Double Blind (16 page)

Sam shook her head. “Does he have any debts?”

“Not that I know.”

“Pays his taxes?”

“Believe so. Property taxes for sure. I’d know otherwise.”

Sam captured Wade’s gaze. “You really believe Billy did this, don’t you?”

Wade nodded. “I do.”

“How sure are you?”

“This evidence points in only one direction.” He waved his hand over his desk as if all the mess between them was proof of Billy’s guilt. “Billy had motive, means, and opportunity. And the forensics I have so far indicate a big, strong, right-handed man who wears the same boots as Billy. Pretty strong stuff.”

“But, circumstantial stuff,” Sam said.

Wade shrugged, and then stubbed out the cigarette in a butt-filled ashtray.

 “What about whoever or whatever the Kendalls saw?” Sam said.

“What about it?”

“If there is someone else. Someone big. Couldn’t that person be the killer?”

“If we assume they didn’t see a bear, then it was probably Billy that spooked them,” Wade said.

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Whoever or whatever they saw was the same something that ran me down the other night.”

Wade smiled. “And both could have been Billy. None of you got a good look, did you?”

“But we all smelled him and neither Billy nor anyone else I know smells like that.”

“I imagine he can work up quite a goat hiking around up there for a couple of days.”

“This was more than that.”

“Maybe we should have a line up and get you and that couple to sniff all of them.”

Sam couldn’t suppress a smile, but it faded quickly. “If you really believe Billy killed Lloyd or that Louise could be in danger, why don’t you arrest him?”

“Don’t have enough evidence for that.”

“Why not get a warrant and search his house?”

“Not enough for that either.”

“It seems to me that you have enough to show probable cause. I’d bet a friendly judge would give you warrant.”

“That’s a problem. Showing probable cause to Judge Rhinehart over in Ouray ain’t easy. We ain’t exactly the best of friends. Besides, like I said, Billy’s smart. If he stole that stuff he’s either sold it or hidden it up in one of the mines.”

“Why not search them?”

Wade laughed. “Any idea how many mines there are up there?”

Sam shook her head.

“Thousands. Rumor is that over ten thousand holes have been punched into these hills. Nobody knows for sure. And I’d bet nobody knows where half of them are anymore.”

“This job is never easy is it?” Sam asked.

“No. But the pay sucks.” Wade laughed.

“True,” Sam said.

“There’s one way to put all this to bed,” Wade said. “If Billy would come in and give me some prints and a hair and a blood sample, we’d know straight away if he was involved.”

“He doesn’t seem overly inclined to do that,” Sam said.

“Maybe he’s afraid of the results.”

“Maybe.”

She had to admit that Billy’s lack of cooperation was bothersome. Made him look guilty. Was he? She mentally ran through the evidence. Size, strength, knowledge of the layout, temperament, boots, lack of cooperation, and the will. Fairly damning stuff. Especially the will. How often was money the root of a crime? Too often.

Despite the evidence, her gut said Billy wasn’t the murderer. She wasn’t sure why she felt that way, but her instincts were almost always right, and right now they told her Billy was innocent.

“Any other places hit recently?” she asked. “Besides Varney’s.”

“Yeah. Marks’ Pharmacy a couple of months ago. Other than that, nothing for years.”

“What was taken?”

“Not much. Some medicines and bandages. Things like that.”

Sam stood and moved toward the door. “You going to Lloyd’s funeral this afternoon?”

“Yeah. Coroner Summers put a rush on his work and Bill Tucker’s mortuary up in Montrose did a good job of covering the damage. Body came back early this morning. Cutting it a little close, but now it looks like everything’s set.”

“See you there,” Sam said and headed out door.

Sam walked the two blocks down Main Street to Marks’ Pharmacy. Everyone she passed greeted her with a smile, a nod, or a “good day,” giving her a warm feeling. She felt less like an outsider. Like her hometown of Mercer’s Corner, tight communities welcomed strangers slowly. Especially if under the dark cloud of a brutal murder.

When she entered the pharmacy, two boys sat on stools, sipping milkshakes and talking with the teenage girl behind the counter. Sam continued to the rear of the store where the pharmacy was located. A fiftyish man with a few strands of hair flattened over his bald pate and a pleasant smile looked up as she approached. He wore a white short sleeved shirt and a slightly off kilter red bow tie.

“I’m looking for Mr. Marks,” Sam said.

“That’s me. I’m Ralph Marks.”

Sam extended her hand. “I’m Sam Cody. I’m visiting Alyss Cameron.”

“Of course.” He shook her hand. “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “About what?”

“The break-in you had a couple of months ago.”

A slight frown developed at the corners of his eyes.

Sam smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m a Sheriff’s Deputy in California where I live. I guess I’m kind of unofficially helping Chief Wade investigate the murder of Lloyd Varney.”

His frown slackened. “You the one that found Lloyd?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Terrible.” He shook his head for emphasis. “We don’t have this sort of thing happen around here.”

“I know.” It seemed as though everyone in town knew Sam had found Lloyd’s body and was eager to assure her that “this sort of thing” didn’t occur in Gold Creek.

He came around the counter. “Where are my manners? Let’s sit down.” He guided her to one of the small tables near the front. “Can I get you a soda? Coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

He nodded toward the young girl behind the lunch counter. “Steph, could you get me a cup of coffee?”

“Sure,” the girl said.

He held Sam’s chair for her before taking a seat across from her. The girl placed the coffee and a small metal creamer on the table and then returned to her conversation with the two boys.

Ralph poured a healthy measure of cream into the coffee and took a careful sip. “What can I tell you?”

“When exactly did your robbery occur?”

“Let’s see.” He rubbed his chin. “It was a Saturday night. April 28th. Same night as Lloyd’s first robbery.”

“What was taken?”

“Gauze, four by four bandages, and tape. Some antibiotics. Two tubes of Neosporin Ointment and a bottle of Amoxicillin. Bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide. And about fifty Vicodin pills. Those were the only narcotics taken. Oh, yeah, and a quart of ice cream. Chocolate.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah. Strange, huh?” Ralph said. “Actually ate the ice cream right here.” He waved toward the soda counter. “Even washed out the empty container and the spoon he used.”

Sam smiled. “A well mannered thief.”

Ralph nodded. “Seems so.”

“Any idea who or why?”

He shook his head. “Of course the Vicodin has a street value. I figured someone stole them to use or to sell.”

“Yeah. But the other things,” Sam said. “The bandages and antibiotics. Sounds like someone knew what they needed.”

*

After Ralph Marks walked her to the door and gave her a open invitation to “come back anytime for a milkshake on the house,” Sam walked up the street and crossed over to Varney’s, hoping Billy would be there. Louise, busy doing paper work, said Billy had just left and was likely at Tankersly's’ having lunch. Sam thanked her, headed back across the street, and entered the pool hall.

Tankersly’s had two pool tables, a line of red vinyl booths, a long bar, and dozens of neon beer signs. The smell of testosterone, beer, and barbecue laced the cloud of gray smoke that hung in the air. It reminded her of Red’s Tavern back home. A place where a fight could break out at any moment for no apparent reason.

The lunchtime crowd was small. Two scruffy men played pool, one puffing on a chewed cigar. A couple occupied one booth, three men another. The bartender leaned on the bar and chatted with Billy, who sat on a stool near the far end. Sam was amazed the stool didn’t collapse beneath him.

The bartender looked up as she approached. She slid up on the stool next to Billy. “I was hoping to find you here.”

“Having lunch.” He took a slug from the beer he held. The bottle appeared unnaturally small in his massive hand. “Join me. I ordered plenty.”

“You eat. I’ll have a beer.” She looked up at the bartender. “A Bud.”

The bartender pulled a dripping bottle from an ice chest and popped the cap off. “Want a glass?”

“This’s fine.” Sam took a swallow. “Not many things better than an ice cold beer.”

The bartender moved away, wiping the bar top as he went.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Billy asked.

“I just had a chat with Wade.”

He glanced over toward her. “And?”

“He tells me you’re in Lloyd’s will.”

“So?”

“Could be a motive for murder?”

Billy swung around to face her. “Or it could be because we’re family. The three of us. We take care of each other. Have for years.”

“Wade doesn’t see it that way.”

“That’s a surprise,” he smirked. His dark eyes captured hers. “I didn’t kill Lloyd and anyone with half a brain knows I didn’t.”

“Wade seems to think so.”

“I said anyone with half a brain. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Wade’s an incompetent jerk.” He drained his beer bottle and raised it toward the bartender, who immediately replaced it with a fresh one. “And you? What do you think?”

“The evidence doesn’t look good. But, something doesn’t smell right.”

“How’s that?”

“Can’t really say. My gut tells me you didn’t do it.”

“Then, I’d go with that feeling. It’s the right one.”

A waitress spun through a saloon door from the kitchen with a plate piled with ribs and set it on the bar in front of Billy. “Anything else, Billy?” she asked.

“This’ll do.”

She looked at Sam. “Anything for you?”

“No.”

Billy picked up a thick rib and gnawed off a bite. “Hmmm. The best. Help yourself.”

“No. Thanks.”

“Don’t know what you’re missing.” He wiped sauce from his beard with a napkin.

“Tell me about the will. The truth.”

“I did. We were a family. Now, it’s just me and Louise.” He gnawed off another bite, and then sighed. “Look, I told Lloyd and Louise not to. Told them I didn’t need their money. They did it anyway.” He wiped his beard again and looked at her. “Because they wanted to.”

“You do see that looks bad, don’t you?”

“Who’s side you on?”

“I told you, I believe you. But, if you didn’t kill Lloyd, someone else did. Someone who’s still around. I want to know what the truth is.”

“There are a lot of truths around here.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you have the real truth, Wade’s truth, and Burt Eagan’s truth. And they don’t often match up.”

“Burt Eagan? What does he have to do with this?”

“Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. Maybe he’s just an opportunist.”

“I don’t understand.”

Billy dropped a well-gnawed bone on the plate and picked up another rib. “Keep digging. Maybe you will.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Because, I don’t know what the truth is myself. Not yet. But, I do know that if Wade is the only one looking into it, the truth will never turn up and if it does it’ll get shoveled under so much shit it’ll never see the light of day.”

“And you think if I keep snooping around I’ll find this elusive truth?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“I guess that’s a vote of confidence or something.”

“You have honest eyes. And, you ain’t a marshmallow like Wade. I can tell you’re a tough one, aren’t you?”

Sam shrugged. “If need be.”

He laughed. “I just bet you are.”

“Look, Billy. I stumbled into this by accident. I should simply walk away, but now I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” he said.

“Not if I want to live with myself. But, I’m an outsider. I don’t know the players or the rules around here. You seem to think I can help you. But you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on. Starting with Burt Eagan and how he fits into this.”

Billy nodded. “OK.” He wiped his hands and beard with his napkin and leaned toward her, speaking in a low voice. “My problems with Burt go back several years. He wants my land.”

“Why?”

“It’s the best piece around here. And it has unlimited water.”

“And you think Wade would frame you to help Burt.”

“In a New York second. He’s on Burt’s payroll. Unofficially.”

Sam sighed. “I suspected as much.”

“It’s the God’s truth.”

“You’re suggesting that Burt killed Lloyd to frame you?”

“Burt wouldn’t get his own hands dirty. He’d hire somebody. Or maybe he simply took advantage of a situation. Somebody else killed Lloyd, but Burt saw an opportunity to blame it on me. He wins. See?”

“That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

Billy fixed Sam in his gaze. "Burt tried everything he could to get my ranch. Offered a shit pile of money. I told him I didn't need his money. Got enough. Not a lot, but enough. Then, he tried some legal tricks. Something about water rights, public lands. That blew up in his face when he tried to bribe Judge Rhinehart down in Ouray. Not that Rhinehart is all that honest, just that he hates Burt and Wade and that crowd. Then, he tried to go way back to when this was government land. Said my daddy's deed was all sideways. That didn't work either. Now, I guess he figures he can pack me off to prison and steal it."

“Is your land worth all this?” Sam said.

“A good water supply is as valuable as gold. More so. Can’t farm, can’t raise cattle without it. And a good deal of Burt’s water comes across my land. That lake of his would dry up if it weren’t for the water from Crystal Falls and Gold Creek. Both are on my property.”