The Tamarack Murders (19 page)

She straightened up when she heard Tully. “Couldn't find the body?” she said.

“A bear must have dragged it off.”

“Bears are hibernating by now,” she said.

“In that case, wolves. A pack of wolves could have dragged it off.”

Angie sighed. “Strange how fast a person becomes an it.”

“Yeah.”

Just then the quavering howl of a wolf came drifting through the woods.”

“See what I told you,” Tully said. “A wolf got him. We may as well head in.”

“You're giving up, Bo?”

“Yeah, we'll let the wolves have Shanks.”

They headed back toward Famine, each of them absorbed in thoughts they didn't care to share. Pap sat in back smoking one of his handrolleds. Tully didn't even bother to yell at him.

As they approached the intersection of Beeker Road and the Old River Road, Angie pointed up ahead. Pap straightened up and peered out the windshield. “That looks like Dave's big, old, white truck.”

“It does, all right,” Tully said. “Wonder what brought him out here?”

Tully pulled up alongside the pickup and stopped. The tracker had his arm resting in the open window. Gridley Shanks sat next him, his right arm above his head and handcuffed to a door strap.

Angie rolled down her window. “Dave, you caught him! How on earth did you show up here?”

“You don't think Bo would venture out with a dangerous criminal like Shanks here without a backup, do you, Angie.”

She shook her head. “I guess not.”

Tully said, “I thought that wolf's howl was a little shaky, Dave.”

“When the wolf has to chase an escaped criminal up the side of a mountain, his howl deserves to be shaky. Just as he got to the old foot bridge, he took a shot at me. I should have had you fire three shots: two if unarmed, three, if he has a gun. The gun slowed me up a little.”

Angie said, “Oh! That wolf's howl! It was the signal you had caught him!”

“Yep. It wasn't the first time we've used that signal, right, Bo?”

“Right, but it may be the last. Say, Angie, you want to ride into Famine with Dave?”

“You don't mind, Bo?” Angie said.

“Naw. I'll trade you for Grid.”

“You're awful easy, Bo,” the tracker said.

“Yeah,” Tully said. “I must be getting old. You get the loot, Dave?”

“I got a black trash bag full of something that feels like money. I didn't look!”

Pap said, “Maybe you should let me look after it, Dave. That much money can be awfully tempting.”

“Yeah, I know, Pap. I'll lock it up in my safe for the night. How does that sound to you, Bo?”

“That's what I would do. I'll arrange for the FBI to pick it up tomorrow. How does that sound, Angie?”

“It sounds a lot like the Blight way, but I'm so tired even that is starting to sound good to me.”

T
he next morning, Daisy followed Tully into his office. He flopped into his chair and put his boots up on the desk, his hands clasped behind his head. “I'm beginning to hate roughing it in the wilds,” he said. “So, what's happening here?”

“Your friendly FBI agent wants you to call her. She's at the bank and says they're about to wrap up their investigation.”

“She give you her cell number? I had it, but probably threw it away.”

“I bet,” Daisy said. “But I'll get it for you.”

“Send in Lurch, please.”

“Hey, Byron, the boss wants you!” she shouted across the briefing room to the Unit.

Tully sighed. “I could have shouted at him from here, Daisy.”

She came back and handed Tully a slip of paper with Angie's number on it. “It's just that I know you're tired, Bo.”

Lurch stopped in the doorway. Daisy squeezed past him on her way out.

Tully smiled. “I guess that's the highlight of your day, Lurch.”

“More like my month. Would you mind calling Daisy back in when I start to leave?”

“Afraid not. Two squeezes like that in one day could kill even a young fellow like you. So, what do we have on the murder of the old couple.”

Lurch pulled up a chair and sat down across the desk.

Tully stared at him over the pointed toes of his boots. “So, did you get around to checking the bullets that killed the old couple? I suppose you've already checked Beeker and Dance's handguns.”

“Yeah, but there seems to be a gun missing. The guns found with Beekeer and Dance didn't kill Alma and Harold. Still working on it, boss. I've been looking over a bunch of stuff my predecessor left in the storeroom. Pretty interesting, and . . .”

“Lurch, you're supposed to be working, not entertaining yourself.”

“I am working, boss. My job is a whole lot more complicated than you think.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Part of it is somebody keeps piling work on me, not to mention any names.”

“Yes, I know, somebody gives you so much work you hardly have time for your computer games. I'll have to speak to that person when I get a chance. You made casts of the tire tracks at the lookout, right?”

“Right. One set belongs to an old pickup belonging to one Shanks, as you suspected. It's got a couple of hay bales in the bed, apparently to weigh down the rear end for traction. At least we can show the truck was at the scene of the shooting of Dance and Beeker. There were no other tracks there except from our vehicles and the Land Rover, which was registered to Beeker. ”

Tully said, “That should tie Shanks to the lookout about the time of the shooting of Beeker and Dance. He has already admitted to killing them, but it never hurts to have a little extra evidence. Still, he might get off on his claim of self defense.”

Lurch got up to leave. “If you run into the person causing me all this work, I hope you speak harshly to him.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can count on that, Lurch.” Tully spun around in his chair to look out his window at Lake Blight. Snow had already capped the high mountains on the far side. It was going to be another hard winter. There had been a time when he loved hard winters, but not anymore.

Tully spun back around. “Hey, Lurch, the bullet that killed Vergil. You get a match for it?”

Lurch stopped in the doorway. “Yeah, I thought I already told you. It matches a test bullet from Beeker's rifle, at least a seven-millimeter rifle with his prints on it.”

“Great. I figured he was the one that shot Vergil, but I like to clean up any loose ends. We now know that Beeker was on Chimney Rock Mountain at least three hours before the shooting.”

Lurch blinked. “We do?”

“Yeah, the weather girl at the TV station checked the time of the snowfall for me.”

“She can do that?”

“Yeah, so we know the exact time the deer herd went through, the herd Beeker claims to have seen, because the tracks were half filled with fresh snow. So that puts him at the scene nearly four hours before the murder and three hours before he claims to have been there. He never saw the herd of elk come over the same trail, because by then he was up in the woods waiting for Vergil.”

Lurch waited in the doorway, apparently hoping for another squeeze from Daisy. He said, “Even if we show Shanks's ATV was at the scene the time of Vergil Stone's murder, that doesn't prove Shanks was there.”

“Details, Lurch, details.”

Lurch rubbed his forehead. “Do I need a warrant to make casts of Shanks's ATV tires?”

“No, because Shanks has given the department his ATV. So find a trailer, and you and Thorpe go pick it up.”

Tully took out his pocket notebook, wrote in it and tore out the page. “Here's Shanks's address. Just to be on the safe side, swing by Judge Patterson's office and pick up a search warrant.”

Lurch stared at the slip of paper. “What's going on, Bo? Patterson usually gives you a warrant after you find what you're looking for.”

“Yeah, but this time we'd better go by the book.”

“Which book is that?”

“Beats the heck out of me. I haven't seen it around here in years. But we'd better go by it, anyway. On your way out, send Daisy in here.”

“Right, boss.”

“No, Lurch! Not while you're standing in the doorway. You've already had your squeeze for the day.”

Lurch went off muttering, and Daisy soon popped in the door, her stenographer's book in hand.

“What's wrong with Lurch, Bo?”

“The usual. Just being Lurch is a full-time job. I was wondering if you would like to join me for a celebration dinner at Crabbs this evening.

“What are we celebrating?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Daisy stared at him. “What else did you have in mind?”

“Eating. Unless you have a better suggestion.”

She smiled. “Eating sounds pretty good to me. Eating and drinking sounds even better.”

“The drinking goes without saying. It's a date then. I'll pick you up at your desk after work.”

L
ester was obviously pleased to see Tully back with Daisy. He seated them at their special table, up near the front of the dining room. While they waited for their martinis, another waiter brought them a plate of raw vegetables and dips. “Compliments of Lester,” he said.

They had ordered vodka martinis. Upon his return with the drinks, Lester stood by awaiting the couple's approval. Tully sipped his and glanced up at Lester. “There's something wrong with this martini, Lester.”

Lester looked horrified. “What?”

“I can taste actual vodka in it.”

“Me too!” Daisy said.

Lester smiled. “That's because I made them myself. The vodka is top of the line. And I added an extra dollop. I figured if I got the two of you drunk, I might get you back together.”

“Good thinking, Lester, “Daisy said, laughing. “Two sips and Bo is already starting to looked pretty good to me. I may require a couple more of these martinis, though.”

Lester disappeared into the kitchen, smiling broadly.

Daisy sipped her martini again. “So, Bo, fill me in on our murders.”

That was one of the things he liked about dating Daisy. They could always talk business. He munched a piece of celery, took another swig of his martini and blinked a couple of times. He tried to clear his throat, but his voice had already become gravelly. “What we have here, Daisy, is a convergence. It may seem like a simple bank robbery, but it's actually a convergence.”

She peered at him over the top of her martini glass. “What's a convergence?”

“It's where certain things start coming together. Or seem to. For example, lines of suspicion start emanating from various situations and clues and they converge on a particular point.”

“And that point is?”

“Gridley Shanks.”

“And who provided you with this theory?”

“Gridley Shanks.”

Daisy set down her martini and frowned. “Why would Shanks give you a theory that pointed to him as a killer and robber?”

“Grid's point exactly. He said usually a convergence is only a convergence and has no meaning. That's what he claimed after I told him about some of the evidence pointing to him. He said a convergence gives you a false conclusion.”

“Describe this convergence.”

“The partial fingerprint Lurch found on the strip of flagging tape that happened to be hanging from a limb right at the point Vergil drove the getaway car into the ditch. The Unit matched the partial print on the tape to Grid.”

Daisy shook her head. “That tape is ubiquitous.”

“Yeah, I know, and besides that, it's everywhere. But I had to ask myself, how do you tie a piece of flagging tape to a branch and not leave more than a partial fingerprint on it. I figured you had to wipe the tape. But why wipe flagging tape except to get rid of your fingerprints?”

“Maybe the prints belonged to an extremely neat person?”

Tully frowned. “I don't think so, Daisy. Anyway, I hunted Shanks down at his home, and he was very cooperative, even agreed to introduce me to the two fellows who wanted to hunt his land, the two guys who, to hear them tell it, arrived at the scene of the shooting about the same time it occurred. Grid put up the tape, presumably, to show them where to hunt. Anyway, according to Grid, that explained the tape's hanging from the tree, and the two hunters would vouch for the fact it served no other purpose than to show them the property owned by Grid.”

“And did they?”

“Did they what?”

“I've forgotten. You know something, Bo? This is the best martini I've had in years.”

“I believe it. But, yes, I think these two guys had been properly schooled by Grid. They said all the right things, except one of them mentioned seeing a herd of deer.”

Daisy stood up and waved her hand. “Lester, we're going to need another round of martinis here pretty quick! I'm caught in a convergence!”

Tully frowned at her. “Very funny. Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Yes, I really do.” She sat back down. “It's just that martinis help me focus my attention.”

“I bet.”

Daisy picked up a radish, dipped it in salt and thoughtfully munched it. “Any more to this convergence?”

“Yes, indeed. It turns out that the victim, Vergil Stone, was the husband of Grid's mistress. The night after Vergil's murder I found Grid's car parked in Vergil's garage. When I mentioned this to Grid he explained he was sitting up with the widow because she was his daughter, the result of an affair many years ago. I later mentioned this to the young lady. She scoffed at this bit of information. She said no way was she Grid's daughter. She had been his lover ever since she had got out of high school. The Stones were getting a divorce. Among other things, Vergil's getting murdered saved the cost of the divorce. Grid was always looking to the upside of things.”