Black Star Canyon: The Mystery Novel (Black Star Canyon Mystery Novel Series Book 1)

by C. C. Wall

  Something had just been said, that was complete and total new information to Bekka. “Girl in the canyon?” she asked quietly. So much so that she knew Dakota couldn’t hear it. It was more so to drill it into her own brain. She had figured there was some trouble going on, but she had no idea that anyone was dead.

  “He’s my brother Bekka! How could you?” Dakota yelled. He hit the gas and sped off so fast, the back end of his truck fishtailed, swung around and slammed into Bekka, knocking her onto the ground, into the gutter. She screamed.

  No one heard her screams. The storm was too loud, and most people had had the good sense to not be out in it. She was desperately hoping that someone in the station would hear her. But they didn’t. She stayed there on the ground for almost an hour, crying and screaming into the night.

  Finally she decided she would have to get herself out of the street. She wiggled her toes. She bent her foot. She rotated her ankle. She bent her knee. Nothing seemed to be broken. She breathed a sigh of relief. Getting up though was a whole different story. As soon as she put weight on her left leg, the pain was so excruciating that she crumpled back down unto the rain soaked earth all over again. She managed to haul herself up onto the sidewalk and crawl across it to the steps heading up to the station. She pulled herself up with the railing. It took her a few minutes to figure out how to navigate up the few stairs that there were, but eventually she hopped across the ground to the double doors of the station.

  “Sue!” Bekka screamed and it echoed through the empty hollow building.

  Sue came running up. “My God, Bekka! What happened?” Sue grabbed her arm and wrapped it around her shoulder.

  “I slipped down the steps.”

  19 - Here’s Mud In Your Eye

  Sheriff Reagan’s office looked like something you would find in an old Wild West museum. He loved all sorts of cowboy memorabilia, especially anything that had to do with the law. His office had the same appearance as that of a hoarder with just an insane amount of knick-knacks and decorations that littered the entire office, floor to ceiling. This night, he wasn’t too happy. He had received some news that was a little unnerving.

  Lukas walked into the office and even for him, someone who saw this place on an almost daily basis, it seemed to be more cluttered than usual.

  “Take a seat,” Reagan said.

  Lukas did. “How are you doing tonight Sheriff?”

  “Cut the small talk crap, Lukas.” Reagan said through his long mustache. “I hear from inmates and from their lawyers that you are putting people’s heads through windows and punching yourself in the face to plant evidence.”

  “Sir…”

  “Shut your damn mouth.” Reagan’s voice raised. “Listen to me. I don’t give a crap what you do. Just get the job done. But I can’t have reports like this coming up all the time. Especially ones that have the same things happening to different people. Its hard to prove your innocence when a load of bad guys all say the same thing. Hell, I’d rather you just shoot the varmints then bring them in here. Justice would get done a lot quicker. Keep in mind I’m not telling you to go out and fucking shoot people. Understand?”

  Lukas sat in shock as his eyes almost fell out of his head. “Yes, sir.”

  “Problem number two,” Reagan said as he tried to get comfortable in his chair that didn’t seem to support his round midsection. “Problem two is that you smell like a goddamn bar room floor. I know you like the drink. That’s fine, so do I. Just keep appearances up a little better. I drink all the damn time and look at me. Shirt tucked in, belt buckle shiny. I look the part. In fact, you want a drink now? I could use a drink.”

  “Yes. That would be great.”

  Reagan tried to get up but decided he was either too fat, too tired, too old or all three. “Why don’t you pour ‘em. Second cabinet from the left.”

  “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “It’s just bourbon, don’t get all excited.”

  “No, that’s perfect.” Lukas found the bourbon, “Is neat all right?”

  “Yep.”

  Lukas poured the drinks, handed one to Reagan and sat back down.

  “Here’s mud in your eye,” Reagan said. “I have no idea what the hell that means. Never did.” He let out a sigh, “Now tell me about this dead girl? Any leads? Anyone claim her yet?”

  “She is still a Jane Doe but we have a pretty solid lead.”

  “One that will end up in an arrest?”

  “At least one we can bring in for questioning.”

  “Try to make it stick, would ya?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Do better than that. I don’t want to have to lecture you again. You’re a good cop.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Finish that drink and get the fuck outta here.”

  20 - O’Fortuna

  Eugene Wellington stood by his over-sized fireplace in his over-sized home. He was still in one of his nicest suits even though it was after business hours. In one hand, Eugene held his trademark over-sized cigar. In the other hand, he had another trademark, an over-sized snifter glass with a small amount of incredibly expensive Cognac in it. The flames from the fireplace danced in his eyes. He loved listening to the wood crackling and popping. A smile graced his lips.

  His wife Morgan walked into the room and gave a disapproving grunt. “Do you have to smoke those stinky things in the house?”

  Eugene chuckled, “Not even you could ruin this moment for me, Darling.” He turned his attention back to the fire. He could feel that Morgan was still in the room. The overbearing presence of his wife was stifling his good mood, even if he didn’t want her to know that. “Is there something I could help you with?”

  “I wanted to know if you wanted dinner?” Morgan said, not because she cared, but out of habit.

  “I’m sure I can have someone in the kitchen make me something if I get peckish.” He smiled at her like a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman.

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “You act like we have an army of servants.”

  Confused, Eugene asked, “Don’t we?”

  “No, we don’t.” She crossed her arms as if that was some sort of power play in the house.

  “There are people whose job it is to make us food, who are here at the moment, waiting for my order, correct?” He dumped the ashes of his cigar on the marble in front of the fireplace.

  “Yes,” Morgan said in a defeated tone, itching to clean up the ash he’d dropped.

  “Thank you dear. Oh, how I love our little chats.” Eugene bowed his head at her as if that was her cue to get the hell out of the room. Morgan took the hint and stormed out as loud as her high heels would take her out of the room via hardwood floor. Eugene’s face slowly turned back to being pleased once he stared into the fire again.

  His cell phone played “O’ Fortuna”. He reached into his pocket after placing his drink on the mantle. “Yes?… What do you mean?… How long will he be in there?… No, you’re right, you need him with you. I’ll see if I can get someone on that… Wait. What for?… Find out and get back to me.” Eugene put his phone back into his pocket, grabbed his drink, swallowed it whole, and smashed the glass on the floor.

  Eugene locked his jaw and breathed heavily through his nose. He looked back into the fire for solace. The door swung open.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Out!” Eugene yelled without looking away from the fire. The door quickly shut and a small grin slowly came back to his lips.

  21 - Truly Blessed

  Jonathan sat on his couch, looking out the window into the storm. The sound of the fireplace crackling mixed with the raindrops splattering on the window was a nice mixture, Jonathan thought. Francine walked in with two glasses of red wine and sat down next to him, right in the crook of his arm.

  “Thank you, darling.”

  “You’re welcome, dear,” she said after swallowing a sip. She laid her head on his shoulder and they watched the storm. Lightning struck a
nd they started counting to themselves to see how many miles away the center of the storm was. They didn’t count very high.

  “What do you think we were doing when it happened?” Francine asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That girl. What do you think we were doing when that happened to her? Do you think we were on the couch? Maybe having dinner?”

  “I don’t know Francine, but I don’t think we should think of those macabre things.”

  “I bet we were in bed. I went to bed pretty early.” Francine’s eyes widened. “You came up soon after me, right darling?”

  Jonathan gave her a dirty look that she could never see from her angle. He took a sip of wine. “I came up about fifteen minutes after you, dear. Don’t you remember? You weren’t even asleep yet.”

  “I was asleep. You woke me up, but I didn’t want you to feel bad.” Francine’s eyes raced around the room as if it would help her remember what time it was when he’d woken her up.

  They sat there in silence and looked at the storm, occasionally having a sip of their wine.

  “Let’s just be grateful that our Elizabeth is safe and sound in her bed.” Jonathan said.

  Francine’s eyes were vacant as she looked out the window. “Yes. We are truly blessed.” She took a sip of wine. “You should check on her, dear.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s fine. I don’t want to wake her.” Jonathan smiled and swirled the red wine in the glass to check it’s body in the firelight.

  Meanwhile, in Elizabeth’s room, it was silent. The lights were out. It wasn’t until the lightning struck outside that you could even see that Elizabeth’s bed was still made and that she was nowhere to be found.

  22 - A Long Walk In A Small Building

  Tom Harker came in from the rain and shook off the excess water. He didn’t see anyone at the front desk, but he figured no one would mind if he just made his own way back. He knew the way, he had drinks every Friday night with Sheriff Reagan. It had been that way for years. He knocked on the open office door and saw that Reagan was empty. “Can I get you a refill?”

  “Well, look what the storm washed in,” Reagan smiled, “and yes, it’s hard to keep drinking if your glass is empty.”

  Tom laughed and grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet and poured Reagan and himself a drink. Reagan was turned around to face the window, looking at the storm through his wooden vertical blinds. Tom came over and leaned against the desk. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” He took a swig. “There’s some lightning. Been dead the last few minutes.”

  “Hopefully its passing then.”

  “It’s not Friday, Tom.” Reagan knew something was odd. “What’s going on?”

  “I guess I came to give you warning.”

  “Excuse me?” Reagan got slightly defensive.

  Tom laughed. “Not from me. Don’t worry about that.”

  “From who?”

  “I have this photographer for the paper who wants to be a writer.”

  “So? I don’t need any writers around here.”

  “You see, he was there this morning. The body.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I squashed his article. It was just a lot of conjecture.” He took a drink, “But there was one thing that bothered me about his piece.”

  “What was that?”

  “He really seems to think that the department here is hiding something.”

  “Of course we are!” Reagan was getting angrier. “It’s none of the public’s business, every goddamn detail of every goddamn case.”

  “I know that. He seems to think the detectives on the scene were acting strange. He mentioned them several times, but gave no reason or even pointed out anything they were doing that would be out of the ordinary. It just seems like something personal to me.”

  “I see.”

  “You and I have been friends a long time so I just thought that you should know.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “And I, appreciate the drink.” Tom finished his off. “Can I get you another before I go?”

  “Nah. I’ll get it in a minute.” Reagan said. Tom was almost out the door when Reagan had one more question. “What’s this guy’s name?”

  “Hart. Jack Hart.”

  “Thanks again, Tom.” Reagan turned back to the storm.

  “By the way, Jason’s band is playing at Cook’s, Friday night, so I’ll have to skip this week.”

  “Oh, that’s great for Jason. Tell him to break a leg for me.”

  “Will do.” Tom jogged back out and faced the storm.

  Reagan finished his drink and forced himself out of his chair. He thought about pouring himself another, but decided it could wait. He sighed and placed his glass on the desk. He walked out into the empty station and began looking for his detectives, he was a little afraid of what he might find out. He didn’t know what Jack’s relation to Lukas or Chaney was, but having a murder in Black Star Canyon was enough excitement for him. He didn’t need any more problems.

  He opened a door into the break room and was startled to see a bare ass, covered in bruises, bent over the table aimed right at him. “Whoa! Excuse me!” he said as he pulled the door shut.

  “It’s okay Sheriff, I’m just fixing Bekka up here.” Sue said, “She took a spill down the steps out front.”

  Through the door, Reagan continued the conversation, “You all right Bekka?”

  “Yeah. Just stings.” Bekka said through a bit lip.

  “Alrighty.” Reagan couldn’t help but notice how similar the sight he just witnessed was, to the photos from their Jane Doe. He shook it off. “I’ll leave you to it Sue, if you could point me in the direction of Lukas or Chaney.”

  “I last saw them in interrogation,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Reagan said as he wandered down to interrogation. He had been in the department here for nearly forty years and for the first time, he was having a hard time walking through the station. It seemed bigger that night. He kept saying to himself that it wasn’t the place it was just the problems of that day that really seemed bigger. He wasn’t sure if he believed himself.

  Reagan stuck his head into the interrogation room and it was empty. “Shit.” He pulled the door shut and smacked right into Lukas and Chaney.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” Chaney said, “We were just heading out.”

  “Well hold that thought for a moment. I need to talk to both of you.” Reagan seemed worried. He never seemed worried. Chaney picked up on this a lot better than Lukas did.

  “Yeah. Whatever you need,” Chaney said with urgency.

  They walked into the interrogation room and Reagan just leaned on the table. He knew if he sat down in one of those little flimsy chairs he would never get back up. “I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s this guy at the paper that is gunning for you two for some reason,” Reagan said with a heavy heart.

  “That shit from the crime scene today?” Lukas asked.

  “Jack Hart?” Chaney asked.

  “Yep. That’s the one,” Reagan answered. “I guess he has some, not so nice, things to say about you guys in the paper.”

  “What the hell could he say?” Lukas was getting upset.

  “Look, Tom squashed it. I didn’t read it. But Tom feels that this might be something personal. He came down here tonight in this crap storm just to tell me in person. Tom doesn’t fuck around. If Tom feels like something isn’t right, it’s gotta be a little worse than even he lets on.”

  “I just met the guy today,” Lukas said, “well, more of a me chasing him off. We didn’t get acquainted.” Lukas thought about it for a second. “But you know him, don’t you, Chaney?”

  Chaney didn’t answer right away. “I know who he is.” He paused long enough for Reagan and Lukas to notice, and notice that each other noticed it. Chaney broke the silence, “But that’s it. Nothing more than that.”

  Reagan put on a fake smile. “Well okay then. I guess you two can get home. Thanks for taki
ng the time to listen to a worried old man.” He forced out a chuckle.

  “All right, Sheriff, see you in the morning,” Lukas said as they left.

  “Be careful,” Reagan said.

  Chaney spun around and snapped, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s raining pretty hard out there,” Reagan said, looking into Chaney’s eyes, hard. “Drive safe.”

  Chaney felt stupid. “Sorry. Of course. You drive safe too, Sheriff.”

  Reagan followed them out. “And Lukas…”

  Lukas spun around “Yeah?”

  “Pick up a fucking iron.”

  Lukas smiled and the two left.

  Reagan slowly headed back to his office and under his breath grumbled, “I should’ve had that drink, dammit.”

  23 - The Burger Stand

  Lukas and Chaney slammed the car doors as they got in after running through the rain. They were both soaked. Chaney started the car and Lukas quickly fumbled around with the heater and turned it on.

  “Shit, that’s cold,” Lukas said.

  “You know you have to let the car warm up first?” Chaney said with some attitude.

  “So, yeah,” Lukas wanted to be a dick about his next question but tried to hold back, “What the hell was that about in there with Hart?”

  Chaney looked nervous, “What are you talking about?”

  “You went all weird and absent when Reagan brought it up.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Chaney pulled away from the station, “I was just trying to figure out if the guy has a reason to have it in for me.”

  “Does he?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Lukas thought that Chaney was keeping something from him. “Maybe he is related to someone we put away or something?”

  As if a light bulb went off over his head, Chaney said, “I bet that’s it!”

  “Yeah, that kinda makes sense right?”

  “I think you’re on to something there Lukas.”