Cantina Valley (A Ben Adler Mystery Book 1) (18 page)

19

The two of them drove in Ben’s old Ford pickup truck to Marlon Telford’s place down the road.
 
The rain was back with a vengeance.
 
So much so, that they sat for a while in his truck in front of Telford’s place, waiting for the downpour to subside slightly before getting out into the deluge.

Marlon had appeared for a moment at the front door and waved his hand for them to come up to the front entrance.

Ben and Maggi stepped quickly through the rain and got under the entrance overhang.

“Come on in out of that crap,” Marlon said from the door.

This was the first time Ben had actually been allowed in Marlon Telford’s house.
 
As he stepped in, he got his first view of opulence in Cantina Valley.
 
The main entrance flowed in to a grand opening rising up over twenty feet to vaulted logs and cross beams thicker than Ben’s body.
 
The floors were at least two-foot tiles all the way into a dining area and the kitchen, which seemed like it was built for a gourmet chef, with high-end stainless steel appliances, including a six-burner gas stove and a double refrigerator large enough for a family of ten.

The owner didn’t offer them in beyond the entrance way, so Ben guessed Marlon’s hospitality went only so far.

“What can I do for you, Ben?” Marlon asked.

“Do you know what I did in the Air Force?” Ben asked.

Marlon shook his head.
 
“Not a clue.”

Now it was time to play up Ben’s background with enough unclassified information to impress and perhaps scare this Bigfoot hunter to come clean with his activities.

“First of all,” Ben said, “you have to promise that what I tell you doesn’t leave this room.”

Marlon looked a bit concerned, but also intrigued.
 
“You got it, buddy.”

Ben gave his neighbor a serious look.
 
“All right.
 
My main job during non-war was criminal investigations of anything from larceny to rape to murder.
 
During the war, I was deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan to interrogate terrorists for intel.
 
Now, you can imagine the difficulty of that, especially with the language barrier and the intransigence and fanaticism of the enemy.
 
They didn’t want to give me any information.
 
Why?
 
Because they feared their own people more than me.
 
But eventually everyone talked.
 
More importantly, I was able to discern a lie from the truth—not based on their words, but on their demeanor and facial tics.”

Ben let his words settle in for a while as he assessed if he should go further.
 
Considering the nature of mister Bigfoot, and his belief system, Ben thought it was best to go deeper.

Shifting his eyes around the room, Ben asked, “Is anyone else in the house with you?”

Marlon swished his head side to side quickly.
 
“No.”

“Good.
 
Because what I’m going to tell you next can’t leave this room.
 
If they find out, they will. . .never mind.”

“Don’t leave me hanging, Ben.”

Glancing at Maggi for a second and seeing she was clueless as to what he would say next, Ben pushed forward.
 
“All right.
 
I was part of a highly classified team that debriefed pilots who had experienced abnormal activity during their missions.”

Marlon moved closer and whispered, “You mean UFOs?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ben said vehemently.
 
He shifted gears now.
 
“Why do you think I went up in the mountains with you to search for Bigfoot?”

Shrugging, Marlon said, “I just thought you were being nice, Ben.
 
I didn’t take you for a true believer.”

Now it was time to bring it on home.
 
“Why do you think we haven’t found any skeletal remains of Bigfoot?
 
I mean, think about it.
 
There have been sightings of Bigfoot creatures all over the planet, not just North America.
 
Yet, despite the best efforts of those searching, no bones or the capture of any Bigfoot creatures.
 
Even the Native Americans, despite their considerable hunting skills, didn’t manage to capture or kill Sasquatch.
 
Why is that?”

Marlon waged his finger at Ben.
 
“I’ve considered this as a biologist.
 
You are correct.
 
But the anthropologist might say that the Bigfoot creatures revere their dead and burn the bodies.
 
Or they could even burry them.
 
With the forest of the Coast Range, for instance, an entire Bigfoot could be swallowed up by predation and natural disintegration within a few months.”

“But still,” Ben said with skeptical indifference.
 
“Roads cross their territory from California to British Columbia.
 
Humans get hit by cars all the time, and we know all about automobiles.
 
Bigfoot, you would think, would have to get hit once in a while.”

“Perhaps.”

Maggi looked like she wanted to chime in, but Ben gave a look to stop her.

Ben continued, “Now, I’m not saying this is true, but I’m just putting this out there, Marlon.
 
What if these Bigfoot or Sasquatch or Yeti creatures were actually visitors from another planet?”
 
He let that question hang in silence as the three of them cast their gazes at one another.

“Shit,” Marlon finally said.
 
“I haven’t entirely considered that possibility.
 
Although others have posited this option as far back as the nineteen fifties.
 
You’ve got more information than you’re telling me, Ben.”

Shrugging and shaking his head simultaneously, Ben said, “I think I know too much.
 
So I isolate myself off the grid.”

“This could make a lot of sense,” Marlon said.
 
“Maybe they’re shape shifters walking among us, but they have to periodically go back into the wilderness to regain their normal size and appearance.
 
They can only shift so long without it killing them.
 
And then if one does die, the other aliens dispose of their bodies.”

Ben raised his brows as if Marlon was on to something.

“You just blew my mind, Ben.” Marlon said, shifting nervously back and forth like a kid who needed the bathroom.
 
“There was a report years ago, I forget where now, where residents in a remote area swore that they saw Bigfoot disappear into a black vortex anomaly.
 
Some sort of transporter system, I would guess.”

Now Ben had the man exactly where he wanted him.
 
“Ah, damn it.
 
I’ve been such an idiot.
 
I forgot to introduce you to Maggi McGuffin.
 
She’s a friend of mine from Portland.
 
You know her brother Tavis McGuffin.”

“The guy whose photo you showed me?” Marlon said.

“Right,” Ben said.
 
“I understand he works for you picking truffles up in the Siuslaw.”

“He does?”
 
Marlon seemed more nervous now than he had when he discovered that Bigfoot might be an alien.
 
“I mean, I don’t know everyone working up there.
 
I use a lot of subcontractors.”

“We need to talk with him,” Maggi finally said.

Marlon shook his head.
 
“I have no idea where he might be working.
 
If he’s even working for one of my crews.”

“You don’t have the location of your crews?” Ben asked.

The Bigfoot truffle man hesitated before saying, “I have the GPS location of all locations.
 
But those are closely held secrets.
 
And they could be at any location on any given day.”

“I just told you my closely held secret,” Ben reminded the man.

“And I truly appreciate that, Ben.
 
It might take me in an entirely different direction with my search for the elusive Bigfoot.
 
However, the location of truffle hunting grounds is a tangible risk.
 
I have every yahoo in Oregon and other places trying to find my truffle grounds.”

Suddenly, a crack broke the pause, and glass from the tall picture windows flew into the room.
 
It took a microsecond for Ben to understand what was happening.
 
He grabbed Maggi and pulled her to the entrance rug, covering her with his body.

Looking up to Marlon, who seemed in shock, Ben yelled, “Get the hell down.”

Just as Marlon did as Ben said, more cracks broke the still air and glass crashed down to the tile surface.
 
Then came a full salvo of bullets, which passed through the glass and struck other items in the massive living room.

Ben got up, pulled his gun, and peeked out around a window alongside the thick wooden front door.
 
There.
 
He saw a dark figure toward the front gate running away.

Quickly opening the door, Ben aimed out toward the shooter and fired off six rounds of 9mm.
 
Of course the shooter was much too far away to be impacted by Ben’s bullets, but his shooting might act as a deterrence.

Closing the door, Ben turned to look at his host, who was now laying on the floor in a fetal position, his hands over his ears.

“He’s gone,” Ben said.

Marlon sat up in shock.
 
“Did you see him?”

Ben helped Maggi to her feet.
 
Then he said, “A man in black moving fast toward your front gate through the downpour.
 
Do you know who might want to take potshots at you?”

Marlon stood up.
 
“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the international truffle cartel.”

Ben and Maggi shared a look.
 
Ben said, “Seriously?”

“As a heart attack,” Marlon said.
 
“The French and the Italians are pissed at me.
 
Oregon used to supply truffles only to the west coast.
 
Now we have them on flights to Europe daily.
 
Our truffles used to be inferior to those found there, but we have found and nurtured a much better product.
 
We’re getting top dollar for our harvests of both white and black truffles.
 
And they don’t like it.”