by Frank Hayes
“Sounds like this town is getting two for the price of one.”
“That’s one way of looking at it but don’t expect to double your salary. By the way, I called to get a requisition for the desk for Dif and Simon. The response was less than enthusiastic.”
“Wait until I hit them up for the new personnel, along with the expansion of the substation down at Redbud, then the creation of a new substation to serve the southern part of the county. Sparks are going to fly.”
“Guess Dave was the stimulus for that.” Rosie looked squarely at Virgil.
“Well, let’s just say he left a void, but what we’re talking about is long overdue. You know this county is bigger than the state of New Jersey according to Dif. That’s a lot of square miles to patrol, with a staff of four or five people.” The door opened and Dif came in. “Change that to five and a half,” Virgil said.
“Maybe on a good day,” Rosie responded.
“Why do I get the feeling that somebody here doesn’t understand how valuable I am to the efficient operation of this law enforcement outfit?”
“Okay, Virgil, five and two-thirds,” Rosie said.
“What the hell are we talking about, anyhow?” Dif asked. Virgil was about to explain, when the phone rang.
“I’ll be the voice of enlightenment,” Rosie said as Virgil put the phone to his ear. She filled Dif in on their conversation while Virgil continued to talk.
• • •
Mildred Stark was standing on her three-season glass-enclosed porch, holding her second Riesling in her hand, looking at the reflected light of the full moon flooding the desert. It was cold but not cold enough to keep her from her favorite view. There was still some snow clinging to the joints of a couple of giant saguaros. She had always thought it somewhat startling to see the giants or even the much smaller barrel cactus covered in snow, almost a contradiction, snow in the desert. She guessed that was because her formative years were spent in a part of the country where snow covered everything for three or four months of every year. Whereas the notion of desert existed in her imagination as a place of palm trees, cactus, sand and sun. In that scenario, the sun shone all the time, while the heat rose in shimmering waves from the desert floor. It took her marriage to Michael Stark along with her moving to the southwest to dispel that image. After all these years, snow-covered mesquite and cactus still enthralled her.
As much as the image before her seemed out of place, so also did the two phone calls on the answering machine after all this time. The first was from the office of Mr. James Zambrano, the second from Sheriff Virgil Dalton. She could only wonder at the meaning of the two within minutes of each other on the same day. She presumed this had something to do with Michael, even though it was more than ten months after his accident. She looked at the clock she could see hanging on the wall in the kitchen. It was a little past six. She was tired. It had been a full day at the elementary school where she taught, followed by a faculty meeting that went on for twice as long as it should have, although that wasn’t much of a surprise. Teachers as a group, she decided, more than any other were guilty of falling in love with the sound of their own voices. Halfway through the meeting, she had already settled on the Riesling over the Chardonnay, which she now held in her hand. She almost didn’t play the messages she saw flashing on the landline when she came home but then thought it might be one of the girls. A little relieved when that turned out not to be the case, she had hesitated before picking up the phone. She figured the office of the sand and gravel company would be closed, so she opted to try the Sheriff.
• • •
“That was interesting. Mrs. Stark invited me to stop by. I didn’t realize the Starks lived down in the Roscoe Flats area.” Virgil made the comment as he hung up the phone.
“Oh, now I remember,” Rosie replied. “I think she is the Mrs. Stark who teaches in the elementary school. She was Carrie’s teacher. I think it was fourth or fifth grade. Carrie loved her but she was tough. I remember when her husband was killed in that car accident last year. I kind of knew that they lived outside of Hayward, in the desert somewhere. Are you going over there?”
“I told her I could stop by tomorrow. She said that would work for her. If it’s okay with you guys, I’d like to head out now. Virginia’s going to come by tonight. She is going back to school tomorrow.”
“Not a problem. I have a few more things to finish then I’m going over to Carrie’s. The baby has a rash, probably from teething, so I told her I’d stop by and look at it. She wants me to stay for dinner.”
“Go ahead, Virgil. Jimmy will probably be in soon after Rosie’s gone. I’m good,” Dif added to Rosie’s comment. A few minutes later Virgil was walking to his car when Jimmy pulled in alongside.
“You are early. Dif figured you wouldn’t be in for another hour or so.”
“I wanted to catch you before you left. Here, give this to Virginia, a little going-away present.” He handed what was obviously a wrapped CD to Virgil. “It’s Adele, 25,” he said. “She really likes her.”
“Adele?” Virgil repeated, obviously having no idea who she was.
“Yeah. She’s pretty big right now.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Virgil got into his vehicle, then rolled down the window. “If you want to stop by, Virginia will be at the ranch later.”
“No. I know. She told me but I think she wanted to spend some alone time with you. Getting cold, I’m going inside now.” He gave a half wave to Vigil and headed toward the office door.
Virgil spent a good part of the ride home wondering how many other current world-class celebrities there were out there of whom he was blissfully unaware. The realization aged him. He considered that he hadn’t been to a concert since he became sheriff. Worse than that, he couldn’t remember who it was performing or who he was with at the time. Bob Weir popped into his recollection but he couldn’t recall whether Jerry had died already. Going over some of the timeline of his past made him more painfully aware of just how fleeting everything was. By the time he turned off the hard surface road into the driveway, he had resolved to make a connection with the present-day culture. For openers, he was going to ask Virginia to introduce him to Adele.
Virginia came through the kitchen door a little after seven. Virgil was setting some plates on the table. She waved a bottle of red wine at him.
“Thought this would go well with the steak. Grandpa gave it to me. It’s a cabernet.”
“Is that where you were up on the mesa?”
“Actually, I drove down to Redbud to say goodbye to my other father and brother along with the people I worked with down there. On the way back, on a whim, I drove up to the mesa. I don’t think I’ll be back here before the summer so I thought I would say goodbye.”
“I’m sure everyone was happy to see you, especially that old Indian.”
“He was asking for you.”
Virgil paused as he was opening the wine.
“Yeah, I know. I haven’t seen him since the party. It’s been really hard to find the time. Dave, Rosita . . .” He didn’t finish the thought.
“He understands all of that but he worries about you. He says you are one of those people who gives of himself until there is very little left for yourself. He says you need to become more selfish.”
“He must be channeling Rosie. That’s what I get from her all the time. Come on, sit down. The steak has almost stopped bleeding.”
They ate mostly in silence, their hunger overcoming their need for conversation. Finally, Virgil pushed his plate away then half filled both of their wine glasses.
“That was really good. By the way, I’m sorry I didn’t get to spend more time with you too,” he said.
“Oh, I’m okay. I know you’ve had a lot on your mind lately. I think maybe Grandpa needs you more, because you are the last link to his daughter.”
“I get that. I also know time is slipping away. That point has been driven home to me a lot lately. By the way, bef
ore I forget, I’ve got something for you from Jimmy.” He got up from the table. When he returned he handed her the disc.
“Adele. I’ve been wanting this. Jimmy’s a sweetheart.”
“I’d like to hear it before you leave. I want to know at least one twenty-first-century voice so that I don’t feel completely out of it.”
“Back to not leaving any time for yourself.”
“Let’s not go back down that road.”
For the next couple of hours the talk was random, about the town, the way it was changing, local politics, even how the pecan business was doing down in Redbud. At last, with the night closing in about them, they knew it was time to say their goodbyes. Virgil left the room for a minute. When he returned he handed a small box to Virginia. Adele’s voice filled the room. “Nice, very nice,” Virgil said.
“What is this?” Virginia asked.
“Open it and see.”
She took the cover off, displaying a ring inside. A sapphire was the centerpiece surrounded by some small diamonds.
“I, I don’t understand, this is beautiful but . . .”
“It was the engagement ring for your mother, which she never got to see, which I never got a chance to give her. It’s not traditional but it’s her birthstone. Think she would have liked it. I wanted to do something, more original. She was like that. I want you to have it now. She would have wanted you to have it. That box hasn’t been opened in twenty years. Just never could bring myself to look at it. But now, well . . .” Virgil unexpectedly got caught up in the emotion of the moment. Virginia came to him, wrapping her arms around him. “If you squeeze any tighter I’m liable to lose that steak we had for dinner.” She kissed him on the cheek, then stood back at arm’s length.
“Do you remember that day when you dropped me off at Crow’s Nest, the first time you brought me to meet my newly acquired grandfather?” Virgil nodded. “I told you then I didn’t know how I felt about you, about us. Finding out you have a father for the first time when you are twenty, well . . .”
“I know. It worked that way for me too.”
“Well, I know now. I can’t think of my life without you in it. It’s, it’s like I feel whole. For the first time in my life, I have all the pieces. I mean, it’s not like Uncle Micah and my grandmother, Audrey, didn’t do everything they could for me. But the one thing they couldn’t give me, you could and did. Where I came from, a starting point, a sense of being. My mother is real to me for the first time in my life. I see her in you. I hear how she was every time you speak of her. You know, for the last few years, I’ve gone back to school without looking back, happy, eager for what was waiting for me, anxious to move on in my life. That’s changed now. I really don’t want to leave. I am so going to miss you. Even though we get together only sporadically, you are always within reach. I’m going to miss that. I’m going to miss you. I love you, Dad.”
The number of times Virgil felt engulfed by emotion in his life he could count on one hand. A tidal wave had caught him. All the feelings that he had worked to keep in check during the last couple of weeks rose to the surface in Virginia’s words with such force that he felt like he was spinning, out of sync with time and place. He reached out to a nearby chair to steady himself, the room morphing, a blurred reality. Again, he had lost his words. Virginia read the look in his eyes. She came to him again. He clung to her like he had clung to no one, even Rusty. He realized the full import of her words, because he too had a sense of being whole for the first time in a very long time. Maybe this was what Grandfather meant about being selfish, he thought.
They walked together in silence to the door. Virgil held her coat, then they walked out the door and down the steps to her car.
“Dad, you should have put on a jacket. It’s cold out here.”
“I’m fine. It feels good to me, makes me feel alive. I’m warm inside.” She smiled at the remark.
“I’ll call,” she said.
“And I will answer,” he responded.
“Will you come to my graduation? I’d love to show you my school and Saratoga. We could make kind of a mini vacation out of it.”
“I’d like that. No power on earth will keep me from being there, unless of course Rosie says I can’t go. I pretty much let Clara, Cesar and Rosie run my life now. They all are convinced I can’t make it on my own.” A smile crossed both their faces.
“I’ve noticed. But that’s only because you are so important to them. Fortunately, they all seem to like me, so I’ll be expecting you.”
Virgil gave her a quick hug then she got in the car. He stayed long after she had reached the hardtop road. It was cold, clear and cold. The night sky couldn’t hold another star. He heard a coyote call. Could picture him running along the ridge, tail down, nose to the ground, trying to sniff out something that might fill the emptiness in his belly.
“Good hunting, partner.” Virgil’s words cut the silence. He took one more look at the empty driveway silvered in the moonlight, then turned and went in the house.
Chapter 38
High Ridge Road was appropriately named. The houses randomly scattered along its length were tucked into the high ridge that ran along the north side. Each was sited so it had a commanding view of a desert riddled with contradiction. Flat landscape contrasted with deep canyons that held rare water pockets and showed unexpected green. While in the far-off distance, the unmistakable blur of distant foothills rose to meet purple mountains. Virgil immediately thought of his grandfather sitting outside of his trailer on the high mesa at twilight, watching the sun slipping out of view against a variegated sky.
Irrigated swaths of green surrounded some of these homes but they were dominated by the broad reach of the earthen-colored desert beyond that stretched to the horizon. Virgil was always surprised by how quickly the barren landscape responded to the addition of water. It also did not go unnoticed by him how there were more swaths of green evident since he had last driven this road. In a climate where the cold hand of winter did not last that long, the temptation to add water for more production was strong. He knew, like many others, that this came at a price. The Colorado, which had in the past vigorously splashed into the Gulf of Mexico, had been reduced some years to a trickle. In this environment he appreciated how unique his own land was but knew that could change if the flow of water on his ranch were ever diverted. Green belts could turn desert brown very quickly.
He found the Stark house without difficulty. He parked in the wide space that had been carved out alongside the road to accommodate four or five cars, then climbed the thirty or forty stairs up to where Mildred Stark was waiting.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met but I’ve always heard good things about you.” Mildred Stark extended her hand.
“Thank you for that. As far as the other, I guess most people don’t mind not meeting me, especially in an official capacity.”
“Well, come into the kitchen. I’ve got a pot of coffee and some muffins to go along with it.” Virgil followed her inside.
“That’s some view.” Virgil made the comment when he reached the top of the stairs inside the front door. The formal living area ended at the expansive enclosed deck that ran across the front of the house. The wall of glass looked out on the seemingly unending desert.
“You’ve got to climb halfway up a mountain to see it but we’ve always thought it was worth the effort. When Michael and I first came here and decided to build up on this ridge, a lot of people thought we were crazy, but as you can see quite a few other crazies decided to join us over the years.”
The next few minutes were spent informally at the kitchen table. Virgil at one point mentioned that Mildred Stark had taught Rosita and Dave’s children.
“Yes, I remember the Brand children. I heard about what happened to their father. I know what a loss like that is, my girls are still trying to cope as I am with Michael’s being gone, but death doesn’t linger. Life is too demanding.”
“That’s probably a good thing
,” Virgil said.
“Yes, it is.” A quiet moment passed. “What is it you wanted to see me about, Sheriff?”
Virgil gave a brief overview of his investigation, ending with the notion of him not being too comfortable with the coincidence of Michael Stark’s accident, the disappearance of Everett Jessup, and the fire and body found in Everett’s trailer.
“You know, it’s funny you should say that, because your call to me is a kind of coincidence. Since Michael’s death I haven’t had any contact with law enforcement or Mesquite Sand and Gravel, then back to back phone calls.”
“I understand you have suspicions about your husband’s accident.” Virgil could tell that even after all these months the wound was still fresh. She sat forward in her chair looking directly at Virgil.
“I have nothing other than a gut feeling. Maybe you as a member of law enforcement, like all the troopers I spoke to, are strictly fact-oriented, but I knew my husband. He didn’t take chances, he wasn’t a careless man. And he knew that road. He had driven it in all kinds of weather. I mean, I was with him many times when we had two little girls in the backseat fighting over a toy, when the wind was howling and the rain was torrential. He never missed a beat. He drove that road for over twenty-five years, night and day, good weather and bad. So now I am to believe on an ordinary day that was bright and clear when there was nothing going on in our lives that would register as even slightly unusual . . . On that kind of a day, he went off one of the few straightaways on that road, all the way down to the bottom of a canyon? I’m sorry, but my gut tells me that never happened. Michael’s dead because somebody made that happen. I don’t know who or for what reason, but somebody killed my husband.” Virgil heard the raw emotion in her voice, saw her struggling for control.