by Kieran York
Royce smiled. “That will please Hertha.”
“Well, Norma Donovan told Carrie that people will ask why she named a gray cat 'Whitey' and she’ll have to explain. Didn’t phase Carrie. She claims she’ll name the cat what she says. As sure as eggs are eggs, she’s got her own mind.”
“Hertha hoped it would be okay with her mother.”
“Norma loves the little kitten too.” Bonnie frowned and her glance cast down to the floor. “Norma tells that she saw Mrs. McDermott in the bank. Mrs. McDermott was on a toot about how Carrie spends time with Doc White. She tells Norma it isn’t a good idea.”
“Oh?”
“Well, you know Mrs. McDermott. Guess she comes in and returns that huge sum of money she’d withdrawn. 'Spose now that Tyler’s a star he doesn’t need her handouts. Anyways, Mrs. McDermott warns Norma. Says that Doc White and you are odd.”
“Odd?”
“Too involved.”
“Oh.” Royce unrolled the butterscotch and offered one to Bonnie.
“Thanks. She says that a child shouldn’t be around Doc White’s sort.”
“Sort?”
“Well, there are allegations. You know, it’s a fine kettle of fish when people can’t leave other people alone. Anyways, her ladyship keeps on tellin’ Norma not to let Carrie be alone with your Doc White.”
“What did Norma say?”
“Told her to mind her own business. Guess’ she says how Carrie has turned around since Doc White’s taken an interest in helpin’ her.”
“That’s good. Because Hertha would never harm anyone in the world. She would never take a child’s innocence. That’s absurd. And what we’re talking about is called lesbianism. It can’t be contracted by touch. It isn’t contagious.”
“Well, makes no difference. Around here we know you. And we know Doc White is special. Anyways, Norma says as long as Doc White will have Carrie, she hopes Carrie will keep on helping out. It’s been mighty good for her.”
“I guess it all depends on the election.”
“What you mean?”
“If I lose the election, I’ll be moving to Denver.”
“You can’t be talkin’ like that. You aren’t gonna be losing. Those of us who been workin’ on your campaign won’t hear of such a thing.” Bonnie was indignant, her voice cut. “You just get your boot straps pulled back up right now. You daddy wouldn’t hold with you talkin’ about givin’ up. You fight. You’re our sheriff.”
“I just don’t want to let you down.”
“You aren’t gonna let us down. And we aren’t gonna let you down. And you aren’t gonna let down Grady’s memory.”
“I wish I could be more optimistic. Bonnie, when prejudice and bigotry are concerned, it’s a dicey call. I wish I could promise the election results you want.”
“Your gran is gonna tell you to get your spunk back.”
Royce gave a slight laugh, an embarrassed laugh. “I know.”
***
“I been behind as a cat’s tail,” Dora Madison remarked as her granddaughter entered. “I didn’t want to pop into town for my package, because I had my club ladies over today to work on campaign calls. Hope you didn’t mind?”
“No, Gran. I appreciate your campaigning. Calling all those folks to get out the vote.” Royce gave her grandmother a kiss on the temple. “Smells great in here.”
“Not quite ready yet. By the time you chop a little wood, it will be.”
“I’ll be back in a tick.” Royce grabbed the ax and headed out toward the wood pile. She felt the meadow tundra beneath her boots. She glanced down at the pocket of moss and thought about winter’s approach. With a sigh, she began chopping. She planned to split about a quarter of the wood now, and then split the rest on her next day off. Second next, she corrected. Her next day off was the final debate with Dillon Granger. It was planned at Gwen’s. That thought made Royce uncomfortable. Gwen was barely speaking to her.
Royce’s hands were becoming stiff. As she drove the wedge into yet another log, she realized she was working out her aggression against Rick Brown. She knew he’d been winding her up, but she couldn’t quite figure out why. She was getting weary. It had been a very long day, and it was time to get back inside. The wink of a lantern from the back porch beckoned. She inhaled the pine scent that mixed with the weedy fragrance of rich earth. Mountain soil smelled like nothing else, she thought, stretching as she strode back to the cabin. The crunch of fallen leaves alerted her grandmother that she was near.
“Thought you were spending the night out there,” Gran called from the porch.
Royce removed her gloves as she entered the cabin’s warmth. Simmering vegetable soup had been poured into a large tureen. After she washed up, Royce sat. “Your soup is always so good, Gran.”
Gran beamed. She lifted a spoonful of broth and blew. Then she tasted it. “Not my best, but not my worst.”
Royce laughed. “You always say that.”
“So tell me about your day. I so miss your news of the day. I put on a scrap of music now and again, but I do miss our conversations.”
“Lately there hasn’t been much good to tell,” Royce whispered hoarsely. Royce tasted the soup. “Delicious.” Gran always seemed to get the mixture of beef, pearl barley, celery, carrots, onions, and spices matched to perfection.
“Most of the folks I been talking with are planning to get to the polls next month. I have plenty of friends around here.”
“Elizabeth McDermott and the Family Morals Coalition have lots of friends too.”
“Oh botheration! She’s got no such thing. She’s got some social hangers-on. People who come to her parties to get their photos in the paper.”
“She threw out her housekeeper today. Ugly scene. I ran a check on the woman, Clara Davis. She’s clean. But her claims of misconduct with the judge finally riled Elizabeth.”
“There’s been talk of his philandering ways. When they lived in Denver there was plenty of talk about his indiscretions.”
“I thought theirs was a loving relationship. The Family Morals bit and all.”
“Well, it might have been put out that way.”
“You mean because of social expectations?”
“He was the judge. She liked his title. But the rot set in when they were first married. They held it up as model, but folks figured out that there was trouble. Then they moved here and folks said he settled down.”
“Or became careful.”
“Why you asking about them?”
“Curious.”
“I hate to see you so down-hearted, Royce. Bonnie Laird called. Said she figured you were so blue you were ready to chuck in the election.”
“No. I’m going to do my very best.”
“Then you’re bound to win. Well, what you think?”
“Gran, I ate too much of your delicious soup. I can barely budge.” Royce looked away at the wall. “And I love you. You’ve always been there for me.”
Chapter 20
“Hey, Laramie, what’s your hurry? You got a cake in the oven?“ Nick asked as Laramie scurried past him toward Royce’s desk. Royce had spent the entire morning in the Sheriff’s Department at her desk as she sifted clues. No matter how many times she trawled her mind, there was a missing particle. Motive, she repeated to herself.
Glancing up, she automatically stood. “Laramie, is Hertha okay?”
“Yep,” he muttered. He waved her back into her chair. “She’s fine.”
“What do you have?”
“I was over at the Lonesome Pines Motel, checkin’ out the paint again. All hell lets loose. That Rick Brown fella comes out and flies off the handle. Tells me to stop pesterin’ him or he’ll see to it I never pester nobody again. But I got me the letter. It ain’t an 'N' at all.”
“What isn’t?”
“It ain’t SAN. It’s an 'R' a spellin’ Sar.”
“Sarasota.” Royce reached for the phone. “Thanks Laramie.”
“What you reckon?”
“I reckon you did excellent detective work,” Royce said with a smile as she dialed. “I reckon, thanks!”
She watched as Laramie’s stutter-steps took him away. Nick approached and sat on the edge of her desk. “So what did your C.I. have to say?”
“My confidential informant just solved a part of the puzzle.” Royce had been placed on hold by the Sarasota switchboard. “At least I hope so.”
“Why do you suppose someone like Laramie puts his life in the bottle?“ Nick’s question was one of pity.
“Maybe the clarion call of good fortune never reached him.” Royce heard the detective on the other end of the line. “This is Sheriff Royce Madison from Timber City, Colorado. I’ve got a stalker in the vicinity. I’m calling to check and see if someone there might be able to help me identify him. I’ve got reason to believe that he’s got a false I.D.”
“Glad to assist,” Detective Johnson offered. “I’ve been here for quite a few years, so I might be able to help.”
“I’ve been through all the available information on stalkers in Florida and come up empty handed. But now I believe he’s lived and worked in the Sarasota area. And maybe I was going after the wrong crime. I was looking for a stalker. The guy also has a racial tattoo. Maybe I should have been looking for a white supremacist.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“He’s about thirty. Six-foot, maybe a hundred and sixty pounds. Wiry build. Brown eyes, unkempt beige-brown hair. Sunken cheeks, with missing front teeth. Scars on his cheek and several on his arms. He worked as a handyman. Maybe a mechanic or an electrician.”
“Bingo!“ the detective said. “Your man might be Richard Burke. An electrician.”
“Richard Burke,” Royce repeated. “Maybe he kept his initials. Rick Brown.”
“Burke is a white supremacist and has been convicted on some charges involved with the local group here. Listen, can I have Sergeant Harris call you right back? He worked on the case. And as I recall, there was stalking.”
“Yes. I’d like to talk with him. How dangerous is Richard Burke?”
“He’s got an ugly past. Sergeant Harris can fill you in.” Royce left her number and waited for the return call. Finally a break, she thought. She was tense as she flipped through the leaves of papers in each file on her desk, aware that she was unable to even read the words. Her mind was whirling.
When the phone rang a few minutes later, she breathed deeply and lifted the receiver. “Sergeant Harris, thanks for your quick response.”
“Johnson tells me you might have Burke in your area.”
“Not a positive I.D., but it’s as close as I’ve come. What’s his rap sheet like?”
“Not pretty. He’s been trouble for the past decade and a half. But I never nailed him for the crimes we wanted him charged with.”
“Which were?”
“Stalking, yes. But we were positive he was guilty of murdering young women. We had a string of women disappear while he was in the area. We questioned him. He always seemed to slip through the net and out of our grasp. When we finally cornered him, he got out on a technicality. Eleven women were murdered. Eleven.”
“You said young women.”
“Right. Between twenty and thirty. And he liked women of color. Always women of color. We used to joke about it. Called him an equal opportunity serial killer.”
Royce felt a chill. “Will you fax me his photo?”
“We’ll dig up the file and fax his sheet. Our records department is backlogged, so give us the rest of the day. I’ll red-tag it to expedite.”
“If it is Burke, do you have anything outstanding on him?”
“Sheriff, never confuse twenty-four-karat nuts for stupid. The man is crafty. We don’t have anything on him.”
Royce’s jaw clamped tightly. “You don’t have anything you’d like to question him about?”
“Would it help?”
“It might save a life. And with the new detection methods of DNA testing, you might come up with something important.”
“You have a point. Now that I think about it, I believe we do have additional questions that need answering. How about if we hold him on a short affidavit. You detain him for questioning, Sheriff. We’ll come up with a list of questions. I’ll get that fax off as quickly as possible. Let me know if it’s him. I’ll take the responsibility for getting you that warrant.”
“Sergeant, I owe you one.”
“Sheriff, you get him off the streets, and the debt is squared. He’s left an ugly trail here. He tortured those women. Tortured them and killed them. I nearly took out a wall when he walked. The guy was guilty and he skated. Figure it.”
Royce replaced the receiver and the chill remained. She called together her deputies on duty and briefed them on the situation. “We’re waiting on information to make a positive I.D. on our stalker. They’ll fax his photo, but until we get the results, I want around-the-clock guard and surveillance for Doctor White. And check Lonesome Pines to see if he’s there. If so, put a tail on him. If not, post a sentry.”
Two of the deputies side-glanced one another. One commented, “Dillon Granger says that you’re taking special privileges by asking us to escort the vet around.”
“Deputies, I know you resent this. I’m ordering you to set up a duty schedule now that will safeguard the life of one of Timber County’s citizens. With the election only days away, I also know that you are listening to Dillon Granger. But, gentlemen, don’t hang on his every word. I’m still the sheriff. And a citizen needs to be protected. There is a restraining order. And there is cause to believe a life is in danger. It is our duty to protect. That’s what I’m doing. It’s what we’re going to do. When we get the fax, there will probably be a directive to apprehend the suspect. He’s wanted for questioning in Florida. Until then, check the schedule for when you’re posted.”
“But ...”
“Deputies, we’ve just pulled everyone from protecting a superstar. No one opposed my decision to protect her. Doctor White has just as much right to protection as Godiva.” Royce gave a quick, angry dismissive gesture.
Nick’s hearty laugh boomed. He added, “In fact, more right, Deputy. Unless you want to deal with your poodle’s anal gland problem by yourself.”
The deputy smirked. “I’ll take the first watch. My wife’s poodle is a pain in the ass, but I don’t think I want to get involved.”
“Good thinking,” Royce muttered.
Nick folded his arms. “You didn’t need a confrontation today.”
“No,” Royce agreed. “I’ve got my share of jitters about this afternoon’s debate.”
“You did fine on the last one and it was on unfriendly turf. This one’s being held at the home of your friends.”
Royce closed her eyes. She felt the elastic snap in the sockets as she rubbed them. She wanted to pound the desk; she wanted to scream. “I wouldn’t call it home territory.”
***
Gwen was barely cordial. “Where’s Nadine?“ Royce questioned. “She went outside.”
“How are things going?”
“Other than the fact that my lover of twenty-five years is about to walk out on me, everything is just terrific.” Gwen was abrupt. “It is making things slightly more civil having Jorie here. Nadine insisted Jorie stay with us until she can leave town. Nadine is in one spare bedroom. Jorie in the other.”
“I wasn’t aware Jorie had moved in.”
“You haven’t been in touch for a few days.”
“I didn’t think you wanted me around.”
“I don’t,” Gwen tried to hush her anger. “I’m pulling my endorsement of you. Against Nadine’s wishes, but I’m still doing it.”
“Because I didn’t live my life by your dictates? That sounds like Family Morals Coalition thinking.”
“Royce, I can’t support you. I trusted you. You knew Nadine was upset. And you knew why,” Gwen fumed. “You were a conspirator. If it were Hertha getting ready to
leave you, you’d want me to tell you so you could do something about it. And I would have told you. Warned you. Nadine means the world to me. You betrayed me. You stood by and allowed a situation to get out of control. I refuse to endorse a public official with that kind of faulty decision-making.”
“My decision was based on friendship to Nadine. I wouldn’t betray a trust and break my promise to her. I did encourage her to tell you.” Royce shifted her stance, looking away. “If the election isn’t already lost, your pulling your endorsement will do it.”
Briskly Gwen handed Royce a cup of punch. “Something to keep your throat from drying out during the debate.”
Elizabeth McDermott approached and asked, “Are we planning last-minute strategy?”
Gwen handed punch to Elizabeth. “No need. So are you here for my excellent punch, or to stake and burn the lesbian nation?”
“If Sheriff Madison hadn’t spent so much time under your tutelage, she might be suitable to be our sheriff.”
“Elizabeth, I don’t think Royce learned one damned thing from me. I used to, but not now,” Gwen jabbed.
“Be that as it may,” Elizabeth remarked, “freaks of nature should not be in positions of power or of authority.”
“Freaks of nature!“ Gwen seethed. “Make up your mind. Was I designed by nature to be lesbian? Or am I a consciously blatant sinner? Hell’s bells, your argument can’t swing both ways.”
“Save your small town tedium to pack into your biased little gazette.”
“Your thinking is so muddled, it’s pathetic,” Gwen blasted. “And decent, really decent, people are going to tire of it.”
Elizabeth turned on her heel and returned to her side of the room.
Gwen shrugged. “I thought I handled that with at least a modicum of the genteel.”
Royce saw the glimmer of a smile in Gwen’s eyes and then they again flashed anger. Royce’s back went ramrod straight and she turned.
She faced Dillon Granger. “Deputy Granger.”
“Hear the train leavin’ the station, Sheriff?“ Granger grated his teeth. There was malice in his eyes. “Got your concession speech ready?“ He was trying to trigger her humiliation. “We both know the best man is gonna win. Even with your gender-bender toughness, this job requires the best man for the job.”