Deadly Is the Night (17 page)

The JP made the Clements ranch house his courtroom. He ruled, in all cases, that the deaths were justified. He made Mrs. Ruthie Ann Clements Robbie Clements's heir and the executor of his estate. An inventory was made of the ranch cattle. She had two hundred cows and assorted calves plus yearlings all wearing the K—3 brand, all of which were now hers along with his section of land and the Farrell half section he bought from the county tax office. All the horse stock belonged to her and everything mortgage free.

The JP decided that the marshals involved were entitled to sixty percent of the cash amount recovered.

Chet asked Jesus and Miguel to donate a thousand dollars apiece to the Farrell's two lady friends and put the rest in their own bank accounts. Even after the donations they each would have over twenty thousand to bank.

Miguel sat in shock. “That is more money than most men make in a lifetime.”

Jesus nodded his head. “I have been riding with him for almost four years. No, more than four years. I have over twice that amount in my account in the Preskitt Bank. Someday I will own a large ranch. I am still learning.”

“What will I tell Lisa?”

“That someday you both will also own a big ranch.”

“How often has this happened?”

“Oh, several times. Cole will tell you he has a big bank account, too, from the days serving with him.”

“I am shocked.”

“Don't tell others; it will only make them jealous.”

“I savvy that.”

“You know when we chased those guys back to Clements's ranch, all of us could have been killed. Chet's been shot once on this job. He knows how dangerous it is, so with this money he prepares that it might be our widows' and orphans' fund.”

Back at the hotel, Chet wrote Liz a letter that night explaining how they'd solved the one crime and settled everything from wills to widows. They were going south to Snow Flake next.

He never told her about the donations made to Yolanda or the Yellow Rose by his men and how the women both cried about Charlie's death when the men gave them the money. Nor did he tell her about the lanky boy in his late teens named Samuel Trent who moved in with Ruthie Ann Clements. The crazy kid followed her like a hound pup after a gyp. Nor did he mention how she went to town and how fine she dressed on her newfound wealth. He didn't add that he knew she'd never make a lovely lady in society, because she, as likely as not, scratched herself anywhere she itched in public. He saw her do it openly in town getting out of her new buggy.

They had to go south in the morning snowing or not.

Light snow fell all day. They stopped for the night at a roadhouse for freighters who were headed south for Fort Apache. Chet felt cold despite his layered clothing that was usually sufficient to keep him warm. They had the horses put up and headed for the bar and diner for supper. In the big noisy room of people he felt the heat hit his face. He hoped he wasn't taking a cold. That was all he needed.

They ordered food—the man who waited on them said they had beef, potatoes, and carrots. That included bread and coffee. The meal price was fifty cents, which was double café prices in civilized places, but they were not there and this place had no competition. He unbuttoned his coat and rose to put it on the chair back. Sometimes these chases were hell. Chet recalled Jesus's complaints of that cold run, coming back from Utah with all the prisoners and Ben Ivor's second wife-to-be Kathrin. He was so pleased with the success of that trip he never noticed the low temperatures.

The coffee was not good. Their meals came in a bowl as thin stew, and the bread was like the French made that you tore off in chunks and dumped in the liquid. It was not a select spot to spend the night when he could have been in his own warm house with his wife and eating Monica's meals. After he finished, he sat back, realized that Utah was Jesus's worst trip and this might be his worst so far.

Morning they had pancakes and thin sugar syrup. Chet didn't even try the coffee. They loaded the packhorses and saddled up to head south. Clear, cold mountain air swept his face and they rode. They reached the village of Snow Flake mid-morning and found the Yavapai County deputy.

Steve Knowles was the man in charge. After their introductions, Knowles asked, “What happened to Cates?”

“He resigned before we closed the Farrell murder case and left for parts unknown.”

“Was he a suspect?”

“We have one unanswered part he played. He cashed a five-hundred-dollar bill around the time Farrell was murdered, and that drew suspicion on him. Nothing was done about it. It looked bad, but I had no evidence that large bill came from Farrell's money.”

“Did you see it? The bill?”

“No, but the banker at Holbrook said he had to look up a picture of it. He didn't know the person pictured on it, but it was valid.

“We had a bloody shoot-out with Robbie Clements and his hired guns, and by the time we came out unscathed, Cates had gone.”

Knowles shook his head. “Hell, they said that the guy killed was an old skinflint.”

“His brother who died owned the Candy Cane Mine at Silver City, and Farrell received near a hundred thousand dollars in inheritance money.”

“What was your take on it all?”

“I don't take reward money.”

Everyone laughed.

“Well, you solved that one. Now I hope you find my killer. He, or they, have murdered four families. We are a pretty close-knit community here. Most are Mormons. We think we know everyone and can't find the loose maniac in our midst. I have four files you can read. I wrote everything I found or heard in them. I may not be the best investigator, but damn, Byrnes, I've done all I can do after each murder.”

“No one doubts that. You may be matching wits with a smart killer, killers, or they may simply be lucky.”

“You have a reputation of dogging down and finding killers. I wish you luck and I'll do anything I can to help. Just ask. I want this animal stopped.”

“Thank you. Now, we should get settled. Is there a livery for our stock?”

“Matt Jepson will do that down the street on the right.”

“Rooms and board?”

“Mrs. Halter is a widow with several bedrooms and she lives a block away. She will serve the meals you need if you tell her. I arranged all this so you'd be free to investigate when I was told you were coming to help me. I know you'd want the time spent here shortened as much as possible, so I prepared all I could.”

“You are right. And thank you. Miguel can put the horses up. Jesus and I will start reading your notes.”

Knowles nodded. “I will go with him. We will leave your personal things at Mrs. Halter's house, and put up the horses. I'll arrange for lunch here and supper with her tonight.”

“Thanks again.”

“No problem. I want this business solved.”

* * *

Sitting across the desk from each other, Chet handed the case file marked number two to Jesus to read.

He opened file number one.

Chet closed the file. The killer or killers were some kind of crazy mad people.

“How does that one read?” he asked Jesus.

Jesus had wet eyes when he dropped his file on the desk. “They smashed the baby's head on a porch post to kill it. The buzzards had consumed most of it laying in the yard. But his dried blood was on the porch post. Inside the house the father had his chest chopped open and his heart had been removed. Three children were cut into pieces. I couldn't read what he said about the wife's death. No tracks to follow . . .”

“Let's go outside and get a breath of air.” Chet stood up and shook his head.

“I don't know how Knowles is still sane after handling two of these cases?”

Jesus looked pained. “Chet, there are two more here yet to read.”

“I know and reading them is going to be hell.”

Jesus agreed, stretching his arms over his head. It had warmed up outside some and the sun sparkled on the bare cottonwood tree bark.

“We, somehow, must find him before he strikes again.”

“You have any thoughts?”

“No. Knowles knows this land. He knows these people, but he has not found a suspect in the eight or nine months these four horrible crimes happened.”

“You read number three and I'll read the last one. They can wait. There's a woman coming with a covered tray. I think she is coming with that for us.”

“You must be the marshals. Deputy Knowles said to bring you two some lunch. He and your man are repairing a packsaddle and will be here when they're done.”

“Thank you. My name is Chet Byrnes. And that is Jesus Martinez, one of my men.”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Edie Halter. The deputy asked me to board you while you are here since we don't have a hotel or café.”

“We're pleased you agreed. Let me have the tray.”

“No. Please, just open the door. I carried it this far. I hope you like it.”

“Hey, after weeks of our own cooking and not so good café food, we will be easy to please.”

“I can see you are a flatterer. I am happy to be your hostess.”

“You ever can come to Preskitt, my wife and I will show you a real good time.”

“Keep talking. I'd love to see your house and the woman you married.”

“Well, you are invited.”

Jesus told her, “He is not joking. He has a great wife, and you will love the mansion.”

“Here is your lunch.” She set it on the table and uncovered blue and white dishes, shiny silverware, and the food, in two pans. It was a hefty load she had carried blocks to them. “The elk steaks were fresh cut, the rice and gravy is mine, and the rolls are still warm. Butter is in that dish. I am sorry I have no coffee.”

“We understand. I bet they don't even sell it around here,” Chet said, pulling up another chair. “Tell us what people around here think about the crimes.”

“Honest,” the fortyish woman said, still fussing to get things off the tray and set out it on the desk for them. “People around here hardly talk about it. We are God-fearing church people, and these crimes are near impossible to believe they've happened here where we live. And the fact no one has been able to find and stop them is scaring us all.”

“Usually, by now, someone has found a culprit to accuse?”

She nodded. “Eat. You will need lots of strength to ever find them. I don't believe in ghosts or spirits, but they may be here.”

Chewing on a tasty bite of elk, he shook his head. “There are no such things in this world. There is a human behind these attacks. He, or they, may not be human in mind but they are living, breathing beasts. Edie, we are here to find the beast. Me, Jesus, and Miguel.”

“I hope you can. I can speak for everyone in the region. Free us from this curse.”

Finished with lunch, they thanked her. Chet said they'd bring her tray back later but she said she'd take it herself now and have their supper ready at six p.m. if that suited him. She pointed out her house to him and took her tray back.

Miguel and Knowles rejoined them.

“We repaired a packsaddle. It will be all right.”

“Good. You can read any one of these,” Chet told Miguel. Jesus was already into number four—three people murdered. They beheaded the man and their son of twelve, then used the wife's body and slashed her throat. Just like the Forester one.

Miguel lowered his head, pushed the file away, and admitted, “I am sorry. I can't do this.”

Chet pulled the file back to himself. “Knowles, were these four families good LDS church members?” He referred to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or Mormons.

He shook his head. “No. None were members.”

“Were these women common law wives?”

“They might have been, why?”

“I want to know what they had in common.”

“They were people who lived on the fringe. You know what I mean?”

“I think the fact they were not Mormons might attract a killer who had a mind-set they were not worth letting live. The common law wife thing could also be a point.”

“No one that went to church would ever do it.”

“I am not accusing anyone. But a mentally upset person could use that for an excuse to do this.”

Knowles shook his head. “I am not defending my church, but I have not seen or heard anyone talk like that.”

“I believe when you get to looking at these four crimes they are all near alike.”

“I have found nothing suspicious about anyone. That is the problem.”

“Let's look at the location of the murders on your map.”

“I have them marked. They are around the outside edge.”

“Places where you wouldn't be seen much when traveling there? Could you get a buggy or wagon to all sites?”

“I saw no tracks of them at these places.”

“Maybe they parked off away some, so you would not see them. People do strange things. A man murdered a woman I knew, and she managed to write his name on a bed sheet with her own blood before she died. We found it.”

“Chet, I scoured those sites for any clues, like if a note fell from a pocket or jackknife dropped. I found nothing.”

“The killers must be real careful. That means they are very smart or you'd have found something. So far there have been no slips. ”

“Right.”

“These reports you made are as well done as any I ever read on any crime. I see the problem is these murdered people are outside the normal way of living. They are doing things that might be very sinful in the eyes of zealous ones.”

“I thought they fell victim because they lived off by themselves.”

“I agree with Chet.” Jesus nodded his head. “They want to clean up the—”

“The sinners,” Chet added.

Knowles nodded. “If he was a killer bear I'd bait him. But how?”

“Do you have more living like those murdered?”

“I never really thought about them. There are some more out there, but I have not thought about going out there and checking on them.”

“Let's split up in pairs and start checking on any possible sinners in the morning. We must note anyone suspicious, maybe leaving town because they are going out to find those fringe people. We have to disregard what a good person they seem to be.”

“Won't that warn the guilty party we are looking for them?”

“If we knew names we could watch closer,” Jesus said.

Knowles dropped his chin. “Chet, you have me convinced those people were murdered for not living their lives like the killer expected them to.”

“Now we need that person to slip up.”

Knowles added, “And before they murder someone else. I simply hope it works.”

They agreed and Chet's bunch headed for Edie Halter's house.