Zeb Hanks Mystery Box Set 1

by Mark Reps

  “Did they explain why the police had the plates? Did they say what they wanted?”

  “Not exactly. They said they found them on a stolen car that had been abandoned at a wayside rest. They just said they were coming down to the reservation today to have a little chat with me.”

  “Today? When today?”

  “I imagine they’re out there waiting for me now.”

  “Are you purposely trying to put a bee in their bonnet?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “You should show at least a modicum of respect.”

  “Why? Let them wait. We Apaches have been waiting for over a hundred years for any kind of satisfaction from those scoundrels who stole our land. Why should I go out of my way to make their life easier?”

  “It wasn’t the state highway department or the state police who stole Apache land. You know that.”

  “It’s close enough. Both of them work for the big White machine in Washington.”

  Kate found Eskadi’s incorrigible, anti-establishment behavior both charming and alarming. As tribal chairman he knew working cooperatively with the powers that be could prove beneficial. If he angered the wrong political people, the amount of hassle brought on the people of the San Carlos Reservation could be significant. Yet, when it came to dealing with the bureaucracies, he was as stubborn as a mule and as troublesome as a wild child.

  “What are you going to tell them?” she asked.

  “It depends on what they ask me.”

  “You’re going to be forthcoming with them, aren’t you?”

  Did you ever meet an Indian that wasn’t honest?”

  Eskadi raised his hand, mimicking and mocking the stereotypical pose of a cigar store Indian.

  “I swear, you are a little bit loco,” laughed Kate. “Promise me you’ll let me know what happens?”

  “Of course. Why do you think I’m here right now?”

  “I thought maybe you just wanted to see me,” replied Kate.

  “Then maybe after I talk with them, I’ll have a reason to come back and see you again. Or maybe you’ll have a reason to stop by and see me. It’s been a while since you’ve been up to the Rez.”

  Helen’s knock on the door interrupted what had become a far too infrequent personal moment between the pair.

  “Deputy Steele, Josh Diamond is here. He’s asking to talk with you.”

  “Tell him it will be just a minute.”

  “Official business, I presume?” asked Eskadi.

  “Don’t get jealous. He is a very good man, but not necessarily my type.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Besides, someone’s already got their designs on me...or so I’ve been led to believe.”

  Eskadi’s deep ebony eyes smiled as broadly as his lips.

  “I will call you.”

  Eskadi cast a stern expression in the direction of the ruggedly handsome Josh Diamond as they passed.

  9

  “Josh, have a seat.”

  “Thank you, Deputy Steele.”

  “Call me Kate, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Josh Diamond’s soft southern accent puzzled her. Sheriff Hanks had mentioned that Josh had moved to Safford from Bisbee, a small town near the Mexican border in central Arizona. The sheriff had also said they had served together as young men working for the border patrol. Before that, Josh had enlisted in the Marines and had served in Desert Storm, the first Iraqi war.

  In the few short months he had lived in town, rumors about his past were plentiful. He had allegedly been a member of the Special Forces in Iraq and Kuwait, a military operative behind enemy lines in Bosnia, and a Texas bounty hunter. Most of them were just that, rumors. The serenity and calmness in his face deeply contrasted with the image of a man possibly involved in such a vast array of human hunting endeavors.

  The truth, in fact, was that he had worked with bomb sniffing German Shepherds in combat and non-combat situations in Kuwait. He trained, handled and ultimately was deployed in the field with these dogs. He referred to himself as a military dog handler when asked by those close to him.

  “The county has arranged to take care of your hospital bills.” Kate slid an official form across the desk toward him. “Just sign on the dotted line. Press hard, it’s in triplicate.”

  “Thank you,” said Josh sliding the form back at Kate. “It’s not necessary. I have health insurance and I never get the chance to use it. I might as well get something for all those premiums I pay,” laughed Josh.

  “Are you certain? All I have to do is send this form over to the hospital and everything will be taken care of.”

  “I’m sure it will. But let’s keep the taxpayers from footing this bill.”

  “Then let me extend my official thank you from the sheriff’s department and the citizens of Graham County for helping us.”

  “For getting in the way of flying debris?”

  The injured man raised the arm cast and beamed broadly.

  “And the broken bones,” added Kate, returning the smile.

  “Your thanks is officially noted and accepted,” said Josh.

  “Fair enough.”

  Sheriff Hanks walked past Deputy Steele’s office and stuck his head in the doorway, interrupting what was quickly becoming a flirtatious encounter.

  “How you feeling, Josh?” asked Zeb.

  “Doing all right,” replied Josh. “Even better now.”

  Zeb looked at his old friend, looked at his deputy and looked back at Josh.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Reporting a crime.”

  “You’ve only been out of the hospital for a couple of hours,” said Zeb. “What’s happened?”

  “While I was looking for bombs and getting patched up in the hospital, somebody broke into my store. Five handguns, a fair amount of ammunition, some merchandise and a personal item, a flak jacket, were stolen. I made a complete list of the missing items. The guns are all registered to the store. I need you to come check it out. I already left a message with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. They told me to talk to you. Here is the list of what is missing.”

  “The ATF was here yesterday looking at the bomb site at the grade school. They are still around. I imagine they will add the break-in at your store to their list of work to do.”

  Josh nodded and handed a meticulously typed note to the sheriff. He briefly studied the list, handed it to his deputy and glanced back at his friend. With his hand in the cast, he must have pecked the list out one key at a time. The stolen handguns included four .38’s and a .22. The ammunition included 24 boxes of one hundred count NyClad HP for the .38’s and one 250-count box of .22 cartridges. The holsters were a special type of military issue that each held two guns, shoulder variety. The flak jacket was standard police issue. The gun cleaning kit was top of the line, Otis Elite.

  “You have an alarm system. How did they bypass that?”

  “I do. And it was armed. But ultimately it didn’t make any difference.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Zeb.

  “Somebody used a bolt cutter on the padlock on the electrical box. They cut the wires to the alarm system and to my cameras.”

  Zeb immediately assumed the job was done by a professional. Very likely it was somebody from out of town as he would know any locals with that kind of skill and mindset.

  “What do you make of the specific stolen weapons? Are any of them antiques or collectibles?” asked Zeb.

  “No,” replied Josh. “From the looks of it someone knew exactly what they were after. They passed over many more expensive guns to get to the ones they took. My guess is, five handguns and that much ammo, it isn’t about collecting.”

  “You’re probably right about that,” replied Zeb.

  “What about the holsters?” asked Deputy Steele.

  “They are a specialty item fast draw competitors use in an event called the double draw.”

  “What about the flak jacket?”
>
  “That was mine. I picked it up at a gun show. A guy owed me some money. When he couldn’t pay me back, I took it as collateral. It wasn’t for sale. I know better.”

  “A flak jacket and that many hand guns add up to trouble. Any suspects come to mind?” asked Zeb.

  “When you sell guns for a living like I do, it’s pretty easy to get suspicious about anyone and everyone who walks through your door. Sometimes even little old ladies who buy cap guns look like criminals. If I ever get that paranoid, I’ll get out of the business. ”

  Zeb and Deputy Steele nodded. They had both seen plenty of criminals who didn’t look the part.

  “I’ve only lived in Safford for a short time. I don’t personally know all the people who walk in the door.”

  “But you’re suspicious of our seasoned citizens?” asked Zeb with a smile.

  “I wasn’t being glib when I made the remark about little old ladies. When my dad had a store down on the border, two grandmotherly types robbed him. One stuck a gun in his craw and pistol-whipped him while the other cleaned out his till. My old man was in the business for twenty-five years. They were the only people who ever got the upper hand on him. He got kidded about that until the day he died.”

  The image of a pair of blue haired grannies knocking over a gun shop brought a silly grin to Kate’s face. What she had heard was true. Josh Diamond could spin a yarn.

  “Is that really true?” Kate asked.

  “With God as my witness,” said Josh raising his uninjured arm. “Worst part was they hog tied him. He had to lay there all trussed up for a couple of hours before anyone came in. When he finally was rescued, it was by the biggest gossipmonger this side of the border. It wasn’t long before the neighborhood was talking about how Big Ed Diamond was made a fool by a pair of grandmothers. He took a lot of razzing. His store traffic doubled on the curiosity factor alone.”

  Zeb was familiar with his old border patrol buddy’s style, and Josh’s easy-going manner was beginning to grow on Kate.

  “We had better go down to your business so I can have a look around. Is now a good time for you?” said Zeb.

  “Yes, Sir,” replied Josh. “Never better.”

  “Don’t ‘Sir’ me,” said Zeb sternly.

  “Okay, boss,” said Josh sarcastically.

  Kate knew that Josh had served under Zeb’s command as a United States Border Patrol agent, so she figured that was an inside joke.

  “I’ll meet you at your gun shop in fifteen minutes.”

  From the corner of her eye, Kate watched Josh Diamond amble out of the office. Even in his injured state he carried himself with a uniquely dignified panache.

  “Helen, Josh Diamond’s gun shop was robbed when he was in the hospital. Could you put the paperwork together and put it on my desk? I’m headed over there to have a look around. Here’s the list of stolen items.”

  “Certainly. Do you want me to type in the particulars I already know?”

  Zeb knew Helen’s ears had acted as sonar detectors during his conversation with Josh.

  “That really would be helpful.”

  Sheriff Hanks slipped into his office to finish off a bit of paperwork. From his office he listened as Helen spoke to his deputy.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” said Helen. “Eskadi left this for you.”

  Helen handed Kate a sealed envelope.

  “If you ask me, I think Eskadi Black Robes is jealous of Josh Diamond.”

  Kate’s response to Helen’s statement was to examine the envelope. If Helen had tampered with it, there were no obvious signs. Even though she had been civil to Eskadi Black Robes, Helen’s independent nature would not allow her to forget the run-ins she had with him over the years.

  Kate opened the envelope. Eskadi had drawn a single star at the top of the page. Beneath it he had printed the Apache word Son-ee-ah-Ray--Morning Star--the Apache name he had given her at a gathering less than a year earlier. Maybe Eskadi did have a bit of a jealous streak in him. She wished her mother was alive so she would have someone to talk with about the strange ways of men and how they express their affection.

  Kate tucked the letter into her desk drawer.

  10

  During the four-block walk to Diamond Gun & Ammo Zeb concluded mind that the words spoken in the bomb threat did not jibe with the tone of the caller’s voice. A man calling in a bomb threat…two bomb threats…would have no regret in his voice. Yet, the voice of the caller was seemingly full of remorse. His job was to figure out why.

  Josh Diamond’s gun store was on Second Street, just past Jilberto’s Mexican Eatery and a pair of abandoned buildings. The old livery stable, dilapidated when Josh took it over, had been freshened with a new coat of paint and security doors.

  “Yo, Zeb,” said Josh. “That was quick.”

  “I hardly recognize the place,” said Zeb. “It looks great.”

  “Thanks. I’m converting the upstairs into a deluxe apartment. The future of Safford looks bright, wouldn’t you say?” asked Josh. “I mean for a businessman like me.”

  “If we can keep the downtown alive, the mines open, the price of cotton up and keep the young people from moving away, I’d say Safford will thrive.”

  “I hope it does. I like what I see so far.”

  “Sounds like you’re talking about Deputy Kate Steele. I saw the way you two were eyeing each other.”

  “She is quite a gal,” said Josh. “Don’t know her that well yet, but I’d like to. That is just between us boys, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll keep it on the down low, but you’ve got competition,” said Zeb.

  “I’d be surprised if I didn’t,” replied Josh.

  An art deco clock, a series of first edition Zane Grey novels and a signed, framed Picasso were among the many new additions since Zeb had last been in the store.

  “Is that a Picasso?” asked Zeb, eyeing the painting. “What kind of money is there in the gun business, anyway?”

  Josh laughed. “Not that kind of money. My dad got it in a swap a long time ago. I don’t think the owner knew what he had. Coffee?”

  “I’ve got time for one cup. I would prefer tea if you have it.”

  Josh eyed his old pal and said, “Sounds like someone is domesticating you at last.”

  “Kiss my ass, amigo. My guts are acting up. Tea calms them.”

  “Good, but I still mean what I said. One tea coming up.”

  “I see you’re making this a fancy gun store,” said Zeb.

  “I prefer eclectic,” replied Josh. The men chuckled.

  “Eclectic ain’t exactly what got us through some tight circumstances along the border now did it, or kept you alive during your time in Kuwait,” said Zeb.

  “I’m a complex man,” replied Josh. His comment caused both of the men to laugh uproariously.

  “Maybe we should get down to the details of the robbery,” said Zeb.

  Josh stood, taking his coffee mug in hand, and strolled behind the counter. He thumped the top of a glass enclosure with the first finger on his good hand. He pointed to a small hole in the glass, not much bigger in diameter than a softball.

  “The handguns were taken from this case. They managed to break the glass fairly cleanly. Hardly left a mess at all. The neato bandito. How about that for an m.o.?”

  “I’ll note it in my report,” replied Zeb.

  Zeb pointed to a hunter’s display created from an impressive collection of antlers.

  “That’s a unique gun rack. Did you make it yourself?”

  “Hell, no. I bought it at a bankruptcy sale over in west Texas,” replied Josh. “Some phony oilman claims to have shot every one of them himself. I suspect he was full of b.s.”

  “I bet there’s a story behind that.”

  “He was the fattest human being I have ever seen. When I met him, I wondered if it would take a stick of dynamite to blast him out of his chair.”

  Zeb shook his head. Same old Josh. Always full of bull.

 
“Most of these horns are from mountain animals that would require a fair amount of walking to get to. The schmuck even had a bunch of phony photographs with himself dressed in a safari outfit standing by freshly killed animals. He couldn’t remember where he had been hunting and couldn’t match the animals with the horns in his collection. It doesn’t matter. I bought them for display purposes. I like the way they look.”

  Josh had a keen eye and a clever tongue. Zeb eyed the trophy horns and the tersely worded sign hanging just below them.

  ALL EXPLOSIVES REQUIRE PROPER PERMITS.

  NO EXCEPTIONS!

  DON’T EVEN ASK!!

  “What about the ammunition? Where was it taken from?”

  Josh motioned the sheriff behind the counter and through a pair of swinging doors into the back half of the store.

  “Those old doors came with the place. I think they’re originals. I fell in love with them the minute I saw them. They give the building an honest to goodness old west flavor. They make me feel like a kid again.”

  “Like you ever grew up,” said Zeb.

  “This is my business office. That’s being a grown-up, isn’t it?”

  Zeb shook his head. The room, lit by the bright glare of incandescent bulbs, was divided in half. Toward the front was an old-fashioned green bank safe with SANTE FE STAGECOACH COMPANY written in faded black lettering. Next to the safe was a roll top desk with several piles of neatly stacked paperwork and a small number of framed pictures. Against the back wall, on either side of a massive door, in padlocked metal lockers were cases with hundreds of boxes of ammunition. He already had what he needed. The weathered oaken door had two locking mechanisms--a dead bolt and a two by four piece of wood in a U-shaped bracket. It appeared fairly impenetrable. The rest of the room was bare except for an area rug and a calendar. The calendar was headlined FRENCH LIVERY and STABLES with the date 1914.