by Aimée Thurlo
Lanie placed the coins on the counter and picked up the cup. “She’s trying to protect her son. That’s natural.”
“You’re right on both counts. I did a background check on Sally and I discovered that she, like our mayor, has been living here under an assumed name. I confronted her with it just now. That’s why she’s upset.”
“Has she broken the law?”
“No. She pays her taxes under a company name, and the business is legitimate.”
“Then why the assumed name?”
“Peter’s father is a known felon, on the run from the law. He’s tried twice to take the boy away from her, and the second time he was nearly successful. He took Peter and left the state. But Sally lucked out. Her ex ran into a roadblock, and one of the cops manning it recognized Peter.”
“So she changed her name to make it harder for her ex to find her,” she finished for him.
“That’s it in a nutshell. I let her know that I knew all about her past. The idea was to prove to her that I wasn’t her enemy. I assured her that if her husband tracked them to Four Winds, I’d protect her.”
“She didn’t appreciate the gesture?”
“Not quite. She told me Peter was her responsibility, and she could take care of herself and him. She was furious that I’d pried into her life. But there’s more we’re not seeing. Something’s scaring her, and she won’t open up to me.”
“Peter’s at the center of it, I’ll bet. I heard that nobody’s seen the boy for a while outside the house.” She told him about her conversation with Annie.
As they walked down the street toward Alma’s, Lanie’s gaze fell on the mail carrier. He looked about fifteen. The small mail bag was wider than his shoulders. “He’s kinda young, don’t you think?”
“That’s Manuel Ortega. Believe it or not, he graduated high school last semester.”
“He delivers mail to everyone in Four Winds?”
“He’s our only mail carrier.”
Lanie smiled slowly. “So he delivers all the mail, and everyone knows him.”
“I see where you’re headed with this,” Gabriel said. “Not a bad idea. Come on, let’s go talk to him.”
Gabriel approached the young man and introduced him to Lanie. Curiosity shone in Manuel’s eyes. “I’ve heard all about you, ma’am,” he said to Lanie.
Gabriel took the mail carrier aside. “Manuel, I need your help with a police matter.”
“Uh, okay, Sheriff, what can I do?” He shifted from side to side, adjusting the mail pouch.
“Tell me about Peter Jenkins. Is he usually home when you make your rounds?”
“He has been lately. I’ve heard his voice inside the house. I think he’s got company.”
“Did you recognize the voice of the other person?”
Manuel shook his head. “I wasn’t paying that much attention, to be honest.”
“Do you remember seeing any cars parked around Sally’s house?”
He considered it for a moment. “You know, I don’t normally notice cars. Dogs, well, that’s a different matter. But there aren’t any problem animals in that area.”
“So, you have no idea who Peter’s visitor is?” Gabriel asked.
Manuel took a deep breath. “Well, there was one time…But I kinda hate to say anything. I think they were just roughhousing.”
“Tell me. I’ll check it out.”
“Recently, when I came up to the door, I saw Ted Burns scuffling with Peter. Ted grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room. Peter fell hard, so I opened the screen door and went inside. I thought I’d better split them up. But when Ted saw me, he started laughing. He helped Peter back up to his feet, and they were okay with each other. The next day, I was paying attention, but they were just playing the radio and horsing around.”
“Horsing around how? Tell me what you remember,” Gabriel prodded.
“Peter was playing his guitar and Ted was singing along, way off-key, so I knew things were okay.”
“Thanks, Manuel. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
Lanie stopped at the door to Alma’s store. “There’s something going on with those two boys. I feel it.”
“I’m going to do a little digging. It’s amazing what talking to a few neighbors can reveal.”
Alma came up to the window and waved at Lanie from inside. A moment later, she joined them on the sidewalk. “Are you okay? You didn’t have any more problems, did you?”
“No, riot at all,” Lanie assured. “I’ve got lots of shots of the chair, though I really don’t think there’s a flattering angle for that thing!”
Alma laughed. “Come on let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.”
“I better, be on my way,” Gabriel said. “Have a nice day, ladies.”
As they stepped inside the shop, Alma looked at Lanie.
“I have a problem. I’d totally forgotten that I’d promised to try and market Ralph’s old typewriter. It dates back to the early 1900s, and since he doesn’t use it, he wants to sell it Can you go over there for me now and take some photos?
Ralph mentioned that he was going out of town.”
“His assistant should be there. I’m sure he’ll let you take the photos.”
“I’m on my way.” Lanie gulped down her coffee, then picked up the camera and her bag.
As she walked down the street, a plan formed in her mind. She’d try to strike up a conversation with Ralph’s assistant. Maybe she’d be able to get some answers from him.
When she arrived at the newspaper office, she was surprised to see Ralph there.
He eyed her with suspicion. “What are you doing here?”
“I came on behalf of Alma, to photograph your typewriter.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I’d almost forgotten.” He walked inside the storeroom, brought the old machine out and set it on a table near the window.
“Thanks.” Lanie began taking photos, covering different angles. “I thought you were going to be out of town.”
“I sent my part-time helper. I have other work here that must get done. And on that note, I better get to it.”
She took a few more photos and then went back to the outer office. Ralph didn’t even look up. If she could only get him to relax. That’s when she remembered Marlee’s cocoa. “It’s so cold outside.” She gestured at the skeletal cottonwood tree branches blowing against the side window.
“It’s a bad day,” he grumbled, then squinted as he studied her. “You look flushed, as if you’ve got a fever. Are you okay?”
“Yes, but I could use something warm to drink before going back out. I’ve got some cocoa packets in my purse. Will you have a cup with me?”
Ralph hesitated.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you, Ralph. You weren’t so dead set against me when we first met.”
“You ask too many questions that are, quite frankly, none of your business.” He left his desk and took the packets of cocoa from her hand. “But I will sit down and have some cocoa with you. It’s a cold, miserable day, and I forgot to buy more coffee. I need some caffeine—I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in two days. I’ve been trying to finish up a book I’ve been working on.”
“About what?”
“It’s a novel about a newspaperman,” he said briskly.
Lanie opened the packets and emptied them into two mugs Ralph had filled with hot water from the percolator. “If I ask too many questions, Ralph, it’s just because I’m desperate. I’m not sure who my enemies are, and it’s hard to fight what you can’t see.”
He said nothing, stirring his cocoa with a letter opener. He’d given her the spoon. Ralph must have enjoyed the cocoa, because he emptied his mug in three big swallows. Now, if only Marlee’s cocoa worked on him the same way it had worked on her! She leaned back, barely sipping hers. “I have to find out why I’m a target before I can do something about it.”
“I’m not after you,” he said simply. “The bowl
and the gossip about the peddler intrigued me, but that’s the extent of my interest.” His movements were slow as he walked to his desk.
Picking up the camera, she placed it on her lap and pretended to adjust one of the settings. “I just realized that I still have six more shots. Do you mind if I finish the roll by taking a few more photos of your typewriter?”
He waved toward the other room. “Help yourself.”
Lanie deliberately took her time. Ten minutes later, she looked through the doorway and saw Ralph leaning back in his chair, asleep.
This was risky, but it was the perfect opportunity. She crept past him and went to the file cabinet by the wall. Lanie opened each drawer slowly, taking care to be as quiet as possible. When she opened the fourth drawer, however, a high-pitched squeak reverberated in the silence of the room.
She held her breath and glanced over at Ralph. He stirred, but did not waken.
Lanie knew she’d have to move faster. If the phone rang, there was no way he’d sleep through that. She finished searching the file cabinet quickly, but found nothing. As she looked around the room, afraid this had been a waste of time, she saw a small, two-shelf bookcase partially hidden behind a cart. The shelves held no books, only what appeared to be a scrapbook of some sort and some packets of computer and fax paper.
Lanie silently moved the cart, then pulled out the thick scrapbook. Realizing that she couldn’t hear the sound of Ralph’s steady breathing, she turned around uneasily, but saw he was still sound asleep. He’d shifted to his side, and his position gave her the creeps. Had he been awake, she would have been directly in his line of vision.
She watched him for several moments. Then, convinced that he was really asleep, she continued her sleuthing. Lanie sat on the floor and leafed through the scrapbook. Inside were the mementos of a distinguished newspaperman. Awards and special stories with his byline chronicled a fine career. Then, toward the end, the focus shifted. First came the article about a battered young woman who couldn’t remember who she was or how she’d been injured. Ralph had written several consecutive stories urging the community to help the police identify her. The woman’s photograph was prominently featured on the front page.
Then Lanie saw the last story. The woman’s assailant had read the newspaper accounts and, fearing for his own safety, tracked her to the hospital. Evading the guard, he’d gained access to her room and killed her.
The very last item was the killer’s confession, claiming Ralph’s articles had forced him to take action. Below that was a small sidebar, announcing Ralph’s resignation from the paper.
She stood up slowly and carefully placed everything back as it had been. Though the woman’s death had not been directly his fault, Lanie now knew why Ralph never used photos in his articles. Ralph carried his own demons, born of that incident. But unfortunately none of this brought Gabriel and her any closer to solving their own mystery.
She picked up her bag, crept to the door silently, then walked out into the cold air. Catching a flicker of movement inside the office out of the corner of her eyes, Lanie turned her head. Ralph was standing by the bookshelf that held the scrapbook, and he was looking right at her. He gave her a nod, then went back to his chair.
Lanie stared at him in shock. He’d been sound asleep and couldn’t have known for sure what she’d done. If he had, surely he would have stopped her or spoken up. Convincing herself that she had nothing to worry about, she returned to Alma’s.
LANIE STOOD in the window display at Alma’s store, dusting. Her fever didn’t feel as if it had risen, but she still felt lousy and ached everywhere. She glanced at the ancient grandfather clock, which seemed to work perfectly. It was nearly two, but Alma had told Lanie to close early today. She had just stepped out of the display to put the Closed sign up when she saw Gabriel walking down the street coming toward the store. His loose-legged stride gave off an unspoken challenge, and she saw how the other men automatically stepped aside as they greeted him.
A moment later, the bell above the door jingled, and he came into the shop. “I ran into Alma. She said she’d given you some time off since she wanted the afternoon alone to finish some catalog copy. Are you ready to call it a day? I figured I’d give you a ride home.”
“All I have to do now is lock up. Alma is out, running an errand someplace.”
His gaze swept the small room, filled floor to ceiling with antiques and collectibles. “You know, this place just doesn’t seem the same since Miss Emily passed on. Alma seems to go through the motions, but she’s not really investing much of herself into this business.”
“This was never her love. To her, it’s just a way to make a living. If anything, I think she regrets letting Emily talk her into getting this place.”
“Could be.” He looked around curiously as she locked up in back. “By the way, I ran into Ralph. He said you’d stopped by earlier.”
.”That I did,” she admitted, and recounted what had happened.
He smiled. “That old man’s crafty. I’d bet you he never was asleep and deliberately allowed you to find the scrapbook.”
“But why? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure, it does. He wanted you to find your own answers, knowing darned well that you’d probably doubt his word if he just came out and told you.”
“That’s a good point. I guess I’ll never know for sure, though. I certainly can’t bring it up without admitting what I did.”
“Which is probably what he’s counting on, too. Having you learn about his past this way guarantees you won’t ever bring it up again for discussion.” He sat down while Lanie drew the shades. “How are you feeling?”
“Besides humbled?” She shrugged. “I’ll live.”
Lanie heard the door chime jingle and cursed herself for not having locked the door. Hoping the business wouldn’t take long, she glanced at the young man who entered, then realized it was Manuel Ortega, the mail carrier.
He looked at her, then at Gabriel. “I…um…well, I was thinking about all the questions you asked me earlier, so I decided to investigate a bit”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly did you do?”
“I took a little more time than usual over at Sally’s home today.” He began to talk quickly. “When I came up the walk, I heard Ted and Peter arguing about something. Since I couldn’t make out what, I went around the back hoping I could hear better from there. I sure got an earful. Ted and Peter were really going at it. Ted was saying that he’d brought his gun along just as insurance. Peter argued back, telling him that he didn’t care what Ted called the gun, he wanted it out of his mom’s house. Ted called him a wimp. Just then, Mrs. Miller, the nextdoor neighbor, saw me. I had to cover fast, so I told her I’d seen Mrs. Potter’s kitten wandering loose, and I was trying to find it.”
Gabriel nodded. “Good save. But don’t ever do something like that again. I appreciate your help, but things could have gone very wrong, and there wasn’t anyone there to back you up.”
“Okay, Sheriff. But whenever you need help, you just let me know, hear?”
“You’ve got it”
Once Manuel left, Lanie looked at Gabriel. “The more I find out about those two boys, the less I trust them. An agile male took Alma’s book, remember? The pages concerning the skinwalker bowl ended up in Marlee’s garage, which is something that may have appealed to them. You know, hiding evidence right under our eyes. They could have also been the pair who jumped you and your brother.”
“True. But would they be doing this on their own? I don’t think so. I don’t believe neither of those kids has the contacts to market a bowl like that. If they did steal it, it was for someone else,” he said.
“I know you don’t agree with my theory, but if the mayor is behind it, then at least it makes some sense,” she said. “Ted could have been trying to prove something to himself, as well as to his dad. Maybe his father didn’t hire him, but rather Ted acted on his own, and Burns is now working with his so
n in order to protect him.” She expelled her breath slowly. “The problem is, like you, I can’t see Ted working with him.” She then related her brief earlier encounter with the mayor. “They are father and son, but they barely communicate.”
“I think it’s time for us to go have a talk with the mayor. I want him to understand a few things, including how the bowl has affected your life, physically and mentally. If his kid is involved in this with someone else, then Ted is clearly in over his head, whether he knows it or not. Just from a practical standpoint, Ted can’t market that bowl alone, and if he’s connected with some major player who wants to cover his tracks, Ted could end up dead.”
They arrived at the mayor’s spacious home ten minutes later. The lights were on in the den, but the rest of the house was dark:
Gabriel knocked, and moments later Bob Burns came to the door. “Come in. How about a drink, folks?”
Gabriel shook his head, and Lanie also declined.
“I guess I’m stuck drinking alone, then.”
Lanie watched the mayor’s unsteady gait and surmised he’d already had several drinks. It suddenly struck her that Bob Burns was a lonely, haunted man. He lived with an unpleasant past, an alienated son who was no longer a child and an uncertain future.
“Is your son around?” Gabriel asked.
“Is Ted in trouble?”
“That’s not an answer,” Gabriel said.
“I don’t know where he is, Sheriff. I seldom do nowadays. Are you here to talk to him or to me?”
“To you, for now. I understand that you hired an intermediary to purchase the bowl Miss Mathews was given,” he said without elaborating. “Why were you interested in obtaining that particular artifact?”
“I felt it was a good investment, but because of my position here, I thought it was in my interest to use Mr. Madison as a go-between.”
“You were willing to offer me quite a lot of money,” Lanie stated. “Why were you so desperate to get it?”
The mayor met her gaze. “I have money, Miss Mathews, but outside this town I’m nobody. If I had a treasure like that, I could loan it to universities and museums, and make a name for myself. I’d be respected and sought out in circles that currently show me no respect at all. But once that piece was authenticated, then everyone would bid on it and the price would reach levels that were beyond me. My one chance lay in acting quickly.”
