by Kieran York
Gwen and Royce arrived in time to be shown around the sprawling chateau-style estate of the McDermott’s. Located directly North of Crystal Basin Ski Resort, it offered an extraordinary panoramic view of downtown Crystal, as well as the ski slopes.
They entered a dramatic, marble-tiled foyer. Sunlight streamed through cathedral-ceiling windows onto the curved staircase. Wrap-around windows surrounded the elegant hall where the debate was to be held. On opposing sides of a small stage were lecterns. In front of each was a microphone.
Royce felt her knees tremble and her throat go dry. She sipped from the glass of water on her stand. When the live broadcast began, she barely heard the announcement of the date for their future forum. This one was sponsored by the Committee to Elect Dillon Granger. He, it was announced, was the candidate endorsed by the Family Morals Coalition.
Royce had been announced as having an excellent background and a keen analytic mind. Elizabeth McDermott was being sugary gracious. Royce knew that the woman and her followers were out to see Royce pilloried.
Dillon Granger entered with a rooster’s strut. His face became coarse and his eyes narrowed as the debate began. His vocal inflection bounced from vituperative to taunting. “Now, then,” he poked, “you know there’s a public outcry to get the murder case of Sandra Holt solved.”
With a steady, restrained timbre, Royce replied. “And we are working diligently to solve the case.”
“Workin’ and solvin’ seem to be two different things. How many years you think this solvin’ is gonna take? And you got evidence like a suspect standing over the victim with the murder weapon in hand. You’re afraid to make an arrest in a simple case.”
“Deputy Granger, there is no simple murder case. Nor can there be one, in accordance with our Constitutional rights.”
“Seems like Sheriff Madison here is out of touch with her constituents. Folks in these parts want results. They don’t want a suspect out running free. We got to question your reason and if maybe a little preferential treatment isn’t part of it.”
“I won’t prejudice the case by discussing information pertaining to an ongoing investigation. When a suspect is charged with first-degree murder, I want that charge to hold up. We plan on getting a conviction when we make an arrest.”
“You got all those goofball theories, and you got an empty jail cell. That’s what you got.” His voice was pugnacious and ridiculing.
Royce knew both of their tempers were on the edge. And she was feeling the sharp end of the charges. “We now have circumstantial evidence. We are still investigating. I assure you that I know the laws concerning arrest. This force is not going to use a vigilante mentality to disguise ineffectual police work. I have no intention of placing this community in jeopardy of a lawsuit for false arrest. Any arrest we make will be appropriate, and we’ll convict on the evidence.”
'Tough to gather evidence when you got the deputies out playin’ war games,” he charged.
Their glance was broken, like a curtain between them. Royce looked out into the rows of chairs and grim occupants. “We need to be properly trained. We’ve got to be able to execute maneuvers with precision. We may live in a small mountain community, but a highway can bring us enough Uzi firepower to kill a platoon. And that’s only a couple hours away. The editor of our own Times states that we can no longer be a NIMBY community. Not in my back yard. We’ve got to be razor-sharp in case we need to deal with urban-sprawl and urban crime.”
“You bring your highfalutin city ideas here and it’s a waste of time,” he challenged.
“Not if one life is saved because we made the effort to be as good as we must be.”
“Maybe you ought to be a drill instructor with the Marines,” he chided. But a bare malignancy of hate shone in his eyes and was heard in his voice.
“Are you saying that the people in this community deserve a less proficient, less professional law enforcement department because we have fewer people? No, Deputy Granger, I’ll continue the training program. Because I believe that the people who pay me and who entrust me with their protection deserve the best we have to give. Now, I asked you if you think the citizens of Timber County deserve less than the best? Would you care to respond to that?”
Granger’s voice shriveled, “That just ain’t what I’m sayin'. We’re a tough group of lawmen. We don’t need this fancy city stuff. We know our mountains. We know our guns. Like I say, we’re tough.”
“I believe law enforcers need toughness, resolve, and brains.” Royce was glad when she heard the timekeeper, and then the closing statements were made. The group had not allowed Granger to make the allegations about her sexual orientation. They were saving that for the knockout blow, Royce assumed.
Guests were ushered into the banquet room where antique buffets held rows of hors d'oeurves. Above the cream-colored walls were elaborate crystal chandeliers. Elegant polished gold fixtures beamed. “Let’s talk fancy-dancy,” Gwen whispered to Royce. “I think it went well,” she muttered. “We knew the place would be well-stocked with Coalition questions. You handled them.”
Nadine was pleased. She put her arm around Royce’s shoulder and whispered, “Yes.”
“I tried. This doesn’t feel like neutral territory.”
“That Granger has his brains in his trousers.” Gwen shuddered. “Look out, here comes cousin Elizabeth. Let’s pretend we don’t know her,” Gwen said as she turned her shoulder and continued filling her plate with appetizers.
“Gwen. Sheriff Madison,” Elizabeth greeted them. “Hope you’re finding everything. Punch on the center table.”
“Everything looks delicious,” Royce complimented.
“I try to make new and exciting tidbits,” Elizabeth said. “I’m challenged by intricate culinary delights. The more complex, the better. I suppose I should have been a scientist or an inventor. I so enjoy discovering new ways of food preparation. When I hear of an exciting dish, I make it mine. If I don’t know the ingredients, I go to the library and find it. I work with it until it’s exactly what I want. There’s no excuse for a woman not knowing how to cook. Not as long as there’s a cookbook.”
“Or a library,” Gwen chided.
“And speaking of ill-informed,” Elizabeth’s eyes zeroed in. “How is your biased little gazette doing?”
“In the black. Whoops,” Gwen pretended to slip. “I guess I shouldn’t say 'black' in this house.” Gwen took a tidbit from the tray an attractive red-headed woman was passing. “Thanks,” she muttered and then gave a side-glance to Royce. “Not bad.” She munched and then scoffed, “Elizabeth, it’s difficult to speak without using any colorful language, but we know that’s how you and your group like it.”
“I’m not allowing you to start up again with this,” Elizabeth stormed. To Royce, she explained, “The judge was very ambitious when he was young. But in Denver there was so much favoritism among the ethnic groups. Between token blacks and cut-throat Jewish lawyers gobbling up judgeships, Judge McDermott didn’t have a chance. Even though he was eminently qualified.”
“So the judge mentioned,” Royce murmured.
“Excellent vegetable platter,” Nadine commented, trying to wind the chat to a pleasant conversation.
“God’s gift is the food given us.” Elizabeth’s head lifted. “Not that my cousin would recognize a deity.”
Gwen grinned, “I just love it, Elizabeth. You extract your regulations from the Bible to advance theories of prejudice. And all those Bible quotes that you’re so fond of come directly from a belief system that was predicated on what a group of Jewish men said two thousand years ago.”
“Jesus was Christian.”
“Jesus was born Jewish. He was the world’s first convert, maybe. He was not derived from the same English blood as you.”
Gwen continued, “But then the Coalition doesn’t need fact. Any line from the Bible can be twisted to mean what you’d like it to.”
“You’re referring to the fact that we believe homosex
uality is an abomination.”
“I suppose that’s right around the same parable as the one about black tokenism and Jewish nepotism.”
“You know what I’m talking about.” Elizabeth glared at the women. “Lesbianism is an abomination.”
“Hatred is the abomination,” Gwen refuted. She pressed a miniature cabbage roll into her mouth. “And, cousin, if I were you, I would hotfoot it down to the library first thing Monday morning. This crust is soggy.”
Chapter 13
Royce smiled as the moppy-headed young girl put Smoky through her paces. At the end of Smoky’s tricks, Carrie Donovan gave her a dog biscuit. Smoky’s body bucked upward, and she placed her arms around Carrie’s shoulders for her hug. Carrie sputtered out a giggle. “You’re doing great with her,” Royce complimented. “The two of you are good enough to go on the road.”
Hertha squeezed Carrie’s shoulder. “She gave a command performance for some of her new friends.”
“School’s going better?“ Royce inquired.
“Yeah, I’ve got some buddies now,” Carrie reported. Her blue eyes shone and she smiled. “And Doctor White is watching for the next batch of kittens she hears about. Mom said we can have a kitten at the apartment we’re moving into next week.”
Royce winked at Hertha. “That Doc White is some kind of terrific lady,” Royce declared.
“Yeah, she’s teaching me all about medicine. And food too. Now I eat raw vegetables instead of junk food.”
Hertha laughed. “Yes. And with all those celery sticks, you’re developing the agility of a rhesus monkey.”
“Guess I better get home now,” Carrie said with regret. “I wanted to see the operation. I’m the only one at the school who has ever seen an operation before.”
Hertha nodded, “And I think we’ve got the makings of an excellent veterinarian. She didn’t faint when I removed a barb from the lab’s paw. She did a wonderful job of comforting the poor pup.”
Royce accompanied Carrie to the door and then watched her until she saw the door of Laird’s General Store clamp shut.
“You are remarkable, Doctor White. I believe you’ve broken through and made a kind kid out of a little tearaway.” Royce took Hertha in her arms. “And I do love you, Doc.”
“And I love you, Sheriff. I haven’t had an opportunity to tell you how proud I was of the broadcast yesterday. Everyone’s been talking about it.”
“I figured it would be better to stay over at Gran’s last night. I got some of the logs split for her firewood before it turned dark. By that time I was too tired to do anything more than give you a call. But I worried about you. I hate being separated.”
“I know there are things up there that need to be done before winter sets in.”
“It takes a dozen cords of wood to get through even a mild winter. Thought I’d get a start. And maybe I needed to get some of the day’s stress worked out. Anymore, I get so angry when I see Dillon Granger that it takes chopping a cord of wood to release the anger.” Royce leaned against the counter. She inhaled the antiseptic scent. “The guy’s mouth is bigger than his brain. But it was an interesting day. Gave me a chance to see how the other half lives. McDermotts have an enormous house. It seems so spacious for only the two of them living there.”
“From what Gwen says, it’s very cold.”
“I wouldn’t trade homes with them. If I had a home.”
“You do, Royce. The cottage is our home.”
Royce looked away. “If it weren’t for this election, we could live together.” Royce took out a butterscotch and slipped it into her mouth. “And the cottage is so warm and wonderful. There’s love. The McDermott’s luxury left me chilly. Especially when Gwen and Elizabeth began sniping at one another.”
“Gwen told me they exchanged words.”
Royce chuckled as she followed Hertha into the surgery. “It was more of an exchange of mortar fire. I felt like running for a bomb shelter.”
Hertha slipped on her smock and tied the surgical mask around her neck. “Time for surgery,” she said with a sigh. The six-month-old pup on the operating table was about to be neutered. Hertha gently lifted the pup’s eyelid. “Ah ha, my knockout potion worked. Scalpel!”
“I’m out of here,” Royce teased. “I’ll just leave you to your holistic healing remedies. And your well-sharpened knife.”
“I’ll have this pup back on his paws in no time at all.”
“I’m going to go over and check for calls at the office. Then change into my civvies. Maybe I’ll go see Faye afterward. She left a message with Mom that she wanted to talk with me. Probably wants to tell me what’s happening with the opposition. We know even though the Family Morals Coalition didn’t bring up my sexuality this time, it’s on the boards.” Royce got to the doorway. “That means I’ve got to tell Mom. I’ll be over at the Bell Ringer. Unless I have calls.”
“Calls,” Hertha repeated. She pulled her mask down and stepped toward Royce. “Maybe I’d better tell you. Because you’ve got so much on your mind now, I didn’t want to say anything. But Gwen said if I didn’t, she would.”
“Tell me what?”
“I’ve started getting calls from Rick Brown. I know it’s him. There’s breathing. But no voice, so I couldn’t identify him.”
“We’ll get a call ident put in right away.”
“It won’t help.” Hertha’s dejection was overwhelming for a moment and then she added, “You know he’s too smart to call from a place where he could be traced.”
Royce felt like an abysmal failure. She couldn’t even protect the woman she was in love with. Her face tensed. Her blue eyes dulled. “Hertha, it’s getting out of hand. I’m going to move in with you.”
“No, Royce. We can’t live together until after the election.”
“I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”
“It’s a chance we’ve got to take.”
“No, we don’t,” Royce negated. “And we won’t.”
“Think it over very carefully.”
Royce nodded. She felt differently when she stepped out onto the street. She was fighting for her county. But she was also battling for her home.
***
After Royce slipped into denims and a royal blue, fleece-lined sweatshirt, she strolled over to the Bell Ringer. Faye greeted her with her usual gregarious hamper of happenings. “Roycie, I’m still tryin’ to round up horny cowpokes. Laramie is wandering around without a leg to his name. And you got that Dillon Granger poopin’ like a goose.”
Royce sat on a stool at the bar and grinned. “Well, guess I don’t need to catch up on news in Timber City. Let’s take it from the top. Any good prospects for the night?”
“Hell, Royce, I’m waiting for some handsome hunk to strut in here with a ten-gallon hat and a cast-iron cock,” Faye laughed.
“Have you set your traps yet?”
“You bet, kid. Both of 'em.” Faye jiggled her ample breasts. “I developed my talents early in life. They call me paradise. Hell, these beauties are goin’ to waste. But I’ve got my search lights out for that ten-gallon hat with a cowboy under it.”
With a sputter, Royce asked, “Any other requirements?”
“Naw. That’ll do,” Faye confessed. She wiped off a sweating bottle of beer and placed it in front of Royce. “On the house. Hell, I was so proud of you yesterday. The Coalition was out to pick your bones clean. Granger had a go at you, and you put him back in his place. You held on.”
“Going for me seemed to be a group activity at the McDermott debate.”
“Yeah. But you kicked Granger’s ass into another zip code when you said that about the citizens of Timber County deserving as good as the cities. You really wrung his weenie on that one.”
Royce smiled shyly. “Mom said you wanted to see me. Any problems?”
“That weirdo came in yesterday. He asked questions about Hertha.”
“What kind of questions?”
“That’s it, they were really
strange questions. About what I thought people would say if they knew Hertha and he had a thing.”
Royce leaned across the bar. “He’s telling people that Hertha is interested in him?“ There was incredulity in her voice. “I don’t believe it.”
“More than that. I got the willies. I mean, we know Hertha wouldn’t piss on him if he was lit afire. But he said that they were going to run away together soon. He tells me that you’re trying to break them up. He said you wanted to keep her for yourself. Said Hertha was just stringing you along until they could leave together.”
Royce’s face blanched. Her sigh was deep and troubled. “The guy is really disturbed.”
“He’s rubbish. He gets more and more bonkers.” Faye’s hand clasped the upper parts of her arms and she gave a shudder. “I was alone and got a little nervous about him. So I didn’t say boo to him when he said it. He’s so weird.”
“And my inquiry is getting me nowhere. He’s drifted to so many places, he says. Why couldn’t he have stayed in one of those places?”
“He’s here now,” Faye confirmed. “And he’s bad news. Speaking of bad news, here comes Laramie,” she teased as Laramie sat beside Royce.
“I reckon I wouldn’t say no to a drink,” he hinted.
Royce laughed. “You never have. Pour him some coffee, on me,” she said. “So what’s happening?”
Laramie waited for his brew. “The guy watchin’ Doc White has him a tattoo I seen.”
“Yes?”
“Yep. Says '100% White Male' on his chest,” Laramie proudly reported. He finished his drink rapidly and stood. “I got a hankering for a real drink, but I gotta make my rounds first.”
Royce knew that meant he had to wander over to where Molly left pasties and pastry for him each day. He would eat and then return to spend as much of the night as he could afford at the bar.
“Thanks for keeping an eye out,” said Royce.
“Yep. And there’s somethin’ else. On the side panel of that truck of his. There’s been somethin’ written. I’m tryin’ to make it out. Ain’t easy, cause he bolts when he sees me snoopin’ around his truck. The fella must get up before a sparrow farts. But I know there’s words been written on them door panels.”