by Mark Bentsen
“Do you think they could have anything to do with it?”
Ernest shook his head, “I doubt it. This isn’t Willy’s style and no way I can see Little John involved in something like this. But I’ll look into it.”
Chapter 15
Ernest looked at his watch. His wife wasn’t expecting him for lunch for about an hour, so he might as well get this over with. Willy worked at the Cardston Auction Barn east of town. It took about ten minutes to get there and when he stepped inside the building he could hear the chatter coming from the office. He walked back and poked his head around the corner and saw the owner, Butch Purdy, drinking coffee with some local ranchers.
“I could smell the bullshit a mile before I got here. But I didn’t know it was coming from your office, Butch.”
One of the ranchers said, “Come on in, Ernest, you know that’s the smell of money.”
“I know bullshit when I smell it, Grady, and you’re usually in the middle of it.”
They laughed as Ernest shook hands all around.
Butch offered him a chair and said, “How are you doing, Ernest? Been a while since you’ve come to the poor side of town.”
“Well hell, Butch, some of us have to work for a living.”
“What brings you out here today? I haven’t known you to make many social calls during daylight hours.”
“I wish it was social, but I need to talk to Willy.”
“Oh, shit, I think it’s time for us to be going,” one of the ranchers said, reaching for his hat. The others followed suit and scrambled for the door.
“I was hoping that wasn’t the reason you were here. Willy’s been a good hand since he got out,” Butch said as he stood up. He pulled a dusty black Stetson off the hat rack and put it on. “He’s unloading some heifers from Scott’s Ranch. Come on, let’s go find him.”
They piled into his old Yamaha Mule and headed down a muddy pathway between crowded pens of noisy cattle. It reeked of cow crap and flies pestered them as they made their way through an open-sided barn.
Butch pulled to a stop at some loading docks and they made their way around the cow patties to a large corral full of bawling calves. There, three men were trying to herd the calves into a chute that led to a series of pens.
Butch climbed on the bottom rung of the wooden fence and cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “Willy.”
“Yo,” came a shout from the other side of the herd.
“C’mere.”
Ernest bent over and peeked between the top two slats and saw Willy at the back of the herd. Now and then, a calf would try to run around him and he’d step in front of it or grab it and push it back with the others. He looked like a tackle protecting the quarterback.
Finally when the herd was corralled and Willy headed their way. His sleeveless shirt was soaked with sweat and he pulled off his straw-colored cowboy hat and wiped his brow with his bare arm.
“Ernest needs to talk to you.”
Willy’s eyes went from Butch to Ernest, who was looking between the boards of the corral. His expression turned sour with a “what now?” look on his face.
He strode up, leaned on the fence and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and shook it. A few cigarettes popped up and his lips curled around one and he pulled it out. He strummed a lighter and a yellow flame danced at the tip of the cigarette. Willy took a long draw and blew a stream of blue smoke skyward.
Any time Ernest was close to Willy he was in awe. He had the muscular body of a lumberjack and stood more than a foot taller than him. His hair and eyes were black as coal and his skin, in spite hard living, was smooth as a morning lake.
“What’s up, Chief?” he asked, not looking at Ernest.
“Willy, I hope you can help me out here.” Ernest tilted his head down and kicked a dirt clod. “We’re trying to find a woman missing in town, and we thought you might remember seeing her.”
Willy turned his head slowly and gave Ernest a look that would back down a mountain lion. “Why you asking me?”
“Because you talked to her at the clinic on Tuesday. Her husband said you got mad at him because he didn’t want to sit by you.”
He rolled his eyes, a memory seeming to come to mind. “Oh? That asshole? I talked to his woman, but I didn’t do nothin’to her.”
“Nobody’s saying you did anything Willy, we’re just...”
“Then why’re you here? I just talked to her and her fuckin’old man told her to move away from me. Like I stunk. Like I’m not good enough to talk to her. Like he don’t like Indians.”
“You’re the only person we know who talked to her. I’m just trying to—”
“Fuck that fuckin’ fucker cuz I didn’t do nothing to her.” Willy moved closer to Ernest and spittle flew from his mouth as he spit out the words. “I did my time and now you’re pulling this shit. I didn’t do nothing, so why don’t you just fuck off.”
Ernest narrowed his eyes and said, “Don’t use that language with me, Willy.”
“You guys are always trying to blame me for shit I didn’t do.”
“Willy, listen to me. You’re on parole and all it takes is one phone call and they will haul your butt back to the pen. Is that what you want?”
Willy backed up a little and said, “No, but... it just seems everyone wants to blame me for everything...”
Ernest said, “I’m not blaming you for anything. I’m just asking you a few questions.”
Willy flicked the cigarette into the air, then turned and watched the calves across the fence. Ernest waited, and finally Willy huffed and said, “What?”
“This lady who disappeared is a tourist and nobody’s seen her since she was at the clinic.”
“So, I didn’t do nothing to her.”
“Dadburnit, Willy. Just listen to me. Her husband said you were the only one he remembers seeing talk to her.” Ernest pulled out the picture of Bonnie and held it out for him. “Here’s a picture of her. Her husband said you and Little John were there.”
He glanced at the picture and nodded his head. “I remember her. She sat down beside me and—“
“I know what he did Willy. He told me and so did you. But, listen to me. You’re the only one we know who talked to her. How about Little John? Did he talk to her?”
“Shit, no. Little John didn’t talk to nobody.”
“Did you see anyone else talk to her?”
“I didn’t see nothing.”
“After you saw the doctor, did you and Little John leave together?”
“Not together. I had my truck and he had his. I went to work and I don’t know where he went.”
“When you were leaving the clinic, did you see her in the waiting room or at the counter paying or did you see her come outside?”
“Like I said, I didn’t see her nowhere. I didn’t see nobody nowhere. I just walked outside, got in my truck and left.”
“When you left the clinic, where did you go?”
“I went and picked up Joey. Sometimes he rides to work with me.”
“You were supposed to come to work at noon? Did you get here on time?”
“No, we were late.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. Joey had some stuff he needed to do.”
“Like what?”
“I took him over to see his cousin and we kind of lost track of time.”
“What time did you and Joey get to work?”
“Joey didn’t come in.”
“Why not?”
Willy shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he was going to stay and help his cousin fix his car.”
Ernest asked, “When did you get to work?”
“About one-thirty, I think.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I don’t have a fucking watch.”
“Did you punch a time clock when you got here?”
“No. Now we do it on a computer.” Then Willy’s anger got him sidetracked. “D
id her old man say I did something to her?”
“Willy, just answer my questions. We’re just trying to find this lady and we don’t have a lot of time, okay?”
“You can tell that asshole—“
Ernest interrupted, “Have you seen Joey since then?”
Willy shook his head and turned back to watch the calves.
Ernest knew he wasn’t going to get anything else. “Okay, Willy. Thanks.”
As they drove back to the office, Ernest asked Butch to verify what time Willy got to work and found that he had not clocked in at all.
Ernest asked. “Does he forget to clock in very much?”
“It used to be a problem, but now I dock ’em an hour when they forget. I can’t remember the last time Willy forgot. He’s been working on Jesse’s crew lately. Let me check with him, he’ll know what time he got here.”
Butch called Jesse on his two-way radio. Jesse said, “Willy didn’t get here until about two-thirty. I know because we had a load of heifers come in about two-twenty. We needed some help and I was looking for him when I saw his truck pulling in the parking lot.”
Ernest thanked Butch and headed back to town, thinking things over. Willy had been working hard since he got out and hoped his time in prison would settle him down. But he knew he had a temper and the smallest things could set him off. And what scared him was something he’d heard him say many times before: I don’t get mad, I get even.
He hoped this wasn’t one of those occasions.
Chapter 16
Luke was stopped at a red light in town when he couldn’t help noticing a woman admiring a turquoise necklace in the window of the jewelry store. She had platinum blonde hair past her shoulders, hot pink stiletto heels and a short skirt. Before the traffic light turned green, she turned and hurried across the street. As he watched her, he realized it was Mitzi, the manager of the clinic. Halfway down the block she entered the office supply store.
When he talked to her at the clinic she had made it clear that she was the one in charge. It gave him an idea.
He pulled into the parking lot on the side of the store and hustled inside. Down about three aisles he found her standing in front of a display of pens, pencils and markers checking the selection. Hesitating briefly he concocted a plan.
She was deep in thought when he thrust his arm in front of her.
“Excuse me,” he said as he snatched a package of pens.
Startled, she jerked to the side, almost knocking over a kiosk of note pads. She gave a little giggle and put her hand to her chest. Breathlessly she said, “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke said, acting embarrassed. “That was rude of me. I was in a hurry, you know, and just, well, I just wasn’t thinking... are you okay?”
“I’m fine, really. You just caught me off guard, that’s all,” she said, smiling, stifling a laugh.
“I’m really sorry,” he said taking a couple of steps backwards.
Still a little flustered, she laughed again and said, “It’s okay, really.” Her eyes met his. She pointed her finger toward him, and with a flirtatious grin, said, “I know you, don’t I?”
He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger back at her. “You’re Mitzi, right?”
“Why, yes.”
“I’m Luke Wakefield,” he said more casually. “I met you Tuesday afternoon at the clinic.”
“Oh, yeah. I knew I recognized those blue eyes,” she said with a smile. She ran a finger over her brow and parted her blonde bangs. “You and your wife got separated and you were trying to find her.”
“That’s right, and I still haven’t.”
“Oh, my,” she said and covered her mouth with her hand. “She’s still missing?”
“Yeah. I’ve got the police looking for her, but they don’t seem to be having any luck either.”
“You know, a cop came to the clinic yesterday and asked some questions, but I didn’t know she was still missing.”
“She is and I can’t seem to find out what happened to her after she left the clinic.” Luke slapped the package of pens against his other hand and shook his head. “I’m not from Canada and I don’t know how the police operate here. But it doesn’t seem like they are trying very hard.”
“Who are you working with at the RCMP?”
“A guy named Paul Simpson. You know him?”
“God, yes. He’s the cop that came by.” Mitzi rolled her eyes and scoffed, “What a dickhead. I went out with him a couple of times. He’s not bad-looking but he thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
Luke chuckled. “Well, I don’t know him that well.”
Mitzi laughed and tossed her hair to one side. She rolled her eyes again and said, “You know, it was funny when he came to the office to ask about your wife. He came in and showed everyone his badge, then came to up to me.” Mitzi used a deep masculine voice to imitate him and put her hands on her hips. “’Excuse me, Ms. Lindsey, have you seen this lady?’ And I said, ‘Paul, for heaven’s sake, just call me Mitzi.’ He thinks he’s such a big shot.”
Luke faked a half laugh and Mitzi snorted at her own story.
“Anyway, he didn’t really ask many questions, maybe three or four. Then he was gone. When you came by, you asked more questions than he did. You talked to the nurse and the doctor. He didn’t talk to anyone else.”
“You’re kidding.” Luke couldn’t believe it. They told him they’d checked out all leads and interviewed everyone at the clinic, but obviously they did a half-assed job. It seemed they spent all their time investigating him rather than looking for Bonnie? This made no sense.
“No, really,” she said, as she stepped closer. “I don’t like that guy, and if you ask me, I don’t think he’s a very good cop.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He paused as he digested this new information. Slowly he leaned closer and touched her on the elbow, “Mitzi, I’m glad I ran into you. You’re just the person who can help me.”
“I am?” Her eyes widened in anticipation.
“You remember when we talked the other day? You told me no one really saw my wife leave. You said the receptionist checked her out but no one actually saw her go out the door.”
“Right...”
“I need to find someone who saw her leave. I want to talk to the other people who were in the waiting room when she was there. You know what I mean?”
“I do, that’s a good idea. I bet Paul didn’t think of that.”
“Could you get me a list of those people who were in the clinic at the same time we were there?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” Mitzi said as she stepped back, moving her arm out of Luke’s reach. She looked around them to make sure no one was listening. Whispering, she said, “We can’t give anyone’s information unless the patient says it’s okay.”
“Mitzi, you are my only hope.” Luke stepped around in front of her. “I’ve got to talk to those people. One of them might have seen something. You’re the only one who can help me.”
“Dr. Duncan would fire me if he found out,” she said, just above a whisper. She sounded firm, but sympathetic.
“Mitzi, please,” he begged. “My wife disappeared. I don’t even know if she’s alive. She’s running out of time. You have to help me.”
She eased backwards and hugged herself around her waist. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.”
Luke couldn’t let her get away until he had those names. Again she reached up and flipped her hair and he noticed three gold rings on her fingers, all bearing large colored stones. As he looked closer he noticed her gold necklace and diamond earrings, which he thought were probably fake.
He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his billfold and took out a bill. Making sure no one was watching, he grabbed her hand, put the bill in it and closed her fingers around it. “I need that list. I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”
Slowly she opened her hand and saw a folded hundred-dollar bill. It didn’t take her long,
maybe half a second, to make her decision.
“But you can’t tell anybody,” she whispered.
“I won’t.”
“I can lose my job,” she said sternly as she took another peek at the bill.
“I can lose my wife.”
She nodded at him, affirming his dilemma. “Okay, I get off at four-thirty. Come to my apartment about five?”
“Tell me where you live and I’ll be there.”
Luke was barely back to his car when he saw Mitzi come out the front door with her bag of purchases. He’d never seen anyone run in high heels, especially any as tall as hers. There was a little red Miata convertible parked in front of the jewelry store with the top down. When she got to it, she chunked the plastic bag into the passenger seat and hurried into the store, the hundred-dollar bill clutched in her hand.
Chapter 17
Luke thought about the comment Mrs. Johnson, the owner of the lodge in St. Mary’s, had made, as he drove back toward the edge of town. She said tourist season was in full swing and it would be hard to find a room. But, there were four motels at this intersection. Surely one would have a room.
The Best Western looked newest so he pulled into the parking lot. Inside he found a young lady filing her nails and glued to The View on a small TV behind the check-in desk.
“Do you have a non-smoking single room available? Upstairs if you have it.”
“Sorry, sir, we’re all booked up,” she said, her eyes never leaving the TV.
“Are you sure?” Luke asked, glancing at her computer. “Could you check?”
“Don’t have to. Hot air balloon festival over by Waterton Lakes, same time every year. We get booked up at least six months in advance. We have a no-cancellation policy within two weeks of check-in, so we won’t have anything available until about this time next week.”
“Next week? You’re kidding me.”