Authors: Patrick F. McManus
Pap lit his cigarette with the Explorer's lighter and blew a cloud of smoke against the windshield. “You said all that's up that road is a dinky little dam and a mine that's been blown shut. What could they want to look at, the L.A. guys?”
“Beats me. I guess they could be told just about anything. The three victims look to me like the sort of folks who get the bends if they stray outside L.A.'s smog belt. I don't think they thought they were out there to view the stars from a mountaintop.” Tully wondered if Susan might like to view the stars from a mountaintop.
“You check them out with the LAPD?”
“Herb did. They've all got records up to their clavicles. Of late, they've been involved with drugs. Before that, just about anything illegal. The L.A. detective Herb talked to didn't seem too upset when he heard about their sudden demise.”
“I suppose not,” Pap said. “By the way, not to change the subject, but how did your date with Susan go?”
“How did you hear about that?”
“I keep my ear to the ground.”
“When there's no keyhole to keep your eye to. Well, you know how it is. Sure, women find me extremely attractive, but Susan and I are happy enough just to be good friends.”
“So how did you mess up this time?”
“Beats the heck out of me.”
Tully dropped Pap off in Famine to ask some questions around town. Then he headed out to the Littlefield ranch. Cindy Littlefield answered the door and invited him in. As far as he could tell, the ferret wasn't at the moment roaming around under her blouse.
“I have a few questions for Vern,” Tully said. “He make it back?”
“No, he hasn't. I've been getting a little worried about him.”
Tully glanced around the living room, taking in the gigantic fireplace, big-screen TV, hardwood floors, leather couch and easy chairs, expensive lamps, nice art on the walls, one watercolor in particular.
“You have good taste in art,” he said.
“Vern does, anyway. I'm not into home decorating, at least not yet.”
Home decorating! Just as he had suspected, Cindy
Littlefield could cut a guy down to size, even if she didn't intend to.
“You expect Vern back soon?”
“Actually, I expected him back the evening you were here. You know Dave Perkins? He's a friend of Vern's, so I called him and asked if he would go up to the hunting camp and check on Vern. He stopped by later and said Vern's pickup truck was there, but Vern wasn't.”
“If he said he was going elk hunting, maybe he was talking about a spike camp farther up in the mountains.”
“I don't know about any spike camp. What is that?”
“Usually it's just a tent and some gear, a place to eat and sleep while you're hunting elk. Saves you the trouble of getting yourself back into the high mountains every morning.”
“I don't know. I've never been up to the hunting camp. If his pickup is there, he must be.”
“I'm sure he's all right,” Tully said, although he wasn't. “He's been roaming these mountains since he was a little kid. Been out with him myself a few times, when I was a youngster. Anyway, I had only a couple of questions for Vern. Maybe you can answer them.”
“I doubt it, but I'll try.”
“How often did Vern go up to his dam?”
“Maybe every couple of weeks.”
“And how long has that been?”
“About six months.”
“Where did you meet Vern?”
“Los Angeles. I worked at a small private airport
near the city, and Vern would fly in from time to time. He asked me out to dinner one day, and pretty soon he started flying in a lot more.”
“Before he met you, what was he doing down there, business things?”
“He never said. And I never asked.”
“When did he start to sell off his cattle?”
“Oh, those stupid cows! They are about to drive us bankrupt. He's been getting rid of them the last few months. The old crew were all good cowboys. I don't know why he decided to let them go, when we still have hundreds of cattle left.”
“So the fellows I met here the other day, they're the grape people?”
“Mitchell is someone he hired to help manage the ranch. Maybe he's supposed to set up the wine operation, if that's what comes next. Vern never tells me much about his plans.”
“I see there are two planes out there? Is one of them Mitchell's?”
“That's right. He and Kincaid flew in one day and pretty much stayed. They were traveling back and forth to the ranch long before I got here.”
“Kind of odd Vern would go off elk hunting, with all these changes going on.”
“I suppose. But if Vern sets his mind to do something, he does it. He must have had his mind set on elk hunting.”
“So he just got up one morning and took off on his hunt?”
“Well, he was out all hours of the night with his friends and when he got home I guess he just packed up and left. He was gone by the time I got up.”
“If you don't get your elk around here, you're practically nobody,” Tully said.
Cindy laughed. “I guess. Can I get you something to drink, Sheriff?”
“Nope, I've got to go. I left my father loose in town. But have Vern give me a call when he shows up.”
He gave her the number of his cell phone, even though he no longer expected Vern to show up.
Buck's Explorer was parked alongside Ed's Gas-N-Grub. Tully could see Buck and Pap inside, sprawled in chairs, drinking coffee and talking to Ed.
“I hope you fellas aren't overdoing it,” he said, coming through the door and looking around. Ed's pretty cashier was apparently taking the day off.
“Buck and I canvassed the whole town,” Pap said. “Knocked on practically every door. Nobody knows nothing. You find out anything from Littlefield?”
“Nope. He's still out on his elk hunt.”
“Elk hunt?” Ed said. “You'd think he had enough to do, starting a vineyard and all.”
“His wife asked Dave Perkins to go up and look for him at his hunting camp,” Tully told them. “Dave apparently found Vern's pickup truck up there, but no Vern.”
Someone drove over the hose out front and a bell chimed in the station. Ed went out to wait on the customer.
“Ed's still stuck back in the last century,” Pap observed. “He pumps the gas, checks the oil, and washes the windshield, side and rear windows. Even wipes off the headlights.”
“You mean gas station people used to do all that stuff?” Buck said.
“You bet,” Pap said. “Only in Famine do you still get waited on at a gas station like you was some kind of royalty.”
“What'd they charge for that kind of service?” Buck asked.
“Nothing. But of course gas did cost fifteen cents a gallon.”
“No way!” Buck looked at Tully for confirmation.
“Don't look at me, Buck. Listen, while Ed's out front, this is just between the three of us, okay?”
Buck and Pap nodded.
“I think maybe Vern Littlefield was the person standing back in the woods and got hit. It's pretty odd that Vern suddenly went elk hunting the night of the shooting and hasn't shown up since.”
“I don't get you, Bo,” Buck said. “Why would he go elk hunting if he got shot?”
Pap stared silently at Buck.
“What I'm getting at, Buck, is that Vern really didn't go hunting. That's just an excuse whoever's involved in this thought up to explain his disappearance.”
“It's a good one, too,” Pap said. “Elk hunters around here go missing right often, particularly if they have a young, pretty wife. You think she's involved, Bo?”
“Don't know. There are those two big-city chaps staying at the ranch. They don't seem to be of much use to anyone. Plus there's that lady who pulled in there the other day. Looked like they were hiding her car in one of the sheds. I didn't see her today, so she may have gone on to Boise.”
“Well, I guess you've been doing some snooping,” Pap said.
“Pap, you know anybody over at Central Electric management?”
“No, nobody who knows anything. Why?”
“I need some information, but I guess I can call Paul Cooper over there. The problem is, if I call Paul, I'll have to talk fishing.”
“You know how to talk fishing.”
“Not catch-and-release fishing.”
“Catch-and-release? What's that?”
“I didn't think you'd know. Anyway, here comes Ed.”
Ed shook his head as he came through the door. “Only place left in the world,” he said, “where a person can still order three dollars' worth of gas.”
“And get his windows washed and his oil checked to boot,” Pap said. “By the way, Ed, how come you got only two pumps, regular and extra, but no premium?”
“Saves me money. If I had premium, nobody in Famine would buy it anyway. So I don't have to have a tank for it, and tanks are expensive. I do have a diesel pump. Keep it out back, where the logging trucks can get to it.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Pap said.
“We had better get going,” Tully said. “Buck, you drive Pap.”
“I'd love to drive the old devil. Where you going, Bo?”
“Thought I'd stop in and have a chat with Batim Scragg.”
“Maybe I should go with you,” Buck said. “I wouldn't mind bashing a few Scragg heads.”
“Bo can bash any heads that need bashing,” Pap said.
“Yeah, but I'm more thorough,” Buck said.
“Right there's the problem,” Tully said. “Too thorough.”
Batim was out feeding his chickens, which came rushing in to him from all sides. He had one arm around a bucket and was scooping up handfuls of grain from it to scatter about the ground. Tully got out of the Explorer and moseyed over to the old man.
“Those must be what they call free-range chickens,” he said.
“That they are, Bo. Can't beat 'em, fried, roasted or boiled with noodles or dumplings. Eggs is mighty good too.”
“Must be a chore finding the eggs, though.”
“Nope. They go to the henhouse to lay their eggs. Got a few rebels who hide their nests, but most of them are pretty thoughtful. What can I do you for?”
“Oh, I just thought I'd stop by and apologize for flattening Lister the way I did. My nerves have been a bit frayed.”
“No need to apologize. Lister needs a good flattening. What did you really stop by for?”
Tully laughed. “I thought maybe you could give me a little help with these murders.”
“Be glad to, particularly since you stopped talking about it on the radio. I get myself an expensive scanner and then all the cops stop using the radio. So you got any idea who done it?”
“Not really. Naturally, I got you and the boys on my short list.”
“I appreciate that, Bo. I'd be offended if you didn't. But the truth is we didn't have anything to do with it.”
“I've just been wondering if you know anything about what Vern Littlefield has been up to lately?”