Murderous Intent and Deadly Desires

by Angela C. Blackmoore

  “True,” Gabe said, grinning. “It would be fun to have something like that. I imagine I and the other rangers would waste tons of time riding around in it, just like a certain police officer I know would in this bad boy.”

  “It,” Lanie said snootily, “is a girl. Thank you very much.”

  “Right, girl,” Gabe corrected himself. “Now, if we’re all done showing off our new toys, you said you wanted to come look at the deer?”

  Lanie nodded, holding up the baggie with the plastic knife blade in it. “I’m hoping we can tell something from it,” she said as they followed Gabe into the ranger station. They dropped off Cheerio with Ranger Julia who agreed to watch him while they went into the back room. Cheerio would probably behave himself around the deer carcass, but Gabe didn’t want to take the chance.

  “You might be lucky,” Gabe said, leading them toward a back room that looked somewhat like a doctor’s office. There was a large, stainless steel tray lying on one of the tables with an ominous white cloth laid over something lumpy. “Most of what was done were cuts, but there are a couple of stab wounds in the haunch that look like whoever worked on it stuck the knife while their hands were busy.” He paused, and looked over at Abby. “Are you going to be okay seeing a bunch of blood and meat? It’s not pretty.”

  Abby nodded bravely, but didn’t speak. To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. She’d seen her fair share of horror movies that had all sorts of blood and guts, but the real thing was something else entirely. Still, when Gabe pulled the white cloth down, he did so slowly and kept his eyes on Abby through the process. When she didn’t blanch, he finished and laid the deer’s corpse bare.

  He was right. It wasn’t pretty.

  Abby had to look away for a moment as the full state of the carcass was revealed, but she took a deep breath and turned back while Gabe and Lanie moved forward. She wasn’t entirely convinced she could stay, but for the moment, she was doing okay.

  “Here,” Gabe said, pointing to an area on what looked like the deer’s hind quarters. “This is the most promising stab wound.”

  Lanie nodded and moved forward, pulling out what looked like a baggie people used to pick up dog waste. Abby had several of them for Cheerio in her pocket, though they weren’t exactly the same. Lanie put the bagged blade into the plastic, then carefully pushed it into the wound. She did it slowly and gently, trying to make sure the plastic followed the path of the wound instead of making its own. When she had the blade about half way into the haunch, she wiggled it several different ways, but finally looked up at them with a considering look on her face.

  “Well, if I were to say anything about this, it seems the blade fits snugly in the wound,” Lanie said, stepping back and gesturing toward it as she looked at Gabe. “Do you want to give it a try?”

  Gabe nodded and moved to where Lanie had been standing. He pulled the blade out and moved it back in just as slowly, the sound of the baggie wrapped plastic blade making an odd slithering sound. After a few attempts, tilting the blade a few times to make sure he was really hitting the edges, he pulled it free and laid it on the counter and stared at the deer for a few moments. “How did you make this plastic casting?” Gabe finally asked, glancing up at Lanie.

  “The state labs did it with ultrasounds they took off of the mayor,” Lanie answered. “There’s no way it would hold up in court. It’s way too uncertain, especially with a struggling victim. The labs said they had to make some educated guesses, as well.

  “Well, they did a good job,” Gabe said, chewing his lip. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s almost a perfect match.” He sighed and shook his head. “Still, like you said, it’s almost impossible to nail something on that, but maybe Abby’s idea wasn’t so farfetched, after all.”

  “So, there’s a good chance whoever was out poaching might also be the people that stabbed the mayor?” Abby asked.

  “There’s a chance,” Gabe agreed. “I don’t know how good of a chance. If the blade came from the same manufacturer, then it just means the person had the same taste as the killer. Still, it’s interesting.”

  “Do you think Demsey or Gloria have knives like this?” Abby asked.

  “Well, they probably have knives,” Lanie said. “Anyone that goes hunting or out into the woods usually has some sort of knife, but they have no reason to poach. Demsey doesn’t hunt, thank goodness, but Gloria hunts. She’s always gotten all of her hunting tags and I’ve never suspected her of poaching.”

  Gabe nodded. “I agree. I’ve met her a few times up in the mountains, and she’s always had her tags.”

  “Then who could it be?” Abby asked, frustration clear in her voice.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to ask Reggie if he knows of any gun and knife shows,” Lanie said. “I think if we can find whoever made the blade, they should be able to tell us who they made them for.”

  “Them?” Gabe asked.

  Lanie nodded. “Yes, them. This plastic blade matches almost exactly the real one we found in Don Buckshire’s back.”

  Chapter 21

  “What’s wrong, Abby?” Becky asked once the lunch service had slowed down. The red-headed owner was once again playing hostess while Abby waitressed. Abby usually was fully invested in the role, smiling and chatting with the customers while she took their order, but today was different. She was preoccupied with what she and Hazel had spoken about last night.

  “Nothing,” Abby said, blinking as she pulled herself out of her reverie. The whole thing with the Morgan Family Treasure that bothered her the most was the amount of secrecy that surrounded it. Hazel had said that Abby would get used to it, but right now, it was all she could do to not speak to Becky or Gabe.

  But what else could she do?

  There was millions in gold hidden underneath the house. How or why Kat Morgan absconded with it over a hundred years ago was a mystery, but there it was. That was just one of the peculiarities about the treasure since Kat never did tell anyone where it came from. All of the wild rumors Abby had heard could very well be true, though some were a bit more outlandish than others.

  Still, Hazel had shown Abby where the trap door was, and even revealed the latch that opened it, though they hadn’t tried to go through. Hazel wearily told Abby that it would take moving all of the food stuff out of the pantry so the door could be opened. Something that took longer with each passing year.

  Hazel went on to say that behind the secret door were a few shelves along with some old, leather bags half-filled with gold coins. The coins were real, but that wasn’t the real treasure. There was a second secret door that revealed some stairs down to an old, dusty passageway ending in a large, iron door. Within the room beyond, four chests contained a multitude of gold bars.

  Large chests.

  Abby couldn’t quite grasp the magnitude of what that meant. In essence, it meant that the Morgans were filthy rich, but they couldn’t just spend the money willy-nilly due to the questionable nature of how Kat Morgan had probably acquired the gold. In fact, that explained the nature of Hazel’s relationship with Robert Carrington’s law firm. For the past one hundred years, they’d helped the Morgans convert the gold into cash, and then create a number of shell accounts to hold and invest the funds in a way that couldn’t be traced back to the Morgans.

  That’s probably what bothered Abby the most and what had preoccupied her throughout her shift at Becky’s Café that morning. Why did they need to hide the gold after a hundred years? Still, she’d given Hazel her word that she would become the caretaker of the family treasure when the time came. She loved being in Red Pine Falls, and the thought of living out her life in the old house caused her nothing but delight.

  Becky just shook her head at Abby’s dismissive answer. “Are you worried someone might come in and attack you?” Becky asked. “Because they’ll have to go through me, and I won’t go down lightly. I bought a fish bat just in case!” Becky pulled the handle of what looked like a tiny base
ball bat from behind the hostess station, grinning at Abby before pushing it back.

  “Don’t even say that!” Abby said, focusing on her friend and grateful for the distraction. “The mayor has already been hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt, or worse.”

  “Well, the feeling is mutual, you know,” Becky said as she pursed her lips. “Okay, let’s not talk about that. It’s too depressing. Let’s talk about the knife thing!”

  “Ugh, Becky!” Abby said, swiping at her friend’s arm. “Didn’t you just say let’s not talk about depressing things? Knives and stabbing are not exactly happy discussion subjects!”

  “Well, if you talk about the stabby bits, that’s true, but I’m talking about going to the gun and knife show this weekend,” Becky said excitedly. “You know, there’s an awful lot of people in small towns who like their guns and knives.”

  “I know, but Lanie seems to think these knives aren’t exactly mass produced,” Abby said. “If we can find who made them, then we should be able to narrow down both who killed Don, and who attacked the mayor.”

  “And maybe also who’s been threatening you,” Becky said in a low voice. “I wish I could come along, but I have to work on Saturday.”

  “I know,” Abby said, patting Becky on the arm. “Don’t worry, though. Lanie and Reggie are going to go with me, or rather, I’m going with them. I’ve never been to a gun show, though. Dan…used to, but I never went with him. It never appealed to me.”

  “Well, with Reggie around, you know no one will dare to mess with you,” Becky said, nodding and smiling to a couple that came up to pay their bill. After they were done and had left, Becky resumed. “That boy is just huge and you know being an associate of John Troutdale, he knows how to get things done. I know they’re retired,” Becky said, making air quotes with her fingers, “but I doubt he’s forgotten much.”

  “There is that,” Abby said. “And Lanie is a police officer. She’s not huge, but I think she knows how to handle herself, right?”

  Becky nodded. “Yep,” she said, then got a sly look in her eye. “So when are you going to officially become Deputy Hurricane?”

  Abby rolled her eyes and once again swiped at Becky. “Stop that!” she said in a mortified tone of voice. “I’m perfectly happy working here at Becky’s Café!”

  “We could rename it the Hurricane Detective Agency,” Becky said, stroking her chin and looking up at the ceiling in mock seriousness.

  “Ugh!” Abby said, throwing her hands in the air and striding off toward a table. One of the diners had her hand raised and Abby was more than happy to be interrupted. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think about Sheriff Pearson thawing toward her involvement in town affairs. In some ways, it made things easier for her, but in others, she worried that maybe the Sheriff was letting her become too involved. She wasn’t trained, and she certainly had no background in police procedures. Was she getting out of her depth?

  Should she beg off going to the gun and knife show tomorrow?

  Shaking her head, she knew she wouldn’t. She was too invested in this, and doing something was so much better than doing nothing. Besides, one of her friends had been hurt, and her own life seemed to be under threat. If she didn’t do something, she would go stir crazy.

  Chapter 22

  Abby didn’t know what to expect at a knife and gun show, but she was surprised and pleased to learn it was set up just like any other trade show with clean stalls, friendly people, and bright open spaces. This year, it was being held in the Oregon State Fairgrounds in one of the huge buildings designed for just this kind of function.

  Reggie seemed to be most at home though Lanie wasn’t far behind. Both of them were cooing over several different types of firearms as they walked hand in hand. Watching the couple talk and point, Abby suddenly missed Gabe and wished he could have come along but he was working today. The rangers were still following up on reports of poachers and possible sightings, but so far had no luck.

  Considering that the poachers might very well be the people who had attacked the mayor or killed Don Buckshire, Abby wasn’t entirely sure she wanted Gabe to catch up to them.

  Still, she worked to stifle a giggle as she watched the couple meander through the aisles of booths laden with secured firearms and knives. It was mind boggling the variety of weapons on display, and Abby had little idea of most of what she was looking at. She was more than happy to stop when Lanie and Reggie came to a table that had all manner of knives and even some swords.

  As she stood next to her friends, she couldn’t help but marvel at some of the workmanship. While there were gleaming silver blades, there were also several that had the mottled, weaving pattern that Lanie had described as Damascus. The older man that stood behind the tables bearing his work looked every bit the blacksmith, with huge arms and a great, shaggy beard. The man even stood taller than Reggie as he looked at them through bushy eyebrows and wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Excuse me,” Lanie said, holding out a piece of paper with the strange bush symbol they’d found on the knife that had killed Don Buckshire. “We’re trying to find out some information on this mark. It came from a knife that looks a lot like the ones you sell.”

  The big man looked at Lanie for a long moment with an unreadable expression before taking the piece of paper. “Humpf,” he half grunted, “Is he in trouble?”

  Lanie exchanged glances with Reggie before shaking her head. “No. No but I won’t lie, we’re trying to find out who he sold these knives.”

  “Are you a cop?” the man asked.

  Lanie frowned and fidgeted, trying to decide how to answer the man but she finally just nodded. “Yes, but like I said, whoever made these isn’t in trouble. I’m hoping he can help us. I can’t really tell you what happened, but someone used his knives to do some bad things.”

  “All right,” the man said after another long bout of staring at Lanie. “At least you didn’t lie to me. I hate when people lie to me, and I’m pretty sure Ivan wouldn’t like it if someone used his knives for bad things. He’s a good kid.” He turned, pointing over a couple of rows. “He’s located over there. It’s not good if we’re too close together. If we’re too close, we tend to compete and then he can’t make any sales. At least not yet. He’ll get there.”

  Lanie smiled and offered her hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Name’s Nick,” he said, engulfing her hand in his. “Good luck with whatever those bad things are.”

  Nick nodded at Reggie and then Abby as they moved away from his table and headed in the direction he indicated. “Wow,” Abby said, “He was a big guy.”

  Reggie and Lanie both nodded. “And he’s a blacksmith,” Reggie said. “He probably just uses his fists instead of a hammer to beat the metal.”

  “I didn’t think he was going to help us, at first,” Abby said.

  Reggie nodded. “They get a little nervous around police in these places. Too much bad press about gun shows, but this is a pretty legit operation. They follow all the rules and background checks here. The knife guys don’t even have to worry about that, but they’ve seen enough guys get railroaded in the past, so they’re sympathetic.”

  It only took a few minutes to find the booth they were looking for. It had a lot of similarities to Nick’s booth but wasn’t as well stocked, being only about half the size. There were also several items that looked like camping stakes and other blacksmith products that Abby couldn’t identify. Still, everything had pleasing lines or twists in them which drew the eye.

  As Lanie and Abby set eyes on the man behind the table, they both did a double take before Lanie held up the piece of paper with the bush on it, and then turned it upside down. Looking at the picture and then at the man, they exchanged amused glances.

  “I don’t think it’s a bush,” Lanie said, looking at how closely the imprint resembled the man’s substantial beard.

  For his part, the owner of the booth was eyeing them curiously before standing up. “Uh, so
mething I can do to help you folks?” he said, smiling with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.

  Lanie nodded and stepped up to the table that was strewn with knives and other metal bits. “I hope so,” she said as she pulled out an evidence bag that held the knife that had killed Don Buckshire. “I’m trying to identify who might have purchased this knife, if you can help? Please don’t take the knife out of the bag,” she cautioned as she handed the knife over to the young man.

  He took it, turning it this way and that before nodding. “I remember making this. It was about nine or so months ago, and was part of a set.” He looked up, feeling a bit unsettled and also sad. “Please don’t tell me someone used it on someone else?”

  Lanie frowned but shook her head. “I can’t do that. I can’t give you a lot of specifics, but it would really help me out if you could tell me for who you made this knife.”

  Ivan turned, and rummaged through a duffel bag for a few moments before pulling out a well-used notebook. The notebook was scruffy and showed some black smears where Ivan had probably leafed through it with dirty fingers. Finally, he came to a page before tapping it. “Yeah, they paid in cash. I remember them,” Ivan said, looking up and shaking his head. “They made me super-nervous. I was happy to get them out of my shop.”

  “Do you remember their names?” Lanie asked leaning forward. “God, I hope you wrote their names down.”

  Ivan looked at the page but looked up sadly, shaking his head. “No, like I said, they paid in cash and didn’t give their names.”

  Abby felt almost as disappointed as Lanie looked. Lanie thanked the man and took the knife back, starting to turn away when Abby had a thought.

  “Wait, Lanie, remember when those bikers were threatening us?” Abby said excitedly. “Didn’t Wallace say that Bakes had some guy up in Vancouver make her a new knife set?”