“About eight months. Nearly eight. I suppose you’re here to talk to Vern. Unfortunately, he went elk hunting. I know, I know, he’s got six hundred head of cattle driving him to the poorhouse and he goes after an elk. Maybe he can’t even stand the sight of beef anymore. Took off sometime yesterday and drove up to his hunting camp. Told Mitchell he’d be back when he got an elk. He’s going to be disappointed he missed you. And the murders!”
“Mitchell?” Tully said. “That’s your ranch foreman, right?”
“Sort of.”
“You already know about the murders?”
“Not much happens in Famine we don’t get to hear about. So when you have three murders in one night, word gets around pretty fast. Come on in, Bo, and rest a bit. You look a little weary.”
Tully ran his fingers back through his hair to smooth it and said that he didn’t mind if he did. The living room was large, with a massive river-stone fireplace dominating one wall. Three-foot-long log sections were stacked alongside, presumably for fuel. The walls were covered with art. In a prominent place above a leather couch was one of Tully’s own paintings.
“I assume you’re the same Bo Tully who does the watercolors,” Cindy said.
“I am he. Oils, too, when I have the time.”
“Vern and I bought that picture from a gallery the last time we were in Los Angeles. It cost an arm and a leg. Vern’s, of course. He moaned for days afterwards.”
Tully smiled modestly. The gallery had somehow neglected to inform him of the sale. He supposed his share of the money was slowly making its way in his direction. He sat down on the couch, its creamy tan leather seeming to envelop him.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Cindy asked.
“Some water would be great.”
Cindy left and returned with a glass of water with ice cubes.
“Thanks, I really needed this,” Tully said. He drank. “So what’s this I hear about Vern giving up the cattle business?”
“He’s actually doing it. Various meatpacking companies have been coming in and loading up cows. He must be serious. He says he’s lost money on cows the last five years. ‘You have an enemy, give him a cow. He’ll soon be bankrupt.’ Vern tells that joke to everyone he meets.”
Tully sipped his water. “He fire his cowhands?” he said.
“He’s going to, he says. He feels bad about that, too. They’ve been with him a long time.”
Tully saw out the front window a Blight City ambulance going by out on the highway, probably to pick up the last two bodies.
“It’s done,” he said. “Driving into Famine this morning, I met Vern’s four ranch hands. They said they’d been fired by Vern’s foreman.”
“Why, that’s strange. I know Vern intended to do it himself. He was dreading it.”
“Not like Vern to take the easy way out,” Tully said.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Any chance I can meet the foreman?”
“Sure. His name is Robert Mitchell. I haven’t seen him or the other one around today. They stay at the next house down from here. Vern’s parents used to live there. They’re even getting their own cook. She’s supposed to show up any day.”
“The other one?”
“Yes, Harry Kincaid.”
Tully took out a notebook and wrote down the names.
“Vern seems to take pretty good care of Mitchell and Kincaid. I suppose they’re the ones who’ll be in charge of the grapes.”
“Grapes?”
“I understood from the old crew that Vern was kicking out the cows and turning the ranch into a vineyard.”
“Vern doesn’t discuss his plans much with me,” she said. “But I’d like grapes a whole lot better than I like cows.”
“Me, too,” Tully said. “Anyway, I’ll stop back and see if I can talk to Mitchell and Kincaid.”
“Come by anytime,” Cindy said.
“Thanks. Oh, one more thing. My father and I and one of my deputies will be staying up here tonight. I was wondering if we could sleep in your hotel. We have sleeping bags with us.”
“I guess that would be all right. There are some old army cots in some of the rooms.”
“Great,” Tully said. “I appreciate it. By the way, if you hear from Vern, please give me a call.”
“I certainly will. Right now, though, our phones are out. The phone company should be showing up anytime to fix them.”
“Good luck,” Tully said. “Well, I’d better get back to the Last Hope Road. We’ve got a real mess out there.”
“The Last Hope,” Cindy said. “The Last Hope Canyon is where Vern has his dam. I didn’t know that was where those men were killed.”
“Vern has his dam up there?” Tully said.
“Yes, it’s about a mile up the canyon. He and his dad built it about thirty years ago, during an energy shortage. He sells the electricity to Central Electric.”
“Have you seen it?”
“Vern and I drove up to it once. We drove over the mountain and down the Last Hope Canyon. The dam is all automatic. Vern monitors it from here. He’s got all the gauges and everything in the basement. If something goes wrong at the dam or someone breaks into the enclosure, an alarm goes off here. The alarm has never gone off, at least not since I’ve been here.”
“You think Vern would mind if I walked in from the bottom of the canyon and took a look at his dam?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t. I hope you don’t think the dam had anything to do with the murders.”
Tully laughed. “No, not at all. I just think it’s pretty neat, having your own private dam. If I’m ever able to get out of law enforcement, I might build one of my own.”
“Vern says it’s a whole lot less trouble than cows.”
“I’ll bet it is,” Tully said. He nodded at the wood stacked by the fireplace. “Vern cut his own firewood?”
“Yes, how else would you ever find logs like that? I can’t even lift them. But the fireplace is so big, it seems to require logs.”
On his way out to the Explorer, Tully saw a green pickup truck coming in the driveway. He leaned against his front fender and waited. Two men were in the cab. The truck pulled up across from the Explorer. The light bar and the Sheriff’s Department emblem on the Explorer did not appear to please the occupants.
“Howdy,” Tully said. He moseyed over to the open window of the driver. “You must be the fellas who work for Vern. I’m Sheriff Bo Tully.”
“Any problem, Sheriff?” the driver said, frowning, not at all friendly.
“No, none at all, not counting I got three people murdered up north of Famine. Fact is, I just stopped by to visit with Vern, but I hear he’s gone off on an elk hunt.”
The men in the truck seemed to relax. The driver reached out and shook hands with Tully. “I’m Robert Mitchell, Vern’s foreman. This is Harry Kincaid, my number one guy.” Kincaid stared straight at Tully, his expression unchanging.
“Nice to meet you,” Tully said. “I was just wondering, did Vern ever mention to you when he intended to return from his hunt?”
“Not me,” Mitchell said.
Kincaid continued to stare.
“I guess maybe when he gets an elk,” Mitchell said.
“Thanks anyway,” Tully said. “Good meeting you fellas.”
Tully glanced back at the house. Cindy Littlefield was standing in the window watching. She did not look happy.
Chapter 12
When Tully got back to the Last Hope Road, one of the state troopers had left. He told the other one he could leave, too, that the situation was just about cleaned up. He drove the Explorer under the crime-scene tape, through the creek and down the road to the clearing. A Blight City ambulance was backed up to the Jeep. He pulled the Explorer over into the brush so that the ambulance could get by. The bodies were still in the same position as when he had left. The ambulance driver and his assistant were out of their vehicle, both of them smoking cigarettes. He wondered vaguely how much they
paid ambulance personnel these days, that they could afford to smoke. Susan walked out around the Jeep, blowing some strands of hair out of her face. She was stripping off a pair of bloody latex gloves.
“I called in the ambulance,” she said. “I’d like to get the bodies back to the morgue as soon as possible.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “My Crime Scene Investigation Unit is on its way, but he won’t need the bodies.”
“I discovered Pap’s pretty good with a camera,” she said. “He’s photographed everything, including the spots back in the trees where the ambushers waited. They had some heavy firepower, automatics of some kind.”
“Automatics don’t seem like something our local boys would have lying around.”
“Hard to tell what boys have lying around these days,” she said. “I went through the victims’ pockets and billfolds. They both have L.A. addresses and lots of cash. The two in the front seat both had guns still in their holsters. Holt, the chap over the fence, probably had a gun, too, but we can’t find it. He didn’t have a holster, not one we’ve found, anyway.”
Tully walked around the car and back to Susan. “The thing I can’t figure is how the guy on the fence made it out of the back seat. The two shooters in the trees could have sprayed the whole length of the car with automatic weapons fire in a couple of seconds.”
“The back seat was riddled with bullets, too,” Susan said.
“Right. And so Holt should have been killed right here at the car. How did he avoid getting hit in the car?”
“I see what you mean,” Susan said. “The back seat area is shot to pieces. It doesn’t look as if anyone could have survived that.”
Susan walked over and started talking to the ambulance guys. Pap came out of the woods.
“I was right,” the old man said. “As usual.”
“How so?” Tully asked.
“There’s an old skid trail back in there a hundred yards or so. The shooters drove some ATVs in on it and parked them there. Then they walked through the woods and set up the ambush.”
“Were you able to tell how many?”
“Kind of. There were three pretty good-size ATVs, all of them four-wheelers. Each of them could carry two people if they were on pretty good terms with each other, so there couldn’t have been more than six people all together, maybe as few as three.”
“Shoe tracks?”
“None I could find,” Pap said. “Looked like they drug something around to erase any tracks. I walked down the trail a ways and picked up the tracks of the ATVs.”
“Folks drive ATVs all over this country,” Tully said. “Could be anybody riding them around here.”
“Except for one thing,” Pap said, taking out the makings from his jacket pocket. He carefully rolled himself a cigarette.
“And that thing is?” Tully said irritably.
“I found a splash of blood.”
“And what did you conclude from that?”
“If the fence guy did in fact shoot one of the ambushers or someone else standing back in the woods, as we think he did, they would have had to wrap the dead guy up in a poncho or a tarp or something to keep him from leaving a bloody trail all the way over to the ATVs. They’ve got the dead guy tied onto one of the ATVs, and as they’re riding out the tarp slips and spills some blood. The other shooters stop and try to cover the blood with dirt, but it’s dark and they don’t do a good job. So you can see the blood is on top of the track they came in on and that one of the ATVs went over some of it on the way out. So we can be pretty sure it ain’t blood from a deer or something.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a mistake bringing you along,” Tully said.
“Well, I’m enjoying my birthday.”
Susan came over with the ambulance driver. “If we’re finished with the bodies, the guys can get them to the morgue.”
“If you’re done with them.”
“I’ve done everything I can here. I’m going to head in, too. See if I can get the autopsies started.”
Tully didn’t like the image of this beautiful woman performing autopsies. “Where’s Buck?” he said.
“I’ve got him out looking for the gun you think Holt may have dropped or thrown away.”
The ambulance attendants were loading one of the bodies onto a stretcher.
“I’ll call the office and get someone to send a tow truck out and we’ll get this car impounded where we can check it out.”
“Good idea,” Susan said, walking over to him. “You know, this would be a really nice spot in the woods if it didn’t have blood all over it.”
The ambulance pulled out.
“It’s getting better already,” Tully said. “Speaking of blood, Pap found a patch of it over on a skid trail the ambushers apparently drove their ATVs in on. It’s almost sure to be human, but would you check it for us? See if it’s at least the same type as the blood over in the woods. Later we’ll see if the state crime lab can match the DNA.”
“Sure. Then I’ll probably take off. See you back in town.”
“Yes, you will,” Tully said.
She gave him her nice smile. Probably already in love with me, Tully thought.
Buck walked back into the clearing. Tully asked him if he had found anything. Buck shook his head. “Getting on toward supper,” he said. “You mind if I head back in?”
“Yes, I mind,” Tully said. “I need you here. Go get some coffee if you want.”
Buck seemed pleased. It was nice to be needed.
Tully said to Susan, “Now that we’ve got the bodies out of here, I’m going over the berm and walk up the road to see if I can find anything that might bring our dead friends out here for the little ambush. You want to go along?”
Susan thought for a moment, massaging her lower back with her hands. “Sure. Let me do that patch of blood Pap found, and I’ll be ready to go. By the way, I’m pretty sure the victims in the car died at three thirty-eight this morning.”
“Wow, three thirty-eight. Your science is that accurate now?”
“No. One of the bullets hit the driver’s watch. Stopped it at three thirty-eight.”
Chapter 13
Tully and Susan climbed over the berm and started up the road. “So Pap was right,” he said. “That was human blood.”
“He was right. I bet he was fun to grow up with.”
Tully glanced at her to see if she was kidding. She apparently wasn’t. “Oh yeah, he was a delight,” he said.
“You mean he wasn’t?”
“I never even knew he was my father until I was about ten. All I knew, he was the sheriff and just about everybody in town was afraid of him. We kids in particular. ‘You eat those Brussels sprouts or I’ll call the sheriff,’ parents would say. Those Brussels sprouts would vanish as if by magic.”
“Good heavens, he doesn’t seem like the kind of man anyone would be afraid of.”
“I guess that’s part of his MO.”
“Are you the kind of sheriff people are afraid of?”
Tully kicked a rock up the road. “Me? Naw, I’m a pussycat.”
“I bet.”
The road was steep and winding, and Tully paused often to look around at the scenery. Each pause caused him to take a little longer to catch his breath. Susan seemed unbothered by the climb. Probably a jogger, Tully thought. Just his luck. “Hey, huckleberry brush!” he exclaimed on the third switchback. He would have to remember this for the following summer.
They came to a tiny spring running out of the bank above the road.
“You want a drink?” Tully said, dipping a finger in the stream. “It’s ice-cold water.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! Don’t tell me you would actually drink from that! You could get giardiasis!”
“Giardiasis? Around here we call that beaver fever.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Of course I’m kidding about taking a drink from this. Sure, maybe if I was dying of thirst.” Tully was dying of thirst. “By the
way, the road is kind of muddy here. Like me to carry you across?”
“Somebody else has waded across, I think I probably can, too. The mud is about half an inch deep!”
“Thought it was worth a try,” Tully said.
Susan laughed.
Off in the distance, they could see the Blight River meandering along between its borders of cottonwoods. Several small lakes were visible in the distance. They could see the town of Famine, a cluster of miniature buildings neatly arranged along tiny streets. Famine looked a lot better from a distance than it did up close. Susan, on the other hand, looked pretty darn good up close. He was pretty sure she would look even better the closer he got.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said, peering out at the valley.
“Yeah, Idaho is a beautiful state. But Blight County itself is a corrupt little place.”
“Corrupt?”
“Only in the good sense. Most of the politicians can be bought, but they don’t charge much. Even the poor can afford a politician or two. It’s very democratic that way.”
They came to a road cut into the canyon wall. It led down to Vern Littlefield’s dam. The reservoir behind the dam stretched back up the canyon and around a bend. A high, padlocked gate prevented them from walking down the road. The dam and an adjacent building were enclosed by a Cyclone fence with coils of razor wire along the top.
“Vern apparently maintains his dam by driving over the mountain between here and the ranch,” Tully said. “According to his wife, Cindy, he’s got a security system that lets him know if anybody is fooling around the dam.”
“It’s a pretty modest little dam,” Susan said.
“Yeah, but I’ve always wanted my own little dam.”
Susan smiled.
Rounding a craggy corner, they came to the Last Hope Mine. It had been a much larger operation than Tully had imagined. Tailings from the mine filled the entire upper half of a gully and had been bulldozed flat on top. Most of the buildings, roofed with rusted corrugated steel, were still intact. A large, open, timber-framed structure held several huge tubs that Tully thought probably had contained acid baths to separate the gold from rock. A dozen small cabins were situated in a flat area that had been dozed out of the mountain-side, residences, apparently, for the workers and their families.
The Blight Way Page 6