Dave said, “I’d have come over sooner if I’d noticed Angie was here. I thought it was just you two galoots.”
“I guess you don’t need an introduction,” Tully said.
“Nope,” Dave said. “We don’t.”
Tully said, “Usually I have better sense than to expose a beautiful woman to you, Dave, but Angie is here because we’re on serious business.”
“Yeah, and I know what it is. You’re after your murderer and some bank robbers.”
Tully told Dave about the Beeker woman at the mobile home and the Beeker Ranch.
“Interesting,” Dave said. “I’ve met the Beeker woman. Could be a connection. Not much to go on though.”
Their food arrived. Angie expressed her amazement at the size of the chicken-fried steaks.
“Try the hash browns,” Dave said. “They’re also the best in the world.”
She tried a forkful. “Oh yum! They are so good, Dave!”
“They’re not quite there yet. I’m tinkering with the celery and onions and a couple of different spices.”
Tully had to admit the hash browns were also the best in the world. He sometimes drove all the way to Famine for the hash browns alone.
“So how come you know why we’re here?” Pap said.
“Bo’s friend stopped by and said he was checking out some leads for the sheriff.”
“Friend?” Tully said. “What friend is that?”
“I forget the name, but he’s built like a splitting maul . . .”
“Gridley Shanks!” Tully and Angie said in unison.
Dave looked from one to the other. “Well, is he friend or not, Bo? He knew Angie and that she was with the FBI and said both of you would be showing up soon.”
“You tell him anything, Dave?” Angie asked.
“No. Didn’t know anything to tell him. I try not to get involved with the locals any more than to take their money. He asked if I minded his talking to some of the regulars, and I said no, go ahead. He seemed to get an earful from them. Of course they talk just to talk, whether they know anything or not.”
“You have any idea what he asked them?”
“No.” Dave turned and looked around the dining room. Then he yelled, “Harry, come over to our table for a second, will you?”
A skinny white-haired man in overalls reluctantly put down his knife and fork and walked over. Dave, introduced him to the others. Angie reached around Dave and shook his hand.
“The FBI!” shouted Harry.
Tully said, “Shhh. She’s working undercover. We don’t want everyone to know the FBI is in town. There would be an instant mass exodus.”
“Ma’am, excuse me if I’m kind of nervous,” Harry said. “You’re the first FBI agent I ever touched. I didn’t even realize they made pretty ones.”
“Why, thank you, Harry. I wish I ran into more gentlemen like you. But what we need to know is if there are any Beekers living around here.”
Harry thought for a moment. “None to speak of. Beekers used to be thick as fleas around here, but they all moved away or died off. There is one of the Beeker girls left. She ain’t a girl anymore, come to think of it. She must be eighty or ninety by now. Her and her husband live on a portion of the old Beeker Ranch. Don’t see much of them. Pretty much keep to themselves. Odd you should be curious about the Beekers. A fella come by last night asking about them.”
“You tell him anything?”
“Just what I told you.”
“Well, thanks, Harry,” Angie said. “We’d better be getting out to the Beeker Ranch while there’s a Beeker left.”
“If there still is one,” Tully muttered.
Dave told Harry his chicken-fried steak was on the house.
“Why, thank you, Dave. You never done that before.”
“Won’t do it again, Harry.”
Pap picked up the coffee thermos and refilled all their cups.
“So what’s the plan now?” Dave asked.
“I’ve got a really bad feeling about our Gridley Shanks,” Tully said.
“You think he’s connected to the murder and robbery?” Pap asked.
Tully shoved his half-eaten steak away. “He seems connected to every part of it. I brought all of this up to him, and he said it was a convergence of incidentals, meaning every time I picked up a new fact, it coincidentally pointed at him. In addition to the convergence of incidentals, I think he’s the mastermind behind both the robbery and the murder. I wouldn’t even rule him out as the shooter. It all goes back to a partial fingerprint on a strip of flagging tape.”
“Oh, no!” Angie gasped. “You can’t mean it, Bo! You can’t mean Grid was responsible for both the robbery and the murder.”
“I hate it as much as you do, Angie. I thought I had him cold once, but I had leaped to a conclusion that was totally wrong. Dave, get yourself armed and come with us. This seems to be turning into a very dangerous situation.”
“Am I still deputized, Bo?”
“No, but if you shoot anybody, I’ll fix it up later.”
“The Blight way!” Angie said. “I really hate overhearing these things.”
Chapter 12
Dave slipped a rifle into the cargo area of the Explorer and got into the back seat with Pap. Angie sat up front with Tully. Pap said, “I’ll tell you something about Famine I bet you don’t know, Bo.”
“Okay,” Tully said, “even though I can’t think of anything about Famine I want to know. Go ahead, Pap.”
“You’ll want to know this,” Pap said. “Back when your great-grandfather Tully was sheriff of Blight County, Famine was called Beeker. I’d forgotten it myself, until that fella started talking about the place being overrun with Beekers. That’s because the ranch was so big, hundreds of thousands of acres, it had its own town. Even had a hotel. Most of the hands lived in town, some with their own houses, some at the hotel. On the hill back of town is the old cemetery. You go up there, you’ll find all kinds old grave markers that belong to Beekers and other ranch hands that got themselves killed on the ranch or in gunfights in town or just got too old. Famine was a right interesting place in those days. I hate that I missed it.”
Tully glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “How come they changed the name from Beeker to Famine?”
“Gold. They had a gold rush. Folks rushed into town by the hundreds. Some of them even found gold and went away rich. After the rush came a famine. So that’s what they called the town. Beeker still controlled everything.”
Tully said, “I’ve always wanted a nice little gold mine. Nothing lavish, you understand. Just a modest little operation I could run by myself. The kind where you sort of pick up nuggets off the ground.”
Pap said, “I had a gold mine once, me and Pinto Jack did. One time a bear . . .” Pap’s head fell over on Dave’s shoulder and he began to snore.
Dave said, “He always falls asleep when he gets to the part about the bear. One of these days I might actually find out where that mine was or at least what the bear did.”
Tully said, “Yeah, I’d be happy finding out just what happened with the bear.”
A short way out of town they ran into the intersection of the River Road between Blight and Famine. It looked so rough he couldn’t imagine why anyone would use it, except to avoid the law. The road from Famine to the Beeker Ranch wasn’t much better. It had almost petered out entirely when they turned in next to the mansion. The burnt-out structure gaped ominously over the river. Tully turned the Explorer around and parked next to an old double-wide mobile home set off to one side of the mansion. A wobbly line of wooden utility poles led down the road to one side of the double-wide. Even though it was still daylight, a light shone inside the front window of the home. They could hear a radio pounding out country with several singers wailing over the top of the guitars. Tully got out and knocked on the door. No answer. He looked around, thinking maybe the couple was working outside, but he could see no one. A fairly new pickup truck was parked nearby. He k
nocked again. Still no response. He tugged on his mustache, contemplating what to do next. His hand slipped beneath his vest and released the strap on the Colt Commander. He looked back at the car. His passengers stared at him in grim silence. He tried the door knob. It turned loosely, but then he noticed the door latch was missing. He pulled open the door. A white-haired woman wearing a pink nightgown lay on the floor, a bunny-rabbit slipper on one foot, its mate next to her. An elderly man lay in the middle of the floor. He wore only a pair of white long underwear. Both the man and the woman had been shot several times. A bungee cord dangled from the door, apparently the means by which the couple held the door shut. Tully stepped around a puddle of blood and crossed the room. He squatted down and felt the man’s neck for a pulse but, as expected, found none. There was no point in checking the woman. After shutting off the light he hooked the bungee cord to a hook screwed into the wall, went outside and let the door close.
He took out his phone and called Daisy. “Hi, sweetheart.”
She sighed into the phone. “You never call me that unless the news is bad.”
“I’m afraid it is. There’s a double-wide mobile home parked out here near a burnt-out mansion on the old Beeker place. Inside the double-wide are the bodies of an elderly man and woman. Both shot several times. I cannot for the life of me think of any reason someone would kill them. They appear perfectly harmless, no weapons in sight or anything like that. They seem to have been needlessly murdered in cold blood. So I need Susan and her M.E. people out here pronto.”
“Right, boss, I’ll get them on their way. Will you be there to meet them?”
“Yes, I think so. Tell them to inquire at the gas station in Famine, and the lady there will point them to the road that leads to the Beeker place. Now get me Lurch.”
Lurch said, “You’ve got me, boss. I already picked up.”
“Good. I’m going to need you out here with your CSI kit as soon as you can make it. First, did you get hold of the lady who wrote a whole chapter on the Beeker Ranch in her Blight County history.”
“Yeah, Vera Freedy.”
“Any chance you could bring her?”
“She’s pretty frail-looking, but my feeling is she would be hot to trot if she had a chance to get in on a murder investigation.”
“Good. Get hold of her as quick as you can, and haul her out here. I have some important questions for her. If you hurry, you can ride out with Susan and her people.”
“Great, boss. Just so I don’t have to ride back with them. On the other hand, I think I’ll bring my own Explorer.”
“Suit yourself. Tell Pugh and Thorpe I need them out here, too. Everybody come armed to the teeth, vests, everything. Daisy, you still there?”
“Still here, boss.”
“Anything going on?”
“Same ole, same ole.”
“That bad, huh. Well, I’ll probably be out here another day or two. So you’re in charge.”
“Good. I’ll shake up the troops while you’re gone. Be careful out there, boss.”
“I’m always careful, sweetheart.” He beeped off.
When he got back in the Explorer, Dave said, “You look pretty serious, Bo. I take it the occupants of the double-wide weren’t too helpful.”
“Afraid not. Both of them shot dead. An old couple. Totally senseless murders. No way they could have threatened anybody.”
Dave scratched his chin. “Maybe they just posed a possible threat.”
Angie said, “They could have known something the killer didn’t want known. Could you tell how long they’ve been dead?”
“No, but I’ve got the M.E. on her way.”
Pap suddenly jerked upright. “I just remembered something about the mansion. “I was out here when I was about twenty. My friend Richy Walker and me was canoeing the river down from where his folks farmed, about ten miles up from a foot bridge that crossed the river near here. I figured it would take us three or four hours to get down to the highway bridge.”
Dave said, “You can’t cover that distance in three or four hours in a canoe.”
“Now you tell me, Dave. That’s what we discovered the hard way. It got dark before we were halfway here. And creepy, too, with patches of fog hanging low over the water. Most of the way the river was bordered by old forests on both sides, mostly giant cottonwoods. We was both exhausted, but no way was we going to pull over to the bank and spend the night. The footbridge is upriver about a quarter mile from here, and we almost got out there to walk the rest of the way. Then we came to this clearing, and that’s when we saw the mansion. It just rose up out of the darkness with all those big gaping windows busted out, and weeds and vines growing up around it. Even in the dark you could tell the inside of it had burnt out and that it was haunted. If ever there was a place for ghosts to hang out, this was it. The one thing now stands out in my mind, there was wide concrete steps going down into the river. It was like at one time somebody went swimming there and needed special access to the water. We stopped next to the steps. That’s when the sound of someone playing a piano came drifting out from inside the mansion. I tell you, I stood that canoe up on its rear end for the next mile down river. Richy was flailing away with his paddle, too, but I had him too high up to reach the water. Finally, we got too exhausted even to hold a paddle. I don’t know about Richy, but I couldn’t get my hair to lay down for a week.”
Angie said, “I’m sure there’s a rational explanation to the piano music you heard drifting down from the burnt-out shell of a building.”
“There is,” Tully said. “A ghost was in there playing a ghost piano.”
Angie sighed. “Strange, I didn’t think of that.”
Dave said, “If the mansion was already gutted out when you were twenty, I’m surprised it’s still standing. You’d think one of the owners would have called in a crane or at least a big dozer to knock it down.”
“Maybe they did,” Tully said. “And the dozer driver heard piano music coming from inside. How much speed can you get out of a dozer anyway, Dave?”
“Not nearly enough to suit me, if I heard a ghost playing a ghost piano in there.”
Pap said, “I remember something my daddy once told about the Beeker Ranch. He was sheriff then and knew Beeker. He was driving out to see the old man about something, mostly just to check on him, I think, because Beeker had started to lose touch with reality. As he was leaving the ranch, Pappy noticed a huge field littered with hay bales. He said there must have been thousands of bales out there, stretching away as far as he could see. Rising up over the Hoodoo Mountains was a huge black storm cloud, and he realized all those bales was about to be ruined by rain. It was late in the evening on a Saturday, so Pappy rushed into town and over to the bingo parlor, because he knew most of the people in Famine would be in there playing bingo. He ran inside, stepped on a chair and up onto a table and shouted, ‘A big rainstorm is coming and Beeker has thousands of hay bales out in the open!’”
Tully imagined all the people in the bingo parlor rushing in long streams of trucks, pickups, trailers, wagons, and even cars, anything that might carry a few bales to somehow save the hay. “So what happened?”
“The folks just laughed and went on with their bingo game.”
“Good heavens!” Angie said. “Was all the hay ruined?”
Pap paused, as though recollecting the details of the event. “The hay got rained on all right, but just enough to ferment it.”
Tully raised a hand. “Stop!”
Pap went on. “But all the cows in Blight Country ate it anyway. Their milk turned out to be about twenty proof, and the school kids thought it was the best milk they ever drunk.”
His audience groaned.
Pap said, “My daddy wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.”
Tully laughed. “So he wasn’t anything like you. I think I have an explanation for the piano music though. It was probably coming from a radio in what we used to call a trailer house, parked about where the big dou
ble-wide is.”
Dave said, “I prefer to think it was ghosts.”
“Me too,” Angie said.
Pap stretched and yawned. “So what we gonna do now, Bo? Sit here all night thinking up stories?”
Tully stroked his mustache. “I don’t really know. This is a crime scene, and we’re not leaving here until it’s secure. I’ve got Susan and the Unit on their way out. Maybe they can come up with something to explain why anyone would kill an old couple. I myself don’t have a clue. Anybody here have an idea?” He looked around. “Just what I thought. Zip. I don’t know why I drag you all along.”
Pap said, “Maybe just to torment us.”
“No, there was another reason. Ah, yes, you mentioned there was a footbridge crossing the river a ways from here. How far do you think it was, Pap?”
Pap scratched his jaw. “Been a long time, Bo. Let me think. I’d guess it wasn’t more than half a mile upstream.”
“While we’re waiting for Susan, I think I’ll check it out. It might have washed out years ago.”
Dave said, “I could use a little exercise myself. I’ll go with you, Bo.”
They walked into the woods behind the doublewide, mostly second-growth fir and pine and a few tamaracks, fairly scraggly as woods go. They walked down toward the river in search of a trail but found none.
Dave said, “You’d think if there was a bridge across the river, there would at least be a trail leading to it from the mansion.”
“Yeah,” Tully said. “I doubt the bridge has been used in fifty years. It probably washed out long ago.”
Dave pointed to a mountain rising up steeply from the river’s edge on the far side. “What I can’t understand is why anyone would want to cross the river in the first place. The mountains goes practically straight up on the other side.”
They came to a small clearing and suddenly there was the bridge, arcing up over the river.”
“Wow,” Tully said. “That’s a pretty fancy bridge to be tucked away back here in the woods, with no obvious use.”
The Tamarack Murders Page 11