Avalanche: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) (14 page)

TULLY FOUND THE HANDYMAN IN
his shop working on a piece of equipment.

“I hate to bother you, Grady, but I need another lift up the mountain.”

“Yes sir, Sheriff. Hold on just one minute. I need to tighten a belt on this snowblower. One of these days I’m going to have to blow a lot of snow. Blanche has been so upset lately, she hasn’t bothered me about it, but I’m afraid the time is coming.”

“How well do you know her?”

“Pretty well. I’ve worked for the Wilsons pretty close to five years now, and she’s always been fair to me. I get my little house to live in and a decent salary. Along with my retirement from the air force, I manage fine.”

Grady made a couple of turns with his crescent wrench. “Mostly, I stay up here at the lodge. Sometimes I drive down to Blight City, but then where am I? Blight City! So I turn around and come back. There, that does it for the snowblower.”

The Sno-Cat pulled to a stop next to the Cabin Three trail. Tully tossed out a pair of snowshoes.

“Wait for me, Grady. I should be back in an hour or so. If I’m not, you might as well go home.”

“If you’re going in to see old Hoot again, I don’t recommend it.”

“It’s not my favorite outing,” Tully said, fastening the harnesses on the snowshoes. “Particularly since the last time he told me not to come back again.”

Grady nodded his head. “Pretty good advice.”

Even before Tully sighted the old woodsman’s cabin, he sensed his presence. He turned and looked at a thick cluster of trees. “Come on out, Hoot, I know you’re there.”

Hoot stepped out from behind the trees. He had the hammer back on his rifle. This time he was fully dressed. “That’s a problem with making another bad shot on a skunk, Bo. Makes it difficult to stay hid. I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you back up here.”

“That’s a problem with being sheriff, Hoot. There’s a whole passel of folks don’t want me back again. But I’ve got a job to do. If you want to be rid of me for good, you better help me with this murder.”

“I don’t care one way or the other about your murder. I didn’t do it. If I’d done it, there wouldn’t be all this fuss.”

“I know you didn’t do it. The folks who did do it thought they would be clever. As you probably know, the dumbest way to murder a person is to try and be clever.”

“That would be my opinion.”

To Tully’s relief, the old man lowered the hammer on his rifle. “You told me I could find what I was looking for in the hollow tree. I found it, exactly what I was looking for. The problem is, the item had all the fingerprints wiped off.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Without the fingerprints, Hoot, the object isn’t much good to me. That was a moonlit night, when the fellow hid the object there. I figure it was bright enough for you to recognize the person.”

“You figure that, do you?” Hoot snapped back the hammer on his rifle.

“Yes, I do. And I want to know right now who it was.”

“If I told you who it was, then the next thing you would want is for me to testify to that fact in court.”

“You got that exactly right.”

Hoot shook his head. “You’re the craziest fellow I’ve ever seen. People think I’m crazy, but I couldn’t hold a candle to you, Bo, when it comes to crazy.”

“Thanks,” Tully said. “Actually I’m not sure you would have to testify, Hoot. But there’s a possibility it might work out that way. I figure you better know it now.”

“I guess I can either shoot you or tell you.”

“That about covers it. So tell me.”

“Mike Wilson.”

“MIKE WILSON!” PAP SAID. THEY
were seated in the dining room.

“Not so loud,” Tully hissed at him.

He had told Pap and Dave about his visit to Ben Hoot.

“You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you,” Dave said.

“He might still shoot you, he gets a chance,” Pap said.

“Why do you think I’m telling you two? In any case, don’t mention Hoot’s connection with this. If I haul him into court to testify, he probably will shoot me.”

“The trick is to figure out how the gun got back to Mike Wilson,” Dave said. “Obviously, Mike must have been behind the killing of Horace Baker.”

“I figure he had to be, but I don’t know how.”

Someone put a hand on Tully’s shoulder. He jumped.

“You’ve got to calm down, Bo,” Lindsay said.

“And you’ve got to stop doing that, Lindsay. Next time I’ll probably shoot you. Sit down. We’ll get you something to eat.”

“I’ve already had dinner,” she said. “With him.” She pointed across the room. Marcus Tripp was sitting at a table by himself.

“I can’t believe you ate dinner with Marcus,” Tully said. “I realize you have pretty thin pickings in the man crop these days, but I have to tell you, Marcus is a weaky. You don’t want to get tangled up with a weaky.”

“It’s no big deal,” she said. “But I got to thinking about what you said, how hard it is to find a good man nowadays. So I decided I better hold on to Marcus until something better comes along. Also, his father is rich.”

“Rich is not to be sneezed at,” Dave said.

“It’s a factor,” Lindsay said. “He’s also kind of romantic.”

“He may have several good qualities, too,” Tully said. “So how are you doing on my list?”

“Okay. It’s harder than I thought. Should have something for you tomorrow. Is it all right if I mention the other thing now?” She nodded at Dave and Pap.

“They’re highly unreliable,” Tully said. “But tell me anyway.”

“The man was back last night. Left Mrs. Wilson’s apartment at exactly two-fourteen a.m. I had almost given up and headed for bed.”

Pap said, “Bo has you on a stakeout?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You see the circles under my eyes?”

“Please tell me you recognized him,” Tully said.

“No, I didn’t. It’s dark at that end of the hall. I didn’t want to follow him. Who knows, he could be the murderer!”

“There you go, thinking of yourself again,” Tully said. “You’re just like all my other deputies.”

“But it’s something, isn’t it, Bo?”

“I’m kidding you, Lindsay. It is in fact a lot. We’ll figure out who this chap is sooner or later. And you’re right, he could be our murderer. But tonight I want you in bed no later than nine. You do have black circles under your eyes.”

“I’ll come tuck you in, sweetheart,” Pap said.

“You will not,” Tully said. “She will tuck herself in.”

“But Pap is my buddy,” Lindsay said.

Tully rolled his eyes heavenward. Pap grinned.

Dave said, “Pap and I checked out the footbridge like you asked, Bo. There are so many tracks going back and forth, it’s almost impossible to find a sign worth anything. There was one small area protected from the wind by a post and we could make out a section where the snow had been flattened by something. Right next to it was another flattened area, maybe two inches deeper. That mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“Good,” Pap said. “It didn’t mean nothing to us either.”

TULLY FOUND THE FOUR WSU
frat boys playing cards in the lounge. He stopped at their table. They looked up at him belligerently.

“I understand you guys beat up one of my men?”

The belligerent looks faded. “You mean the Indian?” one of the boys said.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Me neither,” said another one, shaking his head. “It was Lance.”

The largest of the four, the bruises still showing on his face, said, “I didn’t beat him up, he beat me up. I never knew Indians were so fast. He’s lucky he didn’t kill me.”

“You’re the lucky one,” Tully said. “Dave doesn’t have an off switch if he gets mad. So you’re lucky he didn’t get mad. Even so, he starts something, he finishes it. I guess he was only playing with you. He’s not really an Indian anyway. He pretends to be, so he can get his own casino. Now the only reason I’m bothering even to talk to you four thumb-suckers is Mrs. Wilson told me you like to think you’re into extreme sports.”

Lance said, “We were going to climb the back side of Mount Blight, but the avalanche threat up there got too high. Just because we’re not stupid doesn’t mean we don’t like extreme sports.”

“You’re not stupid? I was hoping you were, because I have something I want you to do. The lodge owner has asked me to think up an exercise for you, something to keep you out of her hair. And her bar.”

“Like what?” Lance said.

“Follow me.” Tully led them over to the 3-D map. “I assume you’re all fair skiers.”

Lance, who seemed to be the leader of the group, said, “We’re great skiers!”

“Excellent,” Tully said. “I need four guys with an exaggerated opinion of themselves. Now, pay attention.” He pointed at the map and explained the exercise he had thought up.

“Piece of cake,” Lance said.

“Finally you ski back to the lodge. You should complete the exercise in less than six hours.”

“How do we do that?”

“I’m glad you asked that, Lance, because now I’m going to tell you.”

He told them.

“Anyone ever do that before?” a kid asked.

“Don’t pay any attention to Rodney,” Lance said. “What’s in it for us, Sheriff?”

“I thought you might ask that, Lance. A hundred dollars each, if you’re back within six hours. Nothing if you’re late. In any case, it will give Mrs. Wilson a day without your company.”

“A hundred bucks is chicken feed,” the one called Wiggy said. He was thin and wore glasses and appeared somewhat more intelligent than the others.

“I thought it might be,” Tully said. “But that’s as high as I go.”

“Sounds like a lot of work for not much,” the kid known as Turk said. What appeared to be a diamond stickpin pierced one of his eyebrows. Tully imagined the adornment pleased the kid’s rich father enormously. “I’d rather sit around here all day and drink,” Turk added.

“That’s part of the problem,” Tully said. “Tell you what? You guys do this for me, and I’ll let you participate in a murder trial. How does that sound?”

“Hey, cool!” the four said almost in unison.

“Now it is possible the exercise can’t be done in six hours,” Tully said. “Maybe one of you falls and breaks a leg or something. In that case, I don’t want any of you to leave him. I assume you all have cell phones.”

“Yeah,” Lance said.

“So in case of an accident, you call the Sheriff’s Department at 911, and I’ll have it arranged so a helicopter picks you up.”

“If the guy is dead, it’s okay to leave him, isn’t it?” Lance said.

“Well, yeah,” Tully said. “If you’re sure he’s dead.”

AT EIGHT-THIRTY THE NEXT MORNING,
Tully and Grady towed the four frat boys on their skis up to the top of the ridge with a rope tied to the back of the Sno-Cat. The four were in rowdy good spirits.

“You’re probably wondering, Grady, what I have planned for these young men. Basically, I want them out of the lodge for a day. They have become an enormous irritation to Blanche. And, more important, to me.”

“Yes sir,” Grady said. “To me also. There’s some pretty rugged terrain up here. They could get themselves killed if they’re not careful.”

“Yeah, but there’s always a downside. Keep in mind that we send young men like these off to war all the time to get them wounded and killed and their heads messed up. That’s what we old men do to young men, don’t you know that? It’s our revenge for them being young.”

“Yes sir.”

“We do it mostly to poor young men.”

“Yes sir.”

“These are rich young men, of course. On the other hand, this isn’t a war.”

“Yes sir.”

When they arrived at the top of the ridge, Tully had Grady drive down to where the Sno-Cat had turned around previously. The frat boys skied up to Tully. He checked his watch. “It’s almost nine. You have to be back at the lodge before three.

“I’m in charge, right, Sheriff?” Lance said.

“You’re in charge, Lance. If you get hurt or killed, then Rodney takes over.”

A cheer went up from the other two.

“That sort of thing happens to me all the time,” Tully said. “Too bad you don’t have someone to watch your back, Lance.”

Tully checked his watch as the quartet of skiers swept down the slope past the snowy sculptures of buried trees. “Three o’clock!” he yelled after them. “Don’t be late!”

“You think it can be done?” Grady asked him.

“I don’t know. The main thing is it keeps them out of my sight for a day.”

“You have something against fraternity boys, Sheriff?”

“Yes, I do, Grady. I was an independent in college. The frat boys were the ones who got all the good-looking girls in the sororities.”

“I never went to college,” Grady said.

“You didn’t miss much,” Tully said. “If you were a frat boy, it was fun. You majored in PE or pre-law or something else that didn’t require a whole lot of study that might interfere with your fun. If you were an independent, you had to major in something where you could get a job after you graduated. So you had to take something hard. If it was fun or easy, like psychology, everyone would major in it and you would have all that competition for a job after graduation. Something hard could be pure torture.”

“What did you major in?”

“Art.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun to me, Sheriff.”

“It was. Why do you think I ended up as a hick cop for a hick county?”

“Yes sir, I did wonder about that.”

“You can stop wondering.”

“Yes sir.”