Timber City Masks

by Kieran York

  “Yes?”

  “Please have them read by Monday?”

  ***

  Royce returned to the department and asked Nick about a shift change on Monday. He agreed. That meant that she wouldn’t go on duty until eleven PM.

  Weary, she went to her locker and changed into her civvies. Although the procedure of changing in the courthouse wasn’t always followed, Royce wanted out of her uniform. She’d spent the past twenty-four hours uniformed. She longed for the feel of her soft, faded denims. She slipped into an oxford gray, fleece sweatshirt and her jogging shoes.

  Sitting on the bench, she glanced at the combination lock. It occurred to her that every mystery has a combination. She was glad that she could share her thoughts with Gwen. Gwen was allowed to encroach. And she knew it. But Gwen also knew when to pull away. Royce knew that Gwen wanted to say more about Hertha, and about Valeria. She trod lightly on discussing Valeria when she saw Royce’s face staunchly set to defend. Valeria’s charisma had enchanted Royce. Valeria knew that she possessed Royce. It was blasphemy to believe otherwise.

  Royce finished tying her shoes and stood. She remembered her promise to stop by Molly’s. She would fill her mother in on the latest news, and then head for the cabin and sleep.

  The sweet smell of freshly baked bread wafted as she entered the Pantry. It reminded Royce that she hadn’t eaten. She was glad when Molly pushed a steaming pastie toward her. “Exactly what I need,” Royce stressed. “Exactly.”

  “Heard tell about Jade being fine. She always was a bit of a tear-away. That poor mama of hers. Faye’s face was white as a high-country February. I know how she feels. Every day of my life I worry about your safety.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.” Royce was glad for her mother’s chatter. Royce wrapped a paper napkin around the hand-sized pastry and took a bite. The flaky crust scattered in her mouth and melted as she chewed. When Molly offered a second, Royce refused. “I’m full and I really want to sleep. But thanks, it was delicious.”

  “Well, as I was sayin’ about Jade, the girl has her wild ways and that’s for sure. But now everyone in town has their knickers in a twist over the turmoil she’s caused. Why after those murders, we didn’t know what to expect.”

  “Maybe that was the objective. She wanted to measure our concern.”

  “Glad you never gave your daddy and me any scares like that.”

  “I’m making up for it now.” Royce was somber. She glanced down at the bunched napkin.

  “Guess I shouldn’t always harp on you, Roycie. Your daddy always said sometimes he felt as if he was hitched up to a case. Like a mule or something. Told me that at times he felt like he was being whipped hard to solve the crime. Sometimes the bridle nearly strangled and the reins wouldn’t tell him which way to go. Said the bit nearly drilled his mouth away. Then he would come up with the answer. Just like you’re gonna do.”

  “For Ray’s sake, I hope so.” There was a moment of silence that menaced Royce.

  “I took that nice boy some pasties over this afternoon. You know how tiresome that jail meatloaf is. Anyway, his sister was there.”

  “I saw her this afternoon too. She told me that Ray was in good spirits. Must have been those pasties.” Royce’s smile creased.

  “Speaking of pasties, it’s nearly four-thirty. I’d better put Laramie’s sack out for him.”

  “I’ll do it,” Royce offered. “Then I’m off to get some sleep.” Royce took the sack filled with pasties and pastry into the back alley. It was a tradition with Molly. Since she caught Laramie going through the trash, she had always placed something for him to eat on a ledge. No sense in letting it go to waste, Molly would say. Royce knew that Molly always made larger batches than she would sell. Timber City’s vagrants, needy families, and pensioners would never go without bread on their table.

  As Royce suspected, her timing was good. Laramie was coming around the corner. He never missed getting there before the bakery closed, nor would he show up after the bar’s five o'clock happy hour began. “How’s it going, Laramie?”

  “Doin’ fine.” He reached for the paper bag and nodded appreciation. “Guess you come up with Jade, eh?”

  “We’re all happy she’s safe.”

  “Knew she was. I don’t miss nothin'. Like I tell ya, I know about the happenings in these parts. I knew she’d just gone off.” Laramie’s hand fidgeted with the sack. “I see plenty and I hear plenty.”

  “Do you recall telling me that you know where the bodies are buried?”

  “Yep.” Laramie unfolded the sack top and mashed one of the pasties into his mouth.

  “Where are they buried?”

  “Can’t rightly say now.” Crumbs sprayed from his mouth as he devoured the pastie. “I know 'em all. All the secrets hereabouts.”

  “But why can’t you tell me? Laramie, you said you like me. Why won’t you trust me? You know I’m searching for a killer. If you know anything, you could help. I don’t think Ray killed anyone. Do you?”

  “Nope. Don’t ’spect he did.”

  “Laramie, help me. Tell me.”

  “Can’t tell you no more. I know, but I can’t be sayin'.”

  “What’s your last name? Where are the bodies? Who steals the damned bell? Talk to me!”

  Laramie pulled out a salad-plate sized cinnamon roll. He wadded the sack and pitched it into the trash bin. In three bites he had gulped the roll away. His soiled hands brushed his shaggy face. He then wiped his ragged jacket. Turning, he began to plod away.

  “Aren’t you going to talk to me?” Royce interrogated.

  “Nope. Ain’t talkin’ today.”

  “Damnit, Laramie, why not?”

  “The weather. Sky’s gray as a corpse’s face.” His voice trailed away, remotely.

  Royce leaned against the wall and watched until Laramie had rounded the corner. She then looked up. He was right about the sky.

  Chapter 14

  Valeria Driscoll was not a legitimate princess, slash, goddess. But that fact would have fooled anyone at the Denver Matchbox. She tended to gather a crowd, Royce observed with a funny mixture of pride and jealousy.

  “Baby,” Valeria explained, “the woman who drove up in the Mercedes is very well-connected. When she suggested that we might know some of the same people from Vail and Aspen, I told her to call me. We probably travel in the same circles, and she could tell me if my suspicions about some of the women are correct. She’s very refined.”

  “She hits on you right in front of me and you call that refined?”

  “Stop being glum. We came to Denver to have some fun.” Valeria’s smile flickered with her playful eye beam. “Honey, baby, please. I came with you, didn’t I? You wanted this. I was content to hold you in my arms back at my condo.”

  “Just let me know if you want to leave with Mercedes-Benz.”

  “I want to leave with you.”

  She moved her body next to Royce’s. Royce whispered in her ear. “Hon, you do create a stir.”

  “I can’t help it if I want to look my best. And you like it, you know you do.” She leaned to kiss Royce’s cheek. “Now, don’t worry about the woman with the Mercedes.”

  “I won’t. Anyway, I’m not your keeper,” Royce’s voice listed. She followed Valeria through the crowd to the opposite side of the barroom. Divided by a dance floor, it featured a large bar on one side and a small one with tables and chairs on the other. As they walked, Royce realized that women were watching Valeria and her model’s glide. Eyes were seamed to the movement of Valeria’s hips and skin-tight denims. Royce wondered how many pairs of eyes were examining the length of Valeria. Their study would begin with the lovely woman’s face. Atop her head, perched like a crown, was a midnight black Stetson. With a silver band, the hat’s center spray of yellow feathers matched Valeria’s neck scarf. Long hair fluffed around her serenely beautiful face. From there, eyes would drift to Valeria’s silver-sequined shirt. A slit followed between her breasts dow
n to a V The denims were made in a Western cut and tucked into Valeria’s black Kingfish boots.

  Royce was more casually, more conservatively, dressed. She looked a part of her clothing. It was a look of belonging, rather than of costuming. She had worn Western trousers, snakeskin boots, a sky-blue shirt with dark yoke, and a matching string tie. She had left her dark Stetson in the Blazer.

  A couple abandoned their table, and Royce motioned for Valeria to take a seat. As they sat, Royce placed Valeria’s drink in front of her.

  “I guess I can’t blame Mercedes,” Royce finally spoke. “You do look luscious.”

  Standing, Valeria put out her hand. “Then dance with me, baby. I love that song. Oslin’s 'I’ll Always Come Back.’ It’s how I feel about you, Royce.”

  Their bodies wrapped together as they danced. Royce felt the warmth and the immediate rush of emotion. “I do love you.”

  “And I love you.” Valeria sung the lines into Royce’s ear, “Keep your eyes on the horizon.” Then she whispered, “Baby, I’m going to do the most delicious things to you tonight.”

  Royce grinned. When they were anchored together and Valeria made a declaration of love and promise, Royce would blush. Softly, she kissed her lover’s temple. As she did, she hoped that this enchantment wouldn’t dissolve. Valeria had motioned to the waitress to bring another round of drinks.

  “Royce, I’m going to hold you all night long. I’m glad we decided to get a room in Denver for the night. We aren’t going to want to drive home tonight. I already desire you. We’ll be in a motel room and it will be new. Hot, raw sex,” she enunciated with a sizzle.

  “You’re ravishing.”

  After another two rounds of drinks, Valeria was still ravishing, but she was becoming sarcastic. Royce thought of it as stage two. She hoped they could leave soon. As they danced, Royce didn’t want to let go when a woman tried to cut in. Valeria instructed, “Royce, don’t let her cut in. Last time I danced with her she told me some outrageous joke about if you can’t join them, lick them. The punchline escapes me. She’s a waste of time.”

  “You don’t want her in your court.”

  “I don’t want her on my planet,” Valeria’s words slapped.

  “Because she’s trying to make a pass at someone clearly above her station. Out of her league.”

  “Baby, don’t start with any of that Socratic blurb.” She pressed her body nearer Royce. She sang the lyrics with a sensuous rasp. “I’ll never get too lost. ...”

  “I hope not,” Royce murmured.

  “Oh damnit, are you going to start?” Valeria pulled away and walked back to their table. She was no longer sipping her drink. She lifted it and swallowed rapidly. “I need another drink.”

  Royce motioned the young cocktail waitress. “One more, please.”

  “A double Scotch for me,” Valeria directed. After the young woman had left, she huffed, “Your way or no way.”

  “What are you talking about? I only said that I hope you don’t get lost.” Royce attempted to reach for Valeria’s hand. It was withdrawn. “Val, when you drink like this you get angry. I can’t say anything at all.”

  “By all means, blame it on my drinking. My booze is talking. That’s as good as any other excuse for what our real problem is.”

  “And what is our problem?”

  “You want to own me.”

  “Let’s leave. It’s already midnight.”

  “I’m staying. If you want to go, then take off. I can catch a ride with Mercedes,” she blasted.

  Royce sipped at her warm beer. “You realize I’m never going to have that kind of money. Flash and glitter. You like that. So why are you wasting time with me?”

  “You’re special, Royce.”

  Valeria’s yo-yo emotions had always puzzled Royce. Her voice could go from satin soft to brittle. Bliss could diffuse so rapidly and so completely. “I wish I understood you, Val. You keep changing.”

  “You change too. Before all this killing business dredged up your father’s murder, you were good-natured. We had fun. Maybe things changed when you found out that Trish was my lover.”

  “Because I wanted you to myself. A sure sign of madness to want a relationship to be monogamous.”

  “I think you did want me all to yourself. But when I wasn’t with Trish, I was with you.”

  “Gwen used to call me your reserve date. She had it figured out a long time ago. She says that I get the leftovers.”

  “She’s a throw-away person. Her life is dull, dull, dull,” Valeria retorted. “I’m amazed we haven’t all been strangled by that damned small-town mentality that she thrives on.”

  Royce’s glance snapped and her head pivoted in another direction. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a roll of butterscotch. She slipped a candy into her mouth and locked her arms.

  “You’re going to pout. Trish always called Gwen and Nadine the two maiden dykes.”

  “Trish didn’t even know them.”

  “She had names for everyone in Timber City. Jolly Molly. Luther the Lunatic. Yancy the Grizzly. And you. She even named you.” When Royce’s solemn glare finally blinked, Valeria continued. “Don’t you want to know what she called you?”

  “I couldn’t care less. You know why?” Royce leaned toward Valeria and with censure in her voice seethed, “because she didn’t know me either.”

  “She called you my baby romp. She always asked if I’d been to romper school lately.” Valeria’s snicker soon went to a shriek.

  Royce winced, “I’d rather not talk about Trish. I’m at a disadvantage.”

  “Don’t want to smear the dead, do you, Roycie? God, how I hate it when I hear the townspeople call you that. Roycie.”

  “Baby romp suits me better?” Royce fired.

  “You are a baby. You never want to talk the gut stuff. You chase that poor old crazy bastard, Laramie, all over town trying to find out some goddamn secret. Who stole the bell? Who gives a fuck? That poor old loon’s face looks like a dried cauliflower, and he probably figures you’re as looney as he is. Which is very goddamn nuts.”

  “I don’t want to talk about the case when you’ve been drinking.” Royce was sorry she had mentioned that she’d been looking for Laramie on a couple of occasions. When Valeria inquired about it, Royce had told her only about the charges that Laramie stole the bell. “I don’t want to talk about anything with you when you’ve been drinking.”

  “I’m trying to save you. You’re waiting for a Disneyland parade to come by for you, Royce. I’m trying to tell you something.”

  “You aren’t making sense because you’ve had too many drinks.”

  “I’m trying to tell you that you’re the best lover I’ve ever had. You never asked. Did you just assume you’re the cream of the crop?”

  “I don’t want any comparison checks on love-making.”

  “You don’t want to hear about Trish. I’ll tell you. She made love as if she were teething on me,” Valeria spat.

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “I was her Barbie doll.”

  Royce’s eyes batted shut. She felt a sickness. “Val, let’s talk about this sometime when your head is clear.” Words snagged in her throat, “I can’t listen to this now.”

  “Damnit, Royce, you’re talking about leftovers. Now you’re spending time with your little campfire girl. All that camping crap. Somebody ought to award you and your vet a Paul Bunyan commendation and be done with it. I’m not into backpacking. I like roaring fireplaces, chilled champagne, hot tubs, and downy comforters. This woodsy Girl Scout shit you keep gushing about makes me sick.”

  “And your shallow jet-set buddies aren’t my cup of tea. That doesn’t mean I’ve ever given you any ultimatums.”

  “No. But they were implied.” Her thoughts trailed to a stop when a woman invited her to dance. She shook her head, and then leaned back and cursed, “Goddamn you, Royce, you’re ruining my evening.”

  “You’d be better off with your pink-glow min
k and riding in a Mercedes.”

  “You’re damned right I would.” With a toss of her head, and a smirk, Valeria repeated, “You’re so right, baby.”

  “Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that again,” Royce commanded. She then stood, pulling Valeria’s arm and knocking over her drink. “I think I’ve just graduated to toddler. And when I’ve made it through adolescence and into adulthood, I might just be able to see you through the eyes of maturity. And then where do you think you’ll be?”

  Valeria’s face became somber. With a deep sigh, she answered, “I’ll probably be alone.”

  “You’re probably correct.”

  ***

  The morning was chilly. But the walk with Smoky was brisk enough to keep Royce warm. The trails snaked from the edge of her grandmother’s cabin to national park land. When Royce and Smoky reached the summit, Royce looked down at the lake. She recalled fishing with Hertha on the opposite side. Her gaze took in the vast panorama. The peak off to the side was where the old Queen’s Star Mine shaft was located. She had often explored that shaft. Although she had been warned of the danger, she was too adventuresome to take heed. It was her mountain. So too were the lush green meadows where they now walked.

  Through the trees, strands of light shone against the sedge. Delicate spring flowers were breaking ground. Leaning down, Royce pressed Smoky to her chest. There was an elk herd off to the right. They grazed the meadows. “Don’t chase them,” she instructed Smoky. “They’re on our team.”

  Royce selected a place where she could lean back against a tree and still get adequate sunlight. Smoky explored and Royce viewed the plethora of wildflowers. She had been raised loving the show of color. Each plant had its own shade of verdancy. There were golden banner, fairy slipper, wild iris, raspberry, and strawberry plants sprouting their spring shoots. She thought of Hertha’s indoor herb garden and vowed to bring her to this spot to see the variety of vegetation. Royce watched a rock squirrel that was experiencing the tremble of a bough. Newly waxed needles were displaying a bright, clean green. Finally, she had taken in as much as she could of her surroundings. She reached in her backpack and pulled out two books that Gwen had lent her. Leaning back against her pack, she felt her gun holster poking. She carried her gun at all times as part of police procedure, but at times like this, it tended to get in the way. She moved slightly, to a more comfortable position.