Timber City Masks

by Kieran York

  “You too, Jade.” Royce pushed him against the car. With her boot at his ankle, she knew she could kick his foot out from under him if he moved against her. She then began frisking him. But as soon as her hands touched him, she realized he was trembling. She pulled him around facing her. “Okay partner, you’ve had your fun. Now drive out of this county, and I don’t want to see you again.”

  “You have the gun,” he snorted.

  “Right. And your lance is broken. So off you go. Jade, you’re coming with me. I’ll drop you by the Bell Ringer.”

  “Aw, Royce,” she moaned. “Faye’ll ground me.”

  “Get in the Blazer now,” Royce commanded.

  Royce watched as the IROC sped off. When she got into the vehicle, she met Jade’s sulking expression. “Jade, it’s dangerous.”

  “I’m seventeen. So stop with the fucking lectures.”

  “I’d like to see you make it to legal age. Then you wouldn’t be breaking the law with that bottle you’ve got hidden in your handbag.” Royce drove in silence. When they reached the Bell Ringer, Royce promised, “I’m not going to mention the specifics to Faye.”

  Faye was behind the bar and gave her familiar saluting wave. Royce took a bar stool next to Laramie. Glancing over at him, she noticed that his eyes were transfixed to the shot glass. Sagging, three-quarters closed, his eyelids bobbed. Then with a ritualistic pump of his elbow, he downed the well bourbon.

  Faye approached and slid a cup of coffee toward Royce. “How you doin', Roycie? Thanks for bringin’ my kid home.”

  “Cold out there.”

  “Don’t kid a kidder. She was drinkin’ from the naughty girl’s fountain. Out with some little fucker. Shit sakes, she’s gettin’ hooters just like her old lady’s.” Faye jiggled her breasts. “What can I do? Yanc helps to ride herd on her. But she needed someone when she was small. That’s when Yancy joined the Marines. He says he hated it, but he stuck it out. Even hates those tattoos.”

  Royce grinned. She recalled that he never showed the lewd pictures and words to anyone. Royce had even seen him wrap rubber bands around his shirt cuffs when he lost a button. “He claims he was drunk right out of his mind. He’s talking about getting them removed. Then he can wear short-sleeved shirts in the summer.”

  “You know Yanc. He’ll bluster, but he’ll never do that.” Faye drew a pitcher of beer and took it across the room.

  Royce watched Faye’s image in the mirror behind the bar. Faye’s raucous laugh indicated that a joke was being told. When Faye sat at the booth, Royce turned to Laramie. “How’s it going, Laramie?”

  “Can you keep a secret?” His mouth creased into a grimace. Royce motioned for the bartender to bring him a drink. “Sure I can keep a secret.”

  Laramie nodded thanks for the drink. “I like you, kid. I’m gonna tell you a secret. I know where all them bodies are buried. I know.” He glanced around; his frame sagged into his secret. “I know where them bodies are buried.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I say, I know everything that goes on here in Timber City. Know what happens. Know the secrets. Know where them bodies are buried.”

  “What bodies?”

  “I know about killings. Secrets.” Again, he looked around and then lowered his voice. “I know 'em all. An’ I know the guilty one.”

  “Who is the guilty one?”

  “Can’t say. But I know.”

  “If you can’t tell me the guilty one, then tell me who was killed. Tell me the names of the victims.”

  “Your father. That Chandler girl. I know.”

  “So where are the bodies buried?”

  “Can’t say.” His tobacco-stained fingers zipped across his throat. “Can’t say. But I know. This town is wearin’ a mask. Folks here about are wearin’ disguises. Masks. I tell ya, kid. I know. Timber City got a mask on. And I know who steals the Bell Ringer’s bell.”

  A smile happened on Royce’s face. “Laramie, there’s a rumor that you steal the bell. Talk says that you take the bell because there’s drinks on the house when the bell is miraculously found.”

  “Talk’s dirt cheap. And I ain’t doin’ no more of it.” Royce knew his lips were sealed for the night.

  ***

  “What a perfect way to spend a Friday night,” Valeria murmured softly. She then splashed water across the hot tub. Billows of spice-scented steam lifted around the two nude women.

  “Umm,” Royce agreed. “Perfection.”

  “I feel safe when you’re here, Royce. I suppose it’s the hot and heavy sex combined with having you near. But I get a good night’s sleep when we’re together.” She tagged on, “I don’t need to quaff down a bottle of bubbly.”

  “Maybe it also means that you’re coming to accept Trish’s death.”

  “Trish would have wanted me to experience pleasure. The pleasure of sharing a golden twilight with you in this hot tub.”

  Royce scanned Valeria’s face. There was love. Royce determined that it had to be love in those luminous eyes. There had to be love with the caroling sounds of her orgasm. “Your smile is like an aphrodisiac.” Royce’s hands cupped her chin. “I’m your love hostage.” With a slow, intentional anchoring of their lips, Royce felt her desire surge.

  Smoky’s thrashing scratches against the side of the tub interrupted the kiss. Valeria chuckled and her raspy announcement scolded, “Bad timing, Smoky. But it is wonderful to have you back on all four paws.”

  “She’s bouncing around like an antelope now,” Royce remarked as they watched Smoky pouncing against the ledge. “Down girl, your doctor recommends that you stay off your paws for a week or two.” Smoky obediently crawled onto a mound of robes and curled up. Royce leaned back, relaxing.

  “Royce, I wish I could access your mind.”

  “I’m enjoying post-orgasmic bliss.”

  “A difficult week?”

  “A puzzling one. Laramie knows who steals the bell.” Royce would not divulge the rest of his claim.

  “He’s so looney tunes. He probably pilfers it himself.” Her fingers traced Royce’s collar bone. “That was the entire week’s excitement? And they say cops have a stressful job. You ought to try two dozen second graders.”

  “My most exciting time was ticketing some smart-assed kid who was out with Jade Arnall. Speeding ticket. They must have been out screwing like a couple of little minks. This is not the time to be getting picked up by strangers.”

  “Faye expects the kid to be a vestal virgin.”

  “No chance of that with the guys Jade dates. This kid looked like he needed to be hosed down. He hassled me and when he started on my being a woman cop, he detonated my anger. I posted a 'beware’ sign, and he just didn’t listen. I kept thinking that he might be a serial killer, looking like a baby-faced college kid. But he was frightened.”

  “You can be surly when you try,” Valeria teased. “Remember when you almost ticketed me?”

  “Vividly, erotically, and often.”

  “You were so adorable. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you when I saw you in uniform. I threw caution to the wind and took a chance you like women. I wanted to be the one you liked. Then you were in Molly’s Pantry and I wanted to talk with you. But I couldn’t in front of your mother. You had that bashful smile.”

  “I was smiling 'cause you changed your order from bread to buns.”

  “I heard you telling Molly you’d be working until three that afternoon. I decided to get your attention.”

  Royce recalled the afternoon. Valeria had been driving behind her, tailgating. When they got to the outskirts of town, Valeria sped by Royce, speeding recklessly. Royce wasn’t aware of who it was. She hit the siren and chased, but Valeria wouldn’t pull over. When they reached Valeria’s parking lot, Valeria opened her car door, stood and extended her arms, awaiting handcuffs. Royce grinned when she saw who it was and shyly dug her thumbs into her belt. Valeria invited the young deputy inside.

  “You did seduce me,” Royce beamed.

/>   “You were a most willing seductee.” She reached and tickled her lover. “You are always willing.”

  “Only with you.”

  “As long as you don’t expect me to play by your rules. I don’t want any part of some monogamous trap.”

  “I don’t expect anyone to play by my rules.”

  “Even when I was a child, I always turned my Christmas sock inside out. Searching for more maybe. Even then.” Downcast, her eyes brooded. “I honestly think that if I could be different, it would be with you.” Silence was heavy. “Any more on the murder?”

  “I’ve been checking on crimes around the country that may have similar modus operandi. Anything at all that might give us a break on the case.”

  “And are there any similar modus operandi?”

  “Nothing so far. I’m not excluding the possibility of there being an unknown, but I just don’t think it was a stranger.”

  “By the way, honey,” Valeria’s words were quick and wasp-like. “I won’t be able to make it Sunday. I know I promised, but this is one of my final weekends for skiing this season. Please don’t deny me. I’ll go with you another time. Or better yet, I’ll fix something up here and we can invite your friends. Less conspicuous.”

  “Fine.”

  “Please don’t be upset with me. We’ve got the rest of the year. I forgot that I promised some of my Aspen acquaintances that I would meet them this weekend at Crystal Basin. A couple of them will be staying here. I can’t beg out now. What can I do?”

  “I guess you’ll be doing the same as I’ll be doing. Sharing time with friends. Separate places and separate friends.”

  “I realize we have our separate agendas. Thanks for understanding. Bon vivant,” she whispered and spread a kiss gently across Royce’s forehead. “Now, let me check and see how the lobster thermidor is doing. Should be ready for browning in the broiler. And I fixed butterscotch pudding, just because I love you.”

  There was a hint of a sulk in Royce’s voice as she spoke, “I’d rather have your company Sunday.”

  “Hon, I’ll make up for my change of plans tonight.” She leaned near and cooed into Royce’s ear, “We’ll sample everything tonight.” When Royce didn’t respond, Valeria climbed from the hot tub. She snapped, “If you’re going to act like a baby the entire evening just because I won’t go with you, then to hell with it.”

  “I’ll leave.” Royce stood, feeling the air against her wet body.

  “You are so damned bullheaded. Is that because you’re a coddled only child? Always want your own way?”

  “I’d say that you’re the one who wants her own way. And gets it.”

  Valeria heaved a sigh. “I’m not perfect. But when we are together I try my damnedest to make it pleasant. You want to leave me, isolated and alone with only the lobster, then go on. But remember, if I expire of lobster excess, you had your chance to save me.” Her smile wobbled. “I’m very nearly in love with you, Royce. Please stay?”

  Royce eased her body back into the tub. Royce figured that the lobster had been caught, claimed, and cooked. She too, in her way, had been caught and claimed. She might as well warm her body in the hot tub’s steam. She closed her eyes, wanting to cry. Instead, she whispered of her love. She was glad that Valeria was in the kitchen broiling the lobster. She wondered if Valeria planned on broiling her as well. But, she countered, butterscotch was her favorite flavor. Second favorite, she allowed a chuckle. Shaking the misty water from her short hair, Royce wished it was different. She wished she could express her love.

  Royce then heard her lover croon, “Dinner’s ready. Everyone out of the pool.”

  ***

  Royce’s eyes pried open. Smoky was her alarm clock. The pup would whine and stick the fringe of her beard into Royce’s sleeping face. It was noon on Saturday, and she had slept in a few extra hours after returning to the cabin. The night with Valeria had yielded very little sleep. Royce gave Smoky a morning hug.

  Royce was sure that Gran would need an explanation. She rarely slept in unless working on the graveyard shift, or staying over with Valeria. Each evening with her lover brought a new set of excuses. Royce believed that Gran either had caught on early or just found amusement in believing that Royce was at a slumber party.

  Had there been any confrontation, Royce was certain that her eyes would give her away immediately. Valeria called Royce’s eyes her 'baby blue’ betrayal. Royce knew that she couldn’t, wouldn’t, lie to her grandmother. And so she skirted the truth with simple phrases. Maybe Gran did know, but they both played the game with great acuity.

  Elsa hooped her stretching back. Her huge eyes zeroed in on Smoky’s antics to keep Royce’s attention. Royce turned onto her back and glanced at the photos on her dresser. As if magnetized, her eyes laced with the photo of her father. She reminisced about him. And about what Laramie had said. His drunken words made little sense, but they had jostled her; haunted her. For where her father was concerned, there was a feeling of ubiquity. A surrealistic clasp remained with Royce. Words synthesized with memories and emotions. How could Laramie know anything about her father’s death, she wondered. Or did he know anything?

  Laramie’s listless eyes had flickered when he told of his secret. Royce slouched back against her pillow. Laramie knew the mystery of the high country. Everyone who had spent that much time in Timber City knew the secret of the Rockies. Those mountains seemed to harbor secrets. They defied being tamed. Stone barriers, tree cover, and wildlife. There was an unchallenged vanity about the mountains. Royce looked upon the Rockies as an imperial adventure. She visited them often; fished them; hiked them; and climbed them. The voice of animals, the flush of winds and streams were all sounds of restless detachment. Those sounds were in the mystical heart of the mountains. Sweet, but savage. Delicate, but deadly.

  And why wouldn’t Laramie know the secrets? For all practical purposes, he had been excommunicated from humanity. He would be able to understand the sealed, buried secrets of the land. Why would he not know about people? The mask-wearers. Those people who are incognito. Why would he not know what goes on behind faces? Some of those faces harbor secrets and want to remain untamed.

  Royce cringed. Her own sullen heart had led her to that sacred place in her thoughts. Emotions often toyed with her by way of the great mysteries she would probably never know. What was in the heart of her father’s murderer? What was the motive? Would the killer ever be brought to justice?

  She vilified make-believe killers. With an impassioned hatred never shown outside her own thoughts, Royce pulled the switch on the faceless gunman. She pulled the trigger, injected the lethal dosage; she revenged her father’s death. And she wondered whether as protector of the law, she would be able to leave justice to the legal system.

  That was just one of the questions that swirled in her early morning mind. She wondered about the great beyond. Royce had once tried to talk with Valeria about her father’s death. Valeria told her not to be maudlin. She then kissed Royce and enticed the deputy from her introspective mood. Royce’s meditative concerns were when she was alone. To minimize her father’s death would be heresy. She swore that one day she would put it in its place. One day she would overcome her pain, she promised. But not this day. The killer was still at large.

  Royce dressed in silence. She slipped into a sweater, denims, and her work boots. Then she trudged to the kitchen. Kissing her grandmother, she uttered, “Good morning, again.”

  “Before I forget, Yancy called and said they’d be comin’ out for the department Blazer. Guess Luther’s gonna drop him by.”

  Although the vehicle switch was a common occurrence, something registered. Royce tried to recall if Luther had brought the sheriff out on the evening before Smoky was poisoned. But Luther had no reason to harm Smoky. She glanced down at the little moppy-faced dog. She recalled how happy the reunion between Smoky and Val had been. Royce put on an oven mitt and went to the stove. She poured the strong coffee from the blue speckled enamel pot
. “Want a refill, Gran?” Royce asked. She then grimaced. “It’s too early to think about seeing Luther. I was just trying to remember if he brought Yancy out the night before Smoky was poisoned.”

  Gran extended her cup. After a sip, she commented, “That Luther is a nasty piece of work. A real sidewinder. When he was a kid, he used to kill cats. One time your daddy got hold of him and beat the tar outta him. Said that was all Luther would understand. Sure enough, no more missing cats.”

  “If Luther would have no compunction about killing a helpless little cat for no reason, he certainly wouldn’t have a problem about killing a human being for a reason.”

  “Your daddy used to say how people always have some good inside. Maybe it’s poppycock. Maybe not.” Gran ruffled Smoky’s ears. “Sure glad Smoky pulled through. I’ve been keeping my eyes on both Smoky and Elsa.”

  “I’ll be glad when it warms up and I can take Smoky with me again. She enjoys making calls with me.”

  Royce heard the honk of Luther’s truck. Picking up the keys, she murmured, “Back in a couple of minutes, Gran.”

  Her long legs sprinted out to meet the truck. As she handed the keys to Yancy, he inquired, “Still got that knock in the engine?”

  “I took it over yesterday before my shift. Orson needs to order a part, but he said he can fix it.”

  “Great.” A grin spread across Yancy’s beefy face. “Oughtta be a hell of a night tonight. Square dancers havin’ some sort of doings at the Eagle Inn. Three-county shindig.”

  “Too late to trade with Nick?” Royce joked.

  Grinning, Yancy blustered, “Damn if I wouldn’t enjoy being on duty with all those liquored-up cowboys.” As he climbed out of the truck, he bellowed to Luther, “Royce treats 'em like little boys fightin’ on a playground. Me, I grab 'em by the collars and knock their goddamn heads together. Settles 'em right down.” He then dispatched, “Meet you back over at your place, Luth.”

  After Yancy walked away, Royce carefully inspected Luther’s face. “Haven’t had a chance to tell you how sorry I am about Trish.” It jived in Royce’s mind. He had brought Yancy there when Smoky was poisoned.