Bitter Roots

by C. J. Carmichael

  Tiff arrived at the pub first and snagged a quiet table in the corner. About a third of the tables were occupied, not bad for a Wednesday night. Above the bar, a football game was playing, sound muted. Only one guy—someone in his forties, cupping his draft in both hands—seemed to be watching.

  When the server came, a young woman wearing a Grizz T-shirt, probably one of the owner’s daughters—there were three, but Tiff didn’t remember their names—she ordered a beer. Then she pulled out her phone. She’d spent the afternoon helping her mother mulch the perennial flower bed in preparation for winter and dirt still clung under her nails, despite the shower she’d taken before dinner.

  Tiff had worried her mom would be upset when she learned about Tiff’s plans to go out for the evening, but she’d actually seemed relieved. The visit from the sheriff, coupled by hours in the garden, had obviously exhausted her.

  A message from Derick pinged into Tiff’s Messenger app at the same moment the server delivered a tall glass of draft ale.

  “Thanks,” Tiff said, barely glancing up from the screen.

  “Wish I could,” Derick had replied, “but I’m needed at home. Joys of being a new dad.”

  Tiff read it a second time, more than a little offended.

  About four months ago Derick had reached out to her on Facebook. She was two months into her travels, the pain and humiliation over her screw-ups still so fresh she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Instead she’d hiked the Machu Picchu trail. Later, resting up at a hostel, she’d logged into her Facebook for the first time in ages and that was when she’d seen the messages from Derick.

  He’d told her his marriage was in trouble and he didn’t know what to do. Aubrey wanted a baby so badly and he’d just found out his low sperm count was the reason they hadn’t been able to get pregnant in the five years they’d been married.

  He wasn’t looking for advice, just someone to vent to. Tiff was only too happy to focus on someone else’s problems for a change, diverting any of his questions about her by circling back to him.

  When he’d told her he and Aubrey were considering adoption, she’d cheered him on and wished him luck.

  The actual adoption itself had come together quickly. After Brody entered his and Aubrey’s lives, Derick’s mood changed for the better. He shared pictures of the baby and told her how Aubrey was loving being a mother.

  “You should come home and meet the new addition,” he’d told her. “It’s been way too long since you were back in Lost Trail anyway.”

  She’d been in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica, worn out from five months of backpacking and spending the last of her money on a hostel near the beach. Coming home had been on her radar, but she would have put it off a little longer if Derick hadn’t been so insistent.

  And now he was brushing her off?

  She felt like she was back in high school where she’d been the class brain and Derick the much more popular football star. Derick had barely acknowledged her existence until his football coach lined her up to tutor him in math, and Zak to help with his language arts. Spending time together in the school library and Derick’s home, Tiff had quickly come to understand that Derick was more shy than arrogant.

  Soon she, Derick, and Zak were hanging out together just for fun. And the more time she spent with Derick the more she liked him. He never used his imposing size to bully others, or lorded his family’s relative prosperity over his classmates, most of whom were children of ranchers, incomes subject to the highs and lows of cattle prices and the vagaries of the mountain weather.

  His innate kindness made this brush-off even harder to understand.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Zak apologized as he pulled out a chair at their table.

  She hadn’t seen him coming, even though she’d sat facing the entrance. “That’s okay. I imagine you’ve had a busy day.” Zak, usually so laid-back he seemed five minutes from sleep, was practically vibrating with energy tonight.

  “I’ll say. This is the first homicide since I started working at the sheriff’s office. I bet it’s the first in a decade or more.”

  “And it happens the very night I move back home after eight years away. I hope I’m not on the suspect list.”

  She’d meant the comment as a joke but Zak replied with unsettling seriousness. “The way that woman was beaten...I’d say our perp is a man and a strong one.”

  “Well, the new manager Mom hired certainly fits that bill.” She immediately regretted her spiteful comment. “Sorry. Not sure where that came from.”

  Zak looked thoughtful. “You’re talking about Kenny Bombard, right? You don’t like him?”

  “I don’t know him. It’s just—he seems to have made himself very much at home on our farm. He’s even moved into the guest cottage. Which I had been counting on for myself.”

  “He was Riley Concurran’s boss. What do you think his motive might have been?”

  “Stop! I’m sorry. I wasn’t seriously putting Kenny forward as a suspect.”

  “I wonder if they had some sort of personal relationship.”

  “Cut it out, Zak.” She noticed the server and waved her over. “This man needs a beer.”

  “And a burger with fries. Hold the onions please, Mari.”

  The busy woman barely nodded, then turned to Tiff. “Anything else for you?”

  Her beer was more than half gone. “Sure, I’ll have another. Plus a burger and fries too. Lots of onions.”

  Once the server was gone, Zak folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “So how was your homecoming? Was your mom excited to see you?”

  “I made her cry in the first fifteen minutes. But yeah. She seemed glad I was home.”

  “Have you etched your departure date in stone yet?”

  She rubbed at a circle of condensation on the oak table. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m considering staying. I might start my own accounting business.”

  She kept her gaze lowered, but could feel Zak’s incredulous stare. Finally he said, “You are aware this is the most sparsely populated county in Montana? Where, exactly, do you hope to find your clients?”

  “It’ll be a slow build,” she agreed.

  “Ha! I’ll say.” Zak leaned back in his chair as Mari came with their drinks and burgers. Zak took a sip of the beer, then lifted the top bun off his burger. “Damn. I thought I smelled onions.”

  Mari was already gone to the next table. “Want me to flag her down?”

  “Nah. I’ll scrape them off.” He did so with meticulous care, then took his first bite.

  “I thought you’d be more excited about me moving home.”

  “I remember how anxious you were to leave this place. Something bad must have happened to make you want to return.”

  She turned from him to the wall covered with photos taken from the nearby ski hill. This place did the most business during ski season, which wouldn’t start until December and lasted until March or mid-April depending on the snow.

  “Things kind of fell apart for me in Seattle.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  She’d worked hard the last six months to avoid thoughts about the disastrous two months that had preceded her being fired. “Eventually. I might need another beer or two.”

  “I take it Derick isn’t joining us tonight?” Zak took another bite of his burger.

  “He’s pulling daddy duty.” She didn’t share her annoyance. Though she was tempted to tell Zak about her and Derick’s Facebook exchanges, she decided to wait until she’d had a chance to see Derick in person.

  Maybe tomorrow evening she’d drop by their house with a baby gift. She’d no sooner come up with this plan than she noticed a tall, blonde woman enter the bar. Though wearing a nondescript outfit of jeans and a bomber-style jacket, she had an aura of confidence and strength that naturally drew attention, as Tiff could tell when almost every man swiveled his head to get a better look.

  “Who’s she?”

  Zak, alone of all the men,
looked unimpressed. “Nadine Black. Sheriff hired her this year after Greg Redford retired.”

  “She looks...athletic.”

  “Used to be a barrel racer. Was pretty good, too. She quit last year when her horse died in the ring at the Pro Rodeo circuit finals in Great Falls.”

  “That’s tough.”

  Nadine was looking around for a place to sit and her gaze paused when she spotted Zak, who nodded in acknowledgment. Her eyes shifted toward Tiff, and her eyebrows went up.

  “Want to invite her to join us?”

  “Nah. We see enough of each other at work.”

  It seemed an odd comment coming from Zak who mostly liked everybody. “You don’t get along?”

  “We get along fine but she’s used to being the center of attention in the rodeo ring. Now she’s power-tripping on being a deputy and lording her position over mine. I don’t care. I like being a dispatcher.”

  “That look she just gave you didn’t seem condescending to me. Maybe you’re reading her wrong.”

  “Don’t be crazy. I—hang on a second, the local news is coming on.”

  Everyone in the room—including Nadine Black who had settled on a barstool with her back to them—was now focused on the TV screen. The bartender jacked up the volume.

  “Our top story tonight comes from the small community of Lost Trail, three hours south of Missoula, near the border of Idaho. Sometime late on Halloween night a woman was beaten to death. Her body was discovered the next morning behind the local medical center. Pete, what do you have for us?”

  The camera panned down Tumbleweed Road before zeroing in on a male reporter standing outside of the medi-clinic. “I’ve spoken to the local coroner who says the victim was a twenty-two-year-old female, a relative newcomer to Lost Trail. While it does appear she died from a blow to the head, this won’t be confirmed until the preliminary autopsy report is released, which will probably be later tomorrow.”

  “Do we know the victim’s name?”

  “That hasn’t been released, pending notification of next of kin. I’ve talked to a few locals who are under the impression the woman worked as a casual laborer at a local Christmas tree farm.”

  Tiff tensed as the camera swung into a close-up of the Raven Christmas Tree Farm sign on the side of the road, then panned over the big red barn and the fields of firs, spruces, and pines.

  “Apparently, the victim began working here in October, baling Christmas trees and loading them into trucks for delivery to various tree lots in Missoula and neighboring towns.”

  Next the camera focused on Tiff’s family home, zooming in on the porch and the welcoming front door. “We asked to speak to the farm manager as well as the business owner, a Mrs. Rosemary Masterson, but our requests for an interview were denied.”

  Tiff felt like burying her head in her arms. Why had she heard nothing about this request for an interview? The film crew must have come by shortly after she left for town. She hadn’t seen anyone drive up the lane while she was out in the garden.

  “Ugh this is awful. I’m sorry for that poor woman. But I hate that our family business is getting this kind of publicity.”

  “The timing is bad. So close to Christmas. But I wonder if you’re onto something with your new manager theory. So far he’s the last person who saw her alive. Any idea if Kenny had a relationship with Riley outside of work?”

  “Not that he’s admitted to us or the sheriff. Ford was out this morning interviewing us, by the way.”

  Zak nodded. “Yeah. He had me type up his notes.”

  “Did he find out anything useful? I know he didn’t from us—Riley hadn’t worked at the farm very long and my aunt and mom hardly knew her—but maybe from the other employees?”

  “I can’t share confidential information from the office. But let’s just say that from what I can tell, the sheriff didn’t probe very deeply.”

  “Maybe he’s just going through the motions because he’s already made up his mind the killer was someone from Riley’s past.” Of all the possibilities, it was the most palatable. No one, including Tiff, wanted to think that someone capable of beating a woman to death lived in Lost Trail.

  “I can’t comment on that. But I sure as hell wish I’d been present when he questioned Riley’s co-workers. Maybe they had nothing useful to say. But I wonder. A pretty young woman like Riley, working with five men...”

  Tiff could see where he was heading. “You think one of them might have hit on her?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Well I hope it wasn’t Bob Jenkins. He’s married with two kids.” Tiff shuddered at the thought.

  “That leaves us with Jacob Bradshaw, Robin Wilson, and Rusty Thurston.”

  He paused, obviously waiting for her to jump in with her thoughts.

  She held up her empty palms. “Sorry, I don’t know any of those guys.”

  “I forget sometimes how long you’ve been gone. I can fill you in with the basics. Jacob’s family owns the Lost Trail ski hill, but he sometimes takes short-term work during off-season. He’s in his thirties and married. No kids.”

  “Speculating wildly here, but say he did have a thing with Riley. And then say she threatened to tell his wife about the affair...”

  “Yeah. Something like that might be possible.”

  “What about the other two guys?”

  “Robin is young, just graduated from high school this spring. I’d say our more likely candidate is Rusty. He’s in his mid-twenties, and known around here for enjoying a good time.”

  “If either of those guys had been dating Riley, though, they’d have no reason to keep it a secret.” Playing armchair detective was a fun intellectual challenge, as long as she didn’t think too much about Riley. What she must have suffered. The tragedy of a life cut so short.

  Tiff rubbed at a circle of condensation on the table. She’d never met Riley, but the woman had worked for Raven Farm. In her mother’s and aunt’s eyes, that made her almost like family.

  “If you want, I could arrange for you to talk to the guys tomorrow.”

  Zak looked intrigued. “This would have to be an unofficial visit. I’m just the dispatcher, remember.”

  “But you just told me you didn’t think the sheriff had been very thorough with his questions.”

  “Which isn’t really my place to say.”

  Tiff studied his eyes closely. She could tell he wanted to do this. “Just come by at noon and I’ll give you a tour of the farm. If we happen to catch the guys at lunch, I’m sure the subject of Riley will come up. How could it not?”

  Chapter Nine

  Although Zak arrived at the office half an hour earlier than usual, Nadine had beaten him there. She had her head bent over her keyboard and didn’t look up when he said good morning.

  He immediately felt a twinge of shame. Last night at the bar, he could have been friendlier. After all, Nadine was relatively new in Lost Trail. He didn’t know why she got under his skin the way she did. When the sheriff had announced he was hiring her, Zak had watched a few of her barrel races on YouTube. She was amazing. Absolutely fearless. And the bond between her and her horse, Mane Event, had been obvious and beautiful.

  Usually his first task of the day was to put on a pot of coffee, but Nadine had beaten him there as well. He swallowed, trying to figure out why he felt resentful rather than grateful.

  “Thanks for putting on the coffee.”

  “Didn’t do it for you. I’m on my second cup.”

  He filled his lungs slowly. “Well, thanks anyway.” He settled at his desk, typed in his password. Dozens of new emails popped up on his screen, including one from Cora Christensen.

  “Damn, I never did send anyone to check out those vandalism complaints from Halloween.”

  “How many were there? If I have time I’ll take care of it this afternoon.”

  “Two.” He passed her the slips of paper with names, addresses, and details of the complaints. “Watch out for Cora. She seems like
a sweet old lady at first, but her strike comes fast and venomous, just like a snake.”

  “Fine way to talk about an esteemed senior citizen.” Nadine’s voice was laced with sarcasm, but she also looked curious.

  “You meet her, then tell me what you think.”

  “Will do.” Nadine’s chair scraped against the wooden floor as she pushed away from her desk. She put on her jacket, tucking a notebook into the pocket. “I’ve got some more interviews to conduct this morning. So far we haven’t found anyone who saw our victim after she left work on Halloween night.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for Kenny Bombard, does it?”

  Nadine shrugged. “The sheriff is pretty confident the perp wasn’t from Lost Trail. Though that farm manger is relatively new to town also, isn’t he?”

  “He was hired about six months ago. Lived in Missoula before that.”

  “I wonder if he could have known Riley previously...?” Nadine cocked a hip as she considered the question. “Maybe she worked at one of the ski lodges where Kenny was guiding?”

  “Doesn’t seem likely. But I suppose it’s possible.”

  “I’ll check into it after I finish my interviews.”

  Zak had to curb the automatic impulse to offer to do it instead. Active investigative work wasn’t within his work mandate. He’d never had trouble with the limitations of his job before, but he had to admit, they were starting to chafe.

  Black cleared her throat. “So. That woman at the bar. She your girlfriend?”

  He wasn’t sure what surprised him more. The idea of Tiff as his girlfriend. Or the fact that Deputy Black was interested. “Tiff Masterson and I went to school together. She’s been working as a CPA in Seattle, but she’s home now. Possibly to stay.”

  “I assume she’s related to the woman who owns the Raven Christmas Tree Farm?”

  “Yes. She’s Rosemary’s daughter.”

  “What’s the family story there? What happened to the father?”

  “It’s pretty tragic. Tiff’s older brother, Casey, was born with a severe congenital heart defect. He was scheduled for surgery when he was twelve, but he didn’t make it. A few months later, their dad died in car accident, leaving just Tiff and her mother.”