The Dinosaur Hunter (19 page)

Cade had no gate at the entrance of the dirt road that lead into his place. There was, however, a cedar-and-wrought iron arch over it, which read morgan's mess. Well, we had a mess, all right, and Cade had identified whose mess it was. After all, he had brought Toby to Fillmore County and, for all I knew, had taken him out of it, too. The three main reasons for murder are, so the detective handbooks say: jealousy, revenge, and money. Based on my truncated cop career, I would also add insanity, passion, stupidity, and just because. In Cade's XXX business, there was plenty of every one of those motives.

Cade's house had been remodeled into a California-style split level, which was very nice and modern and therefore looked completely out of place on a Montana ranch. His pastures were overgrown with knapweed and leafy spurge, which were living testament to his ignorance. These were villainous plants, which, unhindered, could spread across the ranches of Ranchers Road like wildfire, choking out the good grass. I wondered if Cade had any idea of the threat his neglect was causing the rest of us. Most likely, he thought letting nature do what it wanted to do was environmentally friendly. For his neighbors, even if he'd killed Toby, this was his worst sin.

“Stay here,” I told Tanya who nodded and curled up on Bob's seat, closing her eyes with a sigh. She was pretty as a picture, that girl. It was hard to imagine her with a hammer and a knife but at this stage, anything was possible.

Cade's Mercedes was parked in his paved driveway. I walked by it and knocked on his door. After I knocked a couple more times, the door opened and there stood Cade, dressed neatly in jeans, a checked shirt, and running shoes. There was some cool jazz playing in the background. He smiled and asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mike?”

I came inside. Cade, or whoever had decorated his place, had good taste. Leather chairs and sofa in a great room, modern paintings on the wall, expensive Persian rug on a hardwood floor, and so forth. It was cool, the hiss of the central air conditioner as subtext to the jazz. “I came to ask you about Toby.” Since Cade was not a true rancher, I saw no need to go through the usual discussion of the weather, price of beef, and whatnot before getting down to cases.

He waved me to one of the leather chairs. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, but thank you.”

Cade sat on the sofa across from me. “I'm sorry Toby acts the way he does. He's an odd duck.”

“No, Cade, he's a dead duck. He was fished out of the lake this morning.”

I saw the blood drain from Cade's face. It's hard to make that happen so I assumed my news was news to him. That was kind of disappointing. It would have been far better for all of us if Cade was the murderer. We could chalk it up to California craziness and go about our business.

“What happened?” Cade croaked.

I gave him the run-down, then said, “When did you see Toby last?”

Cade thought it over, then said, “He was interested in the Russian girl. You know, one of the dinosaur diggers. He said he wanted to talk to her. I told him to leave her alone but he had his mind made up so I said to hell with him and drove home. He had his own car. You should talk to the Russian girl if you want to find out what happened to him.”

“I will. What was he doing here?”

“He was an investor in my movies. This was years ago. What? You don't believe me? You worked in Hollywood, Mike. You know how porn flicks get made. Somebody has to put up the money and men like Toby have plenty of it. Over the years, we became friends. He liked to come out here to get away from the stresses of his life.” Cade provided me with a wan smile. “As you can imagine, he had a great deal of it.”

“Why were you and Toby so interested in our dinosaur dig?”

Cade's smile grew into a grin. “You pretend to be a cowboy but, boy, the cop in you just can't stay hidden, can it? I already told you. I was interested in having somebody look for a dinosaur on my ranch, too. Toby was used to intimidating people to get what he wanted so that's why you saw the side of him you did. Actually, he could be a sweetheart, at least for a Russian who'd spent time in prison.” He chuckled. “I told him how everything was low key here but he just never understood.”

I absorbed Cade's story. It was slightly plausible but I wasn't convinced. “Pretty soon, Toby's buddies are going to wonder where he is. I suspect they'll be calling.”

Cade shrugged. “Well, I don't know any of them. I only worked with Toby. If they have a beef, I guess it will be with whoever killed him. That Russian girl, like I said.”

“Tanya hit him in the back of the head with a hammer, then cut his throat, then dragged him to the lake and threw him in. That's what you think happened? She weighs maybe one-hundred-and-ten pounds. What was Toby? Two-eighty?”

“You sure you don't want that drink?”

“No, Cade, but you look like you could use one. Say hello to the Volk for me when they arrive.”

“The Volk?”

“The Wolves. They're Toby's subset of the Russian mob.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Good-bye and good luck, Cade,” I said and stood up to leave.

Cade stood up, too. “I've always liked you, Mike,” he said. “That job I offered, it's still open.”

“Sorry. I prefer a boss who doesn't have a target on his back.”

I went outside and got in Bob. Tanya was napping and I woke her up when I closed the door. She blinked sleepily at me and smiled. I did not smile back. There was nothing to smile about. I drove us through the arch back onto Ranchers Road and asked her, “You're sure you didn't kill Toby?”

“Where would I get a hammer?” she replied.

“I don't know, Tanya. There's a tool chest in the back of every pickup truck in Fillmore County. There's even one in Bob. Should I stop to see if there's blood, hair, and brains on it?”

“Do not be crude,” she said. “I did not kill him.”

Her answer didn't send me any truth vibes nor did she sound like she was lying, either. “Cade said Toby wanted to talk to you last night. Did he?”

She looked at me for a long second, then said, “Yes.”

“What did he say? Come on, Tanya. Tell me what happened.”

“We are Russians. If you were in Russia, wouldn't you want to talk to a fellow American? And what would you talk about? Just ordinary things.”

I still didn't get a truth vibe, one way or the other, so I dropped my questions and reminded myself one more time, none of this was any of my business or my responsibility. I drove to the Square C and parked Bob beside Buddy Thomason's truck. Soupy came out of the barn to greet me and it was sure good to see him. He looked lonely. I asked Tanya to give Soupy some attention and went looking for Buddy, finding him in the pen, feeding the horses. His hand, a cowboy named Delbert, came out of the barn. “They're out at that dinosaur dig,” Buddy said when I asked about Jeanette and Ray. He nodded toward Delbert. “Delbert's looking after the place for your missus. We were just talking about where he should stay. How about your trailer?”

I told Buddy that would be fine. Delbert was generally a nice fellow and I didn't think he had any bed bugs. I went over a few things with them on the care and feeding of the Square C cows and horses, then went inside the house. I was surprised, to put it mildly, to discover the old couch was gone as were the tattered easy chairs, replaced by new ones in the Southwestern style with a nice Navajo print. I shook my head. If somebody killing Toby was strange, Jeanette Coulter buying new furniture was downright weird. Did I have another mystery to solve?

I looked on the mantel, perusing the framed photos of Ray as a baby and a playful child, and Bill Coulter in his paratrooper uniform, and Jeanette and Bill on their wedding day. She was wearing a pretty bridal dress with lots of lace and beads while he was in a severe, dark suit. She was smiling tentatively. His mouth was a grim line. Both were posed, looking like they couldn't wait to get it over. Well, at least they'd got along well enough to produce Ray.

I looked around the kitchen. Nothing new there, just the same old scratched table and dented chairs. I climbed the stairs and looked into Jeanette's bedroom. I'd never been in there before. I found a big, old fashioned bed with a faded quilt pulled over it, a couple of pink pillows and that was it. Her furniture was basic, a chest of drawers, a table beside the bed, an old ceramic lamp with a shade that was ragged around the edges. I went over and picked up one of her pillows and smelled it. There was no perfume but there was a scent, one that I recognized as Jeanette, sort of like wild sage.

I realized my heart was beating fast and I sat on the edge of her bed to get control of myself. I loved this woman so much and I had no idea why. What was there about her that was lovable? I'm sure I didn't know. I guess there wasn't anything except everything. That's the way it is. Thank you, Walter Cronkite wherever you are.

I came back downstairs and went to the gun cabinet where I got four handguns, a hunting rifle, and all the ammunition for them I could find. The handguns I chose were a .38 Smith & Wesson Police Special for Amelia, a .357 Magnum for Jeanette, his grandfather's .44 for Ray, and a .22 short-barreled pistol for either Laura or Tanya, I hadn't decided. The rifle was a standard .30-06. I packed a box of ammo for each of the pistols and three boxes for the rifle. I put the ammo in a plastic bag, then wrapped up the little arsenal in a gunny sack from the barn and strapped it all onto the front of the four-wheeler. I still had my Glock, of course, which was in my backpack. Tanya, at my invitation, climbed on the four-wheeler behind me. “You have one duty,” I told her.

“What is that?”

“Open and close the gates.”

She laughed. “To get back to the dig, anything.”

Anything it was. We waved good-bye to Soupy, she held onto my waist, pressed her breasts against my back, which felt nice, I gave the four-wheeler some gas and away we went. As far as I was concerned, my investigation of Toby's murder was over. I silently wished Trooper Philpot my best.

At Blackie Butte, the work to flatten the hill was proceeding at full speed with jackhammers rattling, shovels shoveling, picks picking, and slabs of sandstone crashing down the back side. I sought out Jeanette, finding her with Pick studying some bones in the cook tent. When I walked in, she didn't seem particularly ecstatic to see me but Pick lit up. “Mike, come here and see what I've found.”

On a white towel covering a camp table were three tiny weirdly shaped bones. “These are the ilium, pubis, and ischium of a baby T. rex,” he said. “I dug them out while the others were working on the hilltop.”

“Where's the rest of it?” I asked.

Pick chuckled. “I think we're going to find the rest of it this time, Mike. But, look, just these bones are incredible. The question that rises in my mind is why weren't these bones ingested by the animal that killed this juvenile? Something very strange happened here.”

“Something very strange happened at the marina last night, too,” I said and told them about Toby.

Jeanette listened, then said, “It sounds like someone should talk to Cade.”

“I already have. He says he doesn't know who did it.”

“He would say that, wouldn't he? Anyway, it's just as well. A man like that Toby character has no place in Fillmore County.”

Pick had gone quiet. He picked up one of the bones and put it back down, which I took as a nervous gesture. I said, “Jeanette, you don't understand. The people who sent Toby here are going to be very unhappy. They may come to find out who did it.”

“Let them come. We don't have anything to hide.”

I absorbed that, then said, “I have some ranch business I need to talk to you about.”

Jeanette and I walked outside the tent. Before I could say anything, she looked toward the top of the hill and said, “I see the Russian woman is back. You two spent the night together, did you?”

“No, we did not,” I answered. “And her name is Tanya.”

“Yes, that's right. I remember now.”

“Look, I want to make sure you understand how serious this is. Toby was a member of a very violent fraternity, possibly the most violent in the United States.”

“You think one of his own killed him?”

“Not likely. I think we would have noticed another tattooed Russian mobster at the dance.”

“Then who did?”

“I don't know but the note on him means he had something to do with our dead bull and the other murdered cows.”

“Or,” she posited, “the murderer put the note on him to throw us off.”

“Off what?”

“I don't know, Mike. You're the detective.”

“No I'm not. Right now, I'm a dinosaur digger until you tell me to do something else.”

This earned me a smile. “What if I tell you to be a detective?”

“Then I would tell you to go to hell.”

This earned me the unhappy Jeanette face.

“Please understand,” I said, “who killed Toby isn't as important as who comes from California to see about it. If they think it was someone on this dig, then they might come here. There's nothing to stop them. The only law in this county…well, there is no law in this county. The state trooper that came up here is probably already back in Billings drinking coffee and telling his fellow troopers about the antics of the crazy ranchers in Fillmore County and some tattooed freak drifter who got himself murdered.”

“Well, I don't see what we can do about it,” Jeanette said.

Actually, I didn't, either, except to be well armed, which, considering the weapons I'd brought with me, I guess we were. “I just wanted you to know,” I said, then told her about the little arsenal strapped to my four-wheeler.

“Bringing the guns out here was a good idea,” she said. “I'll take one of the handguns. Give Amelia and Ray one. You're the best shot so you keep the rifle with you.”

Since that was already my plan, I said, “Agreed.”

She went on. “On a happier note, Pick says those little bones all by themselves are worth a fortune. Of course, he's still not thrilled by the idea of selling them. He never misses an opportunity to tell me about how important they are to science.”

I surprised myself by what I said next. “I think he's right. They belong in a museum to be studied, not on the auction block. Jeanette, you're doing OK. You're not rich but you have a fine ranch and a great son in Ray. I think maybe you've got your head screwed on wrong about this one. Why don't we just go back to ranching and let Pick and his girls do their thing out here? We could also do a better job of watching what might be coming up Ranchers Road at us.”

Jeanette was not pleased by my little speech. In fact, I could tell she was steamed. “Those bones are on the Square C and they belong to me and Ray. I don't understand why that doesn't mean anything to you.”

I didn't reply to her accusation, mainly because I thought it was obviously ridiculous. Hell, who worked harder for Jeanette and Ray than me? Now I was the one getting steamed. I nodded toward Blackie Butte. “OK, boss lady, have it your way. I'm going back to work.”

“You have my permission,” she said while raising a challenging eyebrow.

There was not another woman in this world I would take such crap from. But Jeanette…Even I didn't understand the hold she had on me. I started to go but then an old question bubbled up inside of me. “Jeanette, just curious. How did you know I was having an affair with Edith?”

Jeanette smirked. “Every woman in the county knew it, Mike. We thought it was good for her and we thought it was good for you.”

“But how?”

“It came up in book club.”

I was incredulous. “
In book club?
”

“Well, the wine does flow there, you know. Edith started talking and nobody thought to tell her to shut up. We all swore later to keep it to ourselves.”

Feeling like I was about to explode, I took myself on a walk straight out across the badlands. I just stomped along, muttering to myself about how stupid I was for even liking Jeanette, much less being in love with her, kicking at clods of dirt, yelling at a startled rattlesnake, then about a mile out, turned around and stomped back. Calmer now, I went to the four-wheeler for the guns, then called Amelia and Ray down from the hill. They were looking happy, tanned, and fresh. Ah, youth. “Just keep these close by,” I said after explaining the reason for the weapons. Neither of them seemed upset that bad men might be coming our way. They were both hunters, though being hunted isn't nearly the same.

Carrying Jeanette's Magnum and the rifle wrapped in the tablecloth, I headed to my tent to change into my digging clothes. When I crawled out, Pick was waiting for me. He appeared upset, a worried frown creasing his forehead. He ran his hands through his golden mane, and bit at his lower lip. “I just talked to Tanya about that Russian guy getting killed,” he said.

I corrected him. “As I told you, Pick, Toby was murdered, not killed. A subtle but important difference.”

“Tanya said he was found in the lake,” Pick said. “Couldn't he have just drowned?”

“An interesting theory,” I replied. “Do you think he drowned before or after he had his throat cut and his skull punched in? Didn't you hear a word I said?”

He grimaced. “I guess not.”

“Pick, you've got to climb out of deep time occasionally to see what's happening in real time.”

Our boy paleontologist nodded. “So…who killed Toby?” he asked after looking down at his boots for a long second.

“I have no clue.”

“But you'll find out, right?”

I shook my head. “Pick, I'm going back to tearing down Blackie Butte. When would I find out?”

“Well, you used to be a detective.”

“‘Used to be' are the operative words here.”

“But couldn't you…I mean…shouldn't you…?”

There was something decidedly weird going on in Pick's mind, not that this was entirely unusual. “OK,” I said, allowing a short sigh of exasperation. “Let me start detecting with you. Did you murder Toby?”

Pick went wide-eyed. “Me? Why would I do that?”

“Maybe you knew him before you came out here.”

“How could that be?”

“Beats me.” I made a check mark in the air. “OK, that's one suspect found innocent. I think I've detected enough for today. I'm going to go pick and shovel.” I reached back inside the tent to get my backpack with the Glock and Jeanette's big pistol. I left the rifle wrapped in the tablecloth. When I stood up, Pick was still there staring at me like he had something else to say. Instead, I said, “Pick, I'm done with you. Get out of my way.”

Pick got out of my way. I found Jeanette sitting in a camp chair studying a BLM map. She accepted the .357 Magnum without comment, placing it on the table beside her. She never even looked up. I wanted in the worst way to give her some grief about her general attitude but decided it wasn't worth my energy. In fact, at that moment, I decided I was through with Jeanette and the Square C, too. There were other ranches that needed a seasoned cowpoke like me. I thought maybe Mary, the librarian, and her husband, Wade, would take me on and maybe even give me some respect. My decision made me feel a lot better. Yep, that's exactly what I was going to do. I could scarcely wait to see the expression on Jeanette's face when I told her. But first, I had a mountain to take down and some dinosaurs to find.

I climbed up the hill. Laura was on one of the jackhammers but handed it over to Brian and came over. Before she could say anything, I led her about halfway back down the hill to get away from the noise and asked, “Did you kill Toby?”

“That Russian guy? Is he dead?”

“Tanya didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

And here I thought women shared everything with their women buds! Once more, I went through the litany on how I found Toby and his various wounds. “I'm surprised Tanya didn't tell you,” I concluded.

She looked over her shoulder to where Tanya stood, shovel in hand. She was watching us. Laura turned back to me. “Did you and Tanya spend the night together?”

That was a sore subject and I may have winced. “No. How was your Texas cowboy?”

“Married. His wife showed up during the last dance and took him away.”

“Too bad.”

“Well, too bad about you and Tanya. I'm surprised it didn't work out. We drew straws for you, by the way.”

“I'm afraid to ask. Did she win or lose?”

Laura laughed. “Won, silly.” She looked me over. “You look pretty stressed.”

“I am. Some very bad guys may be on their way to Fillmore County.”

She gave that some thought. “Most likely, they'll visit Cade Morgan first.”

“That's what everybody thinks. I think so, too. But he could send them here.”

“Why would he do that?”

I shook my head. “I don't know, Laura. None of this makes any sense. Is there anything you can tell me?”

She pondered my question, then looked over at Brian and Philip who were trying to lever loose a big slab of sandstone. “How about those two? I didn't pay much attention to them at the dance. They came back with Jeanette, I think.”

I considered the brothers, then shook my head. “Maybe they only act like idiots. Maybe they aren't even brothers. Who knows?”

Laura touched my arm. “I'm worried about you, Mike. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just know that I care,” she said and then went back to work.

As I watched her go, I noticed that Brian and Philip, resting on the sandstone slab, were looking over in my direction. So was Tanya, still rooted in the same spot she'd been when I climbed the hill. When I looked at the brothers, they suddenly got engrossed in sharing a canteen, then got up to lever at the huge slab some more. When I looked at Tanya, she gave me a cheerful smile. What the hell did that mean? I thought about going over and interrogating the brothers and maybe Tanya again but then decided nobody was going to give me straight answers. Hell, maybe there were no straight answers. Sometimes, things are just the way they are. For all I knew, maybe Pick was right. Maybe Toby bashed himself in the head, cut his own throat, staggered down to the lake, and fell in. Worst case of suicide I'd ever seen.

I got busy, taking on the big jackhammer to break up the sandstone the Marsh brothers were trying to move. It was hot, sweaty, bruising work and I needed it. At least, something was getting done, something I could see, feel, and even taste considering the dust that jackhammer raised. All day I hammered, shoveled, picked, and levered. That night, Laura, Tanya, and I cooked dinner but we did so without anything much past polite conversation. Afterward, there was no camaraderie around the fire pit. We just took to our tents. The next day was much the same except that night, Ray woke me up, saying, “Do you hear that, Mike?”

I crawled out of my tent. It was that same stupid engine noise. I was pretty much convinced now it was coming off the lake and said so. “I don't think that's right,” Ray said. “I think it's not more than a mile away.”

“Nothing we can do,” I said, stretching and yawning.

“We could go out and look for it.”

“Ray,” I said, “whatever is out there has been out there for at least a month. It doesn't seem interested in us. Let's just let it be.”

Ray took my advice and went back to bed. But I looked out in the darkness, listening and thinking. If there was a two plus two to add up, I couldn't figure out what it was. I wearily climbed back into my tent. My sleep was restless, my dream a nightmare. I found myself back on that night of the storm when Jeanette cut open the little heifer. Instead of a calf, only entrails spilled out of her, nasty and flopping and hissing like snakes. When I looked over at Jeanette, she wasn't there. Instead, it was old Bill Coulter. He looked at me, held up his bloody scalpel, then nodded back at the heifer. When I looked down at it, it wasn't the heifer at all but Toby grinning at me with two grins, one below his chin.