Avalanche: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) (5 page)

BOOK: Avalanche: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries)
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7

HIS ROOM WAS NICER THAN
he had expected. Half a dozen candles provided a soft, glowing light. The furnishings were clearly old but well cared for. The double bed appeared to be made out of peeled, varnished poles. A matching nightstand was on each side of the bed. Large braided rugs covered most of the floor. Four straight-backed chairs were arranged around a small wooden table. A large wood-and-leather rocking chair completed the furnishings. In the bath, someone had placed a bucket of water next to the toilet, apparently for flushing, if the electricity failed to come on anytime soon. He was particularly pleased at the sight of a massive, claw-foot tub. The sink was equally old and impressive, with a large mirror above it. Tully looked in the mirror. It was a mistake. He shuddered at the sight of himself. He grabbed the bucket of water, splashed the sink full, then washed his face and hands, combed his hair and mustache, and headed downstairs for dinner.

As he entered the lounge, the lights came back on with blinding brightness. Tully actually preferred the candles and was confused as to how the electricity could be restored so quickly after the avalanche. Mrs. Wilson stepped out of her office at that moment and apparently read the puzzlement on his face.

“Generator,” she said. “Grady, our handyman, apparently just got it going. The generator runs on propane. We have a thousand-gallon tank of it.”

“You’ll probably need all of it,” Tully said. “It’s going to take a while for the highway department to get that road cleared out again.”

“No doubt,” she said.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get out and look for your husband. We’ll get a search going first thing in the morning.”

“I understand, Sheriff. Nothing can be done this late at night. I should have called you earlier. It’s just that I put it off until I realized that even Mike couldn’t be this angry, or this stupid, to be gone so long this time of year.”

“Right,” Tully said. He remembered her dismissing any possibility that Mike might have gone off on an affair. It had to be pretty humiliating to be married to a woman who couldn’t imagine you having an affair. Even Tully’s devoted Ginger had kept a wary eye on him.

Mrs. Wilson said, “I forgot to tell you that your associate arrived earlier. He’s back by the windows. I’ve had your drink put at his table, and your dinner will be there shortly. Hope you like pot roast.”

“One of my favorites,” Tully said. He thanked her again for repairing his knees and walked with her on through the lounge. He noticed five young men seated in a circle of easy chairs and a sofa. Marcus was one of them. A husky fellow in a letterman’s jacket appeared to have been a participant in some recent fisticuffs. His eyes were blackened, his lips swollen and cut, and his nose solidly punched.

“Who are those chaps?” he asked Mrs. Wilson.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, they’re fraternity boys from Washington State University. They apparently see themselves as extreme-sport practitioners. They spent the day out cross-country skiing. I think they intended to climb Mount Blight but gave up on that after one day. According to DeWayne, my bartender, they were seated there when a gentleman in Indian attire came in and one of them started teasing him. Apparently, the man invited the boys out to the parking lot and their disagreement was settled there. That sort of thing, I should mention, is not unusual here. Our clientele for the most part are fairly physical types, if you know what I mean. Skiers, mountain climbers. We don’t have DeWayne interfere too much when they get into their little disputes.”

“Indian attire?” Tully said.

“Yes, your friend, I believe. He doesn’t seem to be injured in any way.”

“I suspect not,” Tully said. He thanked her again, excused himself, walked over to Dave Perkins’s table, and sat down across from him.

Dave had his head tilted down, studying a glass of whiskey. He and Tully had been friends since childhood, often playing cowboys and Indians when they were very young. Dave had always wanted to be the Indian. He looked up. “Bo! Good to see you. Hope you didn’t run into any trouble on the way up.”

“Only an avalanche. And a couple of naked people. How about you?”

“Nothing of interest.”

“So you didn’t have anything to do with that blood out in the parking lot?”

“Oh, you noticed that, did you? I had to teach a frat boy a little respect for his elders. I’m kind of sorry now that I turned the whole tribe loose on him.”

“My recollection is you’re the only person in your tribe.”

As far as Tully knew, the reservation and casino were part of an elaborate running joke. But he couldn’t be sure. You never could be sure about Dave. With a totally insane mother and an absent father, he had suffered through one of the worst childhoods imaginable, without it ever seeming to affect his high spirits. After eighth grade, he dropped out of school and went to work in the mines. He joined the army as a sniper and scout as soon as he was old enough. The army educated him through high school and college and an MBA, and he eventually worked in army intelligence. And possibly for some other intelligence agencies. Dave never talked much about that part of his life.

“That’s true,” he said. “So far my tribe has only one member. But you didn’t bring me all the way up here to ridicule the size of my tribe. There really was an avalanche, hunh? Bad?”

“Really bad. Wiped out the road, almost took out the Explorer and dammed up the West Branch for good measure. Don’t know if the water will back up this far. Took out a cabin down below, though. I just barely managed to get a couple of kids out of it.”

“That one of them?” Dave said, nodding toward another table.

Lindsay was eating dinner with Pap and in animated conversation with him. Pap seemed interested but a bit overwhelmed.

“That’s Lindsay, all right,” Tully said. “Pap looks as if he might need rescuing, but I think I’ll leave him to his fate.”

“You’re leaving a young girl with Pap?”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t, but I think Lindsay can take care of herself.”

Dave said, “When you get time, I want to hear the naked part. She’s a cute little thing. Love that red hair. Must have been pretty wild.”

Tully nodded at the glass of whiskey in front of Dave. “That mine?”

“I reckon. I’ve already had two, waiting for you to show up. So I haven’t drunk much of yours. What’s the deal on Mike Wilson? He still gone?”

“Yup. From what I hear, he seems to be a bit of a jerk.”

Dave nodded his head. “Yeah, if he’s the Mike Wilson I know. He almost made the Olympic biathlon team twenty-five years or so ago and never let anybody forget it. The guy was a major athlete, though. I personally couldn’t stomach him, but he kept himself in terrific shape.”

“Sounds like he would know his way around in the snow.”

“He knows the mountains in this area like I know my reservation.”

“Not the kind of guy who would get lost around here, I take it.”

“You take it right,” Dave said. “In my opinion, Mike Wilson is not the kind of guy to disappear unless he wants to disappear.”

Tully took a sip of Scotch. “You think he has a bit on the side.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Women seem crazy about him, at least until they get to know him. That was some years ago, though. I haven’t seen him in quite a while.”

“His wife dismissed that possibility with a laugh.”

“That’s kind of mean, isn’t it?”

“That’s what I thought.”

Mrs. Wilson came up to their table. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sheriff, but there’s a lady who would like to talk to you. She’s up here from Boise practicing with her dog team for a race we are supposed to have next week. She’s been over all the trails with her team the last couple of days. She might be able to suggest something.”

“No problem,” Tully said. “I’ll be back in a minute, Dave.”

“Can I drink the rest of your whiskey?”

“Have at it.”

Tully followed Mrs. Wilson over to a nearby table. The lady was blond and slim with a pretty, nicely tanned face. She stood up as they approached.

“Janice Duffy, this is Sheriff Bo Tully.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sheriff,” Janice Duffy said, holding out her hand.

Tully took her hand and gave it a little squeeze.

Mrs. Wilson excused herself and went to attend to some other guests.

Janice Duffy smiled at him. “Would you mind stepping out on the veranda with me for a minute, Sheriff? It’s so stuffy in here.”

“It is that,” Tully said. He opened the door to the veranda and they stepped out into the snow. Janice Duffy grabbed him around the neck and kissed him hard on the lips. Not being a fool, Tully kissed her back. Then he gently pushed her away.

“So,” he said, “the marriage with Tom isn’t working out?”

“Sure,” she said, laughing. “It’s working out. Tom still buys my dog food, like a truckload every month. I’m just happy to see you.”

“I must say you have a nice way of showing it.”

“I can be a whole lot nicer, Bo. I’m here all alone and I have a very private room. You might want to stop by later in the evening.”

“Odd you should suggest that. And here I just assured my mother that I never sleep with married ladies.”

“Shoot! And here I thought you might have changed,” she said, pretending to pout.

The years had treated Janice well. Or maybe it was the sled-dog racing. She was lean and firm and fairly radiated health. She had married Tom Duffy while the three of them were still in college. Loud and funny and smart, she had chosen Tom for his good looks and money, instead of Tully, for love and poverty. Women were hard to figure.

“I admit it’s tempting,” Tully told her. “Alas, I still have my principle—I try not to do things that might cause hurt to my friends, and Tom’s a friend of mine. But I do have a favor to ask.”

“Really?” she said.

8

THE NEXT MORNING TULLY PUT
on his long underwear, black wool pants, checked wool shirt, wool socks, and insulated boots. Then he went downstairs and ate breakfast with Pap and Lindsay. Lindsay immediately burst into intense conversation with Pap, who gave Tully one of his calm, innocent looks.

“Listen, Lindsay,” Tully said, interrupting her chatter. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“It’s simply that your first assessment of Pap yesterday in the car was the correct one.”

“What was that?”

“He’s a dirty old man.”

Pap burst out in a laugh.

“Hey, don’t say such terrible things about him! I really like your old man. I happen to think he’s the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

Pap grinned at Tully, his teeth even and perfectly white, despite all the hand-rolleds he smoked.

“That’s his modus operandi,” Tully said. “You just remember what I told you, young lady. Now, I’ve got to go investigate the disappearance of a person.”

Pap said, “You need some help, Bo, I’ll be right here.”

“Probably later. I get the feeling we may be looking for a body.”

“A body!” the girl gasped.

“Sorry, Lindsay, but you’d have found out sooner or later.”

He went back to his room and put on his shoulder holster and gun and his down jacket. Then he walked back downstairs and out to the parking lot. Janice Duffy was waiting for him at her huge, glistening-white pickup truck. It was parked next to a matching double-axle trailer that probably cost more than most houses. The trailer obviously had been specially designed for hauling her dogs.

“Well,” she greeted him, “how does the mama’s boy feel this morning?”

“Part fiery pain, part dull ache. And don’t call me a mama’s boy or I’ll whack you up alongside the head. I still have my pride, you know.”

“You’re such a tough guy. Anyway, get in and we’ll drive up to the dog pens.”

The truck skidded sideways in the new snow, and Janice put it into four-wheel drive. “This new snow is miserable to drive in, but it’s perfect for racing,” she said. “The dogs love it.”

“From the tracks, it looks like you’ve been up here already this morning,” Tully said.

“Yeah, I came up at five to feed the dogs. Didn’t have any good reason to stay in bed.”

Tully smiled.

The dog pens covered at least an acre, with wire-fenced sections for numerous teams and several large flat-roofed doghouses in each section. Janice’s dogs were sprawled on the roofs of their houses. Seeing Janice, the younger dogs began bouncing up and down and yelling, “Take me! Take me!” The older dogs lay there and watched, calm in the knowledge they would be the chosen ones. Tully sat in the pickup and watched as Janice stretched out the single towline from the sled, and then brought the older dogs out one by one and attached them to it with individual tug lines.

When they were all hooked up, Janice came over and told him, “The lead dog’s name is Flag. He’s a terrific leader. But these are all good, experienced sledders.”

“Mmmm,” Tully said, getting out of the truck. He wasn’t a dog person, although he did appreciate a good hunting dog, as long as it belonged to someone else. “They’re pretty,” he said, not meaning it. “All Siberian huskies, I take it.”

“Right. I can see your enthusiasm for dogs is about equal to Tom’s. Still, he doesn’t complain about the cost of feeding them.”

“Good thing Tom is rich. This looks like an expensive hobby.”

“It isn’t a hobby! It’s a passion!”

“Sorry,” Tully said. “Anyway, Mrs. Wilson gave me a map of the lodge grounds. The so-called Pout House is about a mile upstream. Let’s take a look around there first.” He sat down on the sled, his back against the uprights, and took a firm grip on the handrails.

“Mush!” yelled Janice, standing on the backs of the runners and gripping the handles. She didn’t crack a long whip over the dogs, as Tully had hoped.

The dogs took off with such force that Tully was nearly thrown out of the sled. He was surprised by their power. Snow sprayed in his face. Ahead of him was a surging line of fluffy tails. Not a great view, actually.

“So you really do say ‘Mush’!” he yelled back at her. “Shut up!” she said. She was riding on the backs of the sled runners.

“What do I yell to get the dogs to stop, in the off chance you fall off?”

“Shut up! I have to concentrate!”

They arrived at the Pout House much quicker than Tully had anticipated. He had been looking forward to what he expected would be a much more leisurely ride.

“Whoa!” yelled Janice. The dogs slowed to a stop, as she braked the sled, apparently to keep it from running over the dogs.

“Whew!” Tully said, pushing himself up. “That was—exhilarating.”

“You really are a mama’s boy, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Now that you mention it.”

He walked over to the cabin and tried the door. It wasn’t locked. He pushed it open, stamped the snow off his boots, and went inside. The cabin consisted of two rooms. A propane lantern hung from a chain attached to the ceiling. A barrel stove provided for heat and any cooking that needed to be done. A teakettle sat in the middle of the stove’s flat top, which had obviously been cut and welded with a torch. He looked in the second room, which contained a bed piled with blankets and a comforter. A small bookcase contained a selection of worn paperbacks. Another lantern sat on an upturned apple box next to the bed. There was no indication the cabin had been used for some time. He took the lid off the teakettle and stuck a finger in. The water was frozen. He noticed some snow on the floor. Clearly there hadn’t been heat in the room anytime recently. A second door opened to the back of the cabin. Tully pulled it open. A snowy field spread out before him. He could make out odd shapes scattered about the field and barely protruding above the snow. Then he saw the boot tracks. They led away from the cabin in the direction of the river. He closed the door. He walked back through the cabin and went out the front door.

“You find what you were looking for?” Janice asked.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, and whatever it was I didn’t find it. A vehicle of some kind has mashed down the snow right up to the cabin and wiped out any tracks that might have led into it from the front.”

“Wow, you detect the obvious right off,” Janice said. “No wonder you have the reputation of being some kind of genius when it comes to solving crimes.”

“I’ll tell you what it is. I don’t have a wife, so I don’t have anyone to explain the obvious to.”

“Wives already know the obvious.”

“Yes, but good wives pretend they don’t. See, Janice, that is your shortcoming as a woman. You never let men get away with explaining the obvious.”

“I’ll try to live with it.”

Tully told her he had one more place he would like her to haul him.

“Where’s that?”

“The top of the ridge behind the lodge. There’s something the genius in me wants to investigate, namely if my cell phone will work from up there. It certainly doesn’t work down here.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know.”

BOOK: Avalanche: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries)
2.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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