“I took him with me.” Rick covers his face with his hands for a moment, then gives it a brisk rub before dropping his hands to his hips. “Goddamn! If Chewie was at home—!”
Kathy loops her arm around his waist and tells him, “If Chewie was home, he’d sleep right through it.” She faces Sergeant Neufeld and says, “you know Chewie, Ben. He’s gotten so deaf, half the time he doesn’t even wake up when you drive into our yard. He’d never hear anything over here.”
Sergeant Neufeld clicks his tongue and blows out a breath. “She’s right, Rick. Nothing you could’ve done. We’ll see what the medical examiner says about time of death, but for now, I’m gonna say it was likely between seven and nine. No traffic on the road, I suppose?”
“I didn’t see anyone,” Rick says. “I never expect to. You know this road doesn’t go anywhere now that they built the new connector to the Caledonia mine.”
“I saw a truck,” Ryan tells them. “Quite a ways from here, but heading to the highway in a hurry. Sometimes guys go in thinking the road connects up to the Moose Jaw highway and then they have to turn around at the old Caledonia gate, so I didn’t think anything of it.”
“I guess you didn’t get the plate number, but do you remember anything else? Make? Model?” Sergeant Neufeld asks. “Colour?”
“Yeah, it was an old beater Bronco. Lots of Bondo. Dirty, but green, dark green, I think.”
“Holy shit, Ben!” Rick exclaims, “that vehicle was parked out at the road just east of our driveway when we came home yesterday!”
“That can’t be a coincidence.”
“If that’s him, I got a pretty good look at him,” Kathy tells them. “I think I could describe him. Although with the ball cap and the sunglasses… Maybe not enough to be useful. And you know, I think the same guy was in my office yesterday.”
“We’ll get you with a sketch artist anyway. Do you have video surveillance at work?”
“Ben,” Rick says, “this is Pillerton.”
“I know. It’s possible one of the other businesses on the street does, though. Wonder where else he’s been. Maybe the cameras at the bank caught something. We’ll check it out. Might be he’s not involved but he could’ve seen something. At the very least we need to talk to the guy. I’ll call it in.” He closes his notebook and puts it in his pocket. “I’m going to tell the reporter to ask for anyone in the area this morning to come forward, and that we think the person driving the Bronco might have seen something that can help us.”
He puts his hands on his hips and takes a few steps around before turning back to say, “I’m not sure how long the Evidence Recovery Team will need the house, Rick. They’re confident they’ll get prints and possibly DNA too, since it was likely him that forgot to flush. They’ll let you know when they need you for elimination fingerprints. And Kathy, I’ll let you know when the sketch artist can meet with you. Can you go to the Regina Detachment?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
“Good.” He blows out a long breath. “Sorry for your loss, folks. I’ll leave you to make your arrangements now. Call me if you think of anything else, and I’ll keep you posted.”
As Sergeant Neufeld’s cruiser drives away, Kathy sinks to the verandah steps and says, “such horrible things have happened since I came back to Pillerton. I never should have come back.” She dissolves into tears, and sobs, “If I hadn’t come back, Mutti would still be alive!”
Rick sits next to her, chocking back his own sobs, and pulls her into his arms. “Runty, this isn’t your fault. You coming here didn’t cause this! I know you’ve been through a lot but this doesn’t have anything to do with... It’s just a coincidence.”
“Come on, big brother,” Jeanie says as she comes to stand over him and gives his shoulder a rub. “Let’s all go to your house and wait until they’re done collecting evidence. After that, we can go to my place. I’ll make dinner or we can order pizza or something. Sarah and I can get started on that list of Mutti’s jewelry that Ben wants, and we can see about funeral arrangements. We have to let Waltraud know.” Her eyes fill. “How my god! How do you tell someone their sister’s been murdered?”
“Oh my god! Auntie Waltraud!” Sarah cries, and breaks out in fresh sobs. Jeanie pulls her into an embrace and starts crying herself. Ryan comes to put his arms around both of them.
“Why don’t you all go to Jeanie’s now,” Ryan suggests. “If the ERT people need you for anything, I’ll give you a call. When they’re done processing the house I’ll cobble up a temporary repair of the door, and then join you there.”
♦ ♦ ♦
TRENT CRUISES THE main street, past the old curling rink, to its end at the cenotaph. There he pulls a U-turn so he’s on the same side of the street as the Prairie Equity building and goes back the block and a half to park in front.
With wood beams much bigger than needed to support the narrow canopy and Prairie Equity spelled out in gleaming stainless steel letters, it’s the only building in town that looks like anyone’s done anything with it in fifty years. Except for Big Al’s, with its illuminated bubble sign for the Al Capone Tunnels, that is. And of course the Co-Op put up a new awning.
One pub with one pool table, one store, one old bank, not even a traffic light. And they expect him to live here in Hicksville the rest of his life? It’s worse than Dark River! No chance he’s going to go along with that. Well, unless the bikers let him join. Arnie didn’t say he’d sponsor him as a prospect, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t, either. If he does, maybe he’d sponsor Des, too, and then he would move here. Maybe there’ll be more work coming from Mr. I’m So Fuckin’ Smart Briggs. And Regina’s not that bad. He could spend time with Arnie and the other guys in the clubhouse and not have to hang out in Pillerton at all.
As if he was a little kid, Mr. I’m So Fuckin’ Smart Briggs gave him the big talking to about what not to do, including not to call Emmy. He’s talked to her a few times anyway of course, coaxing her to move to Pillerton or at least Regina. Too cold in winter she says, as if it’s any better in Prince George.
A couple of times she’s mentioned a dude she met at the pub. He hit on her but she made it clear she has a boyfriend, she said. What was his name? Ken? Kevin? Just friends, she keeps telling him, although she did let it slip that he gave her a pair of earrings. Diamond studs. She must think he’s stupid! A so-called friend gives her diamond earrings? Mrs. Reardon didn’t raise no idiots! She’s two-timing him and that’s the real reason she wants to stay in Prince George. He needs to go back before it gets serious. He’ll head out as soon as he gets the job done and has the rest of the money. He’ll give her the gold earrings with the cluster of diamonds that he saved out of the old lady’s jewelry. Three diamonds on each! That’s gotta beat the ones Mr. I Need A Good Tune-up Ken gave her.
She’ll come with him if she realizes he’s got a good thing here: new friends at the auto wreckers; work, maybe not steady work but work; and a nice basement suite with furniture in it rented already. Or it will be soon. No use parting with the deposit until he gets the keys. With Emmy’s experience bartending and serving and so on, she could get a good job no problem and they’d be cruisin’ on Main Street, headin’ for Easy Street! These thoughts put him in a good frame of mind for his meeting with Mr. I’m So Fuckin’ Smart Briggs.
When he enters the reception area, he looks over the counter into Briggs’s office and is surprised to see the owner of Big Al’s sitting there. He says to the pretty receptionist, “I, er, Mr. Briggs is expecting me.”
“Yeah, he is. You can go right in.”
Mr. I’m So Fuckin’ Smart Briggs looks up and waves him in.
As he’s coming through the doorway, Evan says, “Trent, you know Carl?” He indicates the man in the chair across the desk from him.
“I, er, I seen him at the pub but I never met him. Howja do?” He sticks out his hand. Carl hesitates for a second, then leans forward enough to reach it for a quick shake. Limp wrist, Trent thinks. How’s a limp
wrist own Big Al’s?
“Carl’s a friend,” Evan says. “Also an associate. Take a seat.” He beckons to the empty chair.
Trent settles onto the chair, surprised there would be someone else in on this. The fewer people in on any job, the better, Dez sez. This limp wrist with his soft white hands can’t be a player. Maybe he’s just visiting Mr. I’m So Fuckin’ Smart Briggs and will leave right away.
Carl says, “So, Trent, here to collect your pay, are you?”
“Well, um,” Trent squirms, lifts his ballcap and scratches the stubble on his head as he realizes Carl is, in fact, in on it. “Still haven’t got her alone,” he says, “gonna hafta surveillance her some more.”
“Sure,” Evan says with a half-shrug and a nod. “By the way, did you hear about what happened out on the Old Caledonia Mine Road this morning? They’re saying there was a home invasion. Not often we make the CKCK noon news.”
“I, er—no, I—”
“Never mind lying, Trent,” Evan says. “We know you didn’t have to see it on TV. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, I, er, I went in, didn’t find the woman, and left. Didn’t touch nuthin’ or do nuthin’.”
“Didn’t touch the old woman?” Carl asks.
“Nope! Just in, didn’t find my target, and out. No one saw me.”
“So, you didn’t take anything?” Evan’s eyes narrow as he fixes Trent with a glare. “Like maybe some jewelry?”
Trent swallows hard. How do they know about that? “Might as well, as long as I was there anyway. Smart thing to do. You know, since there was a contingency anyway.”
“A contingency?”
“Yeah. The old woman being there and the young one not being there. But she never seen me. I never seen no one else around there when I was surveillancing. I seen her go up there last night, the young one I mean, and she never left this morning. Who the fuck knows how that could be? It’s a contingency. But I always plan for contingencies, and I got a plan for this one.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll get her when she’s on her way home after work tonight.”
“Maybe that’s not such a good idea.”
“Why not?” Trent demands. He’s had about enough of Mr. I’m So Fuckin’ Smart Briggs. He thinks, can’t wait to blow this shitty little town. He’d like to tell him what he thinks, but he doesn’t have the money yet. Instead, he asks, “you got a better idea?”
Evan nods once and says, “yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. Lemme ask you something. If nobody saw you, why are they looking for a green Bronco?”
Trent takes a couple of deep breaths. His eyes dart back and forth between Evan and Carl. How can the cops be looking for his Bronco? No one saw him, he’s certain of that. Unless… Is it because they saw him there yesterday? But why would anyone think someone with car trouble the day before…
“So someone saw you,” Evan continues, “and if you didn’t touch anything, how do you explain the woman being murdered?”
“Murdered? No. She was alive when I left.”
“So she fell over dead after you left?”
“No, I, er, she was okay, she just fell down…”
“You killed the wrong person, asshole. Someone saw your vehicle and now you park that piece of shit right in front of this office?” Evan growls. “It’s gotta disappear. Take it to the wrecking yard. Arnie’s expecting you, along with his share of the money from the jewelry you fenced. And that fuckin’ wheezed-out old Bronco is going into the crusher.”
“What? No!” They know he fenced the jewelry? Goddamn bikers must’ve squealed. “You can’t…what about the job? There’s still that job! You promised to renumerate me!”
“Don’t press your luck,” Carl says. “No remuneration for fuck-ups. Just be glad you’re not going into the crusher with the Bronco.”
“Get the fuck outta my sight,” Evan demands. “In fact, stay outta everyone’s sight and don’t stick your head out again until I tell you to. Now go settle up with Arnie. And no pissin’ around. I’m texting him to let him know you’re on your way.”
“But how will I get back…?”
“That’s your problem. Maybe you can work something out with Arnie.”
“Work something out? What’s that supposed to mean?” Trent snorts and looks at Evan, then at Carl. Do they really expect him to give up The Beast and hand over more money for another vehicle that probably won’t be as good? From their stern expressions, he realizes there’s no use arguing with these two smug assholes.
He jumps to his feet and storms out. He settles in the driver’s seat and thumps the steering wheel with the heel of his palm several times, hissing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck!”
He gives Prairie Equity the middle finger salute as he backs out of the parking slot, then burns rubber, fishtailing and spewing a cloud of blue-black exhaust. The Beast roars along at close to ninety KPH by the time he passes Big Al’s, scaring a fat guy in coveralls back up onto the curb and turning the heads of the blue-haired old biddies clustered around the Co-Op entrance.
In a heartbeat, he’s flying over the railroad crossing heading for the stop sign on Highway 19. There’s no traffic so he barely slows, just cranks The Beast onto the highway; he opens it up until the needle hits 140, then backs off. It’s a 90K zone. No use getting a cop on his tail even though they’re taking The Beast away from him. He had such plans for it. A little tinkering is all the engine needs, and The Beast would look so gnarly with a camo paint job, which he could easily do with a few cans of spray paint. He’d cover the Bondo at the same time.
He’s nearing the turn for the back road to the auto wreckers when an idea blasts into his brain. He doesn’t have to give up The Beast and he doesn’t have to give the bikers any money, either. The old bag had a lot of jewelry; good stuff, too, and that bundle of cash alone turned out to be nearly a thousand dollars. He promised to give Arnie a taste. He wouldn’t tell Arnie how much he got for the jewelry and he certainly would never have told him about the cash, but why should Arnie get anything at all, just for sending him to a friendly pawn shop? And then he rats to Mr. I’m So Fuckin’ Smart Briggs about the jewelry? Is that any way to treat a new prospect? Fuck him!
He pulls off onto the shoulder, checks for traffic, and seeing none, negotiates a U-turn. He’ll go back into Pillerton, just as far as the Co-Op, and get a couple of cans of black spray paint. Might as well grab some beer and a couple bottles of rye while he’s at it. Half an hour or so to turn the paint on the Beast into camo just like he planned. He’ll jack some different plates. Chances of finding another Bronco probably aren’t great, so he may have to settle for plates off any old truck.
Then he’ll get his things out of his motel room and book for the Trans Canada Highway heading west. He can always switch the plates again if he comes across another Bronco further on. Maybe in Alberta.
He’s not stupid enough to go back to Dark River, which is too bad because he’d like to get in with the Children of Noah now that he’s made that connection with their God. He’s only been to one service and look what their God did for him already! Sure, not everything went perfect, but it’s thanks to God he’s got the money to tell those assholes to fuck right off.
No, he’ll have to stay out of Dark River at least for a while, but he’ll be in Prince George fucking Emmy’s brains out by day after tomorrow. Des will hook him up with work there and Pillerton will be nothing but a rotten memory. It’s a very smart plan. Fuckin’ genius really.
They all think he’s a fuck up? Someone they can treat like an idiot? If worse comes to worse and he gets arrested, which is a contingency he is smart enough to plan for, he’s got an ace in the hole. A get out of jail free card.
They ought to be more careful with a guy who knows as much as he does. They’ll shit themselves when they realize he’s gone and they can’t find him. That he would like to see. Who fucked up now?
No sir, like Dez sez, Mrs. Reardon didn’t raise no idiots!
EVAN IS LOCKING the front door when three motorcycles roar up to the curb. He turns to see Arnie step off his bike and set his helmet on the seat. The other two bikers turn their engines off but remain on their bikes.
“Hey, Arnie,” Evan greets him, “what’s up?”
“Where is the stupid fucker?” Arnie demands as he steps up onto the sidewalk.
“You mean Trent? What do you want him for?”
“Didn’t you say he was on his way a couple hours ago?”
“Yeah. Didn’t he show up?”
“No, he fuckin’ didn’t.”
Evan takes a deep breath and blows it out through his mouth. “Goddamn fuckin’ stupid shit! He’s on the run!”
“What do you care? He owe you money, too?”
“Five hundred bucks, I guess. But he’s a loose end and more of a problem than a few hundred bucks.”
“Besides my share of what he fenced, he still owes us on the Bronco,” Arnie says. He puts his hands on his hips and takes a few steps around, looks at the other two bikers, then turns back to Evan and says, “well, we can take care of that problem for you. Where do we find him?”
“Yeah. Problem there. I don’t know where he’s been staying, except it’s a motel. He was going to rent a place but I don’t know where. Don’t think he’s moved yet anyway.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Wisht we’da gone to his place that time he invited us. Needle in a haystack now.”
“Well, if he didn’t go to your place, he’s still got the Bronco and he’s likely heading for Prince George. He’s got a girlfriend there.”
“Oh yeah? Dunno if that helps. If he’s smart, he’ll stay away from her.”
“That’s if he’s smart.”
“Yeah, you’re right. He’s probably gonna show up there. Any idea how to find her? Or how long it will take him to get there?”
“Three days, if he drives hard. We put someone on the girlfriend, just in case he tried this. We’ll know when he gets there, if that’s where he’s headed. I can let you know. But you don’t want to go that far…”
The Bear Mountain Secret Page 25
