Cantina Valley (A Ben Adler Mystery Book 1) (30 page)

“True.
 
But it’s more than that.
 
It’s my theory that Bigfoot eats these mushrooms and truffles at this time of year.
 
By having my people out in likely Bigfoot territory, it’s highly possible that one of my men will come across either signs of Bigfoot, or the creature himself.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

Marlon smiled and stood, picking up his beer.
 
“Let me show you something.”

Ben picked up his beer and followed the man to a door off the kitchen area.
 
Marlon opened the door and a light automatically turned on, illuminating a set of stairs leading to the basement.
 
In this part of Oregon, Ben knew, most new houses were built on a crawl space.
 
But Marlon, having more money than the average Joe, had built his basement into the side of the hill.
 
Ben guessed the old adage was true: money can’t buy happiness.
 
But at least money can make a person miserable in cool places.

The two of them went downstairs and Ben couldn’t help thinking about what he had said to Maggi the first time he brought her to meet Marlon—how the man was brilliant, but could possibly have women in a basement dungeon.
 
Now the hair on the back of Ben’s neck tingled.

But when Ben got to the bottom, all he saw was what appeared like a man cave, with a massive LED screen and a number of leather chairs for perfect viewing.

“Nice,” Ben said.

Marlon smiled and said, “Yes, this is functional.”
 
From a small table between two leather chairs, Marlon picked up a remote and pressed a button.
 
Instead of the TV turning on, an entire paneled wall slid to the right.
 
Marlon hit another button and lights came on beyond the sliding door.

Ben thought for a moment, wondering how this room could exist based on the structure of the upper levels.
 
This room would be independent from the rest of the house, built into the side of the hill behind Marlon’s home.

When Ben stepped inside the room, he gazed about and said, “Holy crap.”

31

The room was a combination of a scientist’s laboratory and a mad man’s lair.
 
Ben’s eye immediately went to a far corner of the room where a tall Bigfoot stood, as if guarding everything in this room.
 
Almost one entire wall contained maps of the Oregon Coast Range.

Ben walked along the wall and saw that Marlon had pins of various colors stuck into the maps.
 
Most of them seemed to be clustered in isolated areas.

“What do the colors indicate?” Ben asked.

Marlon waved his hand.
 
“The red pins are confirmed Bigfoot sightings.
 
Yellow pins are the location of prints and other artifacts.”

“And the blue pins?”
 
Ben asked.
 
There were far fewer of this color.

“I just added those recently,” Marlon said.
 
“Those are historical reports of UFOs.
 
I considered what you posited as a theory.
 
Although the alien theory is not new, I thought I should seriously consider that possibility.
 
You see, one theory dealing with aliens includes the idea that Bigfoot passes through a portal.
 
This could be a ripple in time or maybe a transporter to an unseen aircraft cloaked somewhere in space.
 
I’m not sure I believe in that theory.”

“Too out there?” Ben asked.

“No, not at all.
 
Come here.”

Marlon brought Ben to the elephant in the room, or in this case the stuffed Bigfoot in the corner.

“What is this?” Ben asked.

“This is the reason I had to build this room with ten foot ceilings.
 
This is Gigantopithecus.
 
Well, a reasonable replica of the giant ape found in southern China.
 
Some believe Gigantopithecus came across the land bridge from Asia even before the Native Americans.
 
I thought that for a while as well.
 
But what if this was an alien species?
 
Look at this.”

Sitting in a glass case was a huge skull that resembled a cross between a giant ape and a human with a strange-looking skull ridge that looked like a Roman helmet.

“This is obviously a replica,” Marlon said.
 
“I bought it online.”

“And the entire body?”

“That’s a stylized design of Bigfoot based on hundreds of first-hand accounts.
 
I had a designer in Hollywood build that for me.”

“So, you think this Gigantopithecus is Bigfoot?” Ben asked.

“Not exactly.
 
I believe the Gigantopithecus found in southern China is actually Bigfoot, which is really a shape-shifting alien.
 
And I plan to prove it.”

This was all great to consider.
 
Ben liked the unknown more than most, which is probably what made him gravitate toward solving crimes in the Air Force.
 
But he wasn’t sure what the search for the elusive Bigfoot had to do with what was currently happening in their valley.

Ben went back to the maps and pointed at areas highlighted.
 
“What are these circles?”

“Ah.
 
Those are my truffle and mushroom fields.
 
Yellow highlights the truffle camps and green highlight shows various mushroom grounds.
 
As you can see, there’s a lot of overlap.”

“Yeah, and it seems to be right in the heart of the Bigfoot sightings,” Ben said.

“That makes sense,” Marlon said.
 
“As I mentioned earlier, mushrooms and truffles would be a major part of Bigfoot’s diet.
 
Of course, this is purely speculation.
 
For all we know, Bigfoot could be a voracious carnivore.”

“You really think these creatures walk among us?”

“I do.
 
For all I know, you could be one.”

“What about the difference in size?
 
Humans aren’t that big.”

“True.
 
But matter can be elastic.
 
When they shift from Bigfoot to human form, their density could change.
 
Much like the octopus.”

“This is really cool, Marlon.
 
You seem very passionate about this.”

“It’s my life’s work, Ben.
 
I was married a long time ago, but she didn’t share my passion for Bigfoot.
 
She was an English professor stuck in the nineteenth century American canon.”

Ben needed to get Marlon back on track.
 
First he told his friend about the data breech at the Mammoth Paper Company.

“So that’s how they found my address and the location of our truffle camps?” Marlon asked.

“It looks like it.
 
But there’s no way of tracking down the person who hacked the paper company.
 
They covered their tracks.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Marlon said.
 
“But you don’t think it has anything to do with the Latin Truffle Consortium.”

“No.
 
I think they’re happy dealing with you.”
 
Now Ben mentioned his recent encounter with the Russian.
 
“Have you had any contact with Vlad Grankin?”

“Not that I know of,” Marlon said.
 
He seemed to be racking his brain for a data file.
 
Then he said, “I have been getting a lot of those flyers from real estate agents saying they could sell my property for a shitload of money.
 
I usually just throw those away.”

“But, you just thought about something different.”

Without saying anything, Marlon locked up his research laboratory and escorted Ben back upstairs.
 
He rummaged through some paperwork and came up with a letter, which he handed to Ben.
 
Reading the letter, Ben saw that this particular real estate broker from the Portland area was more than a little interested in Marlon’s property.

“Three point five million dollars?” Ben asked.
 
“That’s a nice chunk of money.”

“It cost me about two million for the land and to build this place.
 
So that’s a nice profit.
 
But I have no plans to sell.
 
As I’m sure you know, I don’t need the money.”

Ben explained that Grankin said he would have his broker send an offer his way soon.
 
“I’m guessing the same broker will approach me.”

“Do you plan to sell?” Marlon asked Ben.

“No way in hell.”

“Well, that’s the end of that, then.”

Not exactly, Ben thought.
 
“I think this whole thing has to do with the land.
 
From the shooting at your house to the attack of your crew at the truffle camp.”

“But why?
 
Especially the camp.
 
That has nothing to do with the potential sale of my property.”

“Intimidation,” Ben said.
 
“The first thing you thought about when the bullets started flying was the truffle cartel.
 
Then immediately after they shot up your house they went after your crew in the mountains.
 
They were leading you to a certain conclusion.”

“And the FBI raid of the Compound?”

“A continuation of the attack on your business.
 
Maybe they didn’t realize your true motivation.
 
I mean, you just told me that moments ago.”

“But why make up this child pornography charge?” Marlon asked.

“I don’t know.
 
But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because they couldn’t find anything else on you.
 
The worst thing anyone can do to a man is to impugn his reputation.
 
Once that is lost, there is no way to rehabilitate yourself.
 
No matter how hard you try, no matter how vociferous you are at explaining the absurdity of the charge, there will always be doubt in the mind of those who have heard the original charge.
 
It’s human nature.”

Marlon nodded with unintended regret.
 
“I guess you’re probably right, Ben.
 
What do we do about it?”

“First, we let the lawyers do their magic.
 
Luckily you have the cloud backup of your entire drive.
 
So if the FBI tries to pull some shenanigans, planting evidence to make their case, you’ll have their asses.”

“And then?”

“Then we need to talk with all of our neighbors and see if they’ve been approached.
 
If you want, we can do that together in the morning.”

Marlon hesitated by going to the refrigerator and coming back with two new beers.
 
“All right.
 
But for tonight we have one more beer.”
 
He opened them both and handed one to Ben.