course, did whatever he wanted. I don’t know how many girlfriends he had, but I know some of their names. I’ll write them down for you. Their boyfriends and husbands might be good suspects. While you’re waiting for my list, you might sta
rt with that brothel in Silver Tip. It was his favorite hangout.”

  “Silver Tip? Yes, I’ll check it out. Anyway, Mrs. Fester, I’m sorry to be a bearer of bad tidings.”

  “Hillory, please, Sheriff. And let’s just refer to the tiding as tidings. I’ll be back in a few days to check on the ranch and the boys and make funeral arrangements. Jeff Sheridan is perfectly capable of running the ranch on his own, but he may need my support.”

  “I think he has everything under control, Ma’am. As you know, I stopped by and talked to him earlier today.”

  “Yes, I know. The whole crew is a fine lot, and Jeff in particular. He’s very intelligent, Sheriff. And thoughtful, too.”

  “I’m sure he is. In any case, I’ll look forward to meeting you when you get back. And don’t forget that list.”

  She gave another little laugh. “I’m writing it in my head as we speak.”

  Tully said good-bye and hung up.

  His secretary walked over from her desk and stood in the doorway. “Hillory didn’t seem too broken up to hear somebody killed her husband.”

  Tully nodded. “Actually, I think it made her day. It’s as if a whole new world of opportunity has suddenly opened up for her, without the irritation of an ornery husband second-guessing her. I’d better check out the one lead she gave me.”

  “Oh, by all means,” Daisy said. “You’ll definitely want to check out Silver Tip.”

  “Yes, indeed. And since you listen to all my phone calls, Daisy, maybe you could just answer them and save me the trouble.”

  “Funny, I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  “Any word from Buck or Brian?”

  “Yeah, they’ve got several leads and one good one. Brian said they’re going to spend the night at the Pine Flats Motel.”

  “Okay. Get in touch with them and tell them I’ll be up tomorrow and will meet them at the café for lunch.”

  Chapter 5

  It was already dark as Tully drove into the parking lot of the Silver Tip Hotel, a well-aged, four-story brick structure on the edge of town. A thick new-growth forest of fir trees descended the mountain directly behind the hotel and embraced it and its parking lot on three sides. For a moment Tully thought he might sink to the ground from exhaustion, but he managed to walk over to the main entrance of the hotel and ring the doorbell. A burly bald man raised some slats in a venetian blind over the door and peered out. Then he unlocked the door and pushed it open. “My goodness, Bo, what brings you out our way?”