Cold Skies

by Thomas King

  The option he wanted was “To talk to a living person, press four,” but that didn’t seem to be a choice.

  Thumps hung up and tried again. This time, he pressed the option for the staff directory and used the keypad to spell “Green.”

  “Jonathan Green.”

  For a moment, Thumps wasn’t sure if this was a live person or another recording with options. “Mr. Green?”

  “Yeah. What?”

  “I’m calling about Jayme Redding,” said Thumps. “I understand she works for the paper.”

  “She did,” said Green.

  “We’re trying to locate her.”

  “Can’t help you.”

  “This is a police matter.”

  “What’s she done?”

  “She was working on a serial-killer story.”

  Green had all the charm of a telemarketer and was just about as forthcoming. The conversation with the man left Thumps tired and grumpy.

  “She screwed up.”

  There was a long silence on the phone. Thumps could hear the man breathing. “When you see Jay, tell her to stop calling me.”

  Thumps was trying to pump more authority into his voice when he realized that the line was dead. Okay, so Redding hadn’t been exaggerating. Jonny Junior was an ass. Thumps could call back, pretend to be the sheriff or an FBI agent out of the Denver office, hint at the need to bring the man in for questioning, but he suspected that people such as Green didn’t bully that easily.

  There was an iPad on the desk next to the phone. Thumps raised the cover and the thing came to life. But instead of a browser icon he recognized, the screen had ten circles with numbers and a small message that asked him for a password. Thumps had no idea how many numbers were in Archie’s password. Three? Four? Five? And even if he knew, the possible combinations were probably endless.

  “My iPad?”

  Archie was in the doorway, a horrified look on his face, as though he had walked in on Thumps in bed with his wife.

  “You’re trying to break into my iPad?”

  “I can’t break in.” Thumps tried a few numbers. “The thing is password protected.”

  “Of course it’s password protected.” Archie rushed to the desk and grabbed the tablet. “That’s so people like you can’t break in.”

  “I need to get on the internet.”

  “First my phone and now my iPad.”

  “You wouldn’t let me use your phone.”

  “And I won’t let you use my iPad.”

  Thumps closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. “Don’t make me arrest you.”

  “Acting sheriffs don’t arrest people.” Archie sat on the edge of one of the beds, opened the iPad, and poked at the screen. “What do you need?”

  Thumps took another deep breath. “Sacramento Herald. Start with yesterday.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Redding called Jonathan Green several times. I need to know why.”

  “That makes it easy.” Archie ran his finger across the screen. “Okay . . . ‘Governor to Run for Re-election’?”

  “No.”

  “‘State Legislature Sets New Corporate Tax Rates’?”

  “No.”

  “‘Suspect Released’?”

  “Next.”

  “‘Body Found on Levee’?”

  “Wait.” Thumps went to the bed and sat down next to Archie. “That last story.”

  Archie tapped the screen and the full article appeared. “Brian English,” said Archie. “Hey, isn’t this the guy that Redding did the story on?”

  “The Kanji Killer.”

  “He’s been released. Says English is no longer a person of interest in the case.”

  “Why?”

  “Doesn’t say.”

  “Go to the story on the body.”

  The decomposed body of a young woman had been found on the banks of the Sacramento River under the Tower Bridge. According to the article, the body had been hidden under a piece of plywood.

  “No name?”

  “Nope,” said Archie. “Is that it?”

  “I need another favour.”

  “Again with the favours.”

  “I need you to find out how much Austin paid for Orion’s RAM technology.”

  Archie made a face. “He’s not going to tell me that.”

  “Millions?” asked Thumps. “Tens of millions?”

  “Easy.”

  “That’s the kind of money that doesn’t stay quiet. That’s the kind of money that gets in the wind fast.”

  “And you want me to find out which way the wind is blowing.”

  Thumps stood and walked to the door. “Let’s call it a weather report.”

  Archie pushed his glasses up his nose. “And here I thought you were a fine-art photographer.”

  “Not today.” Thumps paused at the doorway. “Today I’m acting sheriff.”

  Forty

  The casino at Buffalo Mountain was housed in a giant copper-coloured geodesic dome set on stone risers. In the bright sun, the casino glowed like a mound of gold. Thumps wasn’t much of a gambler, had better things to spend his money on than twinkling lights, spinning fruit, and dinging bells.

  Still, the inside of the building was impressive. There were no walls in the place, just an enormous open space with a ceiling that rose high above the floor in an arch like the prairie sky.

  A cave.

  That’s what the casino was supposed to resemble. A cave filled with money. As Thumps stepped through the first set of doors, he silently whispered the magic words from Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.

  Cisco Cruz was sitting at one end of a blackjack table with a small stack of chips in front of him.

  “Pancho! Qué pedo?” Cruz moved a bit to make room for Thumps. “I thought I might be seeing you again.”

  “Winning or losing?”

  “Not sure.” Cruz was showing seventeen. The dealer’s top card was a ten. “What do you think?”

  “What?”

  “Stay or hit.”

  “Thought you didn’t like gambling.”

  “That’s Mr. Austin.” Cruz motioned with his hand for another card. A four came out. The dealer’s hole card was a ten. “I’m just killing time.”

  Thumps did a quick visual tour of the floor. There were people wandering the rows of slots or sitting in front of the machines. Others were hovering over the gaming tables in the half-light of the casino.

  Cruz pushed a stack of chips into the betting circle. “You know why there aren’t any windows or clocks in a casino?”

  The dealer dealt the cards. Cruz got a face card and then he caught an ace.

  “Blackjack.” Cruz leaned back. “My lucky day.”

  “How long has Redding been working for Boomper Austin?”

  “Why don’t we walk and talk.” Cruz picked up his chips and slid off the chair. “Maybe we can find some more ducks.”

  THE SUN WAS exactly where Thumps had left it, but after the gloom of the casino, it seemed twice as bright. Even with his eyes closed, the mountain light was dazzling.

  “You know what I wanted to be when I was a kid?” Cruz headed up the path to the condos. “I wanted to be a jazz musician.”

  Thumps tried to remember what he wanted to be.

  “Chet Baker,” said Cruz. “I wanted to be Chet Baker.”

  Professional golfer. At one point in his life, Thumps thought he might be a professional golfer.

  “But the army didn’t have much use for a horn player.”

  “More about guns than horns.”

  “Wars aren’t won with music,” said Cruz.

  “Maybe that’s the problem with war.”

  There were three condo complexes at Buffalo Mountain. One complex was used for seasonal rentals: skiing in the winter, hiking in the summer. A second complex was a time-share, an inexpensive way to enjoy mountain life a week at a time. The third complex contained the high-end condos, condos with the largest square footage, the
best finishes, the more spectacular views.

  “You play an instrument, vato?”

  Thumps shook his head.

  “About ten years ago, I saw a cornet for sale, a used Besson Sovereign. Came with a case and a Bob Reeves mouthpiece. Before the trumpet took over in the 50s, all the great jazz horn players played cornet.” Cruz stopped and looked back at the casino. “So, I bought it.”

  “Where are we going with this?”

  “Don’t you want to hear about my cornet?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Just as well,” said Cruz. “I can’t play for shit.”

  “How long have you and Redding been lovers?”

  “That a question or a guess?”

  “Little of both.”

  “Any reason why I should tell you?”

  “I think you just did.” Thumps smiled. “Redding wasn’t here for the Sacramento Herald. She was fired from the paper. Only reason for her coming to Chinook was if the two of you were lovers or if she was working for Austin.”

  “Mr. Austin’s business is confidential.”

  “Or both.” Thumps walked to where the path swung out to the edge of the canyon. “You ever play ‘Hypothetical’?”

  Cruz was grinning. “As in, ‘Hypothetically speaking, was Redding working for Austin Inc.?’”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Okay,” said Cruz. “Let’s say she was. Hypothetically.”

  “Was?”

  “Let’s say that she is no longer working for Austin Inc.”

  “Because?”

  “Let’s say that she finished the job she had been hired to do.”

  Thumps thought about the possibilities for a moment. “The only thing Austin was interested in was Orion Technologies and their RAM system.”

  “Let’s say that when Jayme got fired from the paper, we hired her to do research on Orion.”

  “You mean spy on the company.”

  “Research, pendejo,” repeated Cruz. “Hypothetically.”

  “And Lester and Knight?”

  “Part of the company,” said Cruz. “Part of the job.”

  Thumps fit the new pieces into the puzzle. He still couldn’t see the full picture, but it felt as though he had the edges of the thing. “But then Austin purchased Orion’s technology. And after that you didn’t need Redding.”

  “Business,” said Cruz. “It’s not kind, and it’s not caring. It’s just business.”

  Thumps could almost see what had happened next. “But that wasn’t the end of it.”

  Cruz said nothing.

  “Redding had something to sell.”

  Cruz turned to the view. “I’ll bet it’s cold as hell in winter.”

  “An envelope.” Thumps was talking to himself now. “Lester and Knight. Their cellphones and laptops. Emails, phone records, photographs. But when she called me last night, she didn’t have the envelope.”

  Cruz waited.

  “She asked me to get another copy of the files and to meet her here today.”

  “She was supposed to meet me here this morning,” said Cruz. “But she never showed.”

  “Who else might want that envelope?”

  Cruz thought about it for a moment. “Oliver Parrish?”

  “Why?”

  “Company secrets that Orion might not want getting out.”

  “So why is Redding missing, and what happened to the envelope?”

  “Maybe she went back to Sacramento.”

  “Would she have left without telling you?”

  “No.” Cruz turned away from the view. “You know what happened to Baker?”

  “The musician?”

  “He fell out of a second-storey window at the Hotel Prins Hendrik in Amsterdam. May 13, 1988.”

  “A Friday?”

  “Yes,” said Cruz, “as a matter of fact, it was.”

  Thumps couldn’t see Cruz’s face clearly. The man was backlit against the light, more a silhouette.

  Cruz shook his head. “This doesn’t feel right.”

  “We’ll find her.”

  “They found Baker too.” Cruz’s voice was soft and melancholic. “But by the time they did, he was dead.”

  Forty-One

  Cruz went as far as the lobby. “Remember when I said that Jay wouldn’t have gone back to Sacramento without saying goodbye?”

  “You think she might be chasing a lead?”

  “Lester and Knight,” said Cruz. “Double murder makes for great press.”

  “You think there was something in those files?”

  “You’re the acting sheriff,” said Cruz. “I’m just hired muscle.”

  “You know I’m going to need to talk to Austin again.”

  Cruz considered the idea for a moment. “Did you bring any of your photographs?”

  “I did.”

  “Okay.” Cruz took his cellphone from his pocket. “Let’s go see Mr. Austin.”

  RANDALL BOOMPER AUSTIN was lounging on the balcony, enjoying the dying light. He didn’t get up when Cruz and Thumps came into the room.

  “Come and see this,” he shouted to them from his perch.

  The sun was already down, but the light was still ringing the tops of the mountains.

  “Don’t see that in Texas.”

  Thumps put the portfolio case on the coffee table. Boomper rose slowly and stepped back into the condo.

  “I’m going to buy this beauty,” said Boomper. “I can’t resist. I’ll probably regret it in a month or two. May never get back up here again. But that view is worth the impulse.”

  “Mr. DreadfulWater has a few questions.”

  “Didn’t we just have a conversation?”

  “We did,” said Thumps.

  “You know,” said Boomper, “for a photographer, you are one hell of a detective. I would not like to have you on my tail.”

  “I’m harmless.”

  Boomper threw his head back and laughed long and hard. “Son,” he said, “you are the most dangerous man I know. You’re after the truth, even though you know there’s no such thing.”

  “I’ll settle for getting close.”

  “Then fire away.” Boomper held out his arms. “Not sure I can help, but it could be fun trying.”

  Boomper opened a bottle of red wine. Thumps settled for water. Cruz waited by the door, his arms loose and ready in case Archie or an army of zombies tried to storm the room.

  “Tell me what you know.”

  Thumps took a moment to figure out where he wanted to start.

  “I know that Jayme used to work for you at Colorado Consolidated. I know that she didn’t come to Chinook to cover the water conference. I know she had been fired from the Herald about three weeks before. I believe that she’s been working for you, again, collecting information on Orion Technologies. I’m not sure why she was in Chinook.”

  “Couple of murders makes for some tasty headlines.”

  “Redding didn’t know about the murders until after she got here.”

  “Touché.” Boomper glanced at Cruz. “You’re correct. She was working for me.”

  Thumps stared at the floor. “But she had already finished that work.”

  Boomper closed his eyes for a moment. “A vacation perhaps. See the West. Maybe she saw a good story in Orion’s mapping technology.”

  “Don’t think so,” said Thumps. “Seeing as the technology doesn’t work.”

  Thumps felt Cruz stiffen behind him.

  “Are you saying that I’ve gone and bought a pig in a poke?”

  “Let’s try this.” Thumps checked to see that Cruz was still standing by the door. “Redding found evidence that RAM wasn’t what it claimed to be. She passed that information on to you.”

  Boomper went to the bar and poured himself another drink.

  “But instead of revealing the fraud, you bought it. How much did you pay?”

  “Afraid that’s corporate business.”

  Thumps pushed ahead. “Three million? Five
million? Couldn’t have been more than that. Just enough to make it look like a sale. Not enough to cause you any inconvenience.”

  “Four million and change,” said Boomper.

  “Nowhere near what the technology would be worth if it worked as advertised.” Thumps waited for Boomper to get settled on the sofa. “The point is that no one else knows that RAM doesn’t work. Lester and Knight are dead. Parrish may or may not know, but if he does know, he’s not going to talk. The only other person who knows is Redding, and she’s missing. You see where this is leading?”

  “Lot of smoke,” said Boomper. “Lot of smoke.”

  “You know what they say about smoke.”

  “Got to be fire close by,” said Boomper. “All right. RAM works. Just not as well as Mr. Lester and Dr. Knight advertised. But, as you say, I knew that before I got in bed with Orion. Figure I can take what they started and improve upon it. And even if I can’t, I can dangle RAM in front of my competitors.”

  “Threaten to make the technology public domain.”

  “Nothing quite that drastic,” said Boomper. “But yes, that’s the idea. Might even be able to get folks to buy shares in keeping the technology out of the industry.”

  “The electric car.”

  “Business, Mr. DreadfulWater.” Boomper raised his glass. “Business.”

  “So your defence is that you had no reason to harm Lester or Knight. Or Redding for that matter?”

  “None whatsoever.” Boomper’s voice lost its friendly edge. “I don’t know what happened to Lester and Knight, and I can’t see how Redding might be in harm’s way. Can you?”

  Thumps ran through what he knew one more time. “No.”

  Cruz cleared his throat. “She may have returned to Sacramento.”

  “Then we should check on that,” said Boomper. “Make sure the good Ms. Redding is safe.”

  The interview was over. Thumps could feel Austin begin to withdraw into himself.

  “As a token of my good will,” said Boomper, “Mr. Cruz will make himself available to you until we find Ms. Redding.” Boomper got up and strolled to the table where Thumps’s portfolio lay. “I’d like to look at these in good light. Do you mind leaving them with me?”