Deadly Is the Night (18 page)

“I never noticed the dates those murders happened. The first was in June.”

“Why would you want to notice that?” Miguel asked.

“Moon phases? Events at the time?”

“That might trigger them to murder?”

Chet nodded. “Hey, I did not want to push you on the file?”

“You didn't. I did not want to admit I cannot read. Lisa is teaching me and maybe next time I will be able to read what you give me.”

“Miguel, I did not hire you to read. You are a good support to our team and I am glad you are learning reading. That will help you in the rest of your life.”

Miguel smiled as they hung their hats and coats up on the pegs in the back-enclosed porch. Washed, they climbed the inside steps into her home and into the food smelling kitchen.

After the sorry meal the night before back up the roadhouse, this lady's food was going to be a great change.

It was too early to for him to even suspect anyone in the case, but this was not the first challenge they had to solve with no clues. They would do all they could, and hopefully stop those gruesome murders.

That evening when his men went upstairs to bed, he stayed and spoke to his hostess, Edie.

“May I ask if you had any further thoughts about these crimes?”

“Terrible. I still can't believe anyone doing such horrible things to other humans.”

“Edie, I believe those people murdered were all sinners in the eyes of this killer or killers, and in their tormented minds, living in sin. If someone had robbed them they might have been shot so the robbers could not be identified, but they would not have been so ritually murdered.”

“Oh, my Lord, then the killer was not a drifter?”

“My theory is that the killer is upset these people were not churchgoers and were not legally married. He was cleansing the earth by doing these ritual-like murders.”

“So he could be a neighbor and thinks he's doing God's work?”

Chet nodded. “Will you think of anyone with such a conviction?”

“I will consider it. They would have to have a strong belief about that to murder them.”

“They are too willing to reset the world's clock.”

“I heard you were a good man coming with answers and now I see it.”

“Not good enough ones so far.”

“Oh, I bet you find them.”

“Please, really think about any individual around here who is so deep in his own convictions to take things into his own hands this way.”

“You want a zealot?”

“That is what the Bible calls them.”

“I will search my mind. I have seen some men shake their fist in anger when they hear or see people they think are not good Christians. I will find you some names to check out but for heaven's sake don't tell a soul I did it.”

“I won't. But you be careful, too. He will be crazy and would hurt you if he even thought you were helping us stop his business of cleansing the land of non-Christians.”

Later in his bed, under the covers, his mind flipped through a hundred names that could be suspects—not one that he knew by face. What a mess? It would not be easy looking through this small population for a clever deceptive person with a mean-purposed killer's mind.

But the killer had made or would make a slip. Right now he was doing a damn good job of keeping under cover. Tracking him down would be a challenge, but somehow he had to or there would be more horrific killings for him to feed off of. This situation was unlike any one he'd ever taken on, but all criminals make mistakes and he damn sure would find them.

Their hostess fixed a big breakfast spread for the men well before the winter sun came up. No doubt she, at one time, had a family. His curiosity was aroused eating her flapjacks and homemade syrup. He'd have loved a hot cup of coffee, but since the beverage was not allowed by Mormons her well water in a glass had to do.

The men were talking when she came back to the table bringing another stack. “You men going to quit eating on me?”

Jesus spoke up, “No, ma'am, we are taking a break to eat those you have there.”

That produced a smile on her face, then laughter.

“I had a husband once. Frank was a good provider. He left me too early. His heart quit him. We had two sons. Johnny was killed in a logging accident at sixteen. Ira lives in Texas now. He writes me letters, wants me to come to Fort Worth. He has a large mercantile business there. He joined his wife's Methodist church there. I have two grandchildren—I have never seen them except in pictures.”

“Why don't you move there?” Chet asked.

“I guess because I am safe here. Or in the past it was safe. I have been a Mormon all my life. I cling to my faith and I fear leaving it. Oh, the elders think I should remarry. But I don't need another man—I am not child bearing and I had a good man that God will rejoin me with, I hope, in heaven. Enough of that. You all eat.”

“Edie. Thanks. My first wife died in a horse jumping accident. That was her thing, to jump horses, and she was good. But over-achieving took her from me. Elizabeth was a lady who wanted to buy some of my claybank horses. She came by my place in southern Arizona to buy them when she heard I was there. Came in a fancy coach—widowed, she ran a large
hacienda
in Sonora. We met and soon were married. She is a delightful partner in my life, and if it had not been so cold she would have been here today.”

“Thank you for sharing. You have a wife, Jesus?”

“Yes, it took me a long time to convince Chet's wife's maid, Anita, to marry me. But we are married and she is coming out of her shell. It is hard to feel like an equal when you have been a worker and now you are an equal, but she is accepting that.”

“Miguel, tell her about your wife.”

“Edie, we all owe a lot to our boss. He rescued a young lady who was being held by some outlaws and he brought her home to the ranch. The first time I saw her I said, ‘Miguel, you need her.' I didn't know her. I was afraid to talk to her in fear that it might turn her away.

“The reason that I came to Preskitt was a woman I loved was killed in Mexico by bad men. I settled that score and was restless, so I went north. I did not want to farm or work in a mine so I got a job as a
vaquero
at Chet's ranch. No woman had turned my head since I lost her—five years ago, or longer, until Lisa came there.

“I knew that she had been mistreated, held against her will by bad men. She had an edge to her I had to soften. I asked Raphael, our foreman, for a day off if I could talk her into going on a ride with me. He is a great man. He gave me the time and I asked her. At first she frowned and I told her I was not there to use her—you know what I mean?”

“I can imagine, yes.” Edie smiled as Miguel poured his heart out.

“I picked an easy horse for her to ride. She made lunch. We rode around and went over on the mountain edge to look over the whole Verde Valley far below. She asked me what were my plans? I told her to become a ranch foreman.”

“Not a helper riding with Chet?” she asked.

“Oh, no. He had plenty of helpers. I never expected that to ever happen. I got through Lisa's shield after several picnics. I asked Raphael if I married her could I still work there and could I get us a
casa
for us to live there. He said she could probably get one, he didn't know about me getting one.”

They all laughed.

“He told me that they'd have to build one. You know how you want to be married once you asked her or in your case after he asked you? It required months. I thought it felt like years. The priest was ready to marry us. I was ready to marry her. She was ready to marry me. But the
casa
was not ready to live in. His wife, Elizabeth, bought her a very expensive gown to get married in. I have a picture of her and me I will show you tonight. Finally everything was ready. We had a weeklong honeymoon at Chet's apple ranch and came home riding the clouds.”

Smiling, Chet said, “Edie, that is the longest story he ever told in his life.”

She dabbed her eyes. “Tonight you'll have to tell me how you got to ride with these two.”

“Can we do your dishes?” Chet asked.

“Heavens no. You men have work to do today. But I will treasure your life stories forever. Thanks for making my day.”

“No, we have to thank you for your wonderful food. And now we will go to work.”

“I prepared a picnic basket for you to take. It has boiled eggs, sliced bread, prickly pear jelly, pickles, and cookies. Not a manly lunch but enough until you get back.”

Chet kissed her cheek going out. “We love you, Edie.”

Miguel went for the horses and Chet and Jesus went on to meet Deputy Knowles.

“Last night, a man named Sam Thomas offered to ride with one of you if that's okay?”

“Fine. Jesus will ride with him.”

“Certainly. He'll be here shortly.”

“Good. Miguel went for the horses. He can ride with us. He is my new man and learning how we do things. Jesus is a tracker and finds things.”

“However you want to do things. I just want to know who the killer is and stop him.”

“I know how you feel. It is your job to protect the folks up here. It may take a long time for us to resolve this, but in the end I believe we will find him.”

They met Sam Thomas, a redheaded man about thirty, who had the hands and shoulders of a big Swedish lumberjack. He had a great smile and was as anxious as his pal to find the killer.

They split up. Jesus and Thomas rode off to the second site. Chet, Knowles, and Miguel went to the first scene, the Forester place.

It was frosty but the sun would warm things as the day advanced.

Knowles told them on the road, “One of the church members, Jim Jennings, came by my house last night to ask if he could get title to the Forester place, if he paid the taxes. You know the sheriff is the county tax collector. He wanted it if it was cheap enough. As an investment, he said. I wrote the office in Preskitt to see what could be done. My wife is going to mail it.”

“It isn't farmland, is it?” Chet asked.

“No. But if the homestead part has been completed it would be a cheap starter place for a newlywed couple. The church sends lots of them down here from Salt Lake. Jim's a man in his fifties and stout. He's made some good investments and is a rather rich man by Snow Flake standards.”

“He have more than one wife?”

“You know I have to live here. That federal law has to be enforced by your marshals so I'll let that dog lie.”

“I understand. I am not looking for a criminal investigation, I am simply curious.”

“Thanks. Let's not talk about that. I want to solve these cases. They keep me awake at night. I have run out of leads. I am so glad you came. I've been looking for apes in the woods I guess. I did think about your notion last night and it made me sick, the fact that the killer could be among us here. But you are right; he has to be. No drifters would keep coming back just to kill.”

“You ever think about using a water witcher on these sites?”

Knowles chuckled. “What could he do?”

“I was in Fort Worth once and heard about a man who lost a pocket watch on a picnic in some tall grass prairie. He hired a man who witched water wells. He witched for two days with a peach tree fork and found it.”

“How would we know what to tell him to look for?”

“It's a real wild thought, but we have no clues to point a finger at anyone, and maybe there is nothing for him to find. But it could be worth a try.”

“Let me think about it.”

“We are desperate and we do need a lead on something.”

They walked around the site of the murders. The shack of a house had more cobwebs, Chet figured, than six months earlier. Old bloodstains were black. Someone had stolen the bed Knowles told him about. Chet stood on the rise to the north, wondering if the killer had stood in this same spot and watched the family while making his heartless plans to rid the world of these unbelievers. With the leaves on the trees, the watcher would not have been seen. Or perhaps he rode up like he had presents or food for them. No matter what he did, he brought cold-blooded death to four humans.

“I've seen enough,” Chet said with still no answers.

Knowles, mounting his horse, agreed. Miguel kept quiet. They rode in silence for several miles.

“Now I have seen the place. What would be the tax price he'd pay for it, this guy you wrote the letter for who wants to buy it?”

“Less than a hundred dollars.”

“The house is a shack that leaks whenever it rains. I saw no garden spots. I dropped a small rock in the well. There is water at thirty feet but not much of it. No fences. No timber. Why would anyone want this place?”

“He said as a future investment.”

“He hasn't eaten any funny mushrooms or smoked some weed in a pipe?” Chet asked.

“No. He is a strong church member. I doubt he'd ever do that. I think he may have been trying to buy it before the murders. That cowboy that reported the deaths said he'd seen him out there checking around.”

“Before or after the murders?”

“Both sides of that happening.”

“Strange to me why anyone would want it at any price.”

Back at the office, Jesus and Thomas had returned as well from the number two site.

Jesus shook his head. “We found nothing out there.”

“Tomorrow we look at number three and four.” He looked at Knowles, who nodded.

Their horses put up, they walked the dirt street back to Edie's house. Winter-like weather kept hanging on. He needed to write his wife. This was going to take much longer than he originally thought.

“Well the investigators are home,” she said, meeting them at the back door.

He laughed. “Sure not much more than lookers.”

“You three will solve it. I have the faith. Any new clues that you could list for me?”

Chet shook his head, drying his hands. “The food smells good.”

“You three ate since breakfast?”

“Miguel, Knowles, and I had the picnic basket you gave us. Jesus, you and Sam Thomas just had the jerky you carry, right?”

“Tomorrow you'll have another basket. Two since you go in different directions.”

“Hurrah,” Jesus said.

After the meal, Chet wrote Elizabeth a short letter. Told her that the crimes were unbelievably bad, the clues had evaporated, and they had no suspects. That he'd be home when he could and he loved her.

The men were gone to bed. Edie said she'd mail it for him.

“Not a word, but you can help me with some information. A man called Jim Jennings keeps coming up. Do you know him?”

“He has three wives and I am glad I am not one of them. Is that enough said?”

Chet nodded. “I had to ask.”

“He's very outspoken.”

“Thanks. What does he do?”

“His wives milk cows. Sell some. They make butter and cheese and have babies. In the summer they raise crop-size gardens. He sells the produce. They never say anything at socials and never have time for quilting—because that is a woman's event and at them women talk to other women. He doesn't want that. There is an old adage he must use. Women are to be seen and not heard.”

“Thanks. I better get some sleep. I hope we are not wearing you out.”

“No. I want you to find the guilty party. There is one more man that you should know about. Grant Colby. Both his wives divorced him for his severe abuse to them. That, in my church, is unheard of, but it was so bad the church elders excommunicated him.”

“Where does he live?”

“In Randolph Canyon. He is a snarling bulldog sort of guy. The church board and bishop never went over there where they weren't armed with shotguns.”

“I wonder if Knowles ever questioned him.”

She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Of course not. Don't tell a soul. I'll look into it. Have any of Jennings's wives complained about him?”

“If they have I have not heard about it.”

“Good night, Edie, and thanks again.”

In his own bed later, he wondered about both men. He had to know more about both. It may not be either of them, but they were the only ones he had for the moment. He rose up, fluffed the pillow. Be a damn sight better being at home right now . . .