by Trevor Scott
“I’ll tell you who,” Don Sanders said. “Our friends. They don’t wanna do us no harm. They’re just curious.”
Tony was about to open his mouth when he saw Dawn shake her head at him.
“Them,” Don whispered. “I was riding the mare out there one night. Three years ago. I saw the light. I felt this feeling of rising up into the sky.” He sighed as if he missed the experience, wanted it to happen to him all over again.
Tony let him talk because it was taking his mind off the mare.
Without warning, Don Sanders drifted over to his mare, knelt down, and wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck.
His sister pulled Tony aside. “We think he fell off his horse that night,” she explained. “I found him out in the field the next morning when he didn’t show up to work, the mare standing next to him, and he was hypothermic. The doctor said he had a fractured skull. He hasn’t been the same since.”
“Don’t you go planting lies into his head,” her brother said, getting to his feet and drifting toward the two of them. “I haven’t lost it yet. Humphrey ripped me off to try to drive me off this place.
Wiped me out. Even took supplies so I couldn’t work.”
That got Tony’s attention. “Like what?”
He shrugged. “Actuators. Wire. Some chemicals. Not everything. Just enough to slow me down. I had to drive to Portland to buy more.”
150
TREVOR SCOTT
Now that was interesting. Could have explained the matching wire at Don’s work site and the Humphrey house.
“I think you should have a vet look at the mare,” Tony said.
“Pull the slug out. See what kind of gun shot her.”
Don nodded his head at Tony.
Tony and Dawn walked back to the front of the house. She seemed concerned.
“What do you think?” Tony asked her.
She stopped a few feet from her Toyota 4x4 and turned to Tony.
Her eyes were uncertain. “I don’t know. I’d like to think that Cliff Humphrey wouldn’t do something like this. My God. This is Oregon. It’s almost as bad to kill a horse as a human.” She let out a heavy sigh.
“But?”
“But...I guess it’s possible. I mean, who else would have killed his horse?” Then she pointed off toward her brother’s house. “My grandparents built this place sixty years ago. We were brought up out here, back when Bend was a quiet little town. Now the place has grown beyond recognition. And my brother.” She thought for a moment, shaking her head from side to side. “He doesn’t fully understand the development, yet he’s become a part of it. I think that bothers him on some level.”
She seemed on the verge of crying. Tony stepped closer, unsure if he should take her in his arms.
“What about the break-in here?” Tony asked. “I noticed the door frame was ripped apart.”
“Did you look inside?”
“No.”
“There’s nothing in there. Whoever came here took everything.
Even his damn phone. Donny hasn’t even had a chance to replace anything. He’s sleeping on the floor. He blames himself. He would have been home, but he was given a pair of tickets for a Blazers game. This is an isolated place. Someone must have brought a truck up and just piled his stuff in. The silly thing is, he didn’t have a lot of good things. I mean, nothing of great value. I BOOM TOWN 151
just know someone did it to force a deal with Humphrey.”
“Who knew he was going to the Blazers game?” Tony asked.
“Probably not many people. He doesn’t do much socializing anymore. Not since his accident.”
“The fall from the horse?” Tony said.
“Yeah.”
Tony had more to ask her, but not here. They decided to do lunch, driving separate to a nice Mexican place downtown.
152
TREVOR SCOTT
CHAPTER 25
Having finished their lunch, Tony and Dawn sat for a moment staring at each other. She had a glass of red wine, and Tony had a local microbrew. Their conversation over lunch had dealt with what he was currently working on, and her brother. Somehow he had a feeling Don Sanders was involved, how-ever remotely, with the whole Dan and Barb Humphrey and Frank Peroni situation. Their conversation just turned to Peroni.
“I don’t see what that guy has to do with anything,” she said, taking a sip of wine, but keeping her eyes on Tony.
“I’m not entirely convinced myself. As far as Dan and Barb are concerned, I think Peroni saw something. Something that made him go into hiding.”
Tony sat there thinking about Frank Peroni and what Detective Shabato and Reese had told him about the man. How Peroni was under investigation for robberies in the Portland area. How his boss had reacted when Tony talked with him. Considering everything he knew, Tony had an idea. He needed to get back to his condo and his computer to check out his theory.
Tony’s cell phone rang. He reluctantly picked it up. “Yeah.”
“What the hell, Tony. Someone shoots you and I gotta find out a couple of days later?”
“Uncle Bruno.” Tony lowered his voice and said, “It’s not like I’d put out a press release. It was a grazing shot. A few stitches.”
Tony shrugged to Dawn across the table.
BOOM TOWN 153
“You get your ass to Duluth for Christmas. I won’t take no for an answer. All your cousins will be there. Sounds like you could use a break.”
Tony shook his head. “I gotta finish this first. I think I’m gettin’ close.”
“Somebody thinks so.”
“Bruno, I gotta get going. I’m at lunch with a beautiful woman.”
“Well. . .carry on then.”
Smiling, Tony clicked off the phone and put it into his pocket.
“Sorry about that. My Uncle Bruno wants me to go to Minnesota for Christmas.”
“No problem. I’m a beautiful woman?” She smiled.
Rising from his chair, Tony threw enough money on the table to cover lunch. But their departure from the restaurant would be delayed. Walking across the room directly toward them, at a pace that made her determined expression somewhat sinister, was Melanie Chadwick. She was wearing a short gray skirt that slid up her firm legs with each step. She stopped at their table and crossed her arms over her white silk blouse. Tony took his seat again.
“I was wondering if you planned on calling me,” Melanie said, her eyes narrowing toward Tony. “Now I see why you won’t.”
Her glare shifted toward Dawn, who looked embarrassed, which Tony didn’t think was part of her facial repertoire.
“There’s nothing going on between us, Melanie,” Dawn said.
“Right.” Melanie’s foot started tapping, like a mother would do listening to a child try to lie his way out of a fix.
“Why don’t you sit down,” Tony said. “We were just discussing what I was working on.”
“I think I know what you’re working on, Tony.” She raised her brows, but she wasn’t smiling.
Tony was aware of people staring at them. Not that he cared much about that. But he was somewhat embarrassed for the two of them, since they had to do business in Bend.
154
TREVOR SCOTT
Tony got up and Dawn rose after him. Then Tony saw a woman sitting against the far wall, her eyes gazing directly at the commotion of Dawn, Melanie and himself. Mrs. James Ellison. She smiled at him just like she had the last time he had seen her, rising up naked from the hot tub, imploring him to enter and join her.
Without saying another word, the three of them went out to the front of the building. Tony expected a long recitation on how he was a pig like every other man on the planet. And maybe he had it coming, because he wasn’t able to convince himself that he didn’t have feelings for Dawn Sanders. What he got was far less biting.
Melanie calmly looked Tony in the eye and said, “I should have known better than to get involved with another Italian. Always thinking with the little head.” Then she simply
turned and walked away.
Ouch. A personal attack was one thing. But to attack his heritage...that hurt, Tony thought
Dawn stepped closer to Tony and took his hand in hers.
“Believe me. From what I’ve seen, the little head is not that little.”
They both started laughing.
Tony had agreed to keep in touch with Dawn. He wanted to see more of her, and that wasn’t the little head thinking. She was a beautiful, interesting person. Someone who he thought would be a friend over time.
On the way back to the condo, he took a quick detour toward the river, parking next to Cliff Humphrey’s Mercedes out front of his development company. As he walked into the building, he tried to prepare himself for the questions he had to ask him.
Questions that would surely strain their relationship, whatever that was.
Inside, he breezed right past the receptionist, past a man and a woman discussing something at a drafting table, and stormed into BOOM TOWN 155
Cliff Humphrey’s office, slamming the door behind him.
Humphrey was surprised and shocked to see him. He started to get up from behind his desk, when Tony pointed his finger right at him, sending him back into the leather.
“I’m sick of being lied to,” Tony yelled. He hesitated, trying to build tension.
When Cliff Humphrey didn’t say anything, Tony continued.
“You know Frank Peroni.”
He had a stupid look on his face, and Tony knew he was searching his mind for the lie of the minute.
“Well?”
Letting out a deep sigh, Humphrey said, “I don’t understand how that matters.”
Tony leaned onto the man’s desk and tightened his jaw. “You let me decide what’s pertinent to the case. I asked you the other day if you knew him, and you lied to me. Why?”
Humphrey slid his hands together as if he were praying. Good.
Maybe Tony was actually scaring the guy into asking for God’s help.
“I’m sure Mr. Peroni had nothing to do with Dan and Barb’s death,” Humphrey said, each word spoken deliberately.
“What makes you so sure?”
“What motive would he have?”
Technicality. Unfortunately, he had a point, and Tony let him know that by loosening his grip on his desk. But he also knew that motives came in flimsy forms quite often. Tony had a feeling there were too many people with too much money involved with this case. He was convinced of that much.
“Why didn’t you tell me Frank Peroni had sold locks to damn near every development you built?” Tony asked.
“It wasn’t relevant.” Humphrey’s voice had an edge to it now, as if the power was shifting back to him.
“He was at the house the night your son died,” Tony said.
“That’s relevant.”
“Says who?”
156
TREVOR SCOTT
“Says me.” Tony backed away from the desk, turned, and started to leave.
“Have you even talked with the man?” Humphrey asked.
Tony stopped and turned. “No. But I plan on it. You hired me to find out what happened. If you can’t handle the truth, you should have hired some hack.” With that, Tony stormed out of the office just as he had entered.
On the way out to the truck, everything was jumbling in his mind. He wasn’t sure what he was investigating any more. He was working for some lying bastard he was beginning to hate.
Which shouldn’t have been a problem, except he promised himself when he got into this whole business that he wouldn’t take a job from some high maintenance puke like Humphrey and he had broken his own rule. Tony could only comfort himself by knowing that his real clients were dead. Dan and Barb. He was completely convinced now that they both had been murdered. His task now was to prove who killed them.
Frank Peroni was key to the whole deal. He knew that much.
He drove back to the condo, thinking he had a pretty good idea how to find the man.
Tony had been at the condo for about an hour when the snow started falling. It was late afternoon, heading into early evening.
He had been locked onto the computer, searching the net for some clue on how to find Peroni. Having pulled out a map of the county and circling the locations where Frank Peroni had taken out cash advances against his Visa, he had a reasonable idea where he was. Frank had made a few errors. He had thought it was safe to go to resorts to draw the cash. Rightfully so. But by doing so, he had given up his relative location. He wouldn’t want to drive very far, thinking the cops might be looking for his car.
So, how to narrow down his hiding place? Make a bunch of phone calls and computer checks.
A few hours later, through periods of frustration and uncertainty, Tony thought he might have actually gotten a solid lead. He BOOM TOWN 157
had talked with Frank’s wife, talked with resort personnel, talked with grocery store clerks, talked with damn near anyone who would talk. In the end, he found a telephone number that might have been helpful. The address where the phone was located was probably even more significant, since it was owned by one James Burton, the marketing director he had talked with at Cascade Lock in Beaverton. Frank’s boss.
Tony gathered up a few things before heading out. Put on his hiking boots, winter coat and gloves, and his ski hat.
By the time he got to the truck, darkness had settled across Central Oregon, and six inches of fresh powder had fallen already. He switched on the radio after clearing the windows of snow, and an overly enthusiastic woman informed him the entire area was under a winter storm advisory. Great. On the bright side, the radio lady had said, skiing in the morning would be excellent.
The silver lining.
He considered leaving Panzer in the condo, but he had no idea how long this would take. Besides, the dog had shown a great fondness to snow.
Placing the dog behind the seat in the cab with him, Tony dropped the truck into four-wheel-drive and pulled out into the blowing sheet of white. He had no idea if his hunch would turn up anything more than a winter driving lesson. But he had to try.
He was running out of options.
158
TREVOR SCOTT
CHAPTER 26
The road toward Black Butte was treacherous. Tony’s only consolation was that not many people were out and about.
Only other crazy bastards like him, he thought, with four wheel drive and the brains of the village idiot.
He passed Black Butte Ranch, an expansive resort and golf community, and one of the places Frank Peroni had gotten cash.
Farther on down the road, he slowed the truck to watch for signs.
Having memorized the map before leaving, he knew he needed to take a right toward Camp Sherman.
He almost missed the sign, sliding around the corner and fish-tailing a few times before straightening it out. He didn’t have much information about James Burton’s second home. He imagined it was a summer cabin, but he wasn’t about to call the guy and ask him. He wanted to see the look on Frank Peroni’s face when he saw him, before someone had a chance to say he had called. Who knows? Frank would have probably bolted.
Fifteen minutes later he passed through Camp Sherman, which wasn’t really a town, but a quick stop for people who owned second homes in the area. There was a gas station, a volunteer fire-house, and a small general store. He had contacted the store hoping to find information about Frank Peroni. Bingo. The clerk had told him about a man fitting Peroni’s description. They were used to strangers in the area. Hunters. Fishermen. But most of them came through in the summer or fall, not December. And this guy BOOM TOWN 159
had been there a few times in the past two weeks. Always nervous, she had said.
Tony continued on along the road until it crossed the Metolius River. Melanie Chadwick had told him that there were million dollar homes along the river. She had listed a number of the places. Decadent opulence is how she had described some of the places there. But he saw none of that
in the snowstorm. He was having a rough enough time keeping the truck on the road.
After he crossed the river, the road narrowed even more, and he knew that Burton’s place was supposed to be the second road on the left and would probably angle back toward the river.
There it was. He slowed and turned onto a dirt lane that was covered now with almost a foot of new snow, his headlights glistening off the pine boughs weighted to the breaking point.
He had no idea how far the private drive went from the main road to the house. Nor did he even know for sure if he’d find Frank Peroni there. He did know that if he was there, and Tony parked the truck in the middle of the driveway, there was no way he would be able to get his Ford Taurus past him. In fact, Peroni would have been lucky to move the car a few feet in that thick, wet snow.
Which gave him an idea. Figuring he was getting closer, he turned the F250 at an angle across the lane where it narrowed between two trees. Then he shut down the engine and got out.
Panzer tried to jump out with him. “Nein! Sitzen.”
Closing the door on Panzer, Tony flicked on a small penlight briefly to make sure it worked, and then shoved into his jacket pocket. He zipped up his jacket, pulled his hat over his ears, and trudged off through the snow.
Tony always found something serene about walking through fresh snow in the darkness, the fluffy flakes settling lightly on his head and shoulders. One flake would catch an eyelash and he would blink it away. As a kid growing up in northern Minnesota, Tony would get bundled up during a good evening snowstorm, lay on his back, and let the snow cover him. Strange how the 160
TREVOR SCOTT
mind worked, he thought. He should have been thinking about Frank Peroni and how he related to Dan and Barb Humphrey getting killed, but he was feeling the snow against his face as he trudged forward.
The road curved a few times and he could hear the Metolius River rippling in the distance, the sloshing of water clearer and clearer as he made his way down the road.
Then Tony saw it. A faint light in the distance, the snow falling in blankets in front of it. He stepped softly toward the light.
Seconds later he could see a car. The Ford Taurus? Maybe his guess had been right. He came up to the rear of the car and swiped his hand across the trunk, knocking a thick patch of snow away. Yep. Ford Taurus. Then he thought about what Peroni’s wife had told him, so he went to the front of the car and brushed away some of the snow from the windshield. There was a long crack.