Twisted (32 page)

“He appears to be the right size. Looks like the same type of attack too.” Mike turned to the sheriff.

“Did he call in a report about why he stopped?”

“Yeah, he was helping a motorist who had a stalled vehicle. He even called in the tag number. It was stolen. Unfortunately, it wasn’t called in as stolen for several hours after the stop.”

“I was readin’ somewhere, sheriff, that these types of murders are the hardest to solve, as the victims tend to be totally random.”

“That’s true, Jeff. So far we have very little evidence to show where the killer may hang out, how he targets his victims, or where the crimes take place.”

“But you did get DNA evidence when Jeffy stabbed him with the ski pole, didn’t ya?”

“Yes, Mike, we did. It also matched with hairs found on several bodies. We even have fingerprints we think are his. But this guy has a clean record. He’s not been in trouble before, or if he has, the files are sealed.” The sheriff rubbed his forehead with one hand as if he had a real bad headache. He continued speaking. “In most cases like this, the murderer isn’t caught until he makes a mistake. And meantime the victims keep piling up.”

“I wish we could be more help, sheriff.”

He looked at me. “I know you do, Jeff. You too, Mike. We were all hoping that the picture might jog a memory for you. You guys are keeping the door locked and the alarm turned on, aren’t you?” When Mike and I had been targeted by the rustlers last year, I’d had an alarm system installed. Normally, we didn’t bother to lock the doors.

“We’re bein’ real careful, sheriff.”

He chuckled. “Jeff, I’ve known you all your life. Just keep the doors locked and the alarm on, okay?”

“We will, sheriff.” He’d guessed right when he guessed we hadn’t been doing that.

“Are you two still planning on playing in the snowshoe softball game, this coming Saturday?”

“Yes, sir, we are,” Mike answered.

“I reckon that’ll be safe enough for you. There will be lots of people around. I’ll have a deputy or two in the audience to keep a lookout, also. One other thing, Sandy tells me you two are still going to the rodeo the weekend after this coming one.”

“Yes, sir, we are.”

“Can I get you guys to rethink that?”

I looked at him. “Why, sheriff? We’re flying down, José’s gonna drop us off right at the terminal. I got the car rented in Phoenix, and they bring it right up to the terminal. We’ll be in a hotel with lots of other folks, the rodeo’s gonna be crowded, and goin’ out at night, there’s gonna be a hell of a lot of folks around.”

“So in other words, I’m not gonna be able to talk you out of going?”

Mike broke in. “Sheriff, the murders have all been up and down the West coast. He ain’t been in Phoenix, has he?”

“He just might have been, Mike. There’s several murders there that the FBI is investigating that may be tied in. I’d strongly recommend you two stay around here. If you do go, I can’t tell you enough to be careful. Be aware of your surroundings at all times.”

“Don’t worry, sheriff. The two of us will be stuck together like with glue, and we’ll be around lots of people all the time.”

“Jeff, telling me not to worry over this is not gonna cut it. I am worried, and you should be too.”

“I understand, sir, but we can’t stop livin’ our lives ’cause of what might happen. Believe me, we will be careful.” Sheriff Johnston stayed around long enough to have a mug of hot chocolate with us. He left, promising to keep us updated on any information that he could tell us about the Cutter.

S
ATURDAY
dawned bright and clear. It was cold also. The high was only supposed to get up to twenty-two degrees. It had snowed the night before, so it looked like it was going to be quite a bit of fun. We’d all planned on meeting at One Eyed Jack’s Saloon for breakfast. Renee had a dress shop in Seattle, so she had sewn us some loose jersey-type shirts that could go over our coats. We’d talked about what to call our team, and we all decided on the “Buckaroos.” Our first game was at eleven, and we would be playing a team from west of the mountains. Mike and I had decided to get pretty much ready for the game. We just had our snow pants, snow boots, and snow shoes to put on when we were ready to play. We both insisted on wearing our Stetsons too. I reckoned I could put on earmuffs or a scarf, if it got real cold. We walked into the saloon and saw Sandy beckoning us from a large table in the corner. Renee and Josh were there, as well as Maria. I had noticed José’s, Smitty’s, and Jeanette’s trucks still at the ranch when Mike and I left, so I reckoned they’d be along shortly. We hung up our coats and sat down at the table after hugs from Renee and Sandy.

“Jeff, Mike, see what you think of the jerseys.” Renee pushed a jersey at me. I laughed. It was white with red lettering saying “BUCKAROOS” on the front with a cutout in black of a cowboy riding a bucking bronc. On the back, it said in large, red letters “Connelly.”

“This is great, Renee! We did make sure that your shop is listed as one of our sponsors. These jerseys are really nice.” I took off my hat and pulled my jersey on over my shirt. It was baggy but looked nice. Sandy and Maria, as well as Josh and Renee, already had theirs on. Mike put his on too.

“Like Jeff said, Renee, these are really nice. Thanks a lot!” Mike leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Josh pretended to glare at him.

“Don’t get your panties all in a bunch, Josh. I’ll give you a kiss, too, if you want.” Josh turned bright red at Mike’s quip, and the rest of us laughed. Josh joined in.

Sandy got up and got a pot of coffee and poured us all cups. “I’m not officially workin’ today, but I can get us our coffee and breakfasts.” Maria ordered the breakfast burrito, and so did Josh. Mike and I went for the chicken fried steak and eggs. Renee had bacon and eggs. Just as Sandy came back from putting in the order, Smitty, José, Jason, and Jeanette walked in. She had their breakfast orders in a flash. Renee passed out the jerseys, and pretty soon we were all wearing them. I raised my coffee cup.

“To friends and a fun day!” Everyone echoed my toast.

Maria held up her cup and added another toast. “And to victory for the Lucky Jeff Ranch Buckaroos!” José turned to Josh.

“Josh, amigo, are you going to be able to run in those snowshoes?”

“Hell, yeah, I’ll just pretend Mike is runnin’ after me to give me a kiss.” Everyone laughed.

Mike answered Josh right back. “Just remember, Josh, buddy, I got longer legs and can run faster. Besides, me and Jeffy hunt in a pack.”

“Leave me outta this, buddy. I ain’t gonna kiss Josh. Even if he begs me.”

“Well, Jeff, you don’t gotta worry about that, ’cause I ain’t gonna beg!”

“I ain’t worried at all, Josh. I got Mike, and I’d bet he’s one hell of a better kisser than you.”

Renee giggled. “Maybe, Mike, you can teach Josh to kiss, then.” Josh’s mouth dropped open, and we all laughed.

Mike winked at Josh. “Sure, Renee, if Jeffy don’t mind.”

“Since it’s for Renee, no problem. But Josh, you kiss back, and you got me to deal with.” Even Josh laughed at that one.

Sandy leaned over to me. “It’s great to see how secure Mike is now, isn’t it? Remember, not too long ago he was worryin’ if folks knew he was gay.”

“It is nice, Sandy. I’m lucky to be with him.” She smiled and then jumped up to get the food.

Breakfast was great. We cleaned it up and headed out to the ball field at the edge of town. We were there a good hour early. We got all signed in and sat down to watch the game in progress. The teams were all coed, and everyone was having fun. Then it was our turn.

The team we were playing was a team of Boeing employees. It was obvious a couple of the folks had never been on snowshoes before. I got elected as team captain, so went to toss a coin with the Boeing team captain to see who was up first. They got the toss, so we were in outfield. First up was a young lady. Mike was pitchin’, and he did a great job of getting the ball right over the plate. Her first swing was a strike.

Some guy on her team yelled out, “C’mon, Sue. Watch the ball.”

Her second swing was a lot better, and she hit a line drive right down toward first base. It stopped in the snow, and I had to run for it. I picked up the ball and started to run after her. She was one of the ones who’d obviously never been on snowshoes. I reached out to tag her, and she tripped over her snowshoes. She was lucky though, as she fell with her hand touching first base.

“Safe!” yelled the ump.

I grinned at her. “Nice hit.”

She smiled back. “You’re the famous cowboy artist who runs the dude ranch, right?”

I tipped my hat. “Guilty as charged.”

Now the guy who’d told her to watch the ball was up. He swung at the first pitch and missed.

“C’mon, dude, you pitch like an old woman.” He glared at Mike. Mike just grinned and pitched again. The pitch was low and inside, but the batter swung at it.

“Strike two!”

“Couldn’t you see that wasn’t over the plate?” Obviously the guy at bat was not a graceful loser.

The umpire laconically replied, “Yeah, I did. I also saw you swing at it. Now let’s play ball.”

The lady on base turned to me. “Sorry about Farley, there. He’s a sore loser and winner.”

“No need for you to apologize.” Mike pitched again, and this time the batter hit it. It went to outfield. Jeanette just missed catching it. She picked it up quickly and threw to Smitty at second base. He tagged the base. Sue, the first runner, was out.

“Damn it, Sue. Can’t you run? I hit the ball far enough out for you to have plenty of time to get to base.”

One of the other guys on the Boeing team yelled out, “Give it a rest, Farley. It was a good play.”

He gave me a dirty look and muttered, “The hell it was.” I could see him eyeing second base. He was probably thinking of stealing it, which was not a smart move in snow shoes. Mike noticed and threw the ball to me. I caught it and moved toward the base. Farley jumped back on it.

“Good eye there, Mike, buddy!”

“Thank ya kindly, Jeffy!” He bowed. The crowd laughed. The next batter stepped up. It was a guy who looked to be in his fifties. Mike pitched and put it right over the plate.

The batter didn’t swing, and the ump yelled, “Strike!”

“What in the hell is the matter with you, Ralph? Did you forget your glasses, or what?” Farley was a real ass. I was surprised the others on the team put up with him. Mike pitched again, and although the batter hit it, the ball went foul.

“Christ on a crutch, Ralph, put your god-damned glasses on.” The guy was really getting on my nerves. I’d just put a pinch of dip in my mouth, so I spit a wad of tobacco juice about a foot away from his snowshoe.

“Hey! Watch it, ya dumb hick.” I just turned and stared. He finally looked away. The game continued. For the most part, the folks from Boeing were fun to play ball with. We were all laughing at ourselves plodding around on the snowshoes. The only guy that seemed to really care who won or lost was Farley.

“What in the hell is up with that guy, Jeff?” Jeanette was the one who spoke, but I could hear mutters of, “Yes,” and see nods of agreement.

“Who knows? Let him ruin his own time. I’m here to enjoy myself.” We all headed over to our bench. Sandy and Maria had brought several thermoses full of coffee, so we were all able to get a warm drink. Mike was up first. He headed off to the plate.

“Okay, Jeffy, watch me to see how it’s done.” I didn’t say anything. He swung at the first ball and missed.

“I see, Mike. Now I reckon I’m supposed to do the opposite, right?” Everyone, including Mike, laughed.

Farley was pitching, and he just sneered. He was yelling out a monotonous chant. “Hey, batter, batter, batter, hey, batter.” Mike let the second and third pitches go by. They were both balls. He swung at the fourth and got a good hit to outfield. Although the ball was bright red, it sunk into the snow, and the guy playing outfield had a bit of trouble finding it, allowing Mike to get to second.

Jeanette was up. As she took a few test swings, Farley leered at her. “Hey there, sweetie, you’re gonna strike out!”

“I ain’t your sweetie, little man. And by little, I don’t mean your height.” He pitched and she swung. She got a perfect line drive which got her to first base. Farley looked as if he were about to say something, but a steely look from Jeanette seemed to stifle him a bit.

I was up next. Farley tried to rattle me. “Oh-oh, it’s the big, bad redneck. He began to whistle the tune “Dueling Banjos.” He threw the ball, and I didn’t swing. It was way outside.

“Ball one.”

“Ump, can’t you see! That should have been a strike.” His next pitch was good. I swung. I must have been annoyed by Farley because I swung really hard. The ball went sailing over the heads of the outfielders and landed in a snowbank. It sunk in, allowing me to run around the diamond, also bringing in Mike and Jeanette. . Everyone was patting me on the back, and Mike gave me a big hug and a kiss.

The rest of the inning was pretty good, and we were ahead, seven to zero, when the other team came up. Farley seemed to quiet down a bit. To tell the truth, I felt kind of sorry for him. He seemed like a big, overgrown, spoiled kid. Next time we changed innings, I pulled Farley aside. He seemed like he felt threatened, from the way he acted.

“Hey, guy, lighten up a bit. It doesn’t matter who wins or loses. We’re all here to have fun.”

He glared at me a second. “That’s easy for you to say, you’re winning.”

I smiled at him. “You’re right, it is easy to say that when you’re winning. I’d hope if we were losin’, I’d be able to compliment you on playin’ really well. It’s just a game though. The fun is in playin’. Look how funny and awkward we all look runnin’ around in snowshoes. I guarantee you’ll have a lot more fun if you do that, rather than worryin’ about winnin’ or losin’. I’ll tell you what, we’re all headin’ to One Eyed Jack’s in town, after the game. Why don’t you and your team join us? I’ll buy you guys a round for winnin’, if you win, or in consolation if ya lose.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” I clapped him on the back. “Now let’s have a fun game.”