by Kieran York
After picking up Smoky, Royce stopped by the courthouse briefly. Smoky knew her way around the courthouse and visited often. She was a favorite of the file clerks. They kept a box of dog treats for her visits.
Nick reached down and tickled her ears. “Smoky, how’s the K-9 Corps of Timber County?“ Nick quizzed. “Letting Smoky off her lead this afternoon?”
Royce glanced up from the stack of papers. “Yep. She’s been up to her muzzle in work lately. She deserves a day off. I’m taking her out to visit Gran. I wanted to make sure Gran is settled in.”
“Is Mrs. Madison glad to be back?”
“She told Mom that she felt at home in England, but she was borne in Timber City. I know we’re glad to have her back. And Smoky will enjoy spending time with her.”
Nick shook his finger at Smoky. “Wait until the National Affiliation of Schnauzers finds out you’ve deserted your post.”
“Don’t tease her,” Royce kidded. “She’s very sensitive about being focused.”
“Well, Smoky,” Nick spoke, “take a load off your paws and wait for the sheriff to clip the chain from her desk.”
Royce closed the file. “I keep looking at the enlarged photo of Sandra Holt’s message in blood.” Royce had spent the morning going through reams of forensic evidence. How the injury had occurred, or could have occurred, puzzled her. There was no physical evidence that could be directly linked to the killer. No hair or skin under Sandra’s fingernails. She hadn’t been raped, so there were no DNA spermatic traces. Jorie’s fingerprints were on the murder weapon. But Royce would go with her feelings. She would stake her reputation that Jorie Lovett had not killed the gossip columnist.
“Sandra must have been bleeding to death and knew it. She was probably too weak to scream,” Nick guessed.
“Or her neck was twisted in a way that cut off her speech.”
“Who are you going to grill up at Crystal today?”
“I’m going to talk with Tyler for sure. And maybe I’ll poke around questioning the staff again.”
“And?”
“No, not Godiva,” Royce laughed. “I think I’ll leave her to you.”
“Not me,” he responded quickly.
“Plenty amazing. You’re turning her down?”
“She’s got all those rent-a-jocks hanging around her pleasure pavilion.” Nick frowned. “Hell, I even prefer being bossed around by that idiot Dillon.”
“Nick,” Royce said as she stood, “I need to talk with you in confidence.” She hoisted her body onto the desk top. “You don’t need to take orders from him. Not any longer. I’m putting you in charge of the operation in Crystal. I’ll be talking with him this afternoon.”
“He’s going to be really mad.” Nick looked up at the ceiling and he spoke with reservation. “Royce, you’re not vindictive. Why are you doing this?”
“Again, confidentially. He held back on two additional threats against Godiva’s life. Two calls came in. He didn’t report them. He’s trying to run his own investigation up there. Grandstanding. He’s a loose cannon. That won’t be tolerated on my watch. I expect this conversation to be between the two of us. The other deputies can believe what they want about me.”
“But they’ll think you’re replacing Granger for your own personal reasons.”
Royce shrugged. “Nick, would you keep an eye on Hertha this afternoon? I just saw Rick Brown slithering around.”
“You got it. I’d love to take that rotten dung heap down. He hasn’t gone near her again, has he?”
“No. He stays at his court-ordered distance. He gets lost when anyone is there. Carrie Donovan will be there later in the afternoon. So he’ll hibernate while she’s there. Or when clients come and go.”
“You think he’s waiting for the opportunity when she’s alone?”
“I think it’s possible.” Royce glanced back at the volume of correspondence that she had sifted through since Rick Brown came to Timber County. “I wish there was a national stalker’s registry.”
***
Huge clouds with ash-gray underbellies boiled along the tops of jagged peaks. Royce viewed the early autumn aspen as they began to turn. Even the soughing winds were cooler now, she thought. She resented the fact that Sandra Holt’s murder case and the stalker had kept her from enjoying as much of the outdoors as she would have liked. She and Hertha had not been fishing for weeks, and it had even longer since they camped out.
The trip from Gran’s to Crystal had been filled with thoughts of her duties in Crystal. She had called Tyler McDermott requesting that he meet her to go over his statement. He was pleasant about making the arrangements to fit her schedule. She had not wanted to talk with him in a crowd, but she knew early afternoon would be a good time to get a corner booth at the Crystal Bistro. She wanted to keep it as unofficial and relaxed as possible.
Royce arrived early, so she entered the dim-lit lounge area. Her eyes narrowed as she adjusted them to the lighting. Burgundy, vanilla, and salmon colors were made murkier by the darkness. Royce inspected the room and saw Judge Jakob McDermott at the bar. He motioned to her. “Come on over here, little lady,” he blustered. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
“I’m on duty. But I’ll have a soft drink.” Royce sat on the stool next to his. “I’m here to go over Tyler’s statement with him.” She was aware that the drink in his hand was not his first of the afternoon. The judge was clearly tottering. “As long as you’re here, I might as well ask you a question or two,” she said coolly.
“Anything to be of assistance,” he said with a husky laugh. “Just up here to see Tyler, but if I can help solve this murder, I’m willing to give a dozen statements.”
“I’m trying to get an overview. When the murder occurred, you stated that you were making the rounds at the party. Did you leave the room?”
“I did walk out into the hallway for a few minutes. There’s a fire escape. I thought maybe I could get some air, but there was an alarm on the door. Then I walked around to the terrace for a few minutes.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“A few people from the party. And media people. They were going in and out of their rooms.”
“Did you happen to see anyone enter or exit Sandra Holt’s room?”
“Like I told Deputy Hogan, I didn’t see a soul. She had retired. And with her, when the party’s over, it’s over.”
Royce’s eyes zeroed in. “You’d met her before?”
“I’d met many of the reporters. Elizabeth insisted we spend all of our vacation time in California. So yes, I’d met Miss Holt before. She’d wined and dined us at a cocktail party she threw when Godiva and Tyler became friends. I told Elizabeth not to waste her time on the woman.”
“You knew that she befriended stars and then often extracted information and used it to advance her career?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.” With defiance, he uttered, “I hope you’re not driving at some theory about Tyler’s involvement?”
“I’m investigating a murder. I’m asking questions. Nothing more.” She allowed a moment silence. The judge took a large gulp of his drink. She wondered if he was aware of Sandra Holt’s extortion game. Royce was glad that it had been confirmed by Godiva. But additional searches by the Timber County Sheriff’s Department had found nothing. No tape recorder. No incriminating blackmail evidence. A search of the dead woman’s home by Beverly Hills detectives had produced nothing. The wall safe held only jewelry, cash, and a trove of business papers. No safety deposit boxes in her name had been located.
The judge’s eyes were lofty. His lips lifted into a haughty half smile. “Investigating a murder, huh! You wouldn’t know that by looking at what you’re doing—or not doing.”
“You really think Marjorie Lovett is guilty of murder?”
“The court will decide that. If you ever gather enough evidence to meet your satisfaction and get a case to court. It doesn’t look at all good for Cousin Marjorie.” His hand made a sweep of his face, and hi
s fingertips smoothed his mustache. “Cousin Marjorie makes a drink called the Longhorn Kick. It’s the best drink I’ve ever had. Too bad if a talent like that spends time behind bars. Rather than a bar,” he roared at his joke. “But I think there is some overwhelming evidence against her. Standing over a body, weapon in hand, is smoking-gun incriminating! It just doesn’t look good.”
“I don’t suppose it does.” Royce sipped her soft drink.
He straightened his shoulders when the Japanese female bartender approached. “Same again,” he ordered. “Bourbon and a splash of water.” When the bartender moved to the opposite side of the bar, the judge confided, “Sheriff, Oriental girls are how girls should be.”
“What?”
“Over there, they know how to train their girls. If anything were to happen to my little woman, I’d marry a little Oriental girl.”
“They say that racism and sexism go hand in hand.” Royce felt her muscles stiffen with restrained contempt. Gwen had warned her that Judge Jakob McDermott was a bigot’s bigot. Gwen had even mentioned that she was surprised the judge’s vocabulary went past oink.
“I’m not a bigot,” he disputed with needling charm. “I was the victim of discrimination in Denver. They let all the minorities move up because of their skin color. The darker the skin tone, the better the promotion. And talk about Jews! They were all in the same bed. Get one Jew in and they stuck together like glue. Same with women. Anything to get those minorities up the ladder. Make it look good. Don’t talk to me about bigotry.”
“No.” Royce tossed down her money for the soft drink. “I don’t think you’re a mere bigot. I think you’re something far worse.”
“You can accuse me of being anything you want. But you are about to lose this election.”
“It’s an act of bigotry when your Coalition scrutinizes my private life. I’d rather lose than live being afraid of people like you.”
“Citizens of Timber County deserve to know about your kind. Granger is our man,” he haughtily confirmed. “You’ll be out of office in January, Sheriff.”
“Don’t be too sure.” Royce stood and then looked back down at him. “Sadly, the most costly scourge of bigotry is hatred. Hatred can’t exist unless it’s allowed to feed on ignorance. You are a man of intellect and advantage. But you’re not elevating the concepts of justice you profess to serve. That makes it all sadder than sad.”
“What’s sad,” he boomed with a glower, “is that we have perverts in the judicial system and in enforcement.”
“I don’t believe the folks up here are going to buy what you’re selling.”
“Tell me that when you’re run out of office, missy.”
Royce leaned down. “You can call me 'Sheriff,'" she lashed. “Have that much respect for the badge. And I’m a woman. Not a girl; and not a little lady; and not a missy. I am a woman.”
“And you’re going to be an unemployed woman come January.”
“I’ll meet with Tyler later. I need some air.”
Royce walked out onto the street and then whirled back around. She looked at the outer wall and wanted to put her fist through it. She mentally went down her agenda. She would radio for Dillon Granger to meet with her in one of the lodge’s conference rooms. She would then reset her appointment with Tyler. After that, she could talk with the desk clerks who took the phone calls threatening Godiva’s life.
She quickly regained control when she saw Granger marching toward her. “We need to talk now, Deputy,” she said with a commanding tone.
He followed her into the lodge, and when they were seated across from one another at a large oak table, he muttered, “Yeah? So the cavalry has arrived. I’m busy. What do you want?”
“Granger, you’re no longer in charge of the operation here in Crystal. You’ll be backing Deputy Nick Hogan for the remainder of this investigation.”
“What?“ he raged.
“Listen closely, because we’re both too busy for me to keep repeating myself. You’re no longer in charge. You don’t measure up- I’ve given it careful consideration and I’ve concluded that you should not be in charge. We have disclosure regulations, and you’ve violated them. You didn’t inform that me two additional threatening calls were received against Godiva. You’ve violated police procedure. I could bring you up on charges and have your badge. I’m not going to do that. But you step out of line just once more, and you’re gone.”
“You’re doin’ nothing. With the exception of protecting your dyke buddy’s reporter friend. That’s what’s got you. You’re miffed 'cause the county is findin’ out what you are.”
“Give me your undivided attention, Deputy Granger,” Royce said curtly. “Your level of performance as a deputy leaves a great deal to be desired. Your resistance to procedure endangers the lives of the other deputies and the public. This little stunt proves that you aren’t a team player. You’re sneaky, and you’re undisciplined. I want to keep this badge. But if I can’t keep it, I’d rather see anyone but you wearing it.”
“If?“ he sputtered with an outburst. “I’d say your days are numbered. I can’t wait for the first of our debates. The citizens of Timber County want to know why you’re dragging your ass on a big murder case.”
Royce leaned back in her chair. She stared him down. “The election results might amaze you. Yes, they might be plenty amazing.”
Chapter 11
Tenderly, Royce leaned down and kissed her sleeping lover. Hertha stretched and automatically reached for her. “It’s early. Go back to sleep for awhile,” Royce whispered. Her hands cupped Hertha’s face. “I’ll wake you before I leave.”
When Hertha’s eyelids dipped shut, Royce left the bedroom. She made coffee, showered, and then dressed quietly. After the first sip of morning coffee, Royce thought about how lovely Hertha looked when she woke. She also thought about the depth of love she felt for this woman. Sometimes, she admitted, it frightened her. It was unlike any other love she’d known. It had lacked candlelight, roses, and soft music, but their romance was its own kind of wonder. It had been from the beginning. There were fishing, hiking, careers, home, family, and friends. She had never even taken Hertha out to dine and dance. She had never surprised her lover with a rose. She silently wondered whether Hertha missed romance’s frills and flourish. If Hertha felt deprived, she hadn’t mentioned it.
Royce thought about her schedule. Fate seemed to block any attempts at a romantic night away. In both women’s lives, there were so many variables. So many responsibilities. Royce looked back into the coffee cup and watched its surface steam. She was sure that even if they found a free evening, some emergency would come between plan and women.
“Good morning,” Hertha murmured as she slid her arms around Royce’s neck. She kissed Royce’s cheek and her lips traveled over Royce’s face. “Mmm, my county Mountie.”
“Let me pour you some coffee.”
“I’ve got it.” Hertha poured coffee and then sat at the breakfast nook. “What crimes are you solving so early in the morning?”
“No crime. Just thinking about how to get you away alone. It would be nice to plan an evening of romance. Maybe we could go to Denver.”
“You miss the glamour of love?”
“I miss sharing it with you.”
“Royce, just being together is important to me.”
Royce lifted Hertha’s hand and kissed her palm. “I just wish I could take you out on one date. A night of pure holiday.”
Hertha laughed. “We’re practically living together. I think we somehow bypassed the courting rituals.”
“Well,” Royce pledged, “I have every intention of showing you some romance. Eventually.”
“Last night was one of the most romantic I’ve ever had.”
“Yes.” Royce’s growling laugh teased. “I do cherish you, Hertha.”
“I don’t need be courted. I’m yours. Your love is all I want. Your kindness is my romance.”
“We’re part of one another. And it h
appened overnight,” Royce added. “I just don’t want you to think I’m taking your love for granted. I’m thinking about Gwen and Nadine. It seems like all the fine things they have are being weighed down. I want to keep our love on the curl of the wave.”
“We could get a waterbed,” Hertha suggested.
Royce grinned. “Sounds like an adventure.”
“Well, when all of the day’s challenges have been seen to, we’ll plan a date. Until then, this will have to do.” Her fingers caressed Royce’s hand.
Hertha’s touch always excited Royce. Its warmth enveloped her. “If I didn’t need to go on duty in fifteen minutes, I would . .
“I’m getting those feelings too,” Hertha chuckled. “And I’ve got a full morning of surgery.”
“The way it’s been at the department, I usually feel as though I’ve had surgery performed on me.”
“Royce, after the election, it will all settle down.”
“I hope so.” Royce didn’t sound convinced or convincing.
“I know this is a difficult time for you. With the debates coming up. But you’ll be fine.”
“My knees will rattle like dice in a cup.”
“I fell in love with your shyness. Your sense of quietude. People here appreciate your honesty and strength. They’ll see through the veneer of Dillon Granger. He’s a braggart, and people don’t like that.”
“Some people do like Granger’s bigotry.”
Bigotry is in every part of our lives. People still come into the clinic and ask me if they can see the vet. They can see that I’m a woman of color, and to them that means I couldn’t possibly be the vet.”
They ask me if the sheriff is in too.” Royce reached in her pocket to pull out a roll of butterscotch. Unrolling one, she slipped the candy between Hertha’s full lips. “But no one ever asks if Smoky heads the K-9 Corps,” Royce joked.
Smoky’s ears fluttered when she heard her name. Hertha smiled, and then her smile faded. “That’s one part of Rick Brown’s departure I’ll miss. Smoky will go back to doing her rounds with you.”