“Hey, doc. If you really believe that Jesus is coming, maybe you should begin to worry. You do realize that he was a mud person, don’t you? How do you think that bodes for your future?”
I didn’t wait to hear the answer but strode out of his office, past the profusion of bruised and broken bodies that patiently waited for help.
I suspected the United Christian Patriots worked as a funnel, picking up society’s dregs and outcasts on hot-button issues like gun control and environmental restrictions. Go a little deeper and the ideology grew more dogmatic, becoming racist and hammering at the heavy hand of the federal government. Finally there were the truly hard-core, who were drawn into the funnel’s very narrowest end. It was there that fanatics like McVeigh, and possibly Hutchins, popped out to wreak havoc. If they attacked, it would be when I least expected. As usual, I’d managed to land right in the middle of the vortex.
Thirteen
I was barely past the outskirts of Browning when my cell phone rang.
“Porter! Exactly what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The voice belonged to my boss, Hank Turner.
“What? No hello first?” I joked.
The response was a deep pit of silence.
“Okay, what’s the problem?”
There was a long pause, followed by a heartfelt sigh. “Where do I start? First off, I just received an irate call about your activities on the reservation. It’s been alleged that you’re harassing the clinic doctor, disturbing his patients, and generally running amuck.”
I must have stirred the pot even better than I’d thought.
“Can I ask who lodged the complaint?” I inquired, certain that I already knew.
“It was an anonymous call.”
“Naturally,” I chuckled.
“Would you like to know why?” Turner’s voice lashed out. “It’s because they’re afraid you’ll retaliate. It seems you were overheard making threats.”
That did it! My instincts about Hutchins had to be correct. He was obviously involved with killing grizzlies for their galls. Otherwise why would he want me out of the way so badly?
“And you automatically believed these accusations?”
“Let’s just say I’ve learned why you’ve been bounced around the Service so much.”
“I’ve also solved every case I’ve ever worked on,” I volleyed.
“That doesn’t mean crap. Not if it’s been the cause of all the trouble that’s plagued you in the past. Either you learn to handle situations with tact, or I’m going to have to forbid you to leave the office. We need someone to do all the paperwork, anyway. I’m tempted to make you the goddamn secretary and save myself a whole world of trouble.”
I wondered if male agents ever had to deal with such threats. Grizzlies weren’t the only species that could’ve used a little more support from the powers that be within Fish and Wildlife.
“Have I made myself clear?” Turner demanded.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from sniping back. “Perfectly.”
“All right then. But that’s not the only reason I’m calling.”
Oh shit. Who else had I ticked off within the last couple of hours? Then I remembered. There was that little hide-and-seek game I’d conducted at Rory Calhoun/ Benny Gugliani’s place.
“The Missoula police just phoned to report that your office has been broken into.”
“Is that all?” I muttered, breathing a sigh of relief.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Turner snapped. “And by the way, what exactly are you doing up north again?”
“I’m working on that eagle feather case,” I quickly tap-danced. “Remember?”
“Well, you’re sure taking your good ol’ time solving something that should be pretty cut-and-dried. I suggest you get your butt back down to Missoula right now and find out what’s going on there.”
He hung up before I had a chance to say, “Roger. Over and out.”
My activities on the rez would have to be put on hold for a few days. I turned the Ford around and began to head south, then placed a call to Sally. A girlish giggle greeted me as she answered the phone.
“Sally? Is that you?”
A man’s laughter peppered the background, adding to the carefree atmosphere.
“Why hello, dear. Hal and his cat are here. When should we expect you for dinner?” She tittered again, and I suspected Ornish was putting the moves on her. “Sorry, but Casanova is rubbing up against my leg and tickling me.”
I wondered exactly which “Casanova” she meant.
“I just found out that I need to return to Missoula right away, but I plan to be back in a couple of days.”
A round of feverish whispers broke out on the other end of the wire.
“Hal says that you should take your time. He’s planning to stay up here with me for a while.”
Evidently Hutchins wasn’t the only one who wanted me out of the way.
“Would you mind letting Matthew know that I’ll call him when I return?” Getting some distance between us probably wasn’t a bad idea.
“Why don’t you just call him yourself?”
“Sorry, Sally, but the reception is breaking up,” I responded, and began to scratch my nails against the receiver. “Please relay the message to him for me.”
I quickly hung up before she could respond. Okay, so I was a coward. But each additional contact only succeeded in drawing me that much closer to Running.
I turned the volume up on the radio, but the noise did nothing to drown out the montage of steamy images of Matthew and me that flashed through my brain. I sped down the blacktop, determined to escape them, and had very nearly succeeded, when the sun seductively gilded the few remaining leaves on a cottonwood tree so that they appeared to burst into flame.
Talk about Freud and Jung. Maybe a cigar is sometimes just a cigar, but those blazing leaves rekindled a fire that was burning inside me. I was sorely tempted to call Santou right now; maybe a little phone sex would work as a way of reconnecting. But he was deep undercover on a case, and I had no idea where to find him.
I was actually relieved to walk into the disaster that awaited me at my office. The place had been totally ransacked, but at least it took my mind off Matthew Running.
Folders were torn apart and their contents strewn everywhere. If paper were snow, the office would have been buried beneath a blizzard and declared a natural disaster. But that wasn’t the worst of it; all the computer disks had been raided. The kicker was that I couldn’t be certain exactly what was missing, since everything had involved Carolton’s unsolved cases. There wasn’t much to do other than simply clean up debris.
As I gathered a heap of papers, something sharp jabbed my finger. I carefully sifted through the wreckage until I found the culprit: a small, gold, heart-shaped pin with a serrated edge. Hmm…Not only had I seen one just like it hanging around Cherry Jubilee’s neck, but it was an exact duplicate of the pin on Kyle Lungren’s shirt pocket. Love can be vicious. Evidently, so could jewelry. I stuck the pin in my pants pocket.
By the time I headed home, I was exhausted. I’d thought it would be a relief to spend some time alone, but the house felt uncomfortably empty without Ornish and his pain-in-the-ass cat. A note lay on the kitchen table, so I picked it up and read it.
In the event that you actually come home, Casanova and I have gone up to woo Sally. She’s a woman in need of a man, and it’s about time we settled down.
In Ornish’s own way, that was pretty romantic. At least it beat a personal ad that I’d recently spotted in the local newspaper.
Rancher looking for a good cowgirl with a good horse. Send picture of horse.
Sally was already way ahead of the game.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I had yet to eat dinner. I opened the fridge, but Hal was just as bad as I was about grocery shopping. The edibles ran from moldy Brie to an open can of Friskies chicken and liver. I settled upon a partially eaten p
int of Häagen-Dazs and a bag of stale Fig Newtons. At least it covered my fruit and dairy requirements.
I was just sitting down to outguess the loser contestants on The Weakest Link when the doorbell rang. I instantly jumped. Sheesh—Hutchins must have gotten to me more than I’d cared to admit. I grabbed my .38, stuck it in the back of my jeans, and cautiously opened the door.
Talk about your knockout surprises! The hulking figure towering before me stood about six feet five and weighed close to three hundred pounds. Pointy alligator shoes, a diamond pinkie ring that flashed in the moonlight, flattened nose, and perfectly pomaded pompadour…it was none other than Vinnie Bertucci, former bodyguard and butler to con artist extraordinaire Hillard Williams. Williams was the businessman I’d busted for smuggling cocaine inside gator skin shipments down in New Orleans.
“Hey, New Yawk! How youse doin’?”
How I was doing was dumbfounded.
Vinnie stepped inside without waiting to be invited. “Nice place ya got here. Too bad I ain’t working no more as a butler. It looks like you could use some help in the cleaning department.”
Gee, whatever had given him that impression—the wads of cat hair floating about like free-form sculptures, or the piles of Tender Vittles that Casanova had swatted across the floor?
“Vinnie, what a surprise! What are you doing here in Montana?”
He took off his jacket and flexed his pecs, causing his baby-blue Banlon shirt to tightly stretch across his muscles. It was nice to know that at least one of us had been working out.
“I’m here on vacation. I thought I might enjoy whackin’ a few fish or something.”
My guess was that or something were the operative words here.
“Anyways, I heard youse was in the area and thought I’d look ya up.”
“Oh yeah? Who told you where to find me?”
“Let’s just say I got friends who got friends.”
Uh-huh. Most likely, they were all connected to the mob.
Vinnie lifted the open pint of chocolate chocolate-chip Häagen-Dazs off the hallway table. “I see you’re still eating crap.”
“Isn’t it nice to know that some things never change?”
Licking his palm, Vinnie slicked an errant strand of hair back into pomaded place. “I’ll betcha ten to one that’s your dinner. Come on; I’m starving. Let’s go grab a steak.”
I took him to the Depot for a king-size meal, after which we hit the Stockman for drinks. Vinnie eyeballed a tee-shirt that hung above the bar and bore the Stockman’s emblem—a longhorn steer flashing a shit-eating grin while holding a mug of beer in its hoof. But it was the logo beneath that caught his fancy.
Liquor Up Front, Poker in the Rear.
Vinnie emitted a high-pitched giggle. “That shirt is terrific. I gotta buy a coupla those to take back home to the boys. Even the guys on The Sopranos would love ’em!”
I took a sip of my Moose Drool.
“How the hell can you drink something with a name like that?” Vinnie’s pinkie remained ever so properly curled as he picked up his Scotch and downed it.
“So Vinnie, are you still living in New Orleans?”
“Nah. That place is shot to hell. Too many damn college kids running around drunk. Anyway, I did my time down there. These days I’m back home in New Yawk with all the other Italians. I don’t like living where you can’t get a decent pizza.”
Vinnie must have worked off whatever debt he’d had to pay, and was once again back in the mob’s good graces.
“So what kind of equipment are you planning to take with you on your fishing expedition?” I asked, doing some fishing of my own.
“I thought a coupla sticks a dynamite would do it.”
Just as I’d figured. “And what sort of fish are you hoping to catch?”
Vinnie rolled his eyes and ordered another Scotch. “One that won’t bite me in the ass. How the hell should I know? Whatever’s splashing around in the water. Why? What’re youse so curious for?”
I shrugged and drank my beer. “I could use a little excitement in my life. Come on, Vinnie. What gives?”
Little Italy downed his second Scotch and gave me an affectionate shot in the arm. “You ever think about quitting this crap and making some serious money, you let me know. You’re a persistent little sucker. I’ll give ya that.”
“Does that mean you’re going to tell me?”
Vinnie must have been feeling pretty relaxed. “Okay. But it’s only ’cause we’re friends and go a ways back. I got your word that I can trust ya on this, right?”
“You know how it works, Vinnie. I don’t get involved, as long as you’re not here to kill someone or deal in illegal wildlife.”
“Kill someone! That’s rich,” he snickered. “I’m just taking care of some unfinished business for the boys, is all. I get the job done, I get bumped up at work. Kinda like a promotion.”
So far, so good. Now it was time for the million-dollar question. “And what kind of work are you doing these days?”
Vinnie paused and thought about that for a moment. “Let’s just say I’m in the collection business. You know, like someone steals a chunk of cash from my employers? Well, they’d like it back. I’m here to track the guy down. I just wanna have a little talk with him, is all. I’m sure Rudy will see things my way.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“A short, yappy little guy with a personality about as annoying as a gnat. Tomasso is the last name he goes by.”
The steak dinner queasily rock-’n’-rolled in my stomach. Tomasso was one of the aliases living in Benny Gugliani’s medicine cabinet!
“I figure the guy’s gotta stick out like a sore thumb living in this friggin’ state.”
“What makes you think he’s here?” I asked, doing my best to appear disinterested.
“I tracked him down as far as Phoenix, then I got a tip that he’s living somewhere up here in the woods. You know. Kinda like the Unabomber.”
“So, how much did this guy take?”
“Just outta curiosity?”
“Just out of curiosity.”
“Let’s say several mil.”
“I see. And what happens if you can’t find him?”
“That ain’t an option.”
The words hung in the air like dead weight.
“But don’t you worry about that. It ain’t your problem. Anyways, I’m stayin’ at the Hilton for the next coupla days. What say we get together some more while I’m here?”
“That would be fine. The only thing is that I’m heading off for a while. I have to go down to Yellowstone on a case,” I fibbed, my mind reeling with the new information about Benny Gugliani.
“What’s down there?”
I hesitated.
“Hey, I tell you. You tell me. That’s how it works.”
“Grizzlies are being killed for their gallbladders. It’s an Asian medicinal thing.”
“That’s disgusting,” Vinnie commiserated and made a sour face. “Anyone does something like that deserves to be whacked, hacked, and dumped in the river in a barrel. They’re the scum of the earth, hurting poor little animals.”
I didn’t bother to tell him this poor little animal not only had the strength of a pile driver in each claw, but wouldn’t think twice about tearing him wide open.
“Sorry that I won’t be around more,” I said as we parted for the night.
“That’s okay. I’ll catch up with ya at some point along the way.” Vinnie gave me a sharp pat on the cheek and lumbered off toward the Hilton.
I felt slightly guilty about having lied, even as I wondered how much of a “coincidence” it really was that Vinnie had looked me up—and if this was the money from the Medicare scam. I went to bed with that thought.
I drifted off contemplating what the possible connection might be between Vinnie, Benny Gugliani, Doc Hutchins, and the bear gallbladder trade.
Soon I was no longer in my room but deep in grizzly country. Hawks and
eagles soared lazily overhead as I hiked up a steep ravine. It was a mystical zone of grandeur where the wild things met—badger, bear, and wolverine.
In no time at all, I was standing atop a mesa and looking down upon the rest of the world. Not a sound, not a murmur destroyed the absolute silence. That is, until a resounding crash broke out and I whirled around to face a Sherman tank of hurtling fur. A grizzly was coming straight for me. The critter’s muscles undulated beneath a coat that shone luminescent in the light, almost as if a ghost on four stocky legs were attacking.
Reality hit as its jaws grabbed hold of my body. Looking up, I saw a giant paw slash through the air like a machete. My pulse roared in my ears and the breath rushed from my lungs as five honed claws ripped through skin, flesh, and bone. I knew that Death had come for me.
If you act like prey, you become prey, my brain shrieked.
But I could barely think above the loud buzzing that filled the air. The sound was that of my bones crunching. Each excruciating gnash drove home the grizzly’s point.
You have to decide which it will be. I either cease to exist, or you fight harder for me. The wilderness is no Disneyland and man is not the most powerful creature to walk this earth. That’s what people hate more than anything else. I make them face their primeval fear.
I jerked awake with a start and found myself covered in cold sweat. I knew deep in my heart that I’d just been visited by Old Caleb. My blood rushed through my veins as I struggled to catch my breath. Then I got up and checked every corner in the room, knowing that the bogeyman never slept.
Fourteen
After that dream, I didn’t wait until sunrise, but drove like a bat out of hell north, aware that I was on the trail of something big. I could feel it in my bones, in every vein, in every cell. It was as if I’d been jogging my way through this case; now I was determined to push the throttle up to full speed.
I hotfooted it straight to Benny’s house. Naturally, the entrance gate was closed and locked. I planted my finger on the buzzer and didn’t let up until Benny finally responded.
A Killing Season Page 16