Deadly Places: A Mapleton Mystery Novella

by Terry Odell

  So you can figure out the best place and method to kill him.

  The letter gave a phone number, then went on to explain how they wanted the first fifty thousand dollars. Cash, in an inconspicuous backpack or other comparable tote. The instructions said to board the 10:47 westbound light rail at Union Station in Denver on Thursday, place the bag under the rear seat in the rear car, and get off at Mile High Stadium.

  Thursday? Crap. How was he going to come up with fifty grand in cash in two days?

  He grabbed for his phone and dialed Colfax’s cell number.

  Colfax dropped by the next morning. They sat in Ed’s office and brought each other up to speed.

  “How did it go with your sister?” Ed asked.

  “The cops liked her for the homicide,” Colfax said, “but I think my visit convinced them to broaden the scope of their investigation. It’ll still be rough on her and the kids, but she’ll come out on top. Oh, and I brought you a little something.” He leaned down and lifted the gym bag he’d brought with him onto Ed’s desk. “Go ahead. Open it.”

  Ed winged his brows, but unzipped the blue nylon tote and peered inside. “What the—?”

  “County approved the request. All your investigations, cross references, and whatever other mumbo-jumbo you fed them convinced them it was worth following through to the next level. I thought you might get a kick out of seeing it.”

  Ed removed a stack of bills. Hundreds. Lots of them. And even more twenties. Some banded, some loose.

  “Fifty grand, as requested.” Colfax smirked.

  “How did you get this?”

  “Drug money. Might as well put some of it to good use. Use the bad guys’ money to catch more bad guys.”

  “But you’re not giving it away, are you?” Ed asked.

  Colfax zipped the bag shut. “There’s a tracking device in the seam.”

  “But what if whoever picks it up has watched enough television to know there’s the likelihood of a tracking device in the bag and they transfer the money to their own carrier?”

  “There are some micro transmitters in the stacks of bills. Ain’t technology grand?” Colfax grinned. “Besides, you don’t think we’re going to drop off the money and leave, do you? There will be cops all over the place. We’ll have two on the train, and three more at the Mile High station watching everyone who gets on and off at that stop. Since the instructions tell the delivery person to get off the train, we think retrieving it after he’s left is the more logical option.”

  “Wouldn’t whoever picks up the money be a flunky? A go-between who doesn’t know enough to lead us into the ring?”

  “We know what we’re doing.” At least Colfax’s tone didn’t have the you’re just a hick town cop hanging on it. “Leave it to us to follow the money. Your job is to get to Leadville next Friday and play hunter. We’ll have your back.”

  At Ed’s insistence, the images for Dennis Donovan’s cyber identity that Sam had created bore a striking resemblance to Ed Solomon. He’d argued from the beginning that this was his case, and he wanted to be in at the takedown, and creating Dennis Donovan in Ed’s image meant he’d be involved.

  Friday morning, a week later, Ed finished packing his bag and loading his Subaru. A tight-lipped Mary Ellen stood in the doorway leading to the garage, arms folded across her chest. “I don’t see why you can’t leave this to the Lake County people. It’s not your jurisdiction.”

  “I am leaving it to them,” Ed said. “There will be two on the team. And Colfax is sending two of his deputies as well. They’re all SWAT. All I’ll be doing is—”

  “Is acting as bait,” she said. “And in my experience, the worm doesn’t fare well when you use it to catch a fish.”

  “Then think of me as a lure, not bait. And unlike the other victims, I know someone’s coming after me. I’ll be on my guard.”

  “You said the most logical method would be to make it look like a hunting accident. You’ll never see a shooter.”

  Ed hoisted his duffel into the cargo area and closed the hatch. “I have a vest.” He crossed to Mary Ellen and rested his hands on her shoulders. “We’ve been over this. It’s something I need to do. We can’t have people getting away with murder.”

  She pulled away. “You need to do? No, you want to do this, Ed. You’ve done your part. Found your secret assassins. If catching them was your goal, it wouldn’t matter who brought them in. You want the rush. You went off with Tyler Colfax to investigate one of your leads, even though it wasn’t in Mapleton. And that didn’t end well.”

  “Sure it did. Aside from a little bump on the head, which was nothing.”

  “Go,” she said. “Just make sure you come back in one piece. The boys need their father.”

  Chapter 18

  After dropping the boys off at school and extracting promises of good behavior and helping their mom, Ed set off for Leadville. The information he’d supplied to the Paula’s Places point of contact showed Dennis Donovan’s hunting and camping trip starting on Sunday morning. Ed would be meeting his fellow law enforcement team members at a motel ten miles outside of Leadville, where they’d scope out the area and finalize their plan.

  As he drove, Ed replayed Mary Ellen’s last words. She’d said the boys needed a father. Not she needed a husband. Or was he reading too much into it? Still, the uneasy feeling he was making a stupid mistake to feed his ego wouldn’t go away.

  No, she’d known what it meant to be a cop’s wife since they’d met. She’d accepted it, although he knew part of her acceptance came from his working for the Mapleton PD. Mapleton, where nothing bad ever happened. Or hardly ever. She was overreacting since it hadn’t been very long since the hostage situation with Colfax.

  Then again, she didn’t see things the way cops did. That the threat of danger, even from a routine traffic stop, was always there. This time, he figured, it would take more than a dinner to make her understand where he was coming from. He’d compromised his career dreams by staying in Mapleton rather than a big city where he could work in specialized departments, be a detective. Surely she could compromise by letting him follow these rare cases that stretched his talents.

  And why is it all about you, blockhead? You need to listen to her.

  When he pulled into the run-down motel two hours later, he’d created a mental balance sheet. Plusses and minuses, pros and cons. And it always came down to family. Once Gordon got back, Ed would ask his folks to stay with the kids. Maybe he’d book a riverboat cruise. One in the brochures Mary Ellen always left lying around.

  He locked his car and strode to the registration desk. “Ed Solomon,” he said to the square-faced, gray-haired woman at the desk. “Three rooms, but I think I’m the first to arrive.”

  She tapped at her keyboard with pudgy fingers, making clucking sounds as she searched the computer. “Yes, here you are. You’re the first. Do you want all the keys now?”

  “No,” he said. “The others can pick theirs up when they check in.”

  “I’ll need identification and a credit card, please.”

  He took care of the formalities. This motel was far enough away from where Dennis Donovan was supposed to be hunting so setting up credit cards and fake ID wouldn’t be necessary for the one night they’d be staying here. Sam was feeding Dennis Donovan’s Facebook page with reports that still had him in Boston, anxiously awaiting his trip, eager to bag his annual elk.

  The clerk clucked some more, then extended an old-fashioned door key with a faded white 5 on a red plastic tag. “Your room is ready. The other two should be cleaned in about half an hour. There’s a coffee shop across the lobby, down the hall to the left.”

  Ed settled in, then went to the coffee shop—only slightly more updated than the motel—and, after ordering coffee, tried to call one of the deputies. The server, who could have been the desk clerk’s older sister, gave a quiet laugh. “You’re in the wilderness. No cell service until you get closer to Leadville.”

  “No Wi-Fi, t
hen, I guess.”

  “Nope. Consider yourself unplugged.” She poured his coffee. “We open at six for breakfast, but we’ll provide a hunter’s breakfast to go if you need an earlier start. Be sure to order it the night before.”

  “Thanks.” He’d call Mary Ellen from the phone in his room, although he’d bet the charges were nothing short of outrageous. Since he was using his personal vehicle, he didn’t have a radio or the newly installed computer.

  He’d finished his second cup of coffee when the two Lake County deputies, Benjamin and Isaac, joined him. They’d ordered food when Colfax’s men, Woody and Norris, arrived. The five of them ate, shared introductions, and avoided talking about why they were here. Broncos football ruled the conversation, followed closely by the best way to bag an elk. A group of normal guys out for a little hunting.

  Once they’d eaten, they gathered in Ed’s room. After a quick call to let Mary Ellen know he’d arrived—which amounted to leaving a message on the machine—they got down to business.

  Benjamin, a five-ten fireplug of a man, parked himself at the end of one of the two twin beds. “Isaac and I—” he nodded to his partner, a long and lean African American— “were briefed, but I’d rather hear it from you guys. We’re after a blogger assassin?”

  “The blogger’s not the assassin.” Ed straddled the flimsy wooden desk chair. “But we’re pretty damn sure her blog is a clearing house for getting rid of deadbeat dads.”

  Woody and Norris, Colfax’s colleagues, exchanged a glance. Woody, a pale blond built like a gym rat, spoke. “Detective Colfax gave us the bare bones about what’s gone down so far. There are multiple layers for the group, so all one person knows is the person directly below him and above him. The money drop moved through three sets of hands, but in the end, the higher ups believe they have their money. The couriers were persuaded—that’s Colfax’s term—to keep their mouths shut.”

  “Which is why we’re here,” Ed said. “The hit has been approved. In addition to being bait, I’ve played the role of Pat Jackson, the guy who’s contracted to have my alter ego, Dennis Donovan, taken out. Plus, I had a text yesterday suggesting Pat Jackson ought to make sure he has a strong alibi for Saturday through Tuesday, and that he not go anywhere near Leadville.”

  “Saturday?” Isaac asked. “Then they might be coming ahead of schedule.”

  “I think it’s precautionary,” Ed said. “But that’s why we’re here ahead of schedule, too. Plus everything we’ve fed the social media says Donovan’s favorite hunting spot is on the other side of the elk stomping grounds from this motel. No reason for them to be looking this far away.”

  “Any idea of how they’ll come after you?” Benjamin asked.

  “Some kind of hunting accident makes the most sense,” Norris said. “Which is why we’re here, trying to give whoever it is every opportunity to off our victim.” He pointed to Ed.

  “While providing superlative protection so it can’t happen,” Woody added.

  “There have been other staged accidents, but if we’re out in the wild, we’re fixing our own food, so poison or drugs seem remote possibilities,” Isaac said.

  “As long as we don’t accept food from strangers,” Benjamin said with a grin. “I propose two of us stick close to Ed while the other two hold farther back to spot anyone else’s approach.”

  Ed explained the pickup truck driver’s assassination that had started his quest. “It was no accident, but if it was connected to the ring, they have a sniper in their pool. Which means they could be firing from a long way off.”

  Norris shook his head. “So we make sure we’re not exposing ourselves in areas where a sniper can get a clear shot. It’s not like we’re actually hunting elk.”

  Woody pulled a face and snapped his fingers. “Dang. And here I thought there were perks to this gig. Given what we had to do to finagle permits.”

  Over Ed’s protests, the four deputies left Ed at the motel. Although he didn’t like being in hiding, it was his face out there, and if their assassin was doing the same thing they were—scoping out the place—it was too risky to be seen until their plan was set. Norris, a sniper, was taking point on finding the best place to trap their assassin while minimizing the chances of a long-distance shot.

  Resigned to a day of waiting, Ed contemplated going into Leadville, browsing the museums, taking the train ride. But, short of effecting a reasonable disguise, the deputies were right. He needed to keep his face off the radar. Someone with a camera could inadvertently capture his image and post it where the blog ring might come across it.

  He dragged his gear inside and did another check of his equipment. Camo. Kevlar. Rifle. Hand warmers. Foot warmers. Handgun, should it come to that. And plenty of orange. No need to invite a real hunting accident.

  Chapter 19

  It was almost five when the deputies returned, although to Ed, it seemed they’d been gone much longer. They assembled in Woody and Norris’s room this time. Woody unrolled a map and put it on a bed. “Here’s the plan.”

  The men stood back enough to let Ed have the clearest view of the map, which showed the boundaries of the designated hunting unit where their permits—had they been legit—were valid. Ed trusted the wardens had been informed they were here after a totally different kind of game. Woody took a red marker and drew an X near the upper right side of the area. “Ed, Norris and I can drive in this far, and set up a base camp here tomorrow.” He drew an elongated oval to the southwest of the X. “And this is where we’ll pretend to be hunting. No vehicles, so no drive-bys to worry about.”

  Woody drew another X. “Our recon says if they’re trying long-range surveillance, or a long-range sniper shot, they’ll be somewhere in here. Benjamin and Isaac will be our perimeter backup.”

  “You think the blog ring has a pool of experienced elk hunters?” Isaac asked. “Wouldn’t like them getting suspicious that we’re not looking for elk.”

  “My thought is that’s a huge stretch,” Ed said. “Especially if they’ve had to pull this together last minute.”

  Isaac went on. “You two have to be close enough to Ed to intervene if someone comes after him, but far enough away to let them think they have access.”

  “Well, hunting is about hiding.” Woody set the map on the desk. “But for this assignment, it’s about making sure we can be seen when and where we want to be seen.”

  “Meanwhile, I’m starving,” Benjamin said.

  “I could use a break from this room,” Ed said. “Let’s hit the coffee shop.”

  “Nope,” Woody said. “If your killer is driving from Denver, he might stop here for dinner. The rest of us will eat, do a little recon, then bring you food.”

  Ed grumbled, but checked the menu on the desk. “Double cheeseburger, fries, and apple pie.”

  When the deputies brought his food, they reported the other customers seemed legit. “Two parties of hunters back from a day in the woods, one family. One googoo-eyed couple. Jury’s out on whether she’s his trophy wife or mistress. Nobody dining alone.”

  “Early start tomorrow, gentlemen,” Benjamin said, after they’d gone over everything three more times. “Lobby at oh five-thirty.”

  Ed, Woody and Norris pitched their tents as the sky glowed pink with the rising sun. While they ate the breakfast burritos the coffee shop had provided, they went over everything yet another time. Rifle shots cracked through the air. Ed tried not to think one might be meant for him. No, he kept telling himself. Isaac and Benjamin had his back.

  They wandered the woods for the rest of the morning, seeking any evidence of elk, which they wanted to avoid. They didn’t want to be in a place where there’d be too many other hunters, although they did meet several groups on their own quests. Norris was friendly as he told them the area didn’t have much potential, and pointed them in another direction.

  Once they’d decided on a spot that fit the bill as hunterish, they went to their base camp for lunch. More exploring until dusk, when Isaa
c and Benjamin joined them for dinner.

  “From our vantage point, it looks fairly busy for elk season. The good news is most of the action is well away from the campsite you’ve picked out.” Isaac grabbed an apple from the cooler.

  The wind had picked up, and Ed leaned forward and warmed his hands at the fire. Night sounds, carried on the breeze, swirled around them. Coyotes yipped and howled, seeming to come from all directions. A loud rustling from the brush sent Ed’s thoughts to the Mapleton bear.

  “Help me.” A faint voice floated across the campsite. “Please.”

  Bears didn’t ask for help.

  Ed grabbed a flashlight. Benjamin snatched it from his hand and shoved Ed behind him. “Someone’s hurt,” Ed said in protest.

  Woody yanked Ed’s elbow. “No, someone’s asking for help. Ed, get in your tent.”

  Ed saw the logic. Didn’t mean he had to like it, but he ducked into the tent and sat where he could see out the window flap. Isaac and Benjamin called out to the stranger. “Are you hurt? Come here, into the light.”

  A man staggered toward the campfire. “It’s not me,” he said, his voice raspy. “My partner. Bear. In there.” He pointed in the direction he’d come from.

  Ed moved closer to the tent’s entrance where he could watch and listen to the conversation. Their visitor was male, average build, dressed in hunter’s camo and an orange vest and cap. The hood of his parka didn’t hide the blood streaming down his face.

  Norris helped the man sit on a log by the fire. “Did the bear attack you?”

  The man shook his head. Wiped the blood from his eyes. “No. Ran. Trying to get help. Dark. Tripped. Lost my rifle.” His breathing was ragged, his words huffed out in spurts. “Tree branches. Rocks. My partner. Leg. Broken, maybe.” He leaned over, hands on knees, sucking air. “Tried to scare the bear away. He fell. Into a ravine. Couldn’t get him out. Saw your fire.”