Timber City Masks

by Kieran York

  When Royce closed her eyes, she wanted to invite a moment of relaxation. That was not to be. Her mind began churning and soon she was attempting to decipher her emotions. Her appetite for Valeria was there no matter what. She wondered why the desire was insatiable. Harmony of the flesh. Royce wondered if she had been annexed to Valeria by fate. There was pain, Royce admitted.

  She wanted to understand Valeria, and why the pain was inflicted. Was Valeria experiencing some inferiority complex? Why had Valeria harped on Royce’s relationship with Hertha? It was true that she liked the new vet’s company, but why should that bother Valeria? Valeria was the one who wanted complete freedom. But she also wanted to make the rules.

  So many things puzzled Royce. As soon as they had left the Denver Matchbox, Valeria’s mood had converted to one of love. She had issued her own pardon. It wasn’t her fault, she teased, that she had developed a following. Then she had kissed Royce tenderly.

  By the time they had arrived at the motel, the women were ready for a night of love-making. Valeria became a spitfire with grinding hips. Through most of the night the women shared love. Valeria made her feelings visible by knitting her body to Royce’s. They shared every velvety inch of their bodies.

  Then they drove back to Timber City. By the time they had reached the outskirts of town, both women were angry again. They had tried to sort out the words of attack from the night before. After dropping Valeria off, Royce headed back to the cabin. They had parted with stormy glances and the slam of a door. Royce was beleaguered. The retreat was lonely. When she arrived at the cabin, she heard the telephone. It was Valeria, sobbing and telling Royce that she was sorry she had ruined the night. Royce consoled her. It hadn’t been ruined. Only marred.

  Royce found herself replaying those thoughts. She resumed looking across the mountainside down onto the lake.

  Maybe, she considered, Gwen was correct. Royce should arrest herself for being under the influence. Under the influence of Valeria Driscoll.

  Chapter 15

  “You’re gettin’ in way over your head.” Luther’s foreboding scowl tagged. He was exiting the barbershop when he nearly collided with Royce.

  “Is that a threat? Or just your bullying nature?” Royce grilled with boiling anger.

  “You’re gettin’ yourself in a world of trouble,” he blustered. His large frame stiffened in arrogant confrontation. His eyes challenged. “You take that any way you want. You’re messin’ with me, girl, and you are at the tail of a rattler.”

  “That’s what everyone says about you, Luther. They say you’re a snake. But that isn’t going to stop me from coming after you. The upside is that I may solve the murder. The downside is that you may kill me like you probably killed Trish and the drifter.”

  “Careful with your accusation.” His warning was accompanied by a menacing sneer. “Real careful,” he snarled.

  “That was an opinion.” Royce’s arms swayed up as she rested her hands on her belt. “You haven’t been charged by me. Yet.”

  “You better learn to keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “I’m out to find a killer. You opened this conversation with a threat. So have one on me. First, let me tell you that I’m not frightened of that threat. I know about the Chandler family’s magnanimous offer to convert the ranch to a home for troubled teens. And I know you’ve got to keep your nose clean to keep that from happening. Your fall guy, Ray, is in jail.

  Anything happens to me and you can just bet people will question. You’ll go to the top of the suspect list. And you’ll go there fast.”

  “Yancy gave you that deputy job.”

  “My father gave him his job. Then we both worked hard to keep those jobs. In fact I’m working harder on this case than I’ve ever worked before. I’ll be doing my job when I find your wife’s murderer.”

  “It isn’t me.”

  Royce tipped her hat forward. “So if you didn’t do it, who did?”

  “I think you may have done it.”

  “Plenty amazing!” Royce whistled through her teeth. “Now I’ve heard about everything. And why would I kill Trish?”

  “Trish and your teacher friend were real close.”

  “My teacher friend?” Royce felt a stammer in her words.

  “It’s real easy to drive by and count the nights your Blazer is parked outside of Valeria Driscoll’s condo.” His cold eyes riveted as he stressed, “all night.”

  Royce rallied with a tempered rage. “I wouldn’t have anything to gain by Trish’s murder. You would, but not if she walked out. So if you’re attempting to impeach my character, you can put your speculations where the sun doesn’t shine.”

  “Same as you can do with yours,” he spat back. Then with a methodical step to the side, he folded his arms and snickered. “Be a hell of a lot easier to prove you’re a dyke with a hankering for Valeria than to prove I killed anyone. So take your best shot at me, Deputy.”

  “You’re garbage,” Royce seethed. “No wonder Trish wanted to drop you like a hot rock.”

  Enraged, Luther’s arm thrust down to his side. “She’da never got away from me.”

  “Alive?”

  Luther wanted to add a cursing repartee. He had a disclaimer in storage, but Jade Arnall was hastening in their direction. His scowl at Royce was sufficient. He pivoted around and headed in the opposite direction.

  Breathlessly, Jade greeted Royce, “Been trying to track you down. Mom wanted me to find you.”

  “A problem?”

  “No. Mom just said to tell you not to plan anything on the night of your birthday. She wants you to celebrate at the Bell Ringer.”

  “Sure.” With an embarrassed grin, Royce admitted, “I can’t remember which night it is next week, but I’ll be there.”

  “Mom wants to make it special because she says you worked your ass off when I was missing.”

  “We all put in extra time. Do you think Faye would do me a favor?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “I know that there’s bad blood between your mother and Gwen, but I sure would like to have Gwen and Nadine at my party.”

  “You know my mom’s got a big heart when it comes to birthdays.” With eye avoidance, Jade preened in the reflective windowpane. “She hasn’t got anything against them because they’re . . . lesbians.”

  “I know. Their feud goes way back. Too far back to be important now.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Jade uttered, “Thanks for looking for me.”

  “You want to tell me about it? The story is a little rough around the edges. Maybe you could polish it up some. Unofficially. Pretend I haven’t got my badge. Just for my own edification, I’d like to know how it went down.”

  “It wasn’t on purpose. Would you give me your word that you won’t tell anyone?”

  “I’ll keep your confidence.”

  “I trust you. I got high. The kids I was with had some cocaine. I just kinda got lost. Time got away.”

  “Cocaine?”

  “Yeah. Look, it was just a long party and I lost track of time. Royce, you’re looking at me like I killed someone. What’s the difference between that and my mom sipping suds all day? She runs on a steady stream of booze. She’s got her junk and I got mine.”

  “Hers is legal.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. Look, if we want to get legal, maybe the law would say that you shouldn’t be a deputy. But you’re good at what you do, so it shouldn’t matter.”

  “What shouldn’t matter?”

  “Things about your personal life. Royce, do you like women?”

  “Would it matter?” Royce knew her sexual preference had come into question twice in one day. It was hardly coincidental. Luther had spied on her. He mentioned his findings to Yancy. And in turn, Yancy had told Faye of Luther’s suspicions. Jade had probably overheard the conversation. “Well Jade, would it matter?”

  “No.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter.”

  ***


  Royce went directly to Molly’s Pantry. She wanted to pick up some decorative hardware that she had purchased for the cabin’s enclosed porch. She went to her old bedroom and retrieved the crumpled sack. As she was walking down the hall, something drew her to the back bedroom. She wasn’t certain why she felt the need to go into the musty room. The stale air hit Royce as she squeezed through the doorway. Boxes, most that had been rummaged through, were stacked high.

  The room was rarely entered. Royce dug through several cartons before coming to an old set of Colorado law books. Grady had purchased them at an estate auction. Taking an armload of books to the dormer window’s light, Royce sat on an old steamer trunk top.

  “What you doin’ up here?” Molly quizzed as she pressed her body through the door.

  “I’m not sure.” Royce swallowed. “I’ve always been curious about the statute of limitations on Dad’s murder. I heard once that there is no limitation on an officer of the law’s murder.”

  “Why ever would you be looking for that? After all this time?” Molly’s hand patted down the neat creases of her fresh gingham apron. “It’s been a decade now.”

  “That only means that the killer got ten free years.”

  Molly blurted, “You know who killed your daddy?”

  “I have a gut feeling that whoever killed Trish, killed him.”

  “So that’s what you’ve been gloomy about. Royce, I’d like to know who killed Grady too. But your daddy isn’t coming back to me. I had to finally let up on being bitter about it.”

  “I haven’t let up. And I won’t.” Her resolute blue eyes flared. She could feel the tension magnifying. “Mom, if my twin brother had lived, the town would have expected him to follow in Dad’s footsteps. And to avenge his death.”

  “That’s not true, Roycie.” Molly stepped back toward the door. “We ought to sort all this old stuff out and haul it off to the dumpster.”

  “Mom, I’m going to avenge my father’s murder, like his son would have done.”

  Molly covered her mouth and her head toppled downward. Her eyes clamped tightly. When they opened, her eyes seemed ash gray. “I’d tell a son the same as I tell you. I don’t want you taken from me too.” Trembling, her mouth then constricted. She started toward Royce and then stopped. Her sigh was twisting its way out. “I love you, Royce.”

  “There’s no sanctuary in front or behind a badge. I’ll always be in enforcement. I love you and I swear to you that I’ll always take as many precautions as possible. For both of us.”

  “Got to air this place out. Open the windows and get this rancid winter air out. Smells like we got goats up here.”

  “Mom, before Dad was killed, did he tell you anything about what was happening?”

  “Your daddy didn’t like talking about his job.” Molly reached the door and she turned briskly. “Now, you come on down and have some fresh apple pie. It has plenty of bite in it. Spicy. The way you like.”

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” Royce stacked the books back into the carton. She heard Molly’s footsteps as they reached the stairway. Royce knew that Molly had stopped, probably considering Royce’s question. Glancing down, Royce saw a bookmark in one of the law books. She opened the book and saw that the marker was a crumpled dollar bill.

  She hoped that it would open to a page referring to the statute of limitations law. That was not the case. It pertained to the commission of a crime being carried out on an innocent party’s property without that party having knowledge. Royce lifted the dollar up and slammed the book shut. The property where Grady Madison was killed belonged to a rancher who had died years before. It didn’t make sense.

  Royce saved the dollar. It might have belonged to her father.

  ***

  Goldville’s silhouette was lit up by the afternoon’s chromatic sun. Isolated between pristine mountain peaks and with a boundary of evergreens and aspen, the ghost town was a nest of isolation and long forgotten memories.

  Rows of tilted crumpling company houses lined the street. With their curled shingles, charcoaled fences, ribbing and sawtoothed, they were abandoned by time. Left behind were clattering shutters beneath sloped roofs and twisted eaves. These were the wind-whipped remnants of the gold rush. Extinct were the prospector hopes.

  Royce leaned against a stone foundation and tried to imagine the family that might have circled the smoke-blackened chimney.

  How slumbrous the deteriorated ghost town was, she mulled. Some litany of ghostly prayer was heard with the wind. This was the domain of a people from another era. These were the forlorn relics. This was a town offered up to the desolation of time. Gwen was correct. Ghosts lingered. Beyond the outline of the town and beyond the spindly grave markers.

  Perhaps that remoteness was why Royce loved exploring the barren town. She was glad to be sharing it with Hertha. Gwen, Hertha, and Royce were dressed casually for their outing. With comfy shirts, indigo saddle jeans and boots, they walked the narrow, unpaved streets. Gwen’s running description gave a glimpse of the historic value. Each battered facade housed its own story.

  Gwen jumped up onto the boardwalk to test the sagging weathered wood. She beckoned to Royce and Hertha. “The livery stable is still safe.”

  Hertha and Royce joined her. Royce teased, “That’s what you said about the school house and church.” When the creaking rafters and exposed trusses had wobbled, the three of them had made a hasty escape. “I was a tad nervous when the rock wrens began batting around the tower.”

  “I enjoyed the assay office. Think about the prospectors standing in line with their sacks of gold dust,” Hertha commented as they walked back toward the saloon.

  Gwen chuckled. “I like the saloon best. Where they went through that gold. Reminds me of Faye and her place. Untamed gunfighters. Cards, poker chips, fisticuffs, lust, passion, and vintage adventure. And a trollop at the bar.”

  “I sure wish you and Faye would put your differences aside. It’s time,” Royce requested.

  “While you two are discussing burying the hatchet, and vintage lust and passion,” Hertha commented, “I’m going to find a remote area and take a leak.”

  “Don’t squat too near any splintering wood,” Gwen cautioned. “The slithering snakes will go for sweet hiney.” After Hertha was out of sight, Gwen added to Royce, “And I’ll bet it is sweet.”

  “You know, you’re terrible,” Royce censured with a grin.

  “You know, you could find out and report back.” When her suggestion met with silence, Gwen sighed deeply. “Oh that’s right, you’ve already got a woman you think was invented by Sappho. Valeria may have style up the nose, but she’s an ornamental bitch. Hell’s bells, her second graders probably need Valium.”

  “That’s your evaluation. I know her in a different way.”

  “Royce, you are really at the starting line on this love business. And you’ve taken on some bad habits.”

  “Enough. I don’t think love needs explanation or to be excused. Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about the blank spots in my father’s file. Tell me anything you can remember. Drugs were involved. He was killed near an abandoned shed. I know where the property is. I don’t know who owns the land. All I’ve ever heard is that it’s called the old Miller land. You’re city council president, thought you’d know.”

  “Millers settled it. It belonged to a rancher. Then I think it was sold in auction at one time.”

  “Who owned it then?”

  “I don’t know. Could have become county property. What’s this all about?”

  “Probably nothing.” Royce shrugged. “Too many questions. Some investigation. Quantifying down to the common denominator. And I’m having difficulty getting there. It’s like there’s something I’m not being told.”

  “Royce, maybe people are reluctant to talk about it because some of the information isn’t pertinent.”

  “Like?”

  “I’m telling you this because it looks as though your determi
ned and you’ll come up with it eventually. Originally there was a check by the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. Some anonymous phone tip alleged that your father was involved in the drug ring.”

  “How could anyone believe that?”

  “They couldn’t, and didn’t,” Gwen disclosed. “Everyone in town knew the accusations were groundless. I felt that it didn’t belong in the story. It was deep-sixed. Why subject anyone’s memory to that kind of blatant lie?”

  “Why is everyone tampering with the facts to spare me? I went back to college, and Mom had to face that herself?”

  “Molly doesn’t like digging up the past. She does love you.”

  “It would be nice if I could get through my rite of passage with her. She’ll always doubt my survival skills.”

  Gwen grabbed Royce’s arm and scolded, “Don’t you put that on your mother. Molly lost a husband who had all the survival skills and canny a law officer can have. So don’t do that to the best-hearted woman ever created. Don’t do that to her.” Gwen released Royce’s arm. She lowered her voice. “I understand her concern.”

  “I do too. But I want her to understand how much I want my father’s killer brought to justice. I feel that it’s connected to Trish’s murder.” She would not even tell her most trusted friend about Laramie’s inference to the crimes being committed by one killer. “It’s a feeling I have. At any rate, I checked on the statute of limitations. I want to make that bust. I’ve got to make my father’s death have as much meaning as his life did. I want a statement to say that justice prevailed. He believed in that justice.”

  “Just be careful,” Gwen admonished. “Look, I’m going back to the car for a rest. Why don’t you take Hertha down by that little stream there and look for arrowheads?”