The Tamarack Murders (12 page)

“Bo, I love that little dog, and he loves me. And only one of us chews the feathers off chickens.”

Tully laughed. He was thinking of saying ‘which one,'but decided not to push it. There were other ways to get rid of Clarence. He knew he loved Daisy. He also knew he probably would never again marry for love. He loved too many women. Ginger's death had crushed him. If he ever got married again, it would be to an amiable companion who could easily be replaced. His affair with Daisy had ended months before, and he still wasn't over her. Given time, the pain should subside, and he would be careful not to make the same mistake again.

The Unit seemed slightly dazed. “I hate it, boss, when I get caught in a row between two lovers.”

“Forget everything you heard, Lurch. Now here's what I want you to do. There's a little old lady who works for the library. Her name is Vera. I want you to go over there and ask her to track down anything involving the name Beeker or Dance in Blight County. She's something of an expert on the history of the county. I think she's even written a book about Blight County. Okay?”

Lurch appeared dazed. “I'm still stuck on you and Daisy getting married.”

E
tta's house was perched on a steep, weedy hill with a long set of rickety stairs leading up to it. If Etta had actually been a fortune-teller, the house would fit the occupation perfectly. Apparently, it was possible to drive around the hill and approach the back of the house by means of a road, but so far he had chosen to climb the stairs as if they were some kind of challenge he set for himself. Or perhaps the stairs were preparation for seeing Etta. The stairs had a handrail on each side, but Tully thought handrails were for sissies. He went up the stairs two steps at a time, his boots making loud, satisfying thumps. Tully was about to push the buzzer when the door suddenly sprang open. He jumped back, his right hand slipping under his vest.

“Bo!” Etta exclaimed. She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I was hoping that was you. Come in, come in. Grab a seat on the sofa, and I'll pour the tea.”

Tully sat down in a chair across the coffee table from the couch.

“Great, Etta! I can use a good strong cup of your tea. I have to get back to the office and prepare some things for tomorrow.”

Etta disappeared into the kitchen and soon returned with her silver tray, the silver teapot, silver sugar bowl, and cream pitcher. The china cups were so dainty Tully was almost afraid to touch one. His finger wouldn't fit through the handle so he grabbed the cup itself, ignoring the heat.

Etta sat down on the couch. “Bo, the reason I asked you over is that I wanted your company, but I'm also very worried about you.”

“Worried about me, Etta? You don't have to be worried about me. You know I can take care of myself. Any risky situations, I send in one of my deputies.”

“I know that isn't true. I may not be a fortune-teller, but I can always tell when you're lying.”

Tully dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into his tea, stirred it and took a sip. Etta appeared seriously worried. He knew she wasn't a fortune-teller, but he had been startled numerous times by her pronouncements, things she knew about him that he was certain she had no reasonable way of knowing.

Etta peered at him over her tea cup as she took a sip. “You look tired, Bo. I hope you're taking care of yourself.”

“Etta, I've given up just about everything I like to do. I haven't smoked my favorite pipe in five years. I keep it in a box out in the garage along with all my other pipes and smoking paraphernalia. I can't bear to throw any of it away. Every time I walk by the pipes cry out, ‘Smoke me! Bo, smoke me!'It's very sad. So far, though, I haven't given in.”

Etta laughed. “I hope you haven't given up on wine. You know wine is supposed to be good for you.”

“Even the wine they serve at Crabbs? If I gave up eating at Crabbs altogether, I'd probably improve my health a hundred percent. So you wanted to warn me about something, Etta? I didn't think it was about my health.”

“It wasn't your health, Bo, but something dreadful. I know you don't believe in my nonsense, but I sense a dark force hovering near you, and you appear totally oblivious to it. I just know you're in terrible danger and seem totally unaware of it.”

He stared at her. “Danger is part of the job, Etta. You know that. I deal with bad guys all the time. It's something you get used to. There are people who would dearly love to kill me, I know that. Fortunately, most of them are in prison. That's one of the reasons they would like to kill me.”

Etta frowned. “I know, dear. And I wish I could tell you the source of this new danger, but I can't. It's something out there that never quite takes shape. It's like a threatening dark force that hovers near you. It seems to be closing in on you.”

Tully felt the hairs on the back of his neck twitch. A shiver went through him. She had piqued his interest. “Etta, you have any clues about what this dark force might be?”

“No! Nothing! It could be a person. And I feel terrible that I don't know what or who it is. I probably shouldn't have said anything, but I couldn't help myself. It's just this terribly vague sense of something very bad.” She started to cry.

Tully got up, walked around the coffee table and sat down beside her. He reached his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. She gave a little cry. “Oh!”

“Etta, don't cry. Believe me, everything will turn out okay.”

“Oh, it's not that, Bo. Your gun just jabbed me.”

They both laughed

“Anyway, Etta, thanks for telling me. I'll be extra cautious from now on.”

“Oh, I do hope so, dear. It's just that I sense this dark force converging on you. I know you must think I'm the weirdest person you've ever come across, but you mean a lot to me.”

Etta wasn't the weirdest person Tully knew, but she was a contender. Still, he knew he could fall in love with her, and he already loved way too many women.

He stood up to go.
Converging!
Gridley Shanks leaped to mind. Sometimes there's a good reason all signs converge on a particular individual—he's guilty!

Back at the office, Tully tilted back in his chair, closed his eyes and laced his fingers together behind his neck. One of these days he would get out of the sheriffing business and just paint. His agent, Jean Runyan, had sold his latest painting for $2500. Not bad. It would be wonderful to wake up in the morning and not have to worry about bank robberies, murders, stolen chain saws, and convergences. Instead he would simply walk up to his studio sipping a hot cup of coffee and go to work on his next painting. Even better, he'd have a wife bring the coffee up to him after he had started work. Maybe even his own wife. He tried to imagine what such a wife would look like. There were so many pretty women to choose from, but Daisy kept flicking up on his mental screen, standing there next to his easel, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. Better yet, on a tray with two steaming cups of coffee and a plate of cookies! No point in skimping on a daydream. He glanced out at Daisy sitting at her desk in the briefing room. She was scratching an itch on her head with the lead point of a pencil. Hmm. He'd have to give this more thought.

Lurch appeared in his doorway. “Hope I'm not interrupting a good daydream, boss.”

“Far from it, Lurch. You find anything at the library on either of our suspects?”

“Not much. But I talked to Vera Freedy about her history of the county. There used to be a Beeker ranch out next to the river south of Famine. Adam Beeker was the owner. He died about eighty years ago. The ranch was one of the largest in Idaho. The Beekers ran thousands of cattle on it, but a corporation back in New York owns the ranch now. It mostly grows trees.”

“I didn't expect you to read a whole book on it, Lurch.”

“I didn't. I talked to Vera about it, and she told me about the Beekers. She said she had a whole chapter about the ranch.”

“Interesting. I may head out to the ranch tomorrow. You want to go?”

“Naw, there might be shooting.”

“I hope so.”

“That all for me, boss?”

“No. See what you can turn up on the corporation that owns the ranch and ask Vera if she knows of any place on the ranch Beeker and Dance might hide out.”

“Stupid of me to ask.” Lurch headed back to his corner.

Tully grabbed a phone book, thumbed through it, found the number he wanted and dialed.

A gruff voice answered. “Yeah?”

“Batim, it's Bo Tully.” Batim Scragg was one of the deadliest human beings in all of Idaho, possibly on the planet.

“Whatcha want, Bo?”

“You know what I want, Batim.”

“I ain't takin' him back. Besides, that pretty girl you got livin' with you loves him, and he loves her. He don't try to bite her or anything. What happened, Bo, he started chompin' my chickens. Got a dozen of them running around with bare hind ends sticking out. Ever time I see Clarence he's got a mouthful of feathers.”

Tully groaned. “Listen, Batim, all you need to do is build a hen house and a chicken-wire pen, and Clarence couldn't get near them.”

“Wouldn't work, Bo. These are free-range chickens, and I ain't penning them up to keep them safe from your little dog.”

Tully leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “I'll tell you what, Batim, I'll be over in Famine tomorrow, and we'll discuss it then.”

“Don't bring Clarence!”

“Why I called in the first place, I'm looking for a couple of men I think may be hanging out over around Famine.”

“Wouldn't be them bank robbers, would it?”

“Yes, it would. Suspected bank robbers. We don't have any proof they're the ones robbed the bank and shot a young fellow up on Chimney Rock Mountain, but they're all I've got right now.”

“I heard about it on the radio.”

“Well, my suspects vanished. I figure they might have holed up somewhere over around Famine and maybe stayed there while they were setting up the robbery, if they set up the robbery. If we can find such a place, we may be able to get some leads on them.”

Batim said, “Durned if I don't miss crime, Bo. I just got too old for it.”

Tully laughed. “Yeah, I'm getting too old for it myself, Batim.”

“So what else you want, Bo?”

“You know anybody in the area around Famine with the names of either Dance or Beeker?

The old man was quiet for a moment. Tully hoped he was turning the names over in his mind. Then Batim said, “There's a big old brick mansion out on the river. Nobody lives in it anymore. Years ago a fire pretty much gutted it. It's huge, three or more stories high, all red brick. Must have five big chimneys on it. Folks still call the area the Beeker Ranch. Use to be said a cowboy could ride in a straight line for a week and never be off the ranch. An old couple, Alma and Harold, live in an old double-wide mobile home near the burnt-out mansion. I guess their job is to look after what's left of it, or maybe because they don't have anywhere else to live. I think Alma is somehow related to the Beeker what started the ranch. I'm pretty sure her last name used to be Beeker. Both Alma and Harold are crazy as bedbugs, but nice enough. Most crazy folks I know are nice. Maybe that's what makes them crazy, they can't find any of their own kind.”

Tully smiled. “Maybe you should go into psychiatry, Batim.”

“Maybe. But I got a policy never to go into anything I can't spell. Anyway, your pal Dave Perkins, the fake Indian, was out there hunting pheasants or something last fall and asked Alma if she could give him a drink of water. She said maybe he'd prefer a nice glass of lemonade. Dave said sure and sat down on a chopping block out in the yard, and pretty soon Alma comes out with a glass of green lemonade. Dave takes a big swig and thanks her. Then he asks, ‘How'd you get your lemonade that nice green color?'She said, ‘Oh, I just dump in some of Harold's aftershave. Makes it pretty and tastes fine too, don't it?'”

Tully laughed. “Good thing Dave survived? I may need to use him tomorrow.”

Batim cackled. “Yeah, Dave says it's the best lemonade he ever drunk!”

Tully thanked Batim for the information and said he might stop by and see him tomorrow.

“That be fine, Bo. Just don't bring Clarence. If you need a little back up on your hunt for the criminals, I'm pretty handy with a gun.”

“I know you are, Batim. If it starts to look like a tough situation, I'll give you a call. I plan on using Dave for any tough situations, though. And I may bring along an FBI agent.”

“An FBI agent! I hate the FBI!”

“This one's a pretty woman.”

“They got pretty women FBI agents?”

“Yes, they do. I may stop by and show her to you.”

“I'd be mighty pleased if you do. Nothing I like better than pretty women. Just don't bring Clarence.”

T
ully stopped at Angie's hotel at eight the next morning. Clarence was on the front seat beside him, a seat belt looped around his middle. Angie was watching for Bo out the front window of the hotel. She came out, opened the car door and started to get in.

“Clarence! What are you doing here?”

The little dog wagged his tail.

Tully said, “I'm returning him to his rightful owner.”

“Oh, that's too bad, Bo.” She scratched Clarence behind the ears and started fumbling around for her seat belt. The dog wagged his tail. He must like women, Tully thought.

“You should keep him, Bo. Give you some company in that empty, old house of yours.”

“I can provide all the company I need in my empty, old house. You want him, Angie?”

“Really, Bo. You'd give him to me? What about his rightful owner?”

Tully laughed. “His rightful owner will probably just shoot him, if Clarence keeps chomping his chickens.”