Avalanche: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) (19 page)

DURING THE AFTERNOON GUESTS CONTINUED
to arrive at the lodge, but Tully thought there was a good chance the hot tub would be vacant. He donned his swimming trunks and a bathrobe and went down to the basement. Much to his disappointment the tub was occupied by a gray-haired man and woman. He had turned around and headed back toward the stairs, when the woman called after him. “Oh, sir, there’s lots of room in here. Please come join us.”

He turned around and came back. “Don’t mind if I do. I have a few aches and pains in need of some hot water.” He introduced himself, neglecting to mention that he was sheriff of Blight County.

“We’re the Fergusons, up from Nevada,” the man said, offering his hand. “Ann and Paul.”

Tully squatted down and shook the hand. “Hi. I’m Bo Tully.” Then he eased himself into the tub.

“Your knees look awful,” Ann said. “What on earth did you do to them?”

Tully said he had banged them into sharp rocks while climbing a cliff.

“Good,” Paul said. “For a moment there I thought you might be some kind of religious fanatic.”

Tully laughed. “Afraid not. So, how long have you folks been married?”

“Twenty-five long years,” Paul said.

“Still sleeping together?” Tully asked.

Both of the Fergusons looked shocked. Then Paul said, “Yep, pretty much exclusively, too.” He reached over and squeezed Ann’s hand.

“Oh, Paul!” Ann said. “You know it’s exclusively! I must say, Mr. Tully, you do ask the most personal questions.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I realize it was very impolite, but I had to reassure myself the world hadn’t turned entirely upside-down.”

“I guess we’re getting to be a rarity, all right,” Paul said. “You married, Mr. Tully?”

“Nope, my wife died about ten years ago, and I guess I’ve never found a suitable replacement. It’s a lot harder than you might think, Mr. Ferguson. You best take good care of Ann.”

“Paul, you listen to what Mr. Tully is telling you,” Ann said.

Lois came down the stairs. “Oh, there you are, Sheriff. I’ve been looking all over for you. Blanche would like you to stop by her apartment when you get the chance.”

“Thanks, Lois. Tell her I’ll be up shortly.”

Lois went back up the stairs.

“Sheriff?” Paul said.

“I’m afraid so,” Tully admitted.

“You’re Sheriff Bo Tully!” Ann exclaimed. “You’re famous!”

“I am?” Tully said.

“In Nevada, anyway,” Paul said. “Everybody in Nevada knows of Sheriff Bo Tully.”

“Nevada?” Tully said.

“Yes!” Ann said. “Some friends of ours have one of your watercolors. They’re very expensive! It’s not every sheriff who is also an artist.”

“Nevada?” Tully said.

After soaking with the Fergusons, Tully went up to his room and got dressed. His shirt still smelled reasonably good, so he put it back on. He went out to the Explorer and unlocked the .30–30 rifle from its rack. He took a box of shells from the glove compartment and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Then he wrapped the rifle up in a blanket and took it up to Pap’s room. He knocked on the door.

“What have we here?” Pap said.

Tully unwrapped the rifle. “You know how to work one of these things?”

“I believe so. Don’t you put cartridges or something in it?”

“That’s right. And that’s the end you point at the target.”

“How long has it been since you’ve sighted in this contraption, Bo?”

“About five years. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Remember, Pap, you shout a warning first. It doesn’t do any good to shout a warning afterward.”

“Something like, ‘You so much as twitch you’re dead’?”

“That’s good. And if I get shot first, you don’t have to shout anything.”

“Goes without saying.”

Tully then walked over to Grady’s shop. He called out to him several times and, getting no response, wandered around checking out his tools. He opened a door at one end of the shop and found a room full of skis, snowshoes, a toboggan, a couple of sleds, and an assortment of ski boots. He found a yellowish, rubbery roll back in one corner that turned out to be a deflated rubber raft. He had once owned one just like it, a “seven-man” life raft, which apparently meant two men in the raft and five clinging to the outside. It was military surplus. Hanging on a wall nearby were several compound bows, sheaths of arrows, and other archery equipment. Another wall contained numerous kinds and lengths of rope, cords, and even string. A sign on the wall listed various rental prices. One of these days, he thought, I might come up here and rent a pair of cross-country skis. If some frat boys from the city can do so well on them, there was no reason he couldn’t.

He walked over to the lounge and poked his head into the kitchen. Grady and Lois were seated at one of the tables having coffee.

Lois looked up and saw him. “How about a cup of coffee, Sheriff?”

“Sounds good,” Tully said. “But don’t let me intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” Lois said. “We’re just having our usual afternoon coffee break. But I better get back to the office. Blanche still wants to see you, by the way. She’s about to collapse. I’m already running the whole lodge. All the racers are here and now we’re getting spectators.”

“The races have spectators?” Tully said.

“Oh yes, they’re quite popular in fact! You should take some time off and watch them, Sheriff.”

“I certainly will keep that in mind, Lois. This could be my new spectator sport, right after NASCAR.”

“I bet,” she said, going out the door.

Tully sipped his coffee. “I’m afraid I need your help again, Grady.”

“You about got Mike’s murder figured out?”

“Should nail it tomorrow. I need you to run me up to Cabin Three one more time.”

“You seem to be zeroing in on Cabin Three.”

“If I’m right, Cabin Three is our murder scene. But that’s just between the two of us, Grady.”

“Yes sir.”

BLANCHE ANSWERED HIS KNOCK ON
her door. “Come in, Bo. I’m a total mess. After our last visit, I was so upset I was sure you believed I had something to do with Mike’s murder.”

“What I believe, Blanche, and what I can prove are two different things. It would help a great deal if you told me about your late-night caller.”

“I’m sorry, Bo, but I can’t tell you. If I thought he had anything to do with killing Mike, I would tell you, no matter how I felt about him.”

“Here’s the thing,” Tully said. “I’m already pretty sure I have the evidence that will point directly to Mike’s killer or killers. I do know there had to be two people involved, maybe more. As you are aware, Blanche, at this point you are the only person to profit from Mike’s death. You admit that you no longer had any regard for him, and, in fact, that you have a lover.”

“Did I say lover?”

“No, but I don’t imagine you are visited in the middle of the night by a milkman delivering milk.”

“It isn’t the milkman,” she said. “Anyway, the reason I asked you to stop by is I have to know if you intend to arrest me.”

“Do you plan to flee, if I am?”

“I can’t flee. I have a lodge to run. But if you are going to arrest me, I need to know. I have to make certain arrangements.”

“Do the arrangements have anything to do with the three thugs at the corner table? I notice that the other guests have headed home, but those three are still here, minus the ladies.”

“Those people are leaving tomorrow. I informed them I have sold out all the rooms for the dog races. I will need theirs tomorrow.”

Tully tugged thoughtfully on the corner of his mustache. “I have to make one more trip up to Cabin Three tomorrow morning. I know that’s where Mike was hit on the head. Whoever killed him left some evidence behind. Once I have that, I’m pretty sure I’ll have Mike’s killer.”

“Good. Then I won’t have to worry about being arrested.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Also, I’m pretty sure you realize your late-night visitor could very well be the person who murdered Mike. You would be his motive, not to mention the four million. If that turns out to be the case, I’m going to arrest you, Blanche, and charge you as an accessory to your husband’s murder.”

Tully went downstairs to the bar. DeWayne was rearranging some liquor bottles. The man he had flattened was seated at the far end of the bar nursing a drink. He was alone. Tully nodded at him. The man nodded back.

“I see your ladies went home,” Tully said to him.

“Yeah,” the man said. “Claimed they were getting bored.”

“Hard to imagine,” Tully said. “Seemed like a pretty fun group to me.”

The man gulped the last of his drink and left.

“Not much of a conversationalist,” DeWayne said.

“Didn’t seem to be.”

“I understand you flattened him the other night.”

“Yeah,” Tully said, shrugging. “I’ve noticed people aren’t too friendly after you do that to them.”

“Seems like kind of a rough crowd, those three,” DeWayne said. “I’d tend to watch myself around them. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the reason they’re staying over for an extra day.”

“Maybe they’re big fans of sled-dog racing?”

“You really think so, Sheriff?”

“No.”

Tully ordered a Diet Pepsi. DeWayne filled a glass with ice cubes and set it and a can of Diet Pepsi on the bar. Tully stared at the can. DeWayne reached over and popped the tab.

“Thanks,” Tully said. “I’m getting really tired.”

“How’s the investigation going?”

“Should about have it wrapped up tomorrow. I know where Mike was killed and how he was killed. I need to pick up some bits of evidence at Cabin Three tomorrow and then I’ll know who killed him.”

“So I’m off the list of suspects.”

“Afraid not, DeWayne. One way or another, you’ll know tomorrow.”

“Should I pack a bag?”

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

TULLY GOT UP AT SIX-THIRTY
the next morning. He put on long underwear, bulletproof vest, wool shirt, black wool hunting pants, wool socks, insulated boots, and shoulder holster. He racked the slide on the Colt Commander .45 to lock and load it. He slipped the pistol into its holster and put on his gray insulated jacket. As a final touch, he put on his black watch cap at a rakish angle. If he wound up dead, he wanted to look good.

Grady was warming up the Sno-Cat by the time Tully got over to the shop. He climbed in next to the handyman.

“Hope this isn’t disrupting your schedule too much, Grady,” he said.

“No sir, not at all. I’ve been up since five. Never been much of a breakfast person but I do like my coffee. Have a couple of cups while I watch the news.” Grady started maneuvering the Sno-Cat away from the shop and on up the slope.

“Breakfast just happens to be my favorite meal,” Tully said. “So I hope we can get this business wrapped up and be back here while they’re still serving.”

“Yes sir. Exactly what is this business, Sheriff? Anything I should be worried about?”

“Mostly, I need to pick up some evidence. It’s possible, Grady, that there might be some shooting. If you see that kind of situation developing, get out of there fast as you can.”

“Yes sir, I plan on doing just that. You think Mike’s killer might be up there?”

“It’s possible. If he is, there will be shooting. He’ll know what I’m after and won’t want me to get it.”

“If you don’t mind telling me,” Grady said, “what is the evidence?”

“Can’t tell you right now. Maybe on the way back. I actually saw it the other day, but didn’t know what I was looking at. You ever do that, Grady? See something but not know what it is you’re seeing?”

“No sir, can’t say that I have.”

When they reached the top of the ridge, Grady turned the Sno-Cat to the left and headed in the direction of the trail and cabin. Tully stopped him a hundred or so feet from the trailhead. He could see the cabin off down the trail. There was no sign of Pap. Grady shut off the Sno-Cat motor. Tully peered into the woods on both sides of the trail.

“Anyone ever teach you to look beyond the tree line when you’re out hunting, Grady?”

“No sir, can’t say they have.”

“That’s too bad. Vision naturally stops at the edge of a tree line. Game very often is standing back in the trees. With a little practice, you can teach yourself to see beyond the tree line.”

“Yes sir,” Grady said. “But I don’t hunt.”

“Ah, that explains it. Well, at least keep your eyes open, and if you see anything that doesn’t look right to you, get out of here.”

“Yes sir.”

Tully eased himself out of the Sno-Cat and started off down the trail. He would have felt less uneasy if he could have seen Pap peering out from behind a tree. He detected a movement off to his left. He unzipped his jacket. The raven took off. Probably to report to Hoot. Then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of a slide being racked on a semiautomatic pistol.

Shoot, Pap, shoot!
Tully’s hand reached inside his jacket. He started to spin, to drop to one knee.
Shoot, Pap, shoot! Ginger was coming through the door of their log house. She was smiling, her face bright with perspiration. She held a small bouquet of wildflowers, blue lupine, red Indian paintbrushes, yellow tiger lilies. Shoot, Pap, shoot!
His hand touched the butt of the Colt .45. The Velcro strap snapped loose.
His mother, Rose, blissful with the taste of pie on her lips, smiled at him.
His right knee hit the soft snow.
Ice crystals rose up bright as diamonds.
The Colt was in his hand.
Shoot, Pap, shoot!
The Colt was sweeping up. Grady stood there, his gun leveled at him, his finger on the trigger, his eyes wide either with fear or anticipation. He jerked to one side and fell facedown. Tully could hear the residue of a shot echoing in his ears. A red stain began to spread out into snow from Grady’s right shoulder. Pap!

A minute later Pap rushed up, breathing hard. “That was close! So close!” He seemed about to sob.

Tully had sunk back down on his haunches, the Colt loose in his hand. He looked up at Pap. For the first time ever, his father seemed old. His cap had come off and his white hair stood on end. One hand held the rifle, the other trembled, as if struck by some sudden disease of the nerves.

“I’m sorry, Bo,” he blurted out. “I was sitting on the bench in the privy when I heard the Sno-Cat. I got up and jacked a shell into the rifle and started to open the door. But the latch had slipped down and the door was stuck tight! I thought about kicking it down but that would make too much noise. I tried to get an angle on Grady through the moon hole in the door but it was too small. So I got out my knife and poked the blade through the crack and shoved the latch up. I swear, Bo, this was the first time in my life I ever got caught unprepared to shoot.”

Tully pushed himself up. He walked over to Grady, stuck the toe of his boot under his belly, and turned him over. He reached down and picked up the semiautomatic. He pulled the clip and racked the slide to empty the gun’s chamber. The handyman moaned.

“It’s okay, Pap,” Tully said. “You took ten years off my life, but you got the job done.”

Pap stared at him. “I didn’t shoot, Bo. I thought you did!”