by Thomas King
“The third woman?”
“English lived three blocks away.”
“What did English say?”
“First woman, Joan Horton, was killed on a Saturday. English said he was at South Shore, Lake Tahoe. Harrah’s club. Said he was there for the entire weekend.”
“There would be hotel records. Casino video. Credit card receipts.”
Redding shook her head. “English didn’t believe in credit cards. Paid cash. Didn’t stay at a hotel. Slept in his car. Didn’t gamble. Just wanted to walk along the lake in the moonlight.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” said Archie. “Credit cards are a plague, and walking is good exercise.”
“And he was into martial arts in a big way.”
Thumps looked at the article again. “Not really a whole lot here.”
“Then one of English’s co-workers came forward to say that English was aggressive with women. Evidently, social skills are the man’s forte.”
Thumps waited.
“And he was seen in the same bar as the third victim the same night she was killed.”
“And no alibi for that.”
“Said he went home and watched television.” Redding rolled her eyes. “I was going to go up to South Shore to check English’s story, but Green Senior wanted to run with the story.”
“Police had already arrested English.”
“We argued. I didn’t like the loose ends. It was my story, my research, my sources. My reputation.”
Thumps tried to look sympathetic. “So they ran the story, and Jonny Junior got the byline.”
“Imagine that.”
“English claims to be innocent?”
“Death penalty will be in play,” said Redding. “What would you say?”
“You’re not covering the trial?”
“Jonny’s covering the trial,” said Redding. “That is, if he can find the courthouse.”
“Jay is here for the conference,” said Archie, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. “She’s going to do a three-part series on water in the West.”
“Good news is jury selection doesn’t start for another month, so I’ll be back in time to hold Jonny’s hand.” Redding lowered her eyes. “You were involved with a serial killer, weren’t you?”
Thumps looked at Archie.
“What was that case called?” Redding waited.
Archie stepped in quickly. “Tell Thumps about Orion Technologies and ClearBlu.”
Redding smiled. “I think we’re boring Mr. DreadfulWater.”
“Thumps is acting sheriff,” said Archie. “He’s not allowed to be bored.”
Redding nodded. “About six years ago, James Lester and Dr. Margo Knight formed a company called Orion Technologies. Lester was the money man. Well connected. Flamboyant. Clever rather than smart. Paranoid as hell. Lester doesn’t go anywhere unless he’s armed. Makes all his employees carry. It’s part of the company dress code.”
Thumps shrugged. “Hardly a sin in this part of the world.”
“Knight was the scientific muscle. Ph.D. in physics from Stanford. Another in petroleum engineering from the University of Texas, Austin. She came up with a revolutionary way to measure aquifers and oil deposits that involves ions and harmonics. Once she can demonstrate that her technology works, the patent will be worth billions.”
Thumps waited.
Redding continued. “Two years ago, Orion took out a ten-year lease on land just north of here.”
“The Bear Hump.”
“They put in a series of wells to monitor and map the Blackfoot Aquifer.”
“To test the technology.”
“That’s right,” said Redding. “They’ve been gathering data for the last year and a half, and Lester and Knight were going to present the results at the conference.”
“And now they’re dead,” said Archie. “Tell him the rest of it.”
Redding helped herself to a strawberry. “There’s a company called ClearBlu. Hasn’t been around a long time, but it’s been a busy little bee, aggressively buying up water rights in the U.S. and Canada.”
The grapes looked good. So did the cheese. Thumps wasn’t sure why anyone would think of cucumber as a delicacy. He tried to remember the last bottle of wine he had bought. A heavy red for under ten dollars.
“ClearBlu is owned by Southwest Beverage,” said Archie. “Southwest is owned by Lone Star International, and Lone Star is owned by Colorado Consolidated.”
“These aren’t shell companies, if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Jay. “They’re real corporate entities. They make profits. They sustain losses.”
“And they all have the same master,” said Archie.
Thumps knew he should play dumb and let Archie have his moment. But then he remembered how annoying the little Greek could be.
“Austin Resource Capital?”
“What?”
Thumps could see that he had guessed correctly. “Principal shareholder is one Randall Boomper Austin.”
“My, my,” said Jay, “aren’t we the quick study.”
Archie had the look of a grenade whose pin had just been pulled. “You know who Boomper Austin is?”
Flannery O’Connor was right. There was no pleasure but meanness. “Tall guy. West Texas. Grey hair. Cowboy hat.” Thumps rattled off the details as though he were filling out an accident report. “Blue eyes. Arrogant but friendly. Drives a Cadillac Escalade.”
Redding nodded. “Was Cisco Cruz with him?”
“Good-looking guy? Latino. Bit intense? Maybe ex-military?”
The Greek grenade was close to exploding. “How the hell do you know Austin?”
“He stopped by the house.” Thumps paused for effect. “He’s a photography enthusiast.”
“You’re just doing this to irritate me.”
“Nope,” said Thumps. “He wanted to buy some of my prints.”
Archie was shouting now. “You actually talked to him!”
“I talk to you.”
“Jesus,” Archie roared. “He murdered two people!”
Thumps shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
“Or had them murdered.”
“Don’t know that either.”
“Then what do you know?”
Thumps took in a deep breath. “Talk to the sheriff.”
Jay held up a hand. “I thought you said he was the acting sheriff.”
“He is,” said Archie. “He just hasn’t come to terms with his new responsibilities yet.”
“Rumours,” said Thumps. “You know how they can get out of hand in a small town.”
Jay stood and walked to the window. The slacks went with her. “I started work on the story about six months ago when word hit the street that Orion might have developed technology that could change the energy resource industry.”
“Because the same technology that could measure an aquifer could also be used to measure oil and gas deposits.”
“Exactly.”
“And Austin wants the technology.”
“That’s the rumour.”
“And the water conference is where Lester and Knight were going to report on the test results?”
“See,” said Archie. “I told you he was quick.”
“So,” said Thumps, “at this point we don’t even know if the technology works.”
Archie groaned. “Of course it works. Lester’s dead. Knight’s dead. What does that tell you?”
Thumps turned to Redding. “Were they lovers?”
“Jesus, Thumps,” said Archie. “Is that all you think about?”
“Neither Lester nor Knight were the romantic type,” said Redding. “The only love in Lester’s life was money. Knight was a loner with a mean streak as long as California. Were they sleeping together? Maybe. Maybe not.”
“How much was Lester betting on the new technology?”
“Everything,” said Redding. “But it was mostly other people’s money.”
“Inves
tors?”
“And government grants.”
Thumps rolled his shoulders and tried to stretch his neck. That tired feeling was back. He was going to start yawning any minute.
“So, they were business partners and possibly sex buddies. Hardly seems a motive for a murder-suicide.”
“That’s the way I see it,” said Redding.
“But if the technology didn’t work, and Lester blamed Knight for destroying the company?”
“Sure,” said Redding. “I guess he might shoot her for that.”
“And then kill himself?”
“No.” Redding shook her head. “Man was too arrogant for that. It would be embarrassing, but he’d just walk away and leave the investors holding the bag.”
Thumps couldn’t contain the yawn.
Archie’s eyes flashed. “Are we boring you?”
“Nope,” said Thumps. “I’m having a swell time.”
“And if the technology was a success,” Redding continued, “there would be no reason to kill Knight and certainly no reason to commit suicide.”
“All of which,” said Archie, aiming his finger at Thumps’s chest once again, “brings us back to Boomper Austin and a double homicide.”
Redding held Thumps with her eyes. “But we don’t have a motive, do we?”
Her eyes were a soft green with flecks of blue and gold. He’d always liked eyes with colour, eyes that changed and danced in the light.
“No,” said Thumps. “We don’t.”
Archie began pacing the room, cutting figure eights as he prowled the suite. “What are you talking about? Austin wants the technology. Lester and Knight won’t sell it. Bam! He has them killed.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why wouldn’t they just sell him the technology? Isn’t that what they planned to do with it?”
“Sure,” said Archie, “but not to Austin.”
“Why not? His money’s good.”
“That’s not the point . . .”
“Just because you don’t like the man doesn’t mean that Orion wouldn’t do business with him. Wouldn’t the technology go to the highest bidder?”
Archie picked up the pace. “Maybe Lester was going to release the technology into public domain. The last thing the energy extraction companies want is a method that will accurately measure the reserves. That information could put them out of business. It could be the end of their empires.”
“A corporation with a social conscience?” Redding returned to the sofa. “Sure,” she said, “that could happen.”
Thumps was tempted to ask her where she bought her clothes, ask her if they were as expensive as they looked.
“Okay, so we don’t have a great motive,” said Archie. “But Beth has two bodies in her basement that didn’t get dead from natural causes.”
Thumps opened the door. “When you figure it out, call Duke.”
“Where are you going?” Archie tried standing still for a moment. “Land Titles building? The sheriff’s office?”
“Home,” said Thumps. “I’m going home.”
“You can’t go home.” Archie paced over to Thumps and stood in the doorway. “You have a murder case to investigate.”
“The Obsidian Murders,” Redding called out from the sofa. “That was the name the press gave the case, wasn’t it? The Obsidian Murders.”
THUMPS WAITED in the hallway in front of the elevator. He pressed the button several times, then turned and found the exit sign. The stairwell was empty, and he began the descent quickly, picking up speed until he was almost falling.
The lobby was quiet. The glass doors were standing open. He crossed the threshold of the hotel without pausing or looking back and stepped out into the bright light of a high prairie sky.
Fourteen
The sun might have been bright but the air was chilly. It was a game that spring liked to play with people who lived on the high plains. Lots of light. No real warmth.
Thumps stood on the top step of the Tucker and zipped his jacket up all the way. Maybe he’d go shopping. Buy a warm scarf. Invest in a fleece vest.
“Qué pedo?” Cisco Cruz was standing at the curb next to the Escalade. Boomper Austin was nowhere in sight. “You have a nice conversation with Jayme and Mr. Kousoulas?”
“What kind of mileage does it get?”
Cruz smiled. “EPA says thirteen city, nineteen highway. Combined sixteen.”
“Not so good.”
“If you worry about such things.”
“And Mr. Austin doesn’t.”
“No,” said Cruz, “he doesn’t.”
The light might not have been warm, but it was beginning to hurt Thumps’s eyes.
“Maybe you want to take it for a test drive?”
“The Escalade?”
“Claro.”
“You and me?”
“We could talk, vato,” said Cruz. “I’ll bet we have a lot in common.”
THE INSIDE OF the Escalade was warm and extremely comfortable. There were controls that raised and lowered the driver’s seat, that tilted it back and adjusted a lumbar support.
“In the summertime,” said Cruz, “the front seats can be cooled.”
Thumps squeezed the leather-wrapped steering wheel and took in a long, slow breath. So this was the feel of luxury. This was the smell of extravagance.
“Where shall we go?”
“You decide,” said Cruz.
“There’s a small park down by the river,” said Thumps. “We could go there and watch the ducks.”
“Perfect,” said Cruz. “I love ducks.”
THUMPS TOOK HIS TIME driving to the river. The SUV felt as though it were completely detached from the planet and floating in space by itself. Thumps wasn’t sure he liked the sensation.
“Can’t really feel the road.”
“I prefer standard transmissions and stiffer suspensions,” said Cruz, “but the only place you get that shit anymore is in Europe.”
THE PARK WAS DESERTED, the trees bare. Except for the evergreens farther back from the bank, which looked as though they were still asleep. The spring runoff was churning the river into a grey-green boil.
“I thought you said there were ducks.”
Thumps walked to the edge of the water and looked upstream and downstream. No ducks. “Ex-military? Law enforcement?”
“Both,” said Cruz. “Military police for seven years. San Francisco homicide for ten.”
“And now you’re a bodyguard for a rich guy.”
“And now I’m a bodyguard for a rich guy.”
“And the rich guy wants something.”
“Yes,” said Cruz. “He does.”
Thumps was surprised that there were no ducks. He and Claire had come to the park any number of times. There had always been ducks then. Lots of ducks.
“And you’re going to tell me what he wants.”
“I’ll bet you can guess,” said Cruz.
Thumps waited to see if Cruz wanted to go first. “A copy of the autopsy reports on Lester and Knight?”
“That would be great,” said Cruz.
“Ballistics?”
“Sure.”
“Crime scene reports, photographs, fingerprints, cellphone and computer records, any interesting forensics?”
Thumps tried to remember exactly when he and Claire and the ducks had last been here. Later in the summer perhaps. Maybe that was it. Maybe the ducks didn’t care for cold springs any more than he did.
“And you’re going to tell me why Mr. Austin wants this material.”
“No,” said Cruz, “I’m not.”
“But Mr. Austin is willing to pay me a finder’s fee.”
“Consultant,” said Cruz. “You would be a consultant.”
“I imagine that Mr. Austin has a great many consultants.”
“From time to time.”
Thumps looked at Cruz for a moment. “And you’ve already told him I’d say no.”
“I did,�
�� said Cruz.
Thumps waited.
“So you’re wondering why we’re bothering with this dance?” Cruz walked to an old picnic table and sat down. “We never had anything like this when I was a kid. Just desert. Didn’t even rain. You used to live on the coast, that right?”
“Another life.”
“Ocean’s amazing. First time I saw it was when I was stationed in Okinawa. Couldn’t believe all that water.” Cruz rocked back on his heels. “You know much about global business?”
“Nothing.”
“Mr. Austin has companies all over the world. Australia, Brazil, Mexico, India, China. You ever been to Uruguay?”
“Nope.”
“You should see the business deals the man puts together.”
“And Austin wanted to deal with Lester and Knight?”
“If you say so,” said Cruz.
“And now they’re both dead.”
Cruz nodded. “If Lester killed Knight and then killed himself, no big deal.”
“But if Lester and Knight were murdered?”
Cruz held out his hands. “It could work its way back to Mr. Austin.”
“Which is where you come in?”
“Yes.” Cruz smiled. “That’s where I come in.”
“I used to watch The Cisco Kid,” said Thumps. “Neighbour had a television.”
Cruz’s face softened. “My mother was crazy about Duncan Renaldo. Qué oso. He played Cisco. Leo Carrillo played Pancho.”
“Ooooh Cisco,” said Thumps, remembering the famous exchange. “Ooooh Pancho.”
“My father wanted to name me Emiliano after Emiliano Zapata,” said Cruz. “You know that when the series began, Renaldo was forty-six and Carrillo was seventy?”
The sun was warmer now. Thumps could feel it spread out across his shoulders and run up the back of his neck. Behind him there was a sudden flurry and the sound of a body falling and hitting water.
Cruz stood and stretched his legs. “Look at that, vato. Ducks. Just like you promised.”
Fifteen
Cruz drove the Escalade back into town. Thumps would have liked another turn behind the wheel, but sitting in the passenger seat gave him time to acquaint himself with contemporary automobile technology. His Volvo had knobs and switches. The Cadillac had a touch screen. The Volvo had maps stuffed in the side pockets. The Escalade had a GPS system that showed you exactly where you were in the world. At one point, Cruz pressed a button on the steering wheel and told the onboard computer to turn up the heat by two degrees.
