“Well, I got a promotion,” Angie said. “I’m now stationed permanently in Idaho and am agent in charge of the top half of the state.”
“Wow. Now I can retire happy, knowing that Blight County will be in your capable hands.”
“Blight County,” the agent said. “The very name makes me shudder. I know you like to do things a little differently here, Bo, but from now on there will be strict enforcement of all federal laws.”
Tully shook his head. “Angie, it sounds as if you’re about to pull the rug out from under our whole way of life.”
She smiled. “I hope so, Bo. So what do you know about the judges and the cash?”
“In regard to the cash, I’ve never heard of any loose cash floating around Blight County, with taxes paid on it or not. I don’t know where such cash would come from. Generally speaking, our judges don’t seem to rule over many cases, a divorce here or there, a car wreck from time to time, nothing that would strain their little gray cells. I just had a confrontation with a judge down in Kindle County, though. Their deputies and some state police cowboys barged into my county and arrested an old friend of mine just because he killed three or four cars.”
“Cows?”
“No, cars. Haven’t you ever heard of anyone killing cars, Angie?”
“Honestly, Bo, I haven’t.”
Tully shook his head. “You FBI guys are so limited in your experience, I’m surprised you ever get anybody arrested.”
“Enlighten me, Sheriff. How do you kill a car?”
“Well, there are different ways. In this case, a bunch of kids roared their fancy cars into the dirt patch old Ed Stokes thinks of as his front yard and started doing wheelies, scaring Ed’s free-range chickens half to death, if not killing some of them outright. Ed watched them for a bit from the rocking chair on his front porch, then pulled out his .44 Magnum pistol and blew a hole through the engine block of each car and killed it dead. The kids stopped laughing, jumped out, and ran screaming into the woods. They’re from Kindle County, where only the rich folks live, and when they got home they told their parents Ed had tried to kill them. That’s when the parents got the state police and Kindle deputies involved.”
“So what happened to old Ed?”
“Once I told the judge what had happened, he turned old Ed over to me. Ed’s downstairs in jail as we speak.”
“So you saved him from jail down in Kindle and put him in jail here.”
“Well, he’s free to wander around my jail. I keep his cell door open so he can get out and talk to the other prisoners as much as he wants, which isn’t too much, I imagine, because they’re a pretty stupid bunch. I don’t think Ed can stomach their idiocy for too long, so it’s good punishment for him. A criminal needs to pay for his crimes. Which reminds me, I told Ed I would go out to his place and feed his chickens. You want to go along for the ride? It will be good for your education of Blight County.”
“I think I’m probably educated enough on Blight County, but I wouldn’t mind seeing Ed’s place. Let’s go. His chickens must be getting pretty hungry.”
Chapter 28
Driving Angie out to Ed Stokes’s place in his Explorer, Tully explained Ed to her. “He’s the perfect poor citizen as far as Republicans are concerned.”
Angie smiled. “I hope this isn’t going to be a political diatribe.”
“Not at all. I’m neither Republican nor Democrat, nor a conservative nor a liberal. I feel free to shift my political preference to whichever way the wind is blowing. You might think of me, Angie, as a sailor adrift on a raft in the drifting tides of politics.”
Tully braked to let a cow moose and her calf cross the road ahead of them.
Angie smiled. “Yes, well, I’ve always thought of you as a person adrift.”
“Indeed, and my principle is never to run aground on the shore of the losing party.”
“It’s good to know you have a principle, Bo.”
“Thank you. It’s a rather rare quality here in Blight County. But I was about to tell you why old Ed Stokes is the perfect citizen for the Republicans.”
“Okay, tell me.”
Tully cleared his throat. “First of all, he doesn’t take one penny from the government.”
“Not even Social Security?”
“He’s never worked at a job, so I doubt he gets any Social Security. He does make a little money gathering wild mushrooms, huckleberries, and wild honey and selling them to restaurants in town, but I doubt he pays any tax on the money he gets. Other than that, he grows all his own vegetables and fruit and gets his firewood out of downed trees on his place. He did inherit a little farm from his parents. Abe Sutton grows wheat on the farm and shares half the crop with Ed, who feeds his share of the wheat to his chickens. Ed gets his protein from the eggs his chickens lay.”
“And he has no other source of money?”
“None I know of. He did fight in the Korean War and got wounded. Maybe he gets some benefit from surviving that, but I don’t know. I guess if he gets sick, maybe there’s some veterans’ benefit he’s entitled to, but I’ve never known him to get sick.”
Tully turned off on the dirt road leading through the woods to Ed’s place. He pointed out the tidy little shack with Ed’s empty rocking chair on the front porch. “Ed was sitting there rocking and keeping an eye out for the coyote that’s been raiding his chickens when those kids came roaring in and started doing wheelies in his yard. Without bothering to get out of his rocker, he told me, he lifted that big old .44 Magnum pistol off his lap and killed each of the cars, one after another. Ed laid his gun back on his lap and went on rocking.” Bo pointed. “You’ll notice the puddles of oil where the cars bled out.”
“But where are the chickens?”
“I suspect Ed locked them up in the henhouse before he was dragged off to jail. Come on, we’ll give them a little recess.”
Angie followed him over to the henhouse. Tully unlatched the door and the chickens came cascading out, squawking their fury at being locked up. He walked inside and lifted the hinged cover on a large wooden bin half-filled with wheat. He picked up a bucket and filled it from the bin, then walked out to the patch of dirt and threw handfuls of it around until the bucket was empty. Then he and Angie sat on the porch, Angie rocking in Ed’s chair, and watched the chickens feed. Tully went inside, found half a bottle of Ed’s whisky, poured a shot for each of them in a glass, and poured in a dipper of creek water from a pail on the counter. Angie was watching the chickens when he came out. He handed her a glass. She stared at it.
“Whiskey,” he said. “Ed makes it himself. I’ve added some creek water to tone it down a bit. You might notice a hint of wild-bee honey in the flavor.”
She sipped. “My goodness, Bo! It’s delicious!”
“Yes, old Ed is a bit of a craftsman when it comes to making whiskey.”
Angie smiled. “I think this is probably the finest illegal whiskey I’ve ever tasted.”
“I thought you might approve. I poured each of us just enough for a taste, because otherwise your head falls off and rolls around on the ground.”
“I’m not surprised.” She gave him a look. “I suppose it’s never occurred to you how we’ll get the chickens back in their house when we have to leave.”
“No problem.”
“Easy for you to say. I somehow get a picture of you and me racing around catching them one by one, stuffing them in sacks and hauling them back to the henhouse.”
“That would be much too labor-intensive, Angie. I’m surprised they don’t teach you stuff like this at the FBI Academy.”
“Yes, it does seem a strange thing to omit chicken wrangling from the FBI curriculum. Maybe once I observe the technique I will report it to the faculty. I have to admit, Bo, this little place does have a certain charm. It’s so peaceful. Imagine being self-sufficient here, never having to worry about satisfying nasty bosses or the general public. I can see why you’re intrigued by the old gentleman.”
&nbs
p; Tully thought about this. Then he said, “Actually, I could never live like this.”
“Why not?”
“For one reason, I don’t have the knowledge or the talent. Even if I could find a wild-bee tree, I wouldn’t have a clue how to get the honey out of it without being stung to death. Ed does it as a matter of routine. Have you noticed the silence here, Angie?”
“Yes, I have. It’s deafening, isn’t it?”
“It is that. That silence would drive me crazy within a couple of days.”
Angie rocked, the chair making tiny squeaks. “I suppose one would get used to it after a while.”
“I don’t think so,” Tully said. “That silence would drive me stark-raving mad. As a matter of fact, I’m already starting to feel a little weird. About time for us to put the chickens back in their henhouse.”
Angie laughed and stood up. “Yes, I’m very interested to see how we accomplish that.”
As she stared out at the chickens, Tully put two fingers in his mouth and made a piercing shriek. The chickens streaked into the henhouse.
Angie’s mouth gaped.
“Hawk,” Tully said. “Works every time.” He turned and looked at her.
“Wet panties,” she said. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a hawk scream right next to me. Now turn your head, while I find someplace to put them up to dry.”
He noticed she had the gun out of her shoulder bag as he turned his head. “I’d appreciate your putting the gun back in your bag, now that you know it was only a hawk screech.”
She put away the gun. “You should warn a person before you do something like that.”
“They don’t teach you hawk screeches at the FBI Academy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s one of the skills offered at the end of chicken wrangling.”
Chapter 29
On the way back to the office, Tully dropped off Angie at her hotel. Daisy frowned at him when he walked in.
He shook his head. “I wish the FBI could figure things out for themselves, without always looking at me to solve their crimes.”
“I bet,” Daisy said. “Anyway, Lurch called and wants you to call him in Mexico. Here’s his number.”
Tully called the number. The Unit answered on the first ring.
“Yeah, Boss?”
“How did you know it was me, Lurch?”
“Because nobody else in the entire world would call me here.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in one of the guest rooms at Fester’s Mexican ranch. The ranch has a new owner, an Australian.”
“An Australian! How come an Australian would buy a ranch in Mexico?”
“He said it’s because he suspects the ranch is sitting on an ocean of oil. His name is Barnaby O’Conner and he already owns a cattle ranch in Australia. He’s only been over here a month and already speaks English as good as I do.”
“Wow. In only a month. So what’s the word on Mrs. Fester?”
“Well, according to Barnaby, she and Jeff got married here on the ranch and then took off on a flight to Australia. They’re going to spend some time on Barnaby’s ranch.”
“See if you can find out their flight number, when it left, and where and when it lands.”
“I will, Boss. Maybe Barnaby knows. He set up the whole wedding for them and invited all the folks in the village near here. It was quite a shindig.”
“I bet. Oh, I nearly forgot a minor detail, Lurch. Did you check the tread on Hillory’s pickup?”
“Yeah, I did. The pickup is still here and I got a match. I took off the tire with the tread that matches our mold, put it in the bed of the pickup, like you told me, and replaced it with the spare. Barnaby said it was okay with him if I took the truck.”
“Good. We need that truck and tire, Lurch. They’re essential to our case against Mrs. Fester and probably Sheridan. They place Hillory at the scene of the crime and probably Jeff, too. Do you have a department credit card with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, like we discussed, as soon as you get to Nogales, get yourselves a modest motel for the night and head out for Blight City early in the morning. Drop the rental off where you got it in Tucson, and you and Pap drive the Fester pickup back to Blight.”
“Got it, Boss. We’ll be home in a couple of days.”
“No hurry, Lurch. How’s Pap doing?”
“Oh, he’s been having a great time, out all night savoring the local cantinas and their señoritas. I’m sure he’ll love staying over another night in Nogales.”
“I’m sure he will. Give you both a chance to get some of the real flavor of Mexico. Find a first-class restaurant and order some good meals on the department, particularly if you happen to meet some pretty señoritas. You two deserve it.”
“You feeling all right, Boss?”
“Yeah, I am. Once you’re done entertaining yourselves, get your butts back to Blight City as fast as you can, even if you have to drive day and night.”
“Whew! Now you’re starting to sound like the boss I know. Well, at least Pap and I get one more night for a wild fling in a great Mexican town.”
“That’s okay. Just make sure you get a motel on the poorer side of town. The department isn’t paying for some extravagant Mexican hotel just so you and Pap can put on a show of being high rollers for the local female population.”
Chapter 30
“Angie!” cried Lester Cline, the headwaiter at Crabbs. “I heard you were back in town. Some of the other agents have been eating here, too.”
Angie smiled. “I know, Lester. I recommend Crabbs to all of them as the best restaurant in all of Idaho.”
“We appreciate the recommendation very much. Let me show you to the table I keep reserved exclusively for you and Bo.”
And forty other people who actually tip, Tully thought.
As usual, they both chose the luncheon special, the steak salad. Tully added a bottle of the white zinfandel. After Lester left with their order, Tully said, “So how’s your case going with our corrupt lawyers and judges?”
“Not too badly. So far we’ve tied secret bank accounts to one lawyer. A fairly large portion of the cash was withdrawn about the same time Judge McCrackin made a major judgment in favor of the lawyer’s client. What do you think, Bo?”
“Sounds about right.”
“It appears McCrackin has found a number of cases in favor of that lawyer, despite the fact that the lawyer appears to be an idiot.”
“An idiot? How’s that?”
“He bought two very expensive cars for himself and his wife, not to mention he sold his small ranch and bought a house in the million-dollar range. He throws money around like confetti at local nightclubs and keeps women on the side in luxurious pads. Judge McCrackin isn’t doing that badly, either.”
Tully munched a forkful of salad while he thought about this. “You happen to know of any openings in the Blight County law business?”
“Not right at the moment, but I suspect there may be some soon. It seems as if Blight County is moving into the big time, at least as far as crime is concerned.”
Tully munched another forkful of salad. “Well, at last a sign of progress. Up to now I’ve had to deal only with stuff like stolen chain saws, that sort of thing. I want you to know I come down pretty hard on anyone engaged in chain saw theft.”
Angie smiled. “Yes, I know. How about crooked lawyers?”
Tully thought about this. “I guess I’d have to empty out the cells of all our deserving criminals and fill them back up with lawyers. You plan on making any busts soon?”
“Yeah, but we’ll probably ship them to Boise, at least for starters.”
Chapter 31
When Tully got back to the office, his father was sitting in the briefing room talking to Daisy. “Pap! What are you doing here?”
The old man stood up. He was still lean as a post, six feet tall, and with his Stetson hat pulled low over his eyes, as sinister as ever. Tully didn�
��t even want to think about the number of men Pap had killed when he was sheriff. Nor the number of payoffs he accepted to turn loose guilty parties, particularly the owners of gambling establishments. He still kept in touch with broad sections of the underworld. “Come on in my office, Pap. Daisy has work to do.”
She said, “Daisy was enjoying your father’s intelligent conversation. It’s not often I hear intelligent conversation around here.”
Pap laughed and followed Tully into his office, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “The old place hasn’t changed much since I was sheriff.”
“A little less blood splatter on the walls,” Tully said. “So you’re back in town flirting with my secretary.”
“I can’t help myself,” Pap said. “I just love all the pretty women.”
Tully smiled. “I appreciate your helping Lurch down in Mexico.”
“Well, we had a little problem with that, Bo. You got any leads on who did Morg in?”
“Only what you and Lurch came up with. They got married on the ranch down there. Now they’re headed for Australia on their honeymoon, if they’re not already there.”
Pap shook his head. “I’d hate for you to arrest them for the Fester murder, Bo.”
“Well, it was the evidence you and Lurch turned up, the tire that matched the tread at the crime scene. That’s what makes them our prime suspects. The fact they got married shortly afterward makes a great motive. Your tracking skills put them at the scene and time of the murder. Now that we’ve got the tire back here, the case will be pretty well closed. Where is the tire, by the way?”
“That’s what I come up here to tell you,” Pap said. “While Lurch and me was partying in Nogales, somebody stole the tire from the bed of the pickup.”
Tully sat for a long while without speaking.
Finally, Pap said, “I don’t know what to tell you, Bo. It just never occurred to me anyone would steal an old used tire out of the bed of a pickup. But it was your idea we put it there.”
Tully leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. “True, it was my idea.”
Circles in the Snow Page 13
