by Kieran York
“At least most of the time Faye’s beer is cold.”
“Never could abide by hot beer. A little warm whiskey never bothered me. But beer ain’t meant to be hot.” Laramie’s eyes squinted as they examined Royce. “I hear tell about you and the doc.”
“What?”
“This fella says you’re sweet on the doc.” He paused, his mouth munched the word. “Lez-beings.”
“They do talk around here.”
“Yep. Says that the creator didn’t hold with your kind and we shouldn’t vote for you.”
“And what did you say?”
“Told 'em I’d poke his nose ’til my fist reached the back of his Stetson if he didn’t shut up. Guy who told me has been fiddling the books for years. Cheatin’ his employer. So he better not be tryin’ to poop on nobody. Told him to let those boots of his to take him for a walk. I’m votin’ for you.”
“I appreciate that. Anything on Rick Brown?”
“I think the first word on his truck panel is San. Been tryin’ to come up with the letters. I think it’s San something. Ain’t much, but I’ll keep workin’ on it.”
“San could be San Francisco, San Diego, or San Antonio.”
“Yep. A sorta puzzle. Over my head like a rifle shot.”
Royce stood, nodded, and began her trek across the street. She turned midway and issued a smile. “Good work, Laramie.”
***
Royce changed out of her uniform and decided to stop by Molly’s. By the time she arrived, the Pantry was closed. She used her key and went through the bakery. Behind the glass-enclosed shelves were glistening fruit pies, crusty European peasant loaves, and an assortment of rolls and muffins. From the huge ovens came the fragrance of dill bread. Royce went upstairs to where Molly was resting on the sofa. “Mom, looks like you had a busy day.” She kissed her mother’s forehead.
“Yes indeed. I’ve got one more batch to take out of the oven, and I can call it a day. I got so tuckered out, I decided to have a little rest while my bread baked.” Molly sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I heard you had a busy day too. They were all talking about the fight over at Faye’s this afternoon. You eaten yet?”
“No. Hertha is still in surgery. Thought I’d wait for her.”
“Got some pasties you could warm up. I’ll send them along with you. And a little cherry pie. My special of the week. Cherry pie. Been selling out nearly every day. Had half a pie left today.”
“Did you see Gwen after she came back from the judge’s funeral?”
“I surely did. She came by for a chat. You know how she hates funerals. Well, she said she’s not good at first-person articles. Especially when they have to do with murder.”
“I’ve got to question Elizabeth and Tyler again sometime soon. I wanted to wait on going over their statements until after the funeral.”
“Expect a tiger. Gwen said Elizabeth blames you for not gathering enough evidence on Jorie. Said the judge would still be alive if it hadn’t been for your poor police work. Well, you know how she is.”
“The evidence is still circumstantial. Nothing about the case is conclusive. People don’t realize that. The town is turning into a lynch mob. Evidence points to Jorie. We could all be duped by her, but I don’t think so. Both Tyler and Godiva were behind the bar from time to time. And I remember Godiva’s bodyguard going back, but I think Tyler was there at the time. Did Gwen say how Tyler was holding up?”
“Said he seemed fine. But Godiva didn’t attend the funeral. Still worried about the threats.”
“If she’d miss the publicity, maybe she’s not in on the scam.”
“There were plenty of cameras there. I saw it on evening news.”
“And Godiva wouldn’t want to lose media attention. I think I’ll have a tail put on her bodyguard,” Royce was thinking out loud. “Yes, I’ll call Nick in the morning to have him assign someone to watch.”
“What news do you have on the case?“ Molly pried.
“For one thing, I contacted the reporter who Jorie claims destroyed the poison. He corroborated her story. Looked his notes up and even gave me the date. But that hardly clears her. I can’t imagine what motive she’d have for killing the judge.”
“Gwen asked Elizabeth that very question. Elizabeth claims that Jorie couldn’t stand to see her happily married and having a famous son. And the judge mentioned that he had some new, important information that proved Jorie had killed Sandra.”
“How about Elizabeth? Did she stand to benefit monetarily? Could there have been insurance?“ Royce speculated.
“Oh, honey, that couldn’t have been the motive. Why she’s got tons of money herself. Owns a large chunk of Crystal Ski Village stock. She was on the ground floor of the entire Crystal development project. Her family had property up there, so she’s a major stockholder. And she still owns a profitable dude ranch. Inherited it years back. Has a manager now, so she just rakes off the money. Even goes up once a month or so to make sure everything is running according to her standards. Gwen laughs when she tells about Elizabeth riding in her full regalia. Rider’s outfit.” Molly began to chuckle. “Gwen always asks her if she’s going on a hunt.” Molly stopped laughing. “Besides. She was so devoted to the judge. Gwen said Elizabeth mentioned that she first thought it might be a stroke. She felt guilty wondering if she had fixed too many gourmet meals for the judge and given him too much cholesterol.”
“What about Tyler? Would he inherit anything?”
“I suppose so. But the lion’s share of money is Elizabeth’s fortune.” Molly’s face tensed. “I never thought I’d say I hate anything or anyone. But I hate that Family Morals Coalition. I surely do hate them. They’re calling you the ’status quo' sheriff. And they are saying you’re a pervert.”
Royce gently took her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry for what this is doing to you. It isn’t in your nature to hate. And because of me, of what I am, you’re hating.”
“Not because of you, Royce. Because they are trying to hurt you. They have hurt you.”
“Gran always says that mirrors reflect and eyes see. They may think that what they say is a reflection of truth. But it isn’t, Mom. It isn’t.”
Chapter 18
Hertha’s vehicle attacked the steep incline of a rugged gravel road. Dusty ruffles of dirt and plumes of exhaust followed the van’s climb toward a remote cabin.
“You didn’t need to accompany me on my call,” Hertha said to Royce with a mild rebuke. “Your one day off and you’re trudging the backcountry with me. Besides, you were supposed to meet with your campaign people.”
“It’s become their campaign. I’m just the commodity. And I told you that I don’t want you out alone. When you have a call, have one of the deputies accompany you.”
“Royce, they resent babysitting me. I can tell. And I refuse to allow some weirdo to dictate my every move. This is an emergency, and I’ve got to get there.”
“I know Rick Brown is still stalking you. I know that when I leave he calls. Hertha, he’s dangerous.”
“Yes, he calls. And his calls are a choking sound. And yes, it concerns me. But Royce, I can’t be imprisoned by fear. I won’t be his twenty-four-hour-a-day victim. Don’t you understand? That’s reservation life.”
Hertha parked along the dirt path, and the women exited. “Royce, I know you don’t need this additional burden now.”
“It would be a gross dereliction of duty for me to allow you to be out running around alone. And,” Royce disclosed as she looked up, “being here and being here with you is what I need right now. The mountains have always been my comfort.” Without them, Royce meditated, her spirit was naked. The Rockies offered swaddling, protection, and love. “This is my respite. And Smoky’s.” The pup gave a snarl of agreement.
Royce surveyed the canopy of clouds above. Behind the clouds was a great sash of periwinkle skyline. Snow-dusted peaks rose above timberline and into that backdrop of sky. A roaring river echoed through the giant cliffs. Wind whistle
d through trees. The quiet monologue of breeze through aspen had given way to the bluster of winter’s promise. The great force of wind now thundered off the shoulders of each rock formation. The range was losing its color as well. Leaves had fallen and their sheen dulled. Cascading bushes and undergrowth with trails of tangling brambles were wilting, shrinking. Grasses were now pale and crinkled beneath the women’s feet as they made their way to a sagging barn.
“Life is a self-exploration,” Hertha’s introspection allowed her to comment. “Royce, I love you with everything I am.”
“And I love you. Hertha, if I lose the election, I may be forced to relocate.” She finally said it.
“You won’t lose.”
“Let’s say I do. My contingency plan is to take the job offer in Denver. What then? With us?”
“I’ll never let my county Mountie leave without me. I’ll be at your side.”
“But you love the mountains. You said they’re your home.”
“My home is you. My possessions and profession can allow me to move anywhere you are. I can heal animals wherever there are animals to cure. My people were wanderers.”
Royce’s eyes watered; her lashes were wet. She opened the groaning door of the barn. She watched her lover bend over the downed horse. His rasping snorts continued as Hertha opened her bag and pulled out a stethoscope. She then began a saline drip. Her clear, piercing eyes were intense. Tiny sparkles of perspiration began to appear on her forehead. Royce tenderly wiped the sweat away. “Can I help?”
“An obstruction. I’ve got to operate. But at least he won’t have to be put down. I hate that. Years ago horses were euthanized with something called black leaf forty. A nicotine sulfate. Miserable. Before that with mallet.”
“Now what do ranchers use?”
“Not long ago it was any type of poison they had around, very often strychnine. Now it’s all more sophisticated.”
Royce marveled at the skill and confidence Hertha showed as she worked. There was precision in her every effort. Her intelligent, dark eyes were riveted to the incision. Her hand adroitly, almost without effort, retrieved the tennis-ball size obstruction. Each motion appeared controlled, yet automatic.
After the surgery had been completed, Royce helped Hertha wash up. Then she slipped a butterscotch between Hertha’s lips. “Nice work, doc.” She kissed her lover.
“And nice reward.”
“If you looked at a lab report, could you tell me what you know about that poison? About the poison in the tissue and the poison samples taken from the glass and rug?”
“I’m not a forensic scientist. I know some about high-level poisonings in tissue and half-life properties. But to be honest, I’m not trained in redistribution of toxins in plasma and tissue. I’ll be glad to look over the report and explain anything I know. Just remember, I’m a veterinarian. And I use spearmint to sooth stomach disorders, sagebrush for colds, and still believe in the curative powers in dreams.” Hertha’s smile was lush. She seemed happy for the moment, away from the shadow of a stalker. “Now, let’s go up to the cabin and tell the owners that their horse will be galloping in no time at all. Oh, and also, we’ll have a guest accompanying us back.”
“A guest?”
“Move over, Smoky,” Hertha teased. “We’ve got to select a kitten to take back. Their litter is being given away, so I told the people that I knew a little girl who is waiting for a kitten of her own.”
“Carrie?”
“Yes. She’s become a fine assistant.”
Royce smiled. “You are so wonderful. Where you are is my home too.”
***
“Come on in,” Nadine invited Royce as they walked back toward the dining area. “We were just having a spot of after-dinner coffee. You’ll join us. Sit.” Nadine poured the Irish-cream-flavored coffee for Royce as she sat.
Gwen greeted Royce, “Where’s Hertha?”
“We went on an emergency call this morning, and she’s been catching up since then. This afternoon I spent reading the various statements of the employees up at Crystal.”
“Did you learn anything?“ Gwen’s tone was precise and cool. Her chin dipped and she peered up through the upper portion of her bifocals.
“No one saw anything out of the ordinary. That was the consensus. I’m getting my share of indifference lately. I need to go up and interrogate Tyler and Elizabeth. I’ve been putting that off. I know they’re in mourning. I’m also aware that they’re bitter about trusting Jorie. And that Elizabeth believes the judge’s murder would have been prevented if I’d locked Jorie for Sandra Holt’s homicide. Mom told me you’d mentioned it.” Royce took a sip of coffee. “How did your day go?”
“Jorie was bailed out. But we know that she’s been arrested and formally indicted, and she may be convicted for a crime she didn’t commit. So I’ve had better days.”
“Gwen, I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to see that the truth comes out.”
“The truth,” Gwen’s voice rose, “is that Jorie did not kill anyone.”
“I’m inclined to believe that too. But suppose we want to believe it. Sometimes we don’t see the facts straight on because we want to believe something other than the truth.”
“You arrested her!”
“I was told by the district attorney that if I didn’t act, I would be ordered by the court to do so. My opposition to the arrest is going to work against me in the election. Which I might remind you is my future and is right around the corner.”
“So now you’re politically pandering to popular opinion.”
“Hardly. I’m losing the damned election! The deputies are saying that I’m doing nothing and doing it slowly. Someone even told Mom that they’re calling me the status quo sheriff. I held off longer than anyone else would have. When I caved, I was very nearly under court order to do so. What is it you expect of me?”
Gwen gave a huff and then took a final sip of her coffee. “You are her only hope. That being the case, her chances of being exonerated are pretty damned remote.” She pushed the cup and saucer away from her and leaned back.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that everyone else at the Sheriff’s Department and in the court believes the case is ready to sign, seal, and send Jorie to prison. If I can’t count on you to come up with the real killer, all is lost.”
“All is lost,” Nadine repeated. Then she stood, threw her napkin on the table and leaned across it. “All is Jorie. Your life is wrapped up in this crusade for Jorie. That’s all you care about.” She exited the dining room, entering the kitchen. She grumbled, “Why didn’t you stay with her since she’s all you think about?”
Royce watched as Gwen gave a sigh of exasperation. “She’s started snarling again.”
“Why don’t you find out why she’s snarling?”
“Royce, she’s just being ornery.”
“Talk with her.”
“You talk with her.” Gwen’s eyes flashed with defiance. “She won’t talk with me.”
“I wonder why,” Royce muttered as she stood. “I’m going to talk with her. You just go on with this self-indulgent quest to save your ex-lover. Don’t worry about the woman you’re sharing your life with. She can be put on hold as always.”
Royce opened the kitchen door, and the scent of ripening tomatoes hit her. Her stomach was churning and felt as though she’d gulped pure acid. “Nadine, you’ve got to tell her. It isn’t fair. Not to any of us.”
Nadine’s arms were wrapped around her body. She turned. There was despair beneath her timidity. And there was fear. “I can’t.” Her topaz eyes dimmed as they closed. “I just can’t find the words. They’re buried. I can’t, Royce.”
“You’ve got to.” Royce’s throat was filled with a million cobwebs. Her mouth was dry. “Nadine, it’s time. It’s past time. We love you. You’ve got let Gwen know how you feel.”
“I don’t have the words.” Nadine wrung the edge of the tea towel. “Will you come with me?”
/>
“Yes.”
Royce lifted Nadine’s hand and led her back into the dining room. “Nadine has something to tell you.”
Gwen looked puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
“Gwen, I’m unhappy with our relationship.”
“Unhappy?”
“More than that. It isn’t the election. It isn’t the pressure of everyday. It goes deeper than that.”
“Every relationship goes through problems.”
“For years now, I’ve felt left behind. I’ve been in your wake. Being in charge of the election has changed that. It’s given me my own identity. You don’t seem to understand my needs.”
“I don’t understand what I’ve done. What your problem is.”
“Gwen, I’m trying to tell you. Listen to me,” Nadine’s voice rose. “I can’t make you understand if you won’t admit that it isn’t just my problem. It’s our problem.”
The look on Gwen’s face was one of total destruction. “Are you telling me that living with me has been a problem?”
“There’s an undercurrent.”
“After all these years, you’re suddenly having second thoughts? Hell’s bells. I don’t believe this is happening. I’m worried about a dear friend going to prison for a crime she didn’t commit and you’re on about this.” Gwen’s eyes were filling with tears of anger. They flooded the lower portion of her glasses. “I can’t believe how selfish you’re being.”
“Selfish! Gwen, I’ve always felt that I’m just a small portion of your world.” Nadine choked the words out between tears. “I wanted to feel as though I am your world.”
“You are. Damn it, Nadine. You know you are. But now is not the time to whisper sweet nothings. Jorie needs me to be there for her too.”
“I’ll be sleeping in the guest room,” Nadine blurted. She exited.
After her Gwen shouted, “It will be the first time in a quarter century we’ve slept apart. Think about that!”
Royce looked down as she made her way to the door. “Nadine needs to know that you’re there for her.”
“Royce, at the end of the day, I’ll be there for her.”