Rasp Meadow Crossing

by Kieran York

  “I appreciate that.”

  As they passed by the huge coffee urn, Tanner asked, “Some coffee?”

  “Sure. I hear firefighters make better coffee than deputies. Maybe that helped you make your decision.”

  Tanner grinned. “It was a tough decision. I’ll miss you all. We both know I’m battling Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

  It had been the first time Tanner had admitted it. Royce’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be. But you’ve taken a step to make it better. No matter what you’re doing, it will be courageous. Please stay in touch. Remember we’re just down the road, and there’s not anyone in Timber that won’t be there at your side if you need us.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be meeting up. Royce, I was thinking that I love enforcement – mostly investigation. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up a firefighter arson investigator.”

  “Tanner, one time you gave me advise, and it was helpful to me. Now, I’ll give you some. If there comes a time when you can do arson investigations, I hope you do expand your career in that direction. You’ve got a detective’s brain.”

  His laugh was contagious. “I’ve got a smoky, and soggy brain right now. But damn, battling that fire made me feel strong.”

  Royce finished her coffee. She knew that Tanner was strong. She’d always known that.

  ***

  After coffee and good news about the fire being nearly extinguished, Royce’s elation ended. She drove past the Rasp Meadow Crossing. She would double back to the Rasp after she’d finished interrogating Nita Wagner and her stepson, Tony.

  The Wagner Ranch was lovely. Horses were behind white fencing, and when they ran towards her SUV, Royce felt a tinge of memory. She’d always loved horses. There were many opportunities over the years to ride them. No ride in the world had equaled the danger, as well as the emotion when Hertha was holding onto her. They were rushing away from death.

  Glad she’d decided on visiting the ranch first and Rasp second, the immediate bonus was that she caught up with Tony. He was on his way to his Jeep. He watched her pull up in their elaborate roundabout driveway. Then he proceeded to his Jeep.

  Royce called out, “Tony, I need to chat with you.”

  “Sheriff, I told the undersheriff everything I know.” He’d worked on his good looks by having specialty hair clips in Crystal Village. His Western wear was precise, as were his hat and boots. He had the look of a moody underwear model. Just the right cockiness. His dark hair and black eyes were the first point of vision. His eyes penetrated; his stare bored into his subject.

  “I might have a couple additional questions.” She shut the door of his Jeep before he could get into it. “I’ll just take a few minutes. Or maybe you’d like to accompany me to the interrogation room back at the Sheriff’s Department?”

  “So what do you want?” His voice was stone. His day was being interrupted. It was clear that he found the sheriff an irritation.

  “The night your father was murdered. What can you tell me about it?”

  Arrogantly, his shoulders lifted. He had clearly used his gym membership in Crystal. “I don’t know anything about it.”

  “No clue who might have killed him?”

  “Hell yes, I know who killed him. Otis Brull. That crazy recluse gunned him down.”

  “How do you think it might have happened?”

  “Otis had been badgering my father for a week about that antique gun. Rare gun, and it needed constant repair. My father ran a bill. The tab kept growing. Otis couldn’t pay to get the gun back. He killed my father. In a fit of rage, he shot my father.”

  “Tony, why didn’t he take the gun after killing your father?”

  “He probably knew if he got caught having stolen the gun, he’d be arrested for both the killing and the fact that he hadn’t paid his bill.”

  “Otis doesn’t seem like the type to shoot an unarmed man to death. In the back,” Royce stressed.

  “Otis has a grudge from way back. Couple that with the fact that he wasn’t getting his firearm, he might have snapped. He’s a crazy old coot.” Tony’s smirk matched the surliness in his voice.

  Royce looked away. “A couple more questions. You said grudge. I knew they weren’t friendly, but why the grudge?”

  “Back forty years or so, they were friends. I guess Otis pulled some crap, and my father shut down the friendship. Neither of them talked about it. I wasn’t here. It was a decade before I was even born. My mother might know something about it. She and my dad married when they were real young.”

  He reached for the door handle. “Tony,” Royce said, “I have one more question. Where were you when your father was murdered?”

  “I was here at the ranch. Sleeping downstairs. Ask Nita. She was upstairs watching TV. She’ll tell you I was here all night.”

  “And you will alibi her. She was here all night?”

  “Yes.” His rigid and defined forearm muscles flexed. He snarled, “We were both here.”

  Royce nodded to him, “You’re free to go. Don’t leave the county. I’m sure we’ll want to ask more questions as the investigation goes on.”

  “Investigating me isn’t worth your time,” he said with a gloating tone. “I’m a waste of your time, Sheriff.”

  Royce agreed that he was indeed a waste of time. But she wanted to reinforce her intention to get his cooperation. “Tony, I’ll make that decision. You make yourself available when I need to talk with you.”

  With chiding, his head bobbed, “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Sheriff will do.” She turned toward the ranch house. She heard his Jeep roar away, leaving dust and spraying gravel. “What an ass,” she muttered.

  ***

  Royce had never been inside the ranch home, but had been told that when Cal married Nita, he spared no expense allowing her to redecorate it completely. Soft colors were interrupted by bold aggressive designer items. Bright scarlet, flashing indigo, intense saffron-hued, and fiery orange colors were very nearly intimidating. Artwork didn’t tap the viewer’s shoulder. It shook the viewer into shock. There was charm and elegance interspersed. The woman clearly had eclectic taste.

  “Mrs. Wagner, I’m just here to ask a few questions.” Royce said as she removed her Stetson.

  “It’s been a nightmare,” Nita dramatically exclaimed. “And please call me Nita. How tragic that some crazed mountain man took Calvin’s life because he owed money for the gun. Sit, please. Can I offer you a coffee, or iced tea?”

  Royce sat on the chair across from the sofa where Nita had sexily slung her well-toned frame. Nita’s shoulder-length blonde hair was perfectly coiffed. Her eyes were nearly neon green. Royce saw the sensual gaze of what she would call a cat’s stare. Nita’s application of makeup indicated she wanted to be ready for a photoshoot at any time. She was aware of her glamour. It wasn’t difficult to believe Calvin wouldn’t have been quickly seduced by her.

  “Thanks, but I just had a beverage. Nita, I realize it’s a difficult time for you. I wanted to get out here while your memory is still fresh. The night Cal was murdered, you mentioned to Nick that you were here all night.”

  “Yes. Watching television. Calvin had called and said he would be late. He said he was going to be meeting with a couple of customers. That happened frequently.” She gave a slight laugh before her eyes teared up. “Calvin did spend so much time at the shop, but he always called to make certain I was okay.”

  “Did he happen to mention who he was meeting?”

  “No. He knew I probably wouldn’t have known them. I’m not a merchant kind of woman, I’m more expensive merchandise. Cal took care of business and I took care of the ranch. I breed prize-winning quarter horses. He was proud that I kept occupied with what I loved. He loved guns and smithing. Always studying guns.”

  “Did you resent the fact that he worked with his first wife? Or that she owned part of the business?”

  “Calvin was a fair man. In their divorce
it was spelled out that they both owned the store. I was fine with that.”

  “You are in the will. I understand that you’re to have the ranch, and there are life insurance policies as well.”

  “He wanted me cared for. After all, in the past three years, I’ve built this quarter horse business. Very thriving business – all on my own.”

  “His insurance policies. Could you estimate the value?”

  “Probably together nearly five million. As I stated, Calvin was generous and didn’t want me to become destitute.”

  “The ranch and the millions certainly won’t leave you destitute.”

  “We’d planned a cruise this autumn.” She paused, frowning. “I wonder if I can get the money returned. Or sell the tickets. Or take someone with me.”

  Royce stood, “I think that will be all for now, Nita. Because it’s an ongoing investigation, we ask that you don’t leave Timber County. So the cruise will have to wait.”

  ***

  The clearing was a scene of perfect sunlight. Royce had driven onto the rocky dirt road. She proceeded to the Crossing. It was just beyond that, to the east, where the body of her father’s cold case had been buried. Royce parked on the side of the road. She called to Chance. “Need to stretch your legs, girl?” It was purely rhetorical. Chance never missed the opportunity for a run, and certainly not to explore terrain she’d never seen before.

  As they hiked up through the brush, Royce observed the area carefully. Much of the area was thick with dense undergrowth. She’d recalled her father taking her to where there was a sunken area of land. Even when she was preschool, she knew that place saddened her father. Sheriff Grady Madison came regularly to this section of mountain loveliness. Yet there was this small section of ground that had an evil imprint. Royce had visited herself many times, as a tribute to her farther. His sensitivity and his empathy had repeatedly brought him to the Rasp Meadow.

  Chance rushed ahead, seeing where the wildlife might be. The forest shut down when intruders came into the area. Royce slapped the side of her leg, and ordered, “Halt, Chance.” Ahead was the indentation on the earth. A dirt rectangle. It had been dug deeply to find bullets that had been sprayed into the open grave after a young woman’s body had been dumped in it. Forensics was in possession of those bullets that deputies, one of them Royce’s father, had recovered. The body was studied by forensic anthropologists. Forty years had produced the detection assistance of DNA. The best Timber City could do at that time was have a model of the woman’s skull recreated. Gwen had run the photo of the likeness in the paper. There was no identification. The body was buried in an unmarked grave in the cemetery outside Timber City. The town gathered together to take up a collection. Only a month after the body was released and buried, there was a headstone naming her Jane Doe, and the date she was found.

  Royce watched while Chance walked into the indentation. She sniffed, then her paws paddled, digging in one of the corners. Royce stepped down. “Back, girl,” she instructed. As commanded, Chance moved back. Royce took out her pocket knife and tilled the corner. Beneath soil and leaves there was a small battered cross. It looked as though it had been shot. Royce studied the edge of the right side of what seemed to be a crucifix necklace charm. It had probably been on a chain. The indentation was caused by force. Perhaps a bullet. Placing it in her pocket, Royce understood that it was probably not important in solving the case. However, she also knew from other cases, trash located at a murder scene was rarely nothing.

  At times, there were items that were possible clues. They became the sheriff’s driving motivation. She promised herself when she got home, she would examine the evidence vaults. And she would contact CBI for records and any data they had on the cold case. Certainly advances in crime detection over the past forty years had been nothing short of miraculous.

  “Chance, come. Let’s go to the Rasp.”

  Chance followed her back to the vehicle.

  ***

  Within a few minutes Royce had passed the Crossing. She drove to the Rasps. As she approached her favorite place, she inhaled a slight scent of smoke. The area had been saved. Ash had fallen on some of the trees. They remained sturdy. The mountain, referred to as Rasp, was named after the Ute musical instrument. The mountain meandered down in various levels. A small stream was herded downward by gravity. The water was coaxed in a zigzagging fashion. Snowfall and rains filled the streams leading down from the top of the ridge. The topography was colorful and lavishly set.

  Royce went to the side of the stream that was at the foot of the mountain. She sat on a huge granite stone and gazed up. She recalled the day she visited with Hertha. They sat together on the very stone.

  Recalling when their relationship was newly formed, Royce reminisced about having been nervous. When the two women leaned into a kiss, Royce felt great fortune. She was at one of the most beautiful spots on earth. She was with the most wonderful woman she’d ever met.

  That was when Hertha first told her the legend of the mountain. The Ute Nation thought in terms of music. There was the whistle of the breeze through the trees, and the little jingle of the leaves and branches that was much like the music played.

  The rasps were sticks that ranged in size from seventeen to twenty-seven inches long. Usually made of oak and ironwood, they were used in the Bear Dance and Sun Dance. Hertha had teased that there was also a Scalp Dance. Although it was a threat for Royce to behave, Royce saw only gentleness and love in the vet. She was no longer certain what she saw now.

  The sheriff closed her eyes to see the two actual rasps that had hung on Hertha’s cottage wall. When they lived together, the rasps proudly decorated that living area. Along with other Native American artifacts, they were loved by Hertha.

  Over the years Hertha had shared many of the legends of the Ute Nation. Royce always recalled the musical instrument – the rasp – and the replicated mountainside. Royce considered that it was perfectly named. The patterns of nature were so well-designed.

  It had been over a decade and a half after she learned the meaning of the name, that she realized something. She was still in awe of the place, and the people of another era.

  She was also in awe of the young woman of Native American descent who had shared her rich heritage with another young woman she would playful call Paleface. Royce wished she could detach from the memories that brought her such warmth.

  “Chance,” she called. The magnificent German shepherd ran with pure abandon across the meadow. Smiling, she wondered what Chance was thinking. Perhaps it was some feat of great courage, or just the freedom of a heart that longed both to wander unencumbered, yet also stand courageously beside her person.

  “Let’s go back to the office.”

  Chapter 7

  Plato often hung around Molly’s Pantry very early in the morning. Especially when he had some information for the sheriff. This morning Royce walked back to the alley behind her mother’s bakery. Plato hadn’t arrived.

  “Royce,” her mother greeted her with a kiss. “Why you coming in the backdoor?”

  “Thought I might see Plato. He must not need smokes money.”

  “He’ll be here. I’ll tell him you were looking for him.” Molly placed a square of carrot cake in front of her daughter.

  Royce poured cups of coffee for them. “Glad it’s early and your customers aren’t coming in yet. I wanted to talk with you.”

  “If it’s about Hertha, we both know you’re angry at her for leaving you. I told you before, she was just at a confused place in her life. But Royce, I know that you both care…”

  Royce interrupted, “Mom, it isn’t about Hertha.”

  Perplexed, Molly sat back. “But what then?”

  “You remember that cold case Dad was always upset about? The woman’s body they found up at the Crossing?”

  “He obsessed about that for years. Well, from the time you were about two, when she was found, he made it his mission. Never came to anything but it wasn’t for hi
s lack of trying. No, he wanted that case solved. But if he couldn’t do it then – well, twenty more years have come and gone since he died.”

  “But maybe now it is solvable. We’ve got technology. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that yesterday afternoon, I reopened the case. The woman I talked to at CBI said she’d look for records and evidence.” Royce sipped coffee a moment. “I went back over our files. I also searched our evidence vault. I didn’t find what I wanted, but Wanda Thurlow suggested it might be up in the rafters. There’s a storage space. One of the deputies said there were a bunch of old storage crates up there. They held files, and evidence bags. I told Nick about it and he said he’d come in this morning to help me get them down.”

  Molly rubbed her forehead. “Royce, I’ll look upstairs here and see if your dad left anything of interest up there. Remember, when he was a rookie deputy, the sheriff was always on him about trying to work a cold case. Said it was a cold case going nowhere. His deputy pals would tease him about his ice temperature cold case.”

  “It’s a long shot, Mom, but I can fit it in my schedule somehow.”

  “How’s your current case?”

  Royce squinted a moment. “Bewildering. Very bewildering. I recall cases that had no suspect at all. I wished for a dozen potential suspects.”

  “Now you have an entire family of suspects.” Molly’s furtive grin spread across her face. “Someone will tell on themselves. I’m sure they’re all trying to squeal on one another.”

  “They are.” Royce munched on the final forkful of cake. “It’s as if they’re all playing hot potato.” She stood, took a final gulp of the coffee, and thanked her mother.

  She was glad that Molly hadn’t told her not to waste her time on a cold case. The woman at CBI was pleasant but didn’t sound confident she could help. Nick said maybe they should find Cal’s killer before working on an arctic-cold case. He also said it was a case so cold that a person could ice-skate on it.