Nothing Is Negotiable (11 page)

“Ernest, that’s not right,” Luke pleaded.

Ernest straightened up and said, “Stay here. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

When they left the room Luke’s mind was in a tailspin. He couldn’t believe Ernest believed he hit Bonnie. But he knew he had to convince them they were wrong and wasting valuable time.

A few minutes later, Paul opened the door and said, “That’s all we have for now, so you can go.”

Luke followed Paul down the hallway, through the reception area and out the front door. Paul lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the grass before turning to face Luke.

“Let me fill you in on something. About ten years ago, against Ernest’s wishes, his daughter married a guy she’d only known for a few months. He was about ten years older than her but seemed like a great guy. After a few months, Ernest noticed she was changing. She wasn’t the happy-go-lucky girl she’d been. She seemed nervous all the time and quit spending time with the family. He started to notice bruises on her arms. Once she had a black eye and when he asked her about it, she said she fell down, and everything was fine.

“But, one Sunday after they’d been married about a year, she didn’t show up for church, so he went to check on her. The son of a bitch had beaten her up. Broke her jaw, ruptured her spleen and did some other stuff to her I won’t even mention. Turned out he’d been beating her and sexually abusing her since they got married. They filed charges against him and when he got out on bail, he skipped and hasn’t been seen since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but what does it have to do with me?”

“Anytime anything like this comes up, Ernest takes it very personal.”

Luke raised both hands, palms toward Paul. “I understand, but you need to believe me. This is not what’s going on.”

Paul nodded. “Luke, before I was a cop, I worked in the security business for thirteen ass-sucking years. I can read people pretty good and I can tell you’re a good man. I believe everything you said in there, but Ernest is the one calling the shots on this, and there’s nothing I can do.”

Luke was unlocking his car when he saw Ernest get into a black and white GMC Denali parked beside the building. He had to talk to him and make him understand.

“Ernest, can I talk to you a minute?” Luke said, running up to his vehicle.

Ernest fixed his gaze on him but didn’t take the car out of gear. Hopeful, Luke said, “You have to believe me, I wouldn’t do a thing to harm Bonnie.”

He glared at Luke. “I’d like to believe you, son, but I don’t like the way things look right now.”

“All that stuff that happened back at home doesn’t mean anything,” Luke said as he dropped down on one knee at the open window. “It’s all in the past and doesn’t have a thing to do with our relationship now.”

“I’d be more inclined to believe you if you had told me about it. Right now I can’t do anything for you.” Ernest turned his head away from Luke and looked out the windshield, staring at nothing in particular. After a silent moment, he looked back at Luke over his bifocals, and said, “In fact, I’m pretty darned pissed at you.”

He jabbed his finger towards the building. “You embarrassed me in there. I’ve been standing up for you all along and now, to have all of that come out like that makes me angry. Those inspectors at the border say they’re sure you hit her.”

“They’re wrong! I’ve never hit her in my life and never will. You have to believe me.”

“This is a small town. I’ve known most of those inspectors since they were kids and I’ve only known you for one day, Luke. They don’t have any reason to lie.”

“Ernest, I’m telling you the truth. Let me tell you—”

“Luke I’ve got work to do right now.”

“Do you think I’d be hanging around the police station if I had something to do with my wife’s disappearance? What can I do to make you believe me?”

“I don’t know, but every trail we have ends with you.” Ernest looked back toward the highway and sighed. “If you want me to believe you, you’ve got to give me something to work with. Can you think of anyone else you talked to in Cardston?”

Luke pondered a few seconds. “There was one guy in the waiting room at the clinic. He was huge, must have been six-eight and weighed at least two hundred and fifty pounds. Looked Native American. When I came in he was talking to Bonnie and I wanted to move over to the corner out of the way. He got pissed off and made a scene. Everyone in the waiting room looked at him like he was about to start a fight.”

“Sounds like Willy Standalone. Did he have a tattoo of an Indian chief on his arm?”

“Yep, that’s him.”

“That’s Willy, and he’s one mean son of a gun. Everyone in town’s got a story about Willy. You don’t want to get on his bad side. Over the years he’s always been in some kind of trouble. Usually getting drunk or fighting.” Ernest took off his straw hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “One night about six or seven years ago, he was drinking down at The Sunny Side Inn, and some guy picked a fight with him. Willy hit him one time, crushing his skull. Killed him instantly. Judge sent him to prison for manslaughter.”

“I thought he looked like someone I didn’t want to mess with.”

“He is and most folks around here were glad he was gone because everyone’s scared of him.”

Ernest reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigar, removed the cellophane wrapper, and looped a finger around it. “He got out of prison about a year ago and came back to town. Hasn’t been in trouble since. But, he’s a powder keg that might blow any minute.”

“He wasn’t too happy with me, that’s for sure. He glared at us until he went back to see the doctor. Bonnie said that his son was with him.”

“Probably was. Got one they call Little John. Just graduated from high school this year and he’s going to college in the states on a football scholarship. He’s got potential but I don’t see how he’s going to make it unless he gets his head on straight. When Willy went to prison, Little John started running with the wrong crowd. It’s such as shame, because deep down he’s a good kid. And pretty smart, too.”

“Do you think they could have anything to do with it?”

Ernest shook his head, “I doubt it. This isn’t Willy’s style and no way I can see Little John involved in something like this. But I’ll look into it.”

Ernest looked at his watch. His wife wasn’t expecting him for lunch for about an hour, so he might as well get this over with. Willy worked at the Cardston Auction Barn east of town. It took about ten minutes to get there and when he stepped inside the building he could hear the chatter coming from the office. He walked back and poked his head around the corner and saw the owner, Butch Purdy, drinking coffee with some local ranchers.

“I could smell the bullshit a mile before I got here. But I didn’t know it was coming from your office, Butch.”

One of the ranchers said, “Come on in, Ernest, you know that’s the smell of money.”

“I know bullshit when I smell it, Grady, and you’re usually in the middle of it.”

They laughed as Ernest shook hands all around.

Butch offered him a chair and said, “How are you doing, Ernest? Been a while since you’ve come to the poor side of town.”

“Well hell, Butch, some of us have to work for a living.”

“What brings you out here today? I haven’t known you to make many social calls during daylight hours.”

“I wish it was social, but I need to talk to Willy.”

“Oh, shit, I think it’s time for us to be going,” one of the ranchers said, reaching for his hat. The others followed suit and scrambled for the door.

“I was hoping that wasn’t the reason you were here. Willy’s been a good hand since he got out,” Butch said as he stood up. He pulled a dusty black Stetson off the hat rack and put it on. “He’s unloading some heifers from Scott’s Ranch. Come on, let’s go find him.”

They piled into his old Yamaha Mule and headed down a muddy pathway between crowded pens of noisy cattle. It reeked of cow crap and flies pestered them as they made their way through an open-sided barn.

Butch pulled to a stop at some loading docks and they made their way around the cow patties to a large corral full of bawling calves. There, three men were trying to herd the calves into a chute that led to a series of pens.

Butch climbed on the bottom rung of the wooden fence and cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “Willy.”

“Yo,” came a shout from the other side of the herd.

“C’mere.”

Ernest bent over and peeked between the top two slats and saw Willy at the back of the herd. Now and then, a calf would try to run around him and he’d step in front of it or grab it and push it back with the others. He looked like a tackle protecting the quarterback.

Finally when the herd was corralled and Willy headed their way. His sleeveless shirt was soaked with sweat and he pulled off his straw-colored cowboy hat and wiped his brow with his bare arm.

“Ernest needs to talk to you.”

Willy’s eyes went from Butch to Ernest, who was looking between the boards of the corral. His expression turned sour with a “what now?” look on his face.

He strode up, leaned on the fence and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and shook it. A few cigarettes popped up and his lips curled around one and he pulled it out. He strummed a lighter and a yellow flame danced at the tip of the cigarette. Willy took a long draw and blew a stream of blue smoke skyward.

Any time Ernest was close to Willy he was in awe. He had the muscular body of a lumberjack and stood more than a foot taller than him. His hair and eyes were black as coal and his skin, in spite hard living, was smooth as a morning lake.

“What’s up, Chief?” he asked, not looking at Ernest.

“Willy, I hope you can help me out here.” Ernest tilted his head down and kicked a dirt clod. “We’re trying to find a woman missing in town, and we thought you might remember seeing her.”

Willy turned his head slowly and gave Ernest a look that would back down a mountain lion. “Why you asking me?”

“Because you talked to her at the clinic on Tuesday. Her husband said you got mad at him because he didn’t want to sit by you.”

He rolled his eyes, a memory seeming to come to mind. “Oh? That asshole? I talked to his woman, but I didn’t do nothin’to her.”

“Nobody’s saying you did anything Willy, we’re just...”

“Then why’re you here? I just talked to her and her fuckin’old man told her to move away from me. Like I stunk. Like I’m not good enough to talk to her. Like he don’t like Indians.”

“You’re the only person we know who talked to her. I’m just trying to—”

“Fuck that fuckin’ fucker cuz I didn’t do nothing to her.” Willy moved closer to Ernest and spittle flew from his mouth as he spit out the words. “I did my time and now you’re pulling this shit. I didn’t do nothing, so why don’t you just fuck off.”

Ernest narrowed his eyes and said, “Don’t use that language with me, Willy.”

“You guys are always trying to blame me for shit I didn’t do.”

“Willy, listen to me. You’re on parole and all it takes is one phone call and they will haul your butt back to the pen. Is that what you want?”

Willy backed up a little and said, “No, but... it just seems everyone wants to blame me for everything...”

Ernest said, “I’m not blaming you for anything. I’m just asking you a few questions.”

Willy flicked the cigarette into the air, then turned and watched the calves across the fence. Ernest waited, and finally Willy huffed and said, “What?”

“This lady who disappeared is a tourist and nobody’s seen her since she was at the clinic.”

“So, I didn’t do nothing to her.”

“Dadburnit, Willy. Just listen to me. Her husband said you were the only one he remembers seeing talk to her.” Ernest pulled out the picture of Bonnie and held it out for him. “Here’s a picture of her. Her husband said you and Little John were there.”

He glanced at the picture and nodded his head. “I remember her. She sat down beside me and—“

“I know what he did Willy. He told me and so did you. But, listen to me. You’re the only one we know who talked to her. How about Little John? Did he talk to her?”

“Shit, no. Little John didn’t talk to nobody.”

“Did you see anyone else talk to her?”

“I didn’t see nothing.”

“After you saw the doctor, did you and Little John leave together?”

“Not together. I had my truck and he had his. I went to work and I don’t know where he went.”

“When you were leaving the clinic, did you see her in the waiting room or at the counter paying or did you see her come outside?”

“Like I said, I didn’t see her nowhere. I didn’t see nobody nowhere. I just walked outside, got in my truck and left.”

“When you left the clinic, where did you go?”

“I went and picked up Joey. Sometimes he rides to work with me.”

“You were supposed to come to work at noon? Did you get here on time?”

“No, we were late.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. Joey had some stuff he needed to do.”

“Like what?”

“I took him over to see his cousin and we kind of lost track of time.”

“What time did you and Joey get to work?”

“Joey didn’t come in.”

“Why not?”

Willy shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he was going to stay and help his cousin fix his car.”

Ernest asked, “When did you get to work?”

“About one-thirty, I think.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I don’t have a fucking watch.”

“Did you punch a time clock when you got here?”

“No. Now we do it on a computer.” Then Willy’s anger got him sidetracked. “Did her old man say I did something to her?”

“Willy, just answer my questions. We’re just trying to find this lady and we don’t have a lot of time, okay?”

“You can tell that asshole—“

Ernest interrupted, “Have you seen Joey since then?”

Willy shook his head and turned back to watch the calves.

Ernest knew he wasn’t going to get anything else. “Okay, Willy. Thanks.”

As they drove back to the office, Ernest asked Butch to verify what time Willy got to work and found that he had not clocked in at all.

Ernest asked. “Does he forget to clock in very much?”

“It used to be a problem, but now I dock ’em an hour when they forget. I can’t remember the last time Willy forgot. He’s been working on Jesse’s crew lately. Let me check with him, he’ll know what time he got here.”

Butch called Jesse on his two-way radio. Jesse said, “Willy didn’t get here until about two-thirty. I know because we had a load of heifers come in about two-twenty. We needed some help and I was looking for him when I saw his truck pulling in the parking lot.”

Ernest thanked Butch and headed back to town, thinking things over. Willy had been working hard since he got out and hoped his time in prison would settle him down. But he knew he had a temper and the smallest things could set him off. And what scared him was something he’d heard him say many times before: I don’t get mad, I get even.

He hoped this wasn’t one of those occasions.