Death at the Black Bull (20 page)

When he left the house, Cesar was sitting on the front porch. He sat down alongside him.

“Back on the road?”

“Yep, I'll be back late tonight. Don't bother leaving me anything. I'll grab something while I'm out. Sorry I haven't been around much. Been real busy.”

“I heard about them young people.”

Virgil didn't ask how he knew about something that he had bent over backward trying to keep secret.

“Don't worry,” Cesar said. “Everything here is under control. You do what you got to do.”

Then, as an afterthought, as if reading Virgil's mind: “What I know, what Billy is doing, ends with us. It's not out there and it won't be.”

“Okay. I reckoned as much.” Virgil stood up. “Gotta get going.” He stepped off the porch.

“Virgil.”

Virgil stopped and looked back. Cesar had gotten out of his chair.

“About that other thing . . . that low sex drive. Can't make that same promise about not going public, but if you want to avoid the town talk, there's this blue pill.”

A wide smile broke out on Cesar's face.

“Often wondered what kept you going, old man.” Virgil waved, then walked to the cruiser, carrying the belt in his hand. At the last minute, with his hand on the door handle, he stopped. He looked around at the only home he'd ever known. The air had a different taste and there was an unusual midday breeze. That, coupled with some big thunderheads blocking the sun, had stifled the record-breaking temperatures. The wind that stirred the leaves on the cottonwood seemed to suggest the promise of growing strength.

He caught the movement of Star in the corral with her foal. The foal had thrived. Cesar said it was as if the mare had gained a new hold on life. Even now as he watched, the two ran around the corral, the foal bucking and wheeling as it chased after its mom, Star's ears forward, eyes wide, and tail up, proud in her newfound motherhood.

Virgil opened the door, threw the belt onto the seat on the passenger side, then walked to the corral.

“What are you thinking?” He hadn't heard Cesar come up in back of him.

“I think it's time the little one got to see more of the world.”

Virgil climbed to the top rail, sat there a moment, then jumped down into the corral. Immediately, the mare came to him. As he stroked her neck, the foal came alongside. He reached out with his free hand and stroked the foal in the same way. After a minute or two, he walked to the opposite side of the corral to the gate that led to the great expanse that went beyond the horizon. He unlatched the gate and threw it wide. The mare let out a loud call, then leaped through the opening. The foal, calling after her, raced to close the gap that had so quickly separated them. Star never slowed her stride, bucking a couple of times in the joy of the moment. Virgil and Cesar stood in silence as the two became smaller and smaller in the distance, leaving only a dust cloud as evidence of their passing.

“Muy bueno,”
Cesar said.

Virgil nodded his head in agreement. “Doesn't get any better than that.”

*   *   *

It was a little before three when he pulled into the office parking lot. His was not the only car there. Rosie was at her desk. Facing her sat a man with his back toward Virgil.

“Hello, Ears.”

The man stood up immediately, with a slight frown on his face.

“Sorry about that, Bob,” Virgil said. “I mean, Mayor. It just slipped out.”

Virgil had known Bob Jamison his whole life and just like 99 percent of the town had always called him by the nickname given to him by his own father who once said, “That boy better stay inside on a windy day, because with them ears sticking out at right angles to his head, he's liable to end up in the next county.”

It became a nickname that took on a life of its own. So much so that when he ran for mayor, he had been advised to put his nickname in quotations on all his posters. His most famous reelection quote after his first term was, “Remember, when you come to me with your problem, I'm all ears.”

“Don't worry, Virgil. I'm past caring. Besides, they got me elected four times so far. Last two without an opponent.”

“That's 'cause you're doing a great job, Bob.”

“You can put down that shovel, Virgil. You're not in the barn now. Anyway, can't linger too long. Shoulda given a holler first, but just took a chance you might be here. Visiting with Rosie without Dave around has been a pure pleasure. I told her if he ever gets in the way of a stray bullet or she needs some other comfort, I'd be happy to get the call.”

“Best offer I've had this week,” Rosie said. “I'll pass that on to Dave. I'm sure he'll be relieved to know that I'll be well taken care of if anything unfortunate happens.”

“Maybe you better keep that under your hat, Rosita, till Dave's too feeble to pull a trigger.”

Rosie smiled then got up from her desk. “Well I'll let you boys talk. Virgil, I'm going to run down to Margie's for a quick bite since you're here. Ain't had anything since breakfast. Want me to bring you back something?”

“No. I'll be here till Dif comes in. Take your time.”

“Dif is why I stopped by,” Bob said, as Rosie went out the door.

“Figured it was something like that. What's up?”

“The council heard you got Dif on the payroll full-time. They're concerned about the budget. They asked me to look into it. They were wondering if it was a necessary expense.”

“A necessary expense . . .” A small vein in Virgil's temple became more prominent. “A necessary expense . . . Let's see, we've had three killings in the last five weeks, more than we've had in the last two years. I got two deputies, in a substation trailer, twenty-five miles away, clear on the other side of the county. It's me and Jimmy on second shift with Rosie as backup here. While I'm working on this, because it's kind of a priority, that Russell kid with his wannabes are still dropping rocks off the overpass on that new interstate spur, Charlie Grissom is still getting drunk and beating on his wife, and Ma Sampson is still calling regularly because she's sure a Peeping Tom is outside her window trying to catch her in a state of undress. That's only the beginning of the list. So I called in Dif, who'd rather spend his golden years with a fishing rod and a cold beer, to help me out because I'm on a thin line here. And you want to know if it's a necessary expense. Ears, you go back and tell the council, I get any more dead people, I'll just space them out on Main Street and we can use them as speed bumps. Then we can save money by removing the stoplights.”

“Virgil, take it easy. You know if it was up to me . . . Hell, I'd tell you to go right out and hire as many full-time deputies as you need. You know that. It's just politics. Same old story.”

“I know, Bob. It's just been a little stressful lately. Like Dave said, we're dealing with big-city problems and we're small-town. But that's changing. Case you haven't noticed, that old yellow dog hasn't been sleeping in the middle of Main Street lately.”

“Don't worry, Virgil. I'll take care of the council. After this thing is done, ask Dif if he can stay on awhile, until we get a new full-time guy. I also want you to plan on taking some time for yourself. By the way, where do you think you are with this situation? Just curious.”

Virgil didn't answer right away, but walked to his desk and sat down heavily in his chair.

“Well, I'd say that if this were a play we were watching, I think we're somewhere in the middle of the third act.”

D
if Taylor walked through the door just before five. Virgil was alone in the office.

“Where's Rosie?”

“I gave her the afternoon off. Had to be here for a couple of hours to get caught up with a pile of paperwork. Figured she could use a break. You okay with the extra time?”

“I'm good, Virgil. Most of the time it's pretty quiet when I first come in, doesn't get crazy till later, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. But you know that. Edna's happy spending the extra money.”

“She still in Alamogordo, visiting with her sister?”

“No, she's back. Figures to put any extra income into plans for a cruise this winter.”

“Well, you like the water.”

“Yeah, when it's mixed with scotch or I got a hook in it. Don't know about being out in the middle of the ocean. I guess I saw that
Poseidon
movie too many times.”

“The mayor was in earlier. He's good with you being here. This way, Jimmy can be out on patrol. You here with Rosie, most of the time, Dave and Alex down in Redbud. Should work out.”

“Being here is fine with me. No more patrol. I'm done with chasing kids down at the dump shooting rats or getting between Charlie Grissom and his wife every Saturday night. Jimmy's legs are in much better shape than mine. Besides, he's better at it than I was.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows.

“No, it's the truth,” Dif said. “Jimmy's got nice quiet ways, never loses his temper, and he's got patience Job would envy. He's a lot like you, Virgil. You make a good team.”

Virgil put the separate stacks of papers he had just processed onto Rosie's desk. Then he sat with Dif over a cup of coffee. The only sound was the clock ticking on the far wall and a couple of flies buzzing at the window in the late-afternoon sun, which was intermittently peeking through building clouds. Finally, Virgil got up from his desk and grabbed his hat.

“I'll be back later tonight.”

“You know,” Dif said, “Sam and I made a pretty good team, too.”

Virgil paused at the mention of his father.

“But it was a different world fifty years ago. No computers, not a lot of TLC or political correctness, but we got the job done. Sam put the fear of God in the people who needed it. Before they acted up, they'd think twice. He didn't hold with certain behavior, especially a guy beating on some girl. Sam would invite them out back for a little private talk. That pretty much solved the problem. Not too many wanted to have that conversation twice. Can't do that today. Course, there were tumbleweeds still rolling down Main Street back then, chasing after drunk cowboys on horseback. Now you only see a horse on Main Street if there's a parade.”

Dif walked to the door with Virgil and opened it.

“Not a day goes by I don't think about Sam,” Dif said. “Course, we hardly ever had to deal with the kind of crime that's keeping you up nights.”

“Guess nothing ever stays the same,” Virgil said as he stepped out into the parking lot. “We each get our own personal slice of time and we have to figure out how to get through it best we can.”

“You're right, Virgil, and for me staying put in this office is better. I'll let you young guys deal with this new world.”

Virgil gave a wave and got into his cruiser.

Virgil kept thinking about his father as he drove out of town. He wondered how the old man would have dealt with this situation, then was sobered by the fact that Dif was right. In all the years he was sheriff, his father probably never had to deal with anything like this. Not even close. The violence had always been there, but it was different. A bank robbery. An assault. Violent crimes that could end in death, but were never really long on planning or premeditation, much more of the moment and as such they were dealt with in that way. In a sense, he envied that world, where problems could be dealt with up front, maybe even with a one-on-one in the backyard, or in the parking lot outside the jail. He was still locked in his reflection when he reached his destination.

She was standing with her back to him at the end of the bar, speaking in Spanish to someone in the kitchen. The flow of the conversation was so fast, Virgil couldn't keep up. He slid quietly onto a vacant seat and watched her. Her long hair almost reached her waist. He remembered feeling it between his fingers as he pushed it aside to brush the nape of her neck with his lips. When the conversation ended, she became engrossed in tallying up a bunch of credit card receipts at the cash register. She was oblivious to anything else. He sat in his reverie, tracing the curves of her body and feeling her quiver in response to his touch. A waitress dropped a glass at the end of the bar and it shattered in a million pieces.

“Easy, Jody, they're not made of rubber. Careful you don't cut yourself.” He liked that she dismissed the accident without raising her voice and with just a hint of a rebuke.

“Say, is there a chance I could get a little service over here? A guy could starve to death. Or die of thirst.”

Ruby turned quickly and he saw the flash of white in her smile.

“Sorry about that, mister. I thought you were one of our regulars and wouldn't mind sitting a spell.”

“You know, I think I could become a regular. If I could always see what I was admiring just now, I could almost forget that I hadn't eaten all day.”

“Well, let's see what we can do about that hunger of yours. Just let me run upstairs and put those receipts in my desk.”

She stuffed two handfuls in the front pocket of her apron, then walked to the end of the bar and disappeared through the door that led upstairs, untying the apron as she went. Virgil followed her. As soon as they were both in her office, he put his arms around her. His lips sought hers and she yielded completely. They stumbled through the office, into the living quarters, never letting go of each other. Within seconds, clothes were strewn across the floor in a random fashion, ending at the bed. The rhythm of their bodies was so in sync, the act of passion so intense and outside of time that when it finally abated, they had yet to speak a word. He looked at their bodies still locked together, her long hair falling over her shoulder until it brushed his chest. She spoke first.

“I guess we weren't really just talking about food.”

Virgil didn't say anything, but drew her close, burying his lips in her neck, breathing in her scent.

“Here we go again,” he whispered in her ear.

Much later, when she was sitting on the side of the bed separating his clothes from hers, she began to laugh.

“What's so funny?”

“I was just thinking,” she said. “I've never gotten such an immediate response to a phone message before.”

“You've got to love technology.”

*   *   *

Virgil glanced out the window at the sliver of a moon hanging in the night sky. It quickly disappeared behind a cloud.

“What are you thinking?” Ruby asked. He turned to face her over his empty plate and the remnants of the meal they had just finished. They were sitting in a corner booth downstairs in the restaurant.

“I'm thinking, I was never so hungry in my life.”

She sat back as she put a cup of coffee to her lips. “Are we still talking about food?”

He didn't answer, just smiled and then looked out the window at the parking lot.

“What's the fascination with the parking lot?”

“Wondering if it's dark enough.”

“This sounds interesting. What did you have in mind? A little romance under the stars, or some kind of cowboy fetish? I should have told you sooner, I'm not into leather or ropes.”

“I want you to do something for me.”

For the next couple of minutes they talked, then he got up from the booth, leaned down, whispered in her ear, and teasingly bit her neck. Remembering where he was, he looked around a little self-consciously to see if they had been observed. Outside of one or two late-nighters at the bar, the place was empty. He glanced at a wall clock over the black bull in the other room as he moved toward the door. It was almost midnight. The crunch of the gravel was the only sound as he made his way to his car.

*   *   *

Jimmy had just finished his first tour of the night. Everything was pretty much as it should be. He only came upon two cars, one a pickup, down in a spot by the river locally known as Quiet Cove. He guessed they were watching the submarine races. He got a kick out of the term when Virgil first used it. As he drove by, he didn't stop, just flashed his lights to let them know he was there. They knew he'd be back. He'd watched the submarines a time or two himself. When he got back to the office, he was kind of surprised to see Virgil's car in the lot. Even more surprised to see Dif and Virgil sitting in the semidark looking at the TV. On the screen, he saw an image of a dark figure standing at a distance, barely a shadow. The only break in the dark, like a star in a black sky, was the shine of a large belt buckle.

“Come over here, Jimmy. I want you to look at something.”

“I've seen this movie already, Virgil.”

“Yeah, well this is a little different and I want your take on something.”

He reset the disc and the three of them sat watching the shadowy moments at the Black Bull parking lot on Buddy's last night. When the disc ended, Virgil popped it out and replaced it with a different one.

“If this one's as interesting as the last, maybe we should get popcorn,” Dif said.

Virgil hit the fast-forward button. A couple of minutes from the end, he hit the play button and the figure cloaked in darkness could again be seen standing on the edge of the parking lot, just short of the video's range. Virgil froze the image. The figure seemed just as it appeared the first time around. The only brightness in the frame came from the man's belt.

“Anybody notice anything?” Virgil said.

“What are we looking for?” Jimmy said.

“I've shown you two different versions of approximately the same thing and I'm asking you if you noticed anything different.”

“Run them both again,” Dif said. “Just the last couple of frames.”

Jimmy nodded in agreement and Virgil repeated the process. When he was finished, he asked the question again.

“There was something different,” Jimmy said. “But I'm not sure what it was.”

Virgil looked at Dif, who nodded in agreement. Then Dif sat up in his chair.

“Wait a minute. The light . . .”

“What light?” Virgil said.

“The reflection of light from the belt buckle. It was different.”

“That's it,” Jimmy said. “There was more of a gleam in the first one than there was here.”

“You've both confirmed it,” Virgil said.

“But what's it mean?” Jimmy asked.

“That second image was me tonight wearing this belt.”

He reached over to his desk and grabbed the curled-up belt that lay there, displaying the belt buckle.

“I think this is a fairly standard buckle for a wide belt. Most of the pickup cowboys wear them. It caught the light from the parking light and reflected, but not as much as that first image. The belt buckle in that first image had to have been larger, not like an ordinary buckle off the rack. It was special.”

“How do you mean special?” Dif asked.

“Well, maybe it was commemorative. Like an award for doing something.”

“An award for what?” Jimmy asked.

Virgil looked down, fingering the buckle that lay in his lap. Then he rolled the belt up, reached over, opened the drawer of his desk, put it in, and closed the drawer.

“Like winning an event in a championship rodeo.”

*   *   *

The thought nagged at him all the way back to the ranch. He knew where the evidence was pointing. It was as clear to him as the road ahead of him, lit up by the headlights. But he didn't want to accept it.

A flash of heat lightning outlined the dark clouds. They were the kind of predictors of a storm to come that he had seen many times before. After over a month-long stretch of dry, searing heat, they could be as welcome as they could be dangerous. They mirrored exactly how he felt.