Double Blind (20 page)

Hollis walked to an antique oak table along the wall, lifted a crystal decanter from its silver tray, poured the four cognacs, and refreshed his own. After passing one to each of them he returned to his chair.

Niki snaked into the chair with him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. Her eyes locked with Sam’s for a brief moment and a faint smile lifted one corner of her mouth.

Sam heard a commotion behind her and turned as Shelby, Conner, and Kelly came in. Shelby rapidly and with exaggerated waves of her arms told of her encounter in the forest.

Alyss rose from the sofa and hugged Shelby. “Are you OK?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just a little spooked.”

“Probably a bear,” Burt said.

“I don’t know,” Shelby said. “I didn’t see it very well, but it stood upright. On two legs. Don’t bears move on all fours?”

“Like that one?” Burt said, nodding toward the Grizzly in the corner.

“Well, yeah. But, what I saw wasn’t that big.”

Sam caught a quick exchange of glances between Burt and Hollis.

“Probably a black bear,” Burt said. “Or maybe you bumped into Billy Bear. He can look pretty frightening.”

Shelby looked at Burt, and then her mother. “I don’t know. I was scared.”

“Did it threaten you?” Sam asked.

“Not really. At first, I thought it was trying to block the trail I was on, but then it seemed to want to stay in the trees.”

“Like it was afraid to show itself?” Sam asked, thinking of what the Kendalls had said.

Shelby nodded. “Yeah. It seemed that way.”

“And you said it smelled bad,” Kelly said.

“Yeah,” Shelby said. “It never really got close to me, but I could smell it anyway.” She wrinkled her nose.

“What did it smell like?” Sam asked.

“Like a litter box.”

Everyone laughed. Alyss stroked Shelby’s hair and rearranged a Big Bird clip that looked as though it was losing its grip.

Hollis drained his glass and placed it on the table next to the sofa. He glanced at Burt. “Probably a bear. They can smell pretty bad. We had one...when was that, Burt? A couple of years ago?”

“Yeah.”

“It killed a couple of calves,” Hollis said. “Took us two days to track it down and kill it.”

“Is bear hunting legal?” Sam asked.

“On my property it is,” Burt laughed.

“Do you hunt, Sam?” Hollis asked.

“No.”

“Quite exhilarating. You should try it some time.”

“Doesn’t seem fair to me,” Sam said. “The hunter has the gun.”

Burt laughed. “You wouldn’t think so if you looked a 800-pound bear in the eye. Like that one.” Burt gestured toward the Grizzly again.

“Did you get close enough to see his eyes?” Sam asked.

“Not a chance. I’m not that brave,” Burt said. He retrieved the decanter and refilled everyone’s glasses.

“Then, there you go,” Sam said. “It’s a rigged game.”

“Look at the size of him,” Burt said. “Would you want to get close to that?”

“No. Not by choice.” She sipped the Cognac. “But, maybe a knife would have made it a fairer fight.”

Hollis laughed. “You’re a pistol, aren’t you?”

“She’s more than that,” Alyss said. “And she’s undefeated.”

“What?” Hollis asked.

“Sam’s a boxer,” Burt said.

“Really?” Hollis looked surprised. “I must admit, I don’t follow boxing anymore. Not since Ali. I thought women boxers were bigger. More like female Russian weight-lifters.”

“We come in all shapes and sizes,” Sam said.

“Sam’s apparently quite good,” Burt said. “Three wins and no losses? All knock-outs, right?”

Sam nodded.

“My, that is good,” Hollis said.

Sam shrugged. “Not good enough,” she smiled and touched her cheek. “Third round. Forgot to duck.”

Hollis leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he inspected her face. His breath carried the distinct smell of cognac. “It doesn’t look too bad. In fact, I hadn’t noticed it before.”

“Make-up does wonders,” Sam said.

Hollis leaned back. “I think I’ll stick to deer hunting. Much more civilized.”

“Civilized?” Sam said.

Hollis smiled. “Isn’t boxing violent?”

“Actually, hunting’s a lot like boxing, don’t you think?” Burt said, more as a statement than a question.

“How so?” Sam asked.

“Both fighters are stalking the other, while at the same time trying to avoid falling into a trap. Each is both the hunter and the hunted.”

“Never thought of it that way,” Sam said. “Of course, neither fighter has an ordinance advantage.”

“The hunter may have the gun,” Hollis said, “but the deer or bear or whatever has stealth and speed and cunning on his side. The hunter must think and learn. Know the prey’s habits. It’s actually an intellectual pursuit.”

“But, a 30.06 tends to stack the deck, don’t you think?” Sam said.

“Maybe you two should hunt each other,” Niki said, looking at Burt.

Out of the mouths of babes, thought Sam. “Yeah. That would be fair.”

Niki shook her head. “Hunting another person would be cool. Like that short story, ‘The Most Dangerous Game.’ I think it was by Richard Connell.”

Sam looked at Niki. Of all the things she thought might come from Niki’s mouth, a literary reference wasn’t high on the list. Sam knew the story. Had read it in high school. The evil master of a private island would use a fake lighthouse light to lure unsuspecting ships onto the island’s surrounding rocks. Initially treated with great kindness, the surviving sailors are ultimately released and hunted for sport.

“One of you could be General Zaroff,” Niki continued. “The one with the gun. The other could be Rainsford. The deer.”

“But, that would be appalling,” Burt said. “Not to mention illegal.”

“I thought everything was legal at Casa Grande,” Niki said. Her eyes seemed as cold as an iceberg as she looked at Burt.

From the corner of her eye, Sam caught Burt’s glance toward Hollis. The two men stared at each other for a brief moment.

Niki stood up and stretched. “Enough about hunting. I’m hungry.”

Sam looked up at her. “You’re not a hunter, I take it.”

“It’s stupid. And cruel.”

Burt drained his cognac. “Cruel or not, I’m not going to lose any calves this year. Tomorrow, I’ll send a couple of the boys up there to see if they can track it down.”

“And kill it?” Sam asked.

“Maybe.” Burt gaze bounced toward Hollis once again. “Probably.”

Sam sat at one of the patio tables, flanked by Niki and Alyss, Hollis seated across from her. The teenagers were at one of the other tables. Sam caught Alyss watching Shelby, who laughed and chatted animatedly with her new friends.

Sam leaned over and touched Alyss’ arm, speaking low. “That’s more like the Shelby I remember,” Sam said.

Alyss nodded and smiled. “She does seem more at ease each day, doesn’t she?”

“Give her a little more time and she’ll be a regular mountain girl. Maybe leave that LA raver crap behind.”

Alyss gave Sam a hopeful look. “Do you think I could convince her to move here? Stay with me?”

“Maybe. We’ll work on her.”

Burt returned to the table and sat, nudging his chair a little closer to Alyss. “And what are you two whispering about?”

“Kids,” Alyss said. “We were just talking about how much Shelby seems to like it here in Gold Creek.”

Burt laughed. “What’s not to like? I doubt in LA she can ride a horse or walk in a forest. And she definitely can’t breathe this clean air.”

“That’s true,” Alyss said. “Of course, in LA she has her BMW and very little supervision.”

Carmelita pushed open the kitchen door. “Mr. Burt, everything is ready.”

After admonishing everyone to stay put, Burt helped Carmelita carry bowls of beans and potato salad and trays of ribs and brisket to the serving table, which Carmelita had earlier covered with a red floral cloth. A basket of fresh flowers served as a centerpiece.

“Come and get it,” Burt said.

Each of them filled a plate with meat, beans, and potato salad, and returned to their seats. Niki passed on everything except a mound of potato salad and slid back into her chair.

Sam watched as Niki pulled a brown plastic medicine bottle from her pocket and twisted off the cap. She shook an array of vitamins and supplements and God knows what else onto the table, and then selected a handful of green and orange and brown pills, downing them with a gulp of Diet Coke.

No wonder she’s so skinny. There’s no room left for food.

Niki offered a pale orange pill to Hollis, but he waved it away. She scraped the remaining pills off the table into her hand and returned them to the bottle. “I can’t get Hollis to take vitamins,” she said. “I told him it would give him more energy and stamina, but he won’t listen.” She smiled at Sam. “Do you take vitamins?”

“Not that many.”

“Nobody takes that many,” Hollis said.

Niki stuck her tongue out at him. “Just looking after your wellbeing.”

“What are all those?” Sam asked.

“The usual vitamins and minerals,” Niki said. Her leg brushed against Sam’s, then again. Niki made no attempt to avoid the contact. “The alphabet stuff. The As and Bs and Cs. And zinc, chromium, iron. Alfalfa, sea weed for iodine, ginkgo biloba, billberry, kava kava, Siberian ginseng,
Echinacea
. The usual stuff.”

Usual?
Sam had never heard of half of them. She guessed these herbs and spices must be a trade secret known only to models.

“I guess my off the shelf multiple vitamin must be a little deficient,” Sam said.

“This is better than any vitamin.” Hollis picked up a thick rib and gnawed off a bite. “And it’ll give you all the stamina you need.”

Niki laughed. “You can have them. But Carmelita’s potato salad is a different story.” She took a taste. “Perfect as usual.”

Sam marched through a plate of ribs and brisket and was on her second beer when Chief Forrest Wade arrived. She hid her surprise as best she could. Burt hadn’t mentioned Wade was coming and she still couldn’t picture them as bosom buddies. They seemed to have so little in common. Except, as Billy Bear had pointed out, one had power and the other money.

After apologizing for being late, Wade piled a stack of ribs and a mountain of potato salad on his plate and sat down across from Sam. Carmelita placed a cold Coors in front of him.

Alyss excused herself and went over to talk with the kids, while Burt went into the house to make a phone call.

Wade chewed the meat off one of the ribs as if he hadn’t eaten in days and wiped sauce from his chin with a napkin. Sam, Niki, and Hollis made small talk while Wade offered the occasional nod or grunt of agreement. Finally, he pushed back his plate, which now held only a pile of gnawed bones.

Wade looked at Sam. “I guess I owe you a word of thanks.”

“For what?”

“Billy came by yesterday afternoon, after Lloyd’s funeral. Gave up boot prints and a hair sample. Then, Eloy took him over to the hospital and got a blood sample drawn.”

“He did?”

Wade nodded. “Said you convinced him it was in his best interest to do so. Must admit I’m a bit surprised that Billy would listen to anyone. He can be stubborn to a fault.”

“I chatted with him at lunch. I suggested he come by and see you, but when I left, I didn’t really think he would.”

“He did. Thanks to you.” He tipped his beer bottle toward her and nodded.

Burt came out of the house and pulled up a chair next to Wade. “Anything new with the investigation?”

“That’s what we were just discussing,” Wade said. He told Burt about Billy coming by the day before. “Also, I got the final report on Lloyd’s autopsy.”

“And?” Sam asked.

“Blood alcohol was point O four. Probably had a couple of shots of whiskey while he was waiting. Not unusual for Lloyd. Especially as cold as it was that night. I didn’t tell Louise. She didn’t like him drinking and I don’t see any reason she should be upset.”

The little white lies cops sometimes had to tell, Sam thought. By the very nature of the job, cops often uncovered things that were better left concealed. Sometimes small things, like Lloyd’s nips; sometimes darker, more disturbing family secrets. Things that had no bearing on the case, but would haunt the survivors, the families forever. She had to admit she was surprised the man across from her, with barbecue sauce on his chin, possessed that much compassion.

Wade took a couple of gulps of beer and suppressed a belch. “The ME says Lloyd was hit with one of those folding shovels. Apparently, the imprint of the back of the blade was visible under indirect light. He’ll send us some photos in a couple of days.”

“That’s good work,” Sam said.

“Abe Summers is a good man. Worked in the state lab in Denver for a dozen or so years. Anyway, he says the killer is right handed and at least six feet and as much as six-four or five.” He took another swallow of beer and wiped his chin with a napkin. “The boot prints we got from Varney’s are definitely from Timberlands. Size fourteen. Eloy took the stuff we got from Billy up to him this morning. The hair and blood went on to Denver, but Abe will compare the boot prints. Should have that back tomorrow. For what it’s worth now.”

“What do you mean?” Burt asked.

“Billy’s been wearing them for a few days. Up there where he stomps around. They’re all scuffed up. The ones we got at Varney’s were brand new. No wear marks. Doubt Abe will get a conclusive match.”

Sam eyed Wade. He seemed completely comfortable discussing the details of the case with Burt, as if such a discussion was expected.

“Still might be able to get a good enough match to convince a jury,” Burt said.

Wade shrugged. “It is a bit odd…or maybe convenient…that Billy just happened to breakout a new pair of boots about the time an identical pair disappeared from Varney’s. On the very night Lloyd was killed.”

“Very convenient,” Burt said.

Sam looked from Burt to Wade. “The way Billy explained it to me is that he always keeps a pair reserve. When a new pair comes in, he changes to his reserve ones. He just hadn’t taken his new boots home yet.”

Burt smiled. “Like I said, very convenient.”