“On it,” said Jane.
“Cooter, what did happen with my dad and the sheriff?” asked Nikki, ignoring the desk in favor of the customer counter with the cash register on it.
“Bastard planted weed on your dad,” said Cooter with a shrug. “Then he said a bunch of bullshit in court and got him extradited. Which, since your dad was one of my best customers at the time, hit me kind of hard. I’m sure it didn’t do you any good either.”
The cash register had been left open, the change and the small bills had been ignored.
“What did she take?” asked Nikki, poking at the cash register.
“Just the hundreds,” said Cooter with a shrug. “About five hundred bucks. I’m not happy about it, but it’s not the end of the world.”
“Who’s your best customer these days?” asked Nikki.
“Pedro Alavar,” said Cooter. “Buys a lot of cars.”
“Hangs out with a guy named Milt a lot? They both stink like weed?”
“Yeah, that’s the guy. You know him?”
“We’ve met,” said Nikki. “Jane what have you got?”
“Nothing, so far,” said Jane, her fingers flying across the keyboard of the computer. “If there’s something on here, then it’s been wiped. It would help if I could take it into the office.”
“You should probably stay away from Milt and Pedro,” said Cooter, looking uncomfortable.
“They’re the kind who wait for people outside of bars,” said Nikki.
“If you mean that they don’t believe in fighting fair and would sneak up on you in a parking lot, then yeah, that’s them. Not nice guys.”
Nikki stepped back and stared at the register. There was something odd about the whole thing. Ylina had gone out into the junkyard to get whatever it was out of that car. It had been a black bag. Then she’d heard the cops and gone running back in this direction. Nikki looked around the room, trying to put herself in Ylina’s place. She’d been scared, rushed. She’d come back into the office. If the sheriff had found her here, what would she have done? Hidden the bag? Nikki glanced at the pristine desk. She wouldn’t have hidden it in her area, she would have hidden it somewhere it could be overlooked. Nikki surveyed the room: two grimy chairs by the door, a deer head on the far wall, looking motheaten, one book case with a large collection of car owner manuals and National Geographics, and one table with an incomplete 375 piece puzzle on top. Nothing was out of place, just the register cash drawer hanging open.
“If she hadn’t left the cash drawer open, would you have known anything was missing?”
“Not for most of the day,” said Cooter. “I think she busted it. I tried to close it, but it just popped open again. That’s actually the worst part. Cash registers ain’t cheap.”
Nikki pushed the drawer shut gently, but met resistance about an inch before the drawer closed. Frowning, she pulled the drawer back out and then lifted out the cash tray. Sliding her hand into the back of the till she felt along the back wall of the drawer inch by inch. On the far right corner she felt something hard and pulled it out.
“Yes!” said Jane, already reaching for the thumb drive in Nikki’s hand.
“That’s one of Ylina’s doohickies,” said Cooter. “I’m not supposed to touch them because I make technology die. That’s what Ylina always says anyway. Said, I guess.” Changing to the past tense brought up tears again and Cooter abruptly turned and went outside.
“I feel really bad for him,” said Jane.
“I feel really bad for Ylina,” said Nikki. “Now let’s find out what’s on the thumb drive.”
August XXV
Overdrive
Jane plugged the drive into Ylina’s laptop and quickly tapped open the file. “It’s audio files. All different dates. She seems to be organizing them by some sort of code. INC+5, INC+4, INC-2. I don’t know what that means. Maybe she left some sort of key?”
“Hit the INC-2,” said Nikki. “Let’s try one while you’re poking around.”
Jane shrugged and opened up the file.
“I don’t know,” said a male voice. Nikki thought it was probably either Milt or Pedro’s, but couldn’t be sure. “I didn’t think Jar Jar Binks was that bad.”
“Not that bad? Not that bad?” The other voice sounded outraged.
“What? He was funny. I mean Jedi had Ewoks. I thought Jar Jar was the prequel version of Ewoks.”
There was an inarticulate squawk and then the recording cut off.
“He makes a point,” said Jane.
“Possibly if Jar Jar hadn’t sounded so much like a 1920s black-face performer I might be able to go with that theory.”
“I think that’s unfair,” said Jane. “He was an alien.”
“But the cultural lens through which we view him is white America,” said Nikki. Jane gaped up at her. “What? I do listen to you occasionally. Hit another one. Try that INC+5.”
“I don’t care,” said Merv’s voice. “I don’t care if his grandmother is in the hospital. Go to the hospital and drag his sorry ass over here.”
There was another voice, but Nikki couldn’t quite make out the words.
“No,” said Merv. “No more chances. He either gets the job done or I’m burying him out next to Luis. He’s becoming a liability. I can’t have him shooting his mouth off every time he gets drunk.”
The second voice murmured something else, and then the recording shut off.
“Well,” said Jane, “We’ll probably need a larger sample size, but I’m going to guess that the plus and minus rating has to do with how serious the conversation is.”
“The fact that Luis is buried somewhere is fairly serious,” agreed Nikki. “Hit the one with the most recent date.”
Jane did as she was told and there was a second of pause as the file loaded. The audio software displayed a sine wave of rising and falling bars that matched the voices.
“We just need a farm,” said Merv.
“But it can’t be too out in the open,” said another voice. “We can’t have people poking around.”
“That’s why I think the Connelly place is about perfect,” said Merv. “It’s an orchard. We leave the outside perimeter of trees and then we take out the middle sections. Lots of room to subdivide. Lots of good sunshine. Easy to keep nosy neighbors out of our business.”
“You said she wasn’t interested in selling.”
“She’s old,” said Merv. “She’s been talking about retiring and moving to the Westside with her daughter. We just have to find the right price. Plus, there’s a nice symmetry considering her son-in-law started all this.”
The other voice grunted. “I’m worried about certification.” This time the voice was clearly recognizable as one of the voices from the previous conversation. Nikki thought it might be Milt.
“Don’t be,” said Merv. “I know the inspector for this region. I know whose table he’s parking his feet under and I know his wife’s phone number. We’ll get the property. We’ll set up a legal-size grow operation. We show it to George and get him to approve it. And then we expand, expand, expand. If he wants to come back and re-inspect I’ll dissuade him. After the plants come in, we can cut off our Canadian friends and start shipping directly South.”
“What about Pims? He’s a liability.”
“We’ll see,” said Merv. “It depends on how stop-happy the state patrol in Idaho and Oregon are. Now that pot’s legal they’ll be stopping every Washington license plate they see. Pims and his clever cars are still useful, for now. We’ll re-evaluate next year.”
“The Canadians won’t be happy.”
“Screw the Canadians,” said the sheriff forcefully. “They’ve been nickel and diming me for years because they know I’ve got nowhere else to go. Meanwhile, I’m the one taking all the risks. Not anymore. Ylina, get your ass in here. It’s time to hit the road.” There was the sound of a door opening.
“I look like a soccer mom,” said Ylina.
“A soccer mom with fif
ty pounds of weed in the under carriage of her minivan,” said the sheriff. There was a chuckle from the other man in the room.
“I think it’s the wig that really sells it,” said Milt.
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to wear it,” said Ylina. They heard the sound of footsteps and then there was the rustle of cloth and the recording ended.
“Incriminating,” said Jane.
“Yes, very,” agreed Nikki.
“No, that’s what INC stands for. I found a text doc with notes. That was an incriminating level of plus five. The Jar Jar Binks conversation was a negative two. She also makes the following statement:
I have been coerced into smuggling marijuana for the sheriff of Pend Oreille County, Mervin Smalls. I was brought to the United States as a small child. My mother died in 2010. I have no other family in the US, and I do not know my family in Colombia. The sheriff threatened to deport or kill me if I didn’t work for him. I believe he is fully capable of carrying out either threat. Mervin Smalls imports marijuana from Canada inside cars modified by Bill Pims. He then sells it to gangs in Idaho. Using false passports and documentation, I drive the cars into Canada, put marijuana into a concealed compartment and drive them back into the US. I have made fourteen trips in the last year. The dates are noted below. I have made recordings of the Sheriff and his associates without their knowledge as proof of their crimes. I intend to—” Jane stopped reading.
“Intend to what?” asked Nikki.
“I don’t know,” said Jane. “She didn’t finish the sentence. Presumably she meant to give it to someone who could stop the sheriff.”
“We need to get this to Donny,” said Nikki. “Come on, let’s take it next door and see if he’s up yet.”
Nikki tucked the thumb drive into her pocket and exited the junkyard office. Cooter was staring at the hood ornament he’d formerly been polishing as if it were a crystal ball.
“Do you think the sheriff had something to do with Ylina’s death?” he asked looking up.
“Yes, I do,” said Nikki.
“Are you going to stop him?”
“Yes, I am.”
Cooter squinted at the sun as if checking the time of day and then back at Nikki. “That’s not going to be easy. He’s top of the food chain around here.”
“Lions always think they’re top of the food chain until they meet a crocodile,” said Nikki. “I should have stopped him before he hurt Ylina, but I promise he’s not going to hurt anyone else.”
“You seem really confident,” said Cooter frowning. “But you’re an itty bitty thing and someone said you were a Carrie Mae lady. Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“She has help,” said Jane. “And you are underestimating Carrie Mae ladies.”
Cooter scratched his head and then shrugged. “Just make it happen then, I guess.”
Nikki nodded and got in the car. It felt anti-climactic to go out to the road and then one driveway to the left, but she needed Donny on board. He was the one who could take credit for all her investigating and keep Z’ev in the dark about her adventures here in Kaniksu Falls.
Mrs. Fernandez opened the door. “Hola, Nikki,” she said smiling. “I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t get to say hello at the party.”
“I’m happy to see you, too,” said Nikki, returning the proffered hug. “And I really want to catch up, but I need to see Donny about something.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Fernandez leaned out and inspected the row of cars in the driveway.. “I’ll check his room, but I’m pretty sure he spent the night at Jackson’s. You know they haven’t had much of a chance to catch up since Donny’s been home.”
Nikki threw her hands in the air in frustration. “They never tell me anything.”
“That sounds like the boys,” said Mrs. Fernandez nodding placidly. “Do you need his cell phone number?”
“No, I’ve got it in my phone. Thanks, Mrs. Fernandez. I’ll go find him at Jackson’s.”
“OK, but when you talk to him, remind him that we’re all going to Spokane tonight for his cousin’s Quinceañera tonight. We’re leaving at six, so he has to be home by then or drive himself.”
“I’ll let him know,” said Nikki, backing toward the car. “Thanks.” Nikki flipped through her contact list as she approached the car door and dialed, but Donny didn’t pick up. Nikki tapped her nails on the roof of the car and waited for the beep.
“Donny, it’s Nikki. I’ve got a serious situation. I need your help. Call me ASAP.” She hung up the phone and went over to Jane’s car. “He spent the night at Jackson’s. Which means that they’re probably ignoring their phones and playing video games. We’ll have to go back up to Jackson’s and roust them.”
“Do you want to stop at your grandma’s and um, make sure your mom got home OK?” asked Jane.
“No, not really,” said Nikki. “But we probably ought to.”
August XXVI
Roots, Rock, Reggae
Nikki pulled into the Connelly Farm and parked behind Jane. Her grandmother’s SUV was already in front of the house. And for a moment nothing moved. Then the front door opened and Z’ev slid out, gingerly depressing the latch so as not to make any noise. He was wearing swim trunks and carrying a small cooler.
“What the hell did you do?” he whispered, tip-toeing over to the car. Jane handed him back his keys. “I haven’t seen this much crying and door slamming since my sister was fourteen.”
“So you have a sister,” said Jane. “Interesting.”
Z’ev spared a moment to give Jane a confused look. Jane smiled broadly and pointed back at Nikki.
“Yeah, Mom and I may have a had a bit of a moment.” She dialed Donny again, and again it went to voicemail.
“We’re all hiding down at the pond. I was sent on a snack retrieval mission.” He hoisted the cooler as evidence.
Nikki hung up without leaving a message. “That’s good,” she said, feeling that he was expecting some sort of reply.
“So are you going inside? Or are you hiding with us?”
“I actually need to get a hold of Donny.”
“Donny? Who cares about Donny? What did you and your mom argue about?”
“I don’t know, how about the fact that neither of you ever told me that my dad went to prison?”
Z’ev’s face twitched into an expression usually worn by small game upon catching site of a hawk. “Uh…”
“Seriously, how could you not tell me?”
“What makes you think—”
“Oh, please. I’m sure you did a background check on me.”
Jane took the cooler out of Z’ev’s hand and began to back slowly away.
“I had to for work,” he said, in a measured tone, as if he had practiced this response.
“Of course you had to,” snapped Nikki. “But once you found out my dad went to prison, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew.”
“What? You thought I was lying about my dad leaving us?”
“Well, yeah!”
“Why would I even do that?”
“Do you really want to be discussing this now?”
“No, I want to call Jackson and tell him to wake Donny up!” She stared blankly at her phone, waiting for it to magically produce the information she wanted. “Jane! I need Jackson’s number.”
“I need to go into the house for the wi-fi to do that,” said Jane who had made it all the way to the top of the path.
“Damn it!”
“I have Jackson’s number,” said Jenny, coming up the path with Ellen.
“Why do you have Jackson’s number?” Nikki felt a sour twist in her stomach.
“He gave it to me,” said Jenny with a shrug. “I was going to go over later and try out his warped wall.”
“There’s your choice, Nikki,” said Z’ev. “You can discuss with Jenny how you don’t want her to date your ex-boyfriend or you can discuss with me why I thought you were lying about your dad.”
Everyone swiveled to look at Nikki.
“Oh, my God. There are firm work / life boundaries for a reason, people. This is exactly why I didn’t want any of you here!”
“Not even me?” Jane looked hurt.
“Hey,” said Ellen. “We’re just here to help.”
“Help? When are you guys helping? I can’t leave the three of you alone without epic disaster striking! I am always on. You get to float in my damn pond, but I have to work. None of you ever stop to think about consequences because I am always there to clean up the mess. Once, just once, I’d like to not have to think about what happens next. But no, Nikki doesn’t get Cancun because Cancuning is for people who don’t have to be in charge.”
“She’s referring to herself in the third person,” said Jenny in a hoarse whisper. “That is not a good sign.”
“Gah!” Nikki threw her phone in the open window of her car. “I’m not dealing with any of you right now—I have a job to do. I’m going to go wake up Donny and make him arrest the sheriff. I will be back and maybe then I will be able to deal with all of your issues.”
Nikki slammed the car door, revved the engine, and backed down the drive, ending with a burn out one-eighty to emphasize how annoyed she was. And because, let’s face it, she enjoyed doing it.
She knew she needed to deal with the Jackson—Jenny situation, but every time she tried to think about it, her mind seemed to slide to some other thing to think about. There was no reason Jenny and Jackson shouldn’t date. Other than the fact that it was weird, damn it! Weird, weird, weird. Damn weird. Jackson belonged to her. She was used to guarding his memory as something special in the past. She wasn’t used to having him pop up and be a real person in the present with real opinions of his own. The real person he was now was well-suited to Jenny, she could see that, but at the end of the day it was still weird.
The road up to Jackson’s ranch, or vineyard, or whatever he was calling it, was well graveled and freshly oiled and she slalomed up the road with a little bit of glee, putting the Impala through its paces. The house was a log cabin. Or at least one of the modern log cabins. Luxury living in a woodsy exterior, built on a grade so it appeared to be one story from the front, but opening into a daylight basement in the back.
High-Caliber Concealer Page 24