Buffalo Bill's Defunct (9781564747112)

by Simonson, Sheila

  When her hands were free at last and she held them out, Jack gave a little sob.

  Rob said, “Let me talk to her.”

  Vance handed Maddie the phone.

  “I have Jack here, Madeline. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” Her hand fumbled the phone. “My hand’s asleep. Tell Jack I love him.”

  Rob waited.

  “I won’t let you do this, Lieutenant.” Her voice was hoarse from disuse. She cleared her throat.

  “Why not? It makes sense.”

  “Maybe to you. I have a responsibility to my people.”

  Rob’s anger blazed. “What is it with you, Chief? Do you always hog the limelight? There are more lives at stake here than yours. You’ve already sacrificed one young man to your little project. If Vance Tichnor is cornered out at the gate, he won’t hesitate to shoot everything in sight.”

  I can’t—”

  Rob closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. Please, Madeline, just walk out of there and tell your kids to go home.”

  “You’re sure? The Dancers—”

  “I’ll bring The Dancers out to you.”

  Silence. Rob heard Vance say something sharp.

  “All right.” Madeline sounded weary. “I’ll do what you say.”

  Vance took the phone from her. “Satisfied?”

  “Yes. Thank you. Can you see me?”

  “Yes, but I don’t see…ah, there’s Ethan. Okay, big brother, disarm the bastard.”

  Rob handed Dr. Tichnor the telephone and withdrew his handgun from the shoulder holster. The doctor took it with shaking fingers and dropped it into his pocket. His jacket sagged from the weight.

  Rob held his arms out. “Tell him you’re searching me.”

  Tichnor complied and Vance said something.

  “He asked if you’re wearing a bulletproof vest. He wants you to remove it.”

  “Okay.” Rob dropped the Kevlar vest on the weeds at his feet. He felt lighter and colder. He pulled his jacket back in place.

  The snow had almost stopped. Patches of white gleamed on the dirt of Vance’s yard.

  The doctor kept the phone to his ear with his left hand. His right moved lightly over Rob, patting but not prodding. Vance’s voice squawked.

  “He says you can start walking now. Take care, Robert.”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s coming,” Jack muttered.

  Rob picked his way down the uneven slope to the footbridge, careful to keep his hands in sight. When he reached the bridge, he waited for Maddie. She walked as if something hurt.

  When she reached him, she said, “I am more sorry than I can say.”

  “Go send your people home.” Rob kept walking. Vance Tichnor loomed. He stood well back, close to the door as if wary of snipers. He kept the gun centered on Rob’s face, holding the weapon in both hands. Rob thought it was a .38.

  “Come up here, sucker.”

  Rob climbed the stairs with deliberation, hands out from his sides. Empty hands, he thought. That’s good. Tichnor was sweating. As Rob approached the door, Tichnor took a step sideways and Rob felt cold metal touch his ear.

  “In the house ahead of me. No tricks.”

  Rob took his time, eyes narrowed against the light. The lounge was huge and unfurnished except for a couple of plastic outdoor chairs. It had a very high ceiling and the colors were muted. The hardwood floors needed polishing. A huge wall of teak cabinets on the left had to be the media center.

  “Sit,” Tichnor said. “I’m going to tie you up.”

  Empty hands, Rob thought. He turned slowly so as not to alarm the other man. “I thought maybe you’d show me the Lauder Point loot first, Vance. I’ve been looking for it for ten years, after all.”

  Vance gave a sneering laugh. “Some detective.”

  “It’s supposed to be interesting, especially the petroglyphs.” Rob kept his face blank, hands out from his sides, light and empty. He had an impulse to remove his boots, too, as if he were engaged in some kind of mystical martial arts lesson. He held Tichnor’s gaze.

  Vance laughed, a sharp, uneasy sound, and shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “You’ll want me to help you move the stuff. The petroglyphs must weigh a lot.” They were on the small side, as rock drawings went, but had to be heavy.

  Vance thought. “You move them. I hold the gun.”

  “Whatever. Where is it?”

  “Over there.” Vance gestured with the gun. Getting careless.

  Rob walked slowly across the room and touched the handle of the “closet” door. It opened with a heavy, soundless swing that indicated its true function. “Where’s the light?”

  “Left of the door.”

  Rob felt and touched a switch. The lights came up gradually and he caught his breath.

  He was facing something like a shrine. Glass-fronted teak cabinets lit from within displayed the artifacts with an elegance that called attention not to any one piece but to the ensemble. Here, they said, is an important collection.

  The three petroglyphs had pride of place, with Tsagiglalal, She Who Watches, in the center, Running Elk to the left, and The Dancers to the right. Even the minor artifacts—baskets, drums, stone pieces—had been arranged with sensitivity. Rob looked hard at The Dancers, off balance without the missing shard. The ritual knife glittered on sky blue velvet.

  Rob said, “I’m impressed. A German businessman would be blown away.”

  “German?”

  “You were going to use the lodge to entertain foreign investors, weren’t you?”

  “Want to make something of it?”

  “No. I’ll need packing materials. Boxes.”

  “Out in the kitchen.” Vance waved Rob out with the gun barrel. Vance had apparently forgotten about tying Rob up.

  When he had retrieved a couple of boxes under Tichnor’s suspicious gaze and gone back to the secure room, Rob said, “What first?”

  “The small stuff. I removed the seats from the van earlier. You can lay the rock drawings flat in the back, layer them with blankets, and pile the boxes on top.”

  “Sounds as if you’ve been thinking.”

  “If you’re going to do it, get a move on. It’s turning dark already.”

  Rob approached the cabinet that held the ceremonial drums. “I guess it won’t hurt me to handle these things one time, but I sure wouldn’t want to make a habit of it.”

  “Shut up. What do you mean?”

  “They’re contaminated with DDT. Didn’t you know?”

  “I don’t believe you!” The gun waved.

  Take it slow. “That was what I was trying to warn you about, the first message I left on your cell phone. The parks people used to dust organic artifacts with DDT to prevent insect damage. Must be fifteen years’ worth of pesticide on these things. How do I open this?”

  “I’ll open it.” Vance sounded agitated and his movements were jerky.

  Rob took a step backwards and waited as Vance wrestled the latch one-handed. The gun moved to cover Rob.

  “The feds have sent out health warnings. Lot of medical double-talk. I gather that DDT accumulates from repeated exposure.” Rob shook his head. “I don’t suppose you have latex gloves in that kitchen.”

  “I…no. You’re shitting me.”

  “Why would I lie about DDT?” Using the tips of his fingers, Rob removed the first drum from its nest and laid it carefully in the nearest box. “We ought to cover this with newspaper or something.”

  “I don’t have newspaper.”

  “Wouldn’t want to mar the surface. That’s elkhide. They scrape it and use elk brains to cure it. How about using cloth? You must have towels or blankets.”

  “Towels. No. Get out of here. I have to talk to you. What about this DDT?” When Rob turned and looked at him, Vance waved the gun. He was sweating. “Out.”

  Rob walked very slowly out into the lounge.

  “Sit on that chair. That one. Move it
.”

  Rob stood still. “DDT kills small animals. Mice, bats, fish. The effects are slower for people, but over the years… Say, you don’t have asthma, do you? Your breathing is kind of harsh.”

  “Stop it!” Vance screamed. “I want you to sit down!”

  Empty hands, empty hands. Rob turned, knees bent. Now. He dropped to the floor, legs slashing. The gun went off as it flew from the other man’s hand. Vance fell.

  Deaf from the gunshot, Rob scrambled. Tichnor was heavier and taller, but he was carrying excess weight. They rolled across the floor, grappling for control. Rob used his knees. As Rob’s elbow connected with his jaw, Vance grunted and sagged onto the oak surface.

  Rob twisted Vance’s right arm back and pinned the wheezing man belly down on the slick floor. Blood splattered where his chin hit the boards. Rob jerked and heard the joint crack. Vance moaned.

  “Lie still!” Rob dug one knee into Tichnor’s back and pinned the flailing left arm with his other leg. He could see Vance’s .38 where it had slid all the way across the room and come to rest against the base of the media center. Vance heaved, and Rob twisted the arm, yanking up. Then he groped for the radio in his left pocket, thumbed it on, and shouted for help. Vance howled like a dog.

  MEG drove back to Klalo in the dual wake of the ambulance and Jake’s patrol car. Tom and Towser cried the whole way. Both of them had a lot to cry about.

  Something was going on at Vance Tichnor’s access road. Meg thought she glimpsed picketers with signs among the cops and cop-cars, but she didn’t dally to find out what was going on. Jake and the ambulance sped south, and Meg followed. Lights flashed, sirens whooped, and nobody messed with them.

  They ducked down out of the snow almost at once, but the road was wet with rain. Meg slewed around corners and almost lost control half a dozen times, but all three vehicles reached the hospital safely.

  At the emergency room entrance, Meg left Tom and Towser to guard the car and ran over to Jake. He said he was waiting for the doctors to evaluate Carol’s condition. He had talked to the sheriff, who intended to charge Carol with the murder of Edward Redfern, and though it probably wouldn’t hold up in court, the attempted murder of Margaret McLean, Librarian.

  At the scene, Jake had bagged Carol’s gun and called a tow truck to bring her car in. The paramedics had found her purse, with identification and insurance card, stuffed into the left pocket of the camel’s-hair coat, so Meg didn’t see any point in sticking around the hospital. She had no intention of calling Charlotte Tichnor. Let the police inform Carol’s mother. Meg hoped never to see or talk to a Tichnor again. She said so, with passion.

  Jake agreed to come the next day for her full statement. Out at the lake, he’d recorded preliminary statements from Meg and Patsy while the paramedics worked to stabilize Carol.

  “What about the dog?” That was the question uppermost in Meg’s mind now the surgeons had charge of Carol.

  “She shot him?”

  “Yes. I saw it. She told me she was going to shoot me, too. He saved my life. They can’t put Towser down. It’s not fair!”

  Jake said, “I dunno, Meg. Try not to worry about it. The thing is, that dog is dangerous.”

  “That dog is a hero.” Meg was almost in tears herself.

  “Hey, nothing’s going to happen right now. Take the pooch to the vet and have him checked out. And, uh, maybe you’d better change clothes.”

  Meg looked down at her hands and arms. They were brown with dried blood. She supposed she was splattered all over. For the first time, it occurred to her to worry about exposure to whatever maladies Carol’s blood might carry. She groaned.

  Jake read her mind. “They can test you for AIDS and so on later. No hurry.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Hey, it’s routine these days.”

  Abruptly, she came to her senses. “I’m dithering. Right. Thank you, Jake, and I hope you find Todd.”

  “Yeah, me, too. I hope I get out of here in time for the raid.”

  “Raid?”

  “Well, not a raid. Rob’s serving Tichnor with a search warrant.”

  “I knew that. The patrol cars, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It went out of my mind, what with Carol and the dog.” She stood on tiptoe and gave Jake a swift peck on the cheek. “Good luck. Give my love to Annie.”

  He grinned. “See you later.”

  Tom composed himself in time to deal with the vet, so Meg paced the waiting room while pet owners clutched their sick animals and stared at her as if she were Lady Macbeth.

  When Tom and Towser came out at last, the veterinarian came with them.

  He patted Tom on the arm and scratched Towser’s head. “Don’t worry, boy, we’ll take care of you.” He looked at Meg. “This dog will not be put down.” He sounded as if he expected her to argue.

  “Good. “ Meg felt a surge of relief that she wouldn’t have to mount a crusade. “Let me know what I can do to help. Ready, Tom?”

  Tom nodded and clutched at Towser’s leash. Meg thought the dog had been tranquilized. A good thing.

  She drove home without listening to Tom’s report on Towser’s medical condition and saw the two of them off in a daze. Then she ran into her house, stuffed all the clothes she had been wearing into a garbage bag, and showered until the hot water ran out.

  Between diminishing jolts of adrenaline, she felt so exhausted that she lay down on the sofa and slept. She thrashed through nightmares but never quite surfaced. It was pitch dark out when she did wake up, and the doorbell was ringing.

  She stumbled to her feet, ran a hand through her hair, and walked down the dim hall. If it was Darcy Wheeler, Meg was going to send her off with a flea in her ear.

  Rob was leaning on the doorbell.

  She blinked at him, wordless.

  “Are you all right? I phoned and you didn’t answer. When they dropped me off, I knocked at the back door and that didn’t work either.” He took a big breath. “So I came around here. I thought something was wrong.”

  “What time is it?”

  “After ten.”

  “Come in. I was just taking a nap on the couch.” She pulled him down the hall and plunked him onto the sofa. “You look terrible. What happened to your arm?” He was holding his left arm stiffly.

  “Cracked my elbow on Vance Tichnor’s jaw.”

  “What! Tell me.”

  He sank back and she sat beside him, almost but not quite touching.

  “Nope,” he said. “You first. Jake gave me his version. Why the hell did you drive out there at all?”

  “Cabin fever.”

  “Yeah, but why Tyee? You knew I was going after Vance.” He sounded accusatory, as if she had committed some infraction.

  Meg bristled. “No, sir, I did not know any such thing. You told me you were getting a search warrant. That’s all.”

  “All!”

  “I’m not an experienced police officer. What do I know? If you’d said you were going to take Vance into custody, I’d have stayed out of the way.”

  “Hmmph.”

  “I don’t know this area, remember? You mentioned your place at the lake, and it sounded interesting. So I loaded Tom and Towser into the Accord and took off.”

  “But Earl said—”

  “Earl. Ha! Earl told me to clear out, to leave the DDT test to the big boys. So I left. I went away. I did what you wanted, I even found your murderer, and now you’re bawling me out?”

  Rob groaned. “I can always count on good old Earl.”

  “Then pushing me out wasn’t your idea?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then.” Meg frowned. “Earl wants your job.”

  Rob grinned. “I know. It’s fun to watch him.” The smile faded. “I worried about you.”

  She took a good look at him. “Well, I didn’t worry about you, but I guess I should have. Tell me everything. No, wait, I’ll get the Scotch.” She jumped up.

  When she got to the kit
chen, her stomach informed her that the Tenas Klootchman hamburger was a thing of the distant past, so she fixed a plate of cheese, olives, and crackers, threw in a bowl of Bakersfield almonds, and poured Scotch. Doubles. She carried the tray to the living room.

  Rob, who was leaning against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed, opened one eye and burst into laughter.

  “What?”

  “I was laying this little bet with myself.” He wiped his eyes, chuckling.

  Meg set the tray down. “And you won?”

  “I won. I knew if I looked pitiful enough you couldn’t resist feeding me.” He pulled her down beside him.

  Meg sat but she was still on her dignity. “I’m feeding me.” She crunched an almond. “I slept through dinner.”

  He sat up, took a glass, and raised it in salute. “Confusion to our enemies.”

  “Confusion to Tichnors.” She clanked her glass on his, sipped Laphroaig, and grabbed a cracker. When she had laid a slab of Tillamook sharp cheddar on it, she said, “Now you can tell me. I’m fortified.”

  He gave her a terse account of his afternoon. By the time he finished she had lost her appetite for cheese and crackers.

  “So you charged Vance with murder?” she asked almost at random, because her mind was not on legal details. At some point his arm had circled her shoulders. She leaned against him, feeling the warm thrum of life in him.

  “Two counts and theft. He admitted to me that he killed Hal and Meek, but confessions aren’t enough these days. The DA thinks the evidence is weak in the Meek case, but he was willing to give it a try. The campground site is still being examined, and Jeff is after witnesses, so who knows what they’ll come up with?”

  “Who knows?” she echoed, snuggling.

  “We think we have a footprint from Brandstetter’s deck that matches a pair of boots Earl found at the lodge. That, the gun, and the van make that case stronger. We also charged Vance with possession of stolen goods. And we have a blood sample. If his cholesterol level is as high as I think it is, we should be able to test for DDT without getting a court order.”

  Meg had to laugh.

  “And, of course, we have the artifacts.”