by Thomas King
Thumps spread the hot sauce on his eggs. It was good to be back. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed the café and its regulars until now.
“You mind me calling you Tonto?”
“No big deal.”
“Is it the same thing as you calling me ‘boy’?”
“No,” said Thumps, “not the same thing.”
“I could call you Little Beaver,” said Leon. “You could call me Red Ryder.”
“How’s your breakfast?”
“Or you could call me Friday, and I could call you Robinson Crusoe.”
“How about you call me Thumps,” said Thumps, “and I’ll call you Leon.”
“I like Tonto better,” said Leon. “When I was a kid, Tonto was my hero.”
Thumps didn’t notice the sheriff until Duke was standing at his shoulder.
“You going to eat all that toast?” Hockney didn’t wait for an answer. “What’s on your schedule for today?”
“Wutty’s a Baron of Sealand,” said Thumps.
“Sealand?” said Duke. “Is that that abandoned offshore oil platform in the middle of the North Sea?”
“That’s the one,” said Leon.
“We have to call him Grand Baron Youngbeaver,” said Thumps.
Duke looked over at Wutty. “Not happening in my lifetime.”
“You find that Mustang yet?” said Leon.
“Not yet,” said the sheriff. “But I just caught something almost as much fun. You two about done eating?”
Thumps knew a trap when he heard one. “Nope. Diabetics are supposed to eat slow.”
“Except when it comes to doughnuts,” said Leon. “With doughnuts, you have to eat them fast.”
“You two went to Dumbo’s?”
“Yesterday,” said Leon.
Thumps pointed a finger at Ranger. “It was his fault.”
“They were good doughnuts.”
“Morris served you?”
“He did.”
Wutty and Russell and Jimmy were paying their bill at the register. Wutty held up a twenty so that it caught the light.
“The Grand Baron is generous,” he said.
“You should get a T-shirt that says that,” said Russell.
“Bill comes to $19.75,” said Al.
“Keep the change,” said Wutty.
AL BROUGHT THE coffee pot with her.
“You want coffee?” she asked. “Or breakfast?”
“Neither,” said Duke.
“Then you’re just taking up space.”
“George Gorka stood Al up last night,” said Leon. “She’s pissed.”
“I’m not pissed.”
“Man must have a death wish,” said the sheriff. “You two about ready?”
“You know,” said Thumps, “maybe we should get Duke a dukeship. What do you think?”
“Grand Duke Duke,” said Al. “Karma is such a bitch.”
The sheriff put a beefy hand on Thumps’s shoulder. “Forget karma,” he said. “We got a date with destiny.”
Thirty-Two
Destiny, it turned out, was the Tucker hotel. Duke led the way through the lobby to the elevators.
“I read about this place on the internet,” said Leon. “Built in 1876.”
The sheriff pressed the button for the third floor.
“Same time as Crazy Horse was kicking Custer’s butt at the Little Bighorn.”
“If you say so.”
“Top floor burned off in 1890,” Leon continued. “When they rebuilt it, they added two new floors.”
Duke set up a low grumble in his throat. “What are you? A tour guide?”
“History’s interesting,” said Leon. “After that, the place fell on hard times. First floor was used as a hospital for a time and then as a warehouse.”
Hockney kept his eyes on the floor indicator above the door. “Fascinating.”
“One article said that when McAuliffe Moran bought the place, a local group was showing art movies in the lobby.”
A bell dinged, and the doors opened. Duke was the first one off.
Leon turned to Thumps. “There’s someone who doesn’t watch the History Channel.”
ROOM 326 WAS a small suite. Deputy Lance Packard was standing at the small bar. Anthony Mercer was pacing between the remains of a potted plant and an overturned sofa.
Duke took a moment to appraise the room. “I’m guessing that this isn’t a housekeeping problem.”
Mercer kept pacing, his hands flapping at his side. “What the hell is going on?”
Lance held up an evidence bag. “You’re going to want to look at this.”
Inside the bag were two small black stones.
“Okay,” said Duke, “let’s take it from the top.”
Lance nodded. “Well, Mr. Mercer here came in and found the place as you see it.”
“This your room?”
“No,” said Mercer. “It’s Harry’s.”
“Harold Shipman.”
“Right.”
“So you wouldn’t know if anything is missing,” said Duke.
“Harry,” said Mercer. “Harry’s missing. Runa too. We were supposed to meet for breakfast, but they never showed.”
Lance looked at his notebook. “When Mr. Mercer couldn’t find his two friends, he came to Mr. Shipman’s room.”
“I tried their cells,” said Mercer. “I went to Runa’s room. She wasn’t there. I came here, and this is how I found the place.”
Duke raised his head as though he were testing the air. “You have a key for the room?”
“Sure,” said Mercer. “It’s Harry’s room, but it’s also our production office.”
“Any indication of foul play?” said Leon. “Signs of a struggle? Blood evidence?”
“None that I could see,” said Lance.
“Blood?” Mercer took a step backwards.
“Is there a chance,” said the sheriff, “that they’re together somewhere?”
“You mean like . . .”
“Yes,” said Duke. “I mean like that.”
“Harry and Runa?” Mercer snorted. “You’re kidding.”
Thumps walked the perimeter of the room. “Not a robbery. Smash and grab would have taken the laptop.”
Duke rocked back and forth on his heels. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Shipman and Ms. Gerson?”
“Last night,” said Mercer. “We all went out to the Mustang.”
“Drinking?”
“Those stones,” said Mercer, pointing to the evidence bag. “They’re obsidian, aren’t they?”
Duke turned to his deputy. “Why don’t you take Mr. Mercer over to the office. Get a detailed statement while everything is fresh.”
HOCKNEY TOOK HIS TIME. Bedroom, bathroom, and then back to the living room. “Okay,” he said, “who wants to go first?”
“You figure this for a crime scene?” said Leon.
“Who knows,” said Duke. “Maybe Shipman’s a real slob.”
“Feels staged,” said Leon.
“This the same room?” asked Thumps, even though he knew the answer.
“It is,” said Duke.
Leon looked at both men. “You two want to share?”
“Nina Maslow,” said Thumps. “This was her room.”
“The dead woman?” said Leon. “The one who did the research on the Obsidian Murders?”
“Malice Aforethought,” said Duke. “Reality program that was in town a while back. Maslow was staying in this very room.”
“And there was a break-in?”
“Same as this,” said Duke.
Thumps held the evidence bag up to the light. “Except for the stones.”
“Yes,” said Duke. “Except for the stones.”
“You know,” said Leon, “for a small town, you have more than your fair share of creepy.”
“If I find out that this is all a publicity stunt,” said Duke, “we’re going to have us a lynching.”
“Mercer’s right about the Mustang,” said Thu
mps. “Shipman and Gerson were there.”
“And they left together,” said Leon. “Thumps took off a little later. Mercer and I stayed.”
“By yourselves?”
“Nope,” said Leon. “We were joined by two lovely women.”
“Names?” said the sheriff.
“There was a blonde,” said Leon. “Cynthia, Stephanie. She decided on Mercer. The other woman was a nurse. Judy.”
“The four of you close the place?”
“Mercer and the blonde were still there when nurse Judy and I left.”
Duke tried to work up a smile. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to know that you’ve been able to avail yourself of our local hospitality.”
“Hospitality’s okay,” said Leon, “but the shit’s beginning to pile up.”
Thumps considered raising the question, but Duke beat him to it. “So, what do we think of our Mr. Mercer?”
“Seems harmless enough,” said Leon. “In a goofy sort of way.”
“You were going to check out our merry band of moviemakers,” said Thumps.
“Lance looked into it,” said the sheriff. “Would appear our folks are not on the A-list of entertainment notables.”
“Or on the list at all?”
“Yes,” said Duke, “there’s that.”
“You think this movie thing is a con?” said Leon.
“Don’t know what it is,” said the sheriff, “but something’s rotten in Denmark. I had Lance check Variety and the other entertainment blogs for any hint of a movie about the Obsidian Murders.”
“Nothing?”
“You want to know anything about the new spate of reality shows,” said the sheriff, “or find out what’s happening on Game of Thrones, just ask Lance.”
“Could be a small, independent production,” said Leon.
“We could ask Mercer,” said Thumps.
“But we don’t want to do that just yet,” said Duke. “Do we?”
“Shipman and Gerson,” said Thumps. “Doesn’t feel right.”
“I don’t think that they’re shacked up in some motel,” said Duke, “but I’m going to go ahead and waste the time and manpower, just in case I’m wrong. You two want to help?”
Leon fished the silver dollar out of his pocket. “Well,” he said. “Since you asked.”
Thirty-Three
Duke locked the room down with crime-scene tape and went back to the office to continue his chat with Anthony Mercer. Thumps and Leon stopped at the hotel’s business centre and used one of the computers to check on the lodging possibilities in the vicinity.
“Why would they go somewhere else,” said Leon, “when they have perfectly good rooms right here?”
“Privacy?”
“I figure Shipman for cheap,” said Leon. “What do we have?”
“Motel 6.”
“Anything cheaper?”
“The Wagon Wheel.”
“Okay,” said Leon. “Let’s start there.”
SHIPMAN AND GERSON weren’t at the Wagon Wheel, and they weren’t at Motel 6.
“Maybe I was wrong,” said Leon, after they struck out at the Holiday Inn. “Maybe the guy is classier than he looks.”
“At the Mustang,” said Thumps, “did they feel as though they were interested in each other?”
“I’m not sure they realized they were in the same room,” said Leon.
“Yet they left together.”
“They shared the same car,” said Leon. “There’s a difference.”
“And,” said Thumps, “so far as we know, they never made it home.”
“So where are they?” Leon rolled down the side window and let the air rush in. “They’re in the middle of a movie project, and they decide to disappear.”
“There’s always foul play.”
“There you go,” said Leon. “Always with the negativity.”
“Old habits.”
“Besides the Tucker,” said Leon, “where’s the fanciest place for eating and quiet contemplation?”
“Are we back to food and sex?”
“We are,” said Leon.
“Shadow Ranch,” said Thumps. “Buffalo Mountain.”
“Best food?”
“They’re both expensive,” said Thumps. “Shadow Ranch has the golf course. Buffalo Mountain has the casino.”
“Never saw the sunshine in golf,” said Leon. “Let’s try the casino first.”
“Okay.”
“And just so we’re on the same page, lunch is on the sheriff’s tab.”
There were, Thumps discovered, several motels perched on the outskirts of town that he had never noticed before.
“The Dew-Drop Inn?” Leon made a face. “You’re really going to stop?”
“The authentic motel experience,” said Thumps. “Maybe Shipman and Gerson like seedy.”
The motel was painted a disturbing shade of yellow with a green trim that reminded Thumps of old asparagus.
“The last one was seedy,” said Leon. “This is squalid.”
“It’s your turn to go in and ask.”
“I’m not armed.”
“Mention Duke’s name.”
Leon quickly took the silver dollar out of his pocket. “Call it.”
IT WAS AFTER two by the time they got to Buffalo Mountain.
“I may need a shower,” said Leon.
“You didn’t even get out of the car.”
“And I’m hungry,” said Leon. “This place do buffet or à la carte?”
“Both.”
“We eat first,” said Leon, “and ask questions later.”
Buffalo Mountain had been designed by Douglas Cardinal and was organized into three distinct parts. To the north and west, set in the trees with views of the mountains, were the condominiums. The conference centre with its reception area and restaurant was to the east. At the south end was the large copper-domed casino.
“Pretty fancy,” said Leon. “They do rentals?”
“They do.”
“If it was me,” said Leon, “this is where I’d come.”
Thumps guided Leon to the dining room with its floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the river and White Goat Canyon.
“I could get used to this.”
“Look at the menu,” said Thumps. “I’ll check with the front desk.”
“Check-out at most places is around eleven,” said Leon. “So unless they got a late check-out or they decided to stay another night, they’re long gone.”
“If they were ever here at all,” said Thumps.
“Yes,” said Leon, “there’s always that.”
“Just so you know,” said Thumps, “the prairie oyster appetizer is just deep-fried meatballs.”
THUMPS DIDN’T RECOGNIZE the young woman at the front desk. But he did know the family name.
“Welcome to Buffalo Mountain.”
“Heavy Runner,” said Thumps. “Any relation to Roxanne?”
“My auntie.” The woman had a badge that said ARLENE HEAVY RUNNER. “You’re DreadfulWater.”
“I am.”
“My auntie has told me all about you.”
“Roxanne has a great sense of humour.”
Arlene smiled. “No, she doesn’t.”
Thumps smiled back. “I’m hoping you can help me.”
“Ms. Merchant is in the Canyon Room.”
“Claire’s here?”
“Council meeting,” said Arlene. “She should be out in the next half-hour.”
“Actually,” said Thumps, “I’m checking on something for the sheriff.”
“Aren’t you a photographer?”
“I am,” said Thumps, “but I’m wondering if you have a Harold Shipman or a Runa Gerson staying here.”
“That’s confidential.”
“It’s police business.”
“It’s still confidential.”
“You’d tell your auntie,” said Thumps, “if she asked.”
Arlene’s smile faded. “That’s not v
ery nice.”
“And,” said Thumps, “if they aren’t staying here, then you’re not breaking any confidence.”
“When would they have checked in?”
“Last night,” said Thumps.
Arlene worked the keyboard. “Nope. No Shipman. No Gerson.”
“Maybe they checked in under an alias.”
Arlene went back to the keyboard. “Nobody checked in last night.”
“Gerson is about thirty-six or so, five foot seven. Blonde. Viking warrior type.” Thumps tried to remember what Shipman looked like and couldn’t. “The guy is older.”
“We’re slow this time of the year.” Arlene looked at the monitor. “The only arrival we’ve had in the last two days has been a party of six. All women.”
Thumps tapped the reception desk with his fingers. “It was a long shot.”
“What about those questions?”
“What?”
“Auntie is going to want to know if you’ve answered those questions,” said Arlene. “What should I tell her?”
LEON WAS AT the table by the windows where Thumps had left him, but he was not alone.
“Ora Mae is going to show me a couple of condos.”
“You can’t afford a condo.”
“Don’t be telling my clients what they can afford and what they can’t.” Ora Mae was dressed in a dark navy suit with a white blouse. “You’d be surprised what is possible with some creative financing.”
“Any luck?” said Leon.
“Not here,” said Thumps.
Leon considered the news for a moment. “Then we might as well see the condos.”
“I thought you were hungry.”
Ora Mae’s glare had weight. “You guys think of other things besides food and sex?”
“Absolutely,” said Leon. “For instance, right now I’m thinking that Thumps can handle the mystery of Shipman and Gerson on his own, while we look at the potentials of real estate.”
“Let’s start with the one-bedroom,” said Ora Mae, “and work our way up.”
“After that,” said Leon, “we’ll probably grab something to eat. Maybe visit the casino.”
Ora Mae straightened her jacket. “Gary Diggins and the Essex Alleycats are playing at the Mustang tonight.”
Thumps looked at Leon. “More dancing?”
“You got something against dancing?” said Ora Mae.
“What I’m saying,” said Leon, “is don’t wait up.”
“Don’t worry,” said Ora Mae. “I’ll get the Ranger back to town. Wild Rose Realty provides door-to-door service.”
