by Jeff Carson
The mayor’s eyes were heavy and red. He looked hopeless and helpless, completely devastated.
Wolf nodded and had begun to turn away when the mayor’s hand reached and grabbed his arm. Wolf looked back and met Wakefield’s gaze.
“Thank you, David.” Mayor Wakefield was wide-eyed and leaning toward him, as if pleading. He moved his lips like he wanted to say something, to beg for something, and Wolf wondered whether he was about to say, “Shoot me!” But then Wakefield relaxed, nodded, and turned away to Sarah and shook her hand.
Wolf shuffled away quietly, slipping on his winter jacket over his formal four-button coat, and watched Wakefield greet Sarah and Jack. He was back to calm, collected, going through the motions once again.
Sarah grabbed Wolf by the arm and looked up. “You okay?”
Wolf nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
They walked out the door together, almost as if they were a happy, normal family.
The front of the chapel was in shadow, but the white peaks across the valley reflected brightly back at them, making Wolf squint and Jack sneeze as they walked down the steps.
“It’s freezing,” Jack said, jumping down the stairs and moving ahead of them.
“What was that in there?” Sarah asked quietly.
“I have no idea. Just … everyone grieves differently, I guess.” Wolf failed to believe his own words.
“You want to walk and see your dad and John?” Sarah asked.
He shook his head and saw that Rachette, Patterson, Wilson, Baine, Yates, and a few other deputies were standing down in the parking lot making idle conversation.
“I’ll see you guys later, okay?” Wolf said. He gave Jack a quick hug and kissed Sarah on the cheek, which almost turned into an awkward side-mouth kiss because she turned toward him and backed away at the last second.
Wolf left with what felt like gracelessness, beelining his way toward the deputies.
As he drew near, there was sudden commotion as the whole circle of uniforms turned toward a man who was passing them by, and Wolf realized it was Matt Cooper, the helicopter pilot on the mountain.
Cooper’s chin was stuck out, saying something as he walked by, and it didn’t look like Hi, how’s it going?
Baine lunged at him without a second’s hesitation, and then all hell broke loose.
Wolf sprinted through the packed snow as fast as he could in leather loafers. When he reached the group, he saw a haymaker fly from Baine, and heard the solid slap of fist on face. Then Cooper erupted into a flurry of flailing arms, which sent the other deputies darting in like a pride of lions on a wounded zebra.
There was no clear hole into the altercation behind writhing bodies, so Wolf tried to stop, but slipped on his dress shoes and landed on his ass with a spine-jarring thud. He gritted his teeth and got up, and then started ripping people aside and pushing himself ahead. A few seconds later he was next to the fight, and things quieted as everyone began backing away—everyone but Baine, who was still butting against Cooper, keeping him close with one hand as his other elbow flew backward, landing blow after blow.
Wolf gripped Baine’s hair and pulled.
Baine squealed with mouth open to the sky and let go of Cooper.
Wolf let Baine drop to the ground and then took Cooper down onto his back much faster than gravity alone would have done the job.
Cooper squirmed and gasped, unable to take a breath for a few seconds, and then his lungs finally whistled, filling with air.
“Get the hell out of here,” Wolf said, gripping his neck, inches from Cooper’s face.
Cooper nodded with wide eyes.
Wolf let Cooper up and he left without looking back.
“Sorry, sir,” said Baine. “He was talkin’—”
“Everyone to the sit room, now!” Wolf walked past Baine.
Nobody dared speak as Wolf weaved his way through the deputies and out into the parking lot, and nobody made a sound when he slipped on a sheet of slick snow, narrowly avoiding landing on his ass again.
Chapter 13
Wolf leaned against the wall of the situation room, feeling the tender ache on his tailbone.
Patterson stood at the front, scribbling on the whiteboard, because out of all the deputies in the department, it turned out that she had the most consistently legible handwriting.
“Urine,” Lorber’s voice blared from the laptop computer set in the center of the table, and Patterson wrote down the word. “Nothing underneath her fingernails, other than chicken DNA,” he added.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, reflecting off the darkened windows. Outside, a half-moon hung over the silhouetted peaks.
“What can you tell us about the X on her forehead?” Wolf asked.
“Ah,” Lorber said. “It wasn’t made with the lipstick in her purse. So either it was another one she had in her purse and he took it when he got done, or”—he paused for effect—“he brought his own lipstick to the party.”
Wolf watched as Patterson wrote on the board. Then he looked at the deputies around the table and settled his eyes on Baine for the third time of the meeting.
Baine was Wolf’s age, but still squirmed like a little kid under his gaze. “What’s up?” Baine finally asked.
“Where did you pull over Matt Cooper last night?”
“At the four-way stop on Main. Why?”
“Was he on Main or Third?” Wolf asked.
“Main, going south. Rolled through the stop sign.”
“Time?”
“11:30ish?”
“Gotta be more sure than that.”
Baine looked up at the ceiling and then nodded. “Yeah, it was like 11:40. I remember. I looked over at Beer Goggles when I was driving just before that and looked at the time. I remember wondering when they were going to close up with the weather.”
“And how about the guy with Cooper. Who was he?” Wolf asked.
“I ... I don’t know. I know he had a winter hat on, and a thick coat. Black. I remember that.”
“A fur coat? Fur coming out of the collar?” Wolf asked.
Baine looked at Wolf, and then sagged his shoulders. “I don’t think so, but I was busy with Cooper, and he was givin’ me shit. I didn’t have time to shine my light in the car for too long. I remember the guy was clean-shaven, and dressed well. Definitely a black coat.” Baine looked up at Wolf and sucked in his breath. “And he sat back all cool like. I remember that.”
Wolf nodded. “Okay.”
Patterson scrunched her face. “So where does that put us?”
“Nowhere,” Wolf said.
“It’s two men in the vicinity, driving away from the scene where we found a dead body,” Baine said pointedly. “One of em’ was Cooper. I say we bring in Cooper.”
None of the other deputies looked at him.
“What we have is a strangled girl,” Wolf said. “With an X written on her forehead for unknown reasons.”
“If the killer brought his own lipstick, sounds pretty premeditated,” Rachette said.
“Could have been a female killer,” Patterson said.
“Hand size and damage to the neck suggest a man,” Lorber’s voice chimed out of the speakers.
Wolf paced in front of the whiteboard. “Okay, a man with his own lipstick or … not. An X on the forehead. Strangled. And we have a text message from our vic that says she was catching a ride home with two men. We have a witness on the mountain that she was with one man when she left Antler Creek. We also have a stack of hundreds in her room. Crisp. Fresh. Successive serial numbers. Like the kind taken out of a bound stack gotten at a bank. Why? Drugs? Prostitution?
“Then we have the two men you pulled over.” He looked at Baine. “We know the identity of one of them, our resident helicopter pilot, Mr. Matt Cooper—a person you’ve pulled over five times in the last two weeks and wrestled in the parking lot of a funeral ceremony an hour and a half ago. We don’t have any evidence that Cooper left with Stephanie Lang. These two tidbits
make me a little wary of bringing him in for questioning, a move that just might send his boss over the edge, making him pull the helicopter off the mountain for good, and sending a shitstorm our way.”
Baine sat back and glanced around the room, and once again no one looked at him. The man was poison.
Wolf looked at Rachette. “We need to talk to the gondola operator from last night. See what he says. Still no luck?”
“Still haven’t gotten hold of him,” Patterson said.
When Wolf stared at her, she pulled out her phone and stood up. She tapped the screen, put it to her ear and walked to the windows. She stared outside and left a cordial voicemail asking for Victor Peterhaus, the gondola employee in question, to call her back at the “very earliest possible convenience.”
Wolf pulled back a chair and sat down, wincing and leaning on one butt cheek as the pain punched his tailbone.
“If I’m no longer needed, I’m going to go get drunk,” Lorber said.
The deputies chuckled, and Wolf smiled despite the pain and their abysmal progress so far.
“All right,” Wolf said. “Talk to you later.”
A sploosh sound came from the computer.
“Patterson,” Wolf said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get on this computer and find a picture of a man named Jonas Prock. Please.”
Patterson got up, pulled the computer in front of her and sat back down. She typed a few words. “Ummm,” she said, staring at the screen.
“What’s the company name these Austrians are a part of?” Wolf asked the room.
“Klammer Corp,” Yates said, and everyone looked at him. Yates shrugged and looked at everyone like they were idiots for not knowing.
Wolf leaned forward and pain shot through his butt again, so he stood back up. “Klammer. That was his boss’s name,” Wolf remembered out loud.
“Okay, I’m not getting anything,” Patterson said, tapping the keys.
Wolf bent down and looked, and everyone else positioned themselves to see.
“I’ve got plenty of pictures of Klammer, but none of Jonas Prock.”
They watched as Patterson tapped the keys and shook her head.
“Are you Googling his name?” Rachette asked.
“What am I, an idiot?”
Wilson, Yates, and Baine smirked.
“What about a car-rental company?” Rachette asked. “Did they rent a car?”
Wolf nodded. “I saw it was a rental. A Toyota Land Cruiser. Didn’t see which company, though.”
“Can’t be many companies who rent those out,” Yates said.
“Why are we talking about this Prock guy, anyway?” Rachette asked.
“Sarah mentioned him today,” Wolf said. “Prock was sitting at her table at the gala, and she remembers that Stephanie came over to the table, and he whispered something in her ear, brought her down real close. And Stephanie was blushing when she stood back up, and then she left.” Wolf shrugged. “That’s what Sarah said.”
“Sarah knew Stephanie?” Wilson asked.
Wolf nodded. “She was in Sarah’s counseling group on Mondays and Thursdays.”
The room went quiet.
“This Prock guy,”—Rachette squinted one eye—“you think he was the one who left with Stephanie?”
“He whispered in Stephanie’s ear at the gala,” Wolf said. “It’s thin, but it’s something.”
Patterson looked up from the computer. “So you’re saying Prock left with Lang, and then they hooked up with Cooper?”
Wolf shrugged again. “Cooper had a passenger when Baine pulled him over.”
“But Cooper is the helicopter pilot for Irwin,” Wilson said. “It’s Irwin’s helicopter.”
They all sat silent.
“And Prock works for Klammer. So,” Patterson said slowly, “why would Irwin’s employee be hanging out with Klammer’s employee? Aren’t these two firms arch-rivals at the moment? Competing for that huge condo contract?”
More silence. Patterson pecked the keyboard a few more times, and clicked her tongue. “There’s nothing online. No pictures of Prock. How are we going to ID him as the guy who left with Lang with no picture? Can you call Kristen Luke? See if she has it in a database?”
Wolf looked at Patterson, thinking it was an idea.
“We’ve gotta bring in Cooper, I’m tellin’ ya,” Baine said. “You put me in Interrogation One with him, I’ll find out who was with him last night.”
Wolf looked at the clock on the wall—4:55 p.m. He looked out the windows at the darkening sky, now twinkling with stars, and then the tired faces in the room. They’d had a long, action-packed day, and it was gearing up to be another big one tomorrow.
“All right, Baine, you’re coming with me. Otherwise, let’s pick up on this tomorrow. I want everyone to get some good rest.” Wolf looked at the three deputies that were fresh in the station for the night shift. “Be diligent out there tonight. See you all at oh-seven-hundred tomorrow.”
Wolf watched everyone stand up and leave the room, all except Baine, who looked at Wolf and scratched his head.
On the way out, someone said something about getting a beer, and someone else talked about food.
Wolf licked his lips.
“What’s going on?” Rachette asked, staying behind. “You guys going to talk to Cooper now? Do you need help?”
Wolf shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t drink too much tonight and see you tomorrow.”
“Me? Drink?” Rachette turned and left.
…
After a quick phone call to Sarah, and another promise that he wouldn’t mention her name, Wolf learned the location where Prock and Klammer were staying in town. Ten minutes later, Wolf and Baine were driving there.
Wolf turned onto Main and started heading south toward the resort; then, when they were a block out of town, he turned up Edelweiss Road heading west.
Baine turned to him. “Sir, I’m sorry about today. I really am.”
“So tell me what’s going on with this guy, Cooper. Why the vendetta?” he asked, already suspecting he knew the answer.
“I don’t know,” Baine said. “Cooper’s just one of those guys, you know? I can tell he’s up to no good, all the time.”
Wolf flipped on his brights for a better view of the dark stretch of forested road. “Laura?” he asked.
Baine sighed and looked over at him, then back out the passenger window.
“Yeah, something like that. He’s always in the Sunnyside hittin’ on her, and I heard he was slappin’ her ass the other day. I just …”
Wolf looked over at Baine. He was swallowing and shaking his head, staring out into the dark. He was heartsick, Wolf could tell. He knew the symptoms.
“And you think she might be egging him on?” Wolf asked.
Baine said nothing.
“Well, here’s what you’re going to do,” Wolf said. “You’re going to talk to Laura about the whole thing, and stop with this Cooper crap. That’s the only thing that’s going to resolve your problems, and it stops us looking like a squad of thugs.”
Baine held up a hand and nodded. “What are we doing up here, anyways?”
Wolf pulled up to an address and slowed, then turned into the driveway. “We’ll see soon enough.”
Chapter 14
Wolf stepped up to the door and pushed the bell. The frosted glass on the front door of Klammer’s rental property glowed red and yellow from the lights inside. It looked like someone was there, but whether or not they were going to answer was a toss-up. In Wolf’s experience, many people could sit ten feet from a door and stonewall someone knocking for hours.
Thankfully, Wolf saw movement.
“Man, it’s freezing again tonight.” Baine tucked his chin inside his coat.
Wolf watched the bobbing shadow behind the glass get closer, and then the porch light flipped on.
The door opened a slice, then wider, and a squinting face emerged. “May I help you?”
It was Klammer, the man Wolf had yet to meet but had seen around for weeks now.
“Mr. Klammer?” Wolf asked.
“Yes?”
“My name is Sheriff Wolf, and this is Deputy Baine. We’re with the Sluice County Sheriff’s Department. May we have a word with you?”
“Yes, yes,” he said. “Come inside, why don’t you? It’s freezing outside.”
Wolf nodded gratefully and stepped in, Baine on his heels.
“Nice to meet you, Sheriff Wolf. I have heard a lot about you,” he said with a smile, shaking Wolf’s hand.
Klammer was dressed in a white dress shirt and tie, slacks and black shoes glossed to a mirror. He smelled like a fresh spritz of cologne, and his short gray hair had perfect comb marks in it like rake lines in white sand.
Klammer walked through an expensively furnished living room and into a modern kitchen. “It’s not the same cold as Austria out there. Austria is more brutal, I can assure you. Can I make you two some coffee? Or something more interesting? A Scotch perhaps?”
Wolf smiled. “No, thanks. On duty. We’re fine.”
Klammer’s smile was disarming, like he and Wolf were long-lost friends. “Please, what can I do for you?”
“Is your assistant staying in this house as well?” Wolf asked.
Klammer nodded. “Yes, why?”
“May I speak with him for a moment?”
“What about?” Klammer asked.
Wolf returned the disarming smile. “It’s about something we talked about last night at the gala. I saw him—”
“Yes?”
Wolf turned at the deep voice. Jonas Prock stood just outside the kitchen. He was dressed similarly to Klammer, though he filled out his clothing with more muscles. He buttoned a cuff and looked up at Wolf. “What was it that we were talking about last night, Mr. …”
“Wolf. Sheriff Wolf.”
Prock walked in, and the bright kitchen lit up his eyes.
Wolf watched Prock’s pupils narrow to pinpoints, making his entire eyeball look off-white with just a speck of black. A memory of Stephanie Lang’s dead eyes surfaced, reminding Wolf exactly why he was there.