Cold Skies

by Thomas King

  “What about crime-scene photos,” said Thumps. “Did he see any of them?”

  “Is this where you shout eureka and solve the case?”

  “Eureka.”

  “Shit,” said Duke. “Go home. I’ve got real police work to do.”

  “Stick come up with anything?”

  Duke let out a long, irritated breath. “Dead end. All we know is that Knight sent the photo, and that the photo isn’t on her phone.”

  “So it was erased,” said Thumps. “And she didn’t take it.”

  “How the hell you know that?”

  “Look at the remaining photos on Knight’s phone. All badly framed, some out of focus, every one taken by someone who hasn’t a clue about photography.”

  “Everybody’s a critic,” said Duke.

  “Ms. Point and Shoot,” said Thumps. “That was our Dr. Knight.”

  Duke closed his eyes and put his fingers to his temples.

  “Then look at the photograph of Amanda Douglas,” said Thumps. “Well framed, in focus, well lit. Taken by someone who knows something about taking a good picture.”

  “You think you know who killed Redding?”

  “Along with Lester and Knight,” said Thumps. “One killer, three victims.”

  “And you can prove any of this?” said Duke.

  Thumps pinched his nose. “I think I know why.”

  Duke heaved himself out of the chair and poured a cup of coffee. It came out of the pot like soft tar. “When your thinking gets to proving, you let me know.”

  “What’s wrong with educated guesses?”

  “They’re still guesses,” said the sheriff. “Have some coffee. You’ll feel better.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  Duke banged the percolator on the table. “Have some anyway.”

  Fifty

  Thumps had left the Volvo parked in front of the old Land Titles building. There had been no sense in moving it the two and a half blocks to the sheriff’s office. A light mist was hovering around the street lights, a rare thing in this part of the country, and for a moment, Thumps found himself back on the North Coast on that lonely stretch of beach where Anna and Callie had been found. There had been a mist that night as well, heavier, denser. He had always thought of coastal fog as gentle and comforting, a soft, peaceful grey.

  Not anymore.

  Not after that night. Not after all the nights that had followed.

  “Pancho.” Cisco Cruz was sitting on the hood of the Volvo. “I took you for an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of hombre.”

  Thumps stood there, wanting to say something soothing, something with healing powers. But he knew there was nothing language could offer.

  “So you know.” Cruz looked off into the night. “She told me when I picked her up at that doughnut shop.”

  “How far along?”

  “About two months. She found out a couple of weeks back.” Cruz pushed off the hood. “It wasn’t the clothes, and it wasn’t the ring. It wasn’t even the dry bath mat,” said Cruz. “It was the wineglass. The minute I saw that, I knew she had been murdered.”

  “The wineglass?”

  “A year ago, she did a three-part story on alcohol and birth defects and fetal alcohol spectrum disorder.” Cruz wiped at his eyes. “No way was she drinking.”

  “She didn’t come for the conference. She came to be with you.”

  Cruz smiled. “And then Lester and Knight were killed.”

  “And Redding smelled a story.”

  “No stopping that woman when she was chasing a story.”

  “So, she wasn’t working for Austin.”

  “Partly true,” said Cruz. “She did do some background work on Orion and on Lester and Knight. Particularly the imaging technology. Mr. Austin doesn’t like to go into a deal blind.”

  “You know why she took the envelope?”

  “She felt bad about that,” said Cruz.

  “It was a fishing expedition, wasn’t it?” Thumps took a moment to look at the matter from different angles. “Offer to sell the information and see which fish took the bait.”

  “Except there was nothing there that would have got her killed,” said Cruz. “She showed me the files. The emails, the data from the monitoring wells, the photographs. We spent most of a day reading that crap. Knight whining. Lester huffing and puffing. Did Jayme tell you Knight was one paranoid and secretive lady?”

  “Said Lester was pretty paranoid himself.”

  “Knight loved to spy on everyone,” said Cruz. “Personal emails, phone logs. Orion had video cameras all over the place, and Knight’s idea of an evening out was to watch the security footage. A real piece of work. Knight appears to have had the hots for someone, but nothing to suggest that it was Lester.”

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  “First, I’m going to find who killed Jayme and our baby,” said Cruz. “You going back to Buffalo Mountain?”

  “I am.”

  “Your lady friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I catch a ride? Most of my stuff is still there.”

  “Sure.”

  Cruz looked at the Volvo. “Can I drive?”

  The road from Chinook up to Buffalo Mountain was dark and empty. If there was a moon, it was buried in cloud cover. Thumps couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “Where I come from,” said Cruz, “you could always see the stars. Bright heavens. Cold sky.”

  “Southwest?”

  “Pie Town, New Mexico,” said Cruz. “West-central New Mexico. Population, nothing. Get a lot of cyclists through during the fall, and there are a couple of Indian ruins. Anasazi stuff. Pottery shards, axe heads.”

  “They make pies in Pie Town?”

  “They do,” said Cruz. “Mira. CBS News did a story on the place in 2015.”

  “Sounds peaceful.”

  “It is.” Cruz leaned on the wheel. “I’ll probably go to San Francisco. Rich people always need brazos like me.”

  “What about Los Angeles? Place is lousy with movie stars.”

  “Don’t like L.A.,” said Cruz. “Place is bullshit and silicone. Seattle would be okay. Rainy, cold. Jayme liked Seattle.”

  “Austin fire you because of Redding?”

  “Didn’t need a reason,” said Cruz. “Man does what he wants.”

  “Your parents still alive?”

  “No.”

  “Brothers or sisters?”

  “No.”

  “Just a mercenary travelling the world.”

  “Have gun, will travel,” said Cruz. “You always this nosy, vato?”

  THE PARKING LOT was deserted, and Cruz was able to park the car near the front door to the resort.

  “Look after your lady friend.”

  “I will,” said Thumps. “How do I reach you?”

  “I’ll find you,” said Cruz. “I’m good at finding people.”

  Thumps was already at the elevators when he remembered the bag. It was in the car. He thought about retrieving it, but that could wait. It was Claire who needed his attention. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button. Of course, there was always the chance that Claire had been unsuccessful at removing Stick and the boy was still encamped. Stanley could be tenacious when it came to comfort and attention. Thumps had heard of yearling male bear cubs who would follow their mothers around long after the sows had sent their sons packing.

  Then again, Claire wasn’t a mother bear. She was much tougher than that.

  Thumps fished the key card out of his pocket, slid it into the slot in the door, and watched the light turn green. If Stick was still in the condo, Thumps might have to take him aside for a stern lecture on adults and relationships.

  The place was dark, but Thumps could see Claire sitting on the sofa in the shadows. He had anticipated the depression that would come with the cancer. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

  “Hey, Claire.”

  There was n
o response, and as he moved closer, he could see that her eyes were closed, as though she had fallen asleep in a sitting position.

  “Don’t worry. She’s not dead.”

  Thumps spun around to the sound.

  “Easy. Very easy.”

  Oliver Parrish was sitting in a chair in the far corner in the shadows. He had a small gun resting on his lap.

  “Sit down, Mr. DreadfulWater,” he said, gesturing with the pistol. “There, where I can see you.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you know what’s going on.” Parrish had gone back to the austere wire-rim glasses. They made his eyes seem small and sharp. “I slipped up, didn’t I?”

  Thumps tried to see if Claire was breathing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “When I mentioned that the Orion file was on the coffee table.” Parrish took a breath and let it out. “Stupid. How would I know it was on the coffee table unless I had put it there?”

  “You’re the Kanji Killer.”

  “Very good,” said Parrish.

  “Redding figured it out.”

  “No,” said Parrish. “Actually, she hadn’t. She would have, but she hadn’t made the connection yet.”

  “And Lester and Knight?”

  “Why don’t you tell me.”

  “I’d only be guessing.”

  Parrish smiled. “I love guessing.”

  Thumps could feel all the pieces falling into place, like a well-shuffled deck of cards.

  “The photograph of Amanda Douglas,” said Thumps. “You took it.”

  “Bravo,” said Parrish. “A needless bit of egotism.”

  “Knight found the photo somehow.”

  “A mistake on my part. Stupid, really. Left my phone on the nightstand, and she found the photo. She thought Ms. Douglas was a love interest.”

  “You and Knight?”

  “Another mistake,” said Parrish. “You know what they say about office romances. There was some yelling and some hurt feelings. Woman could be jealous and quite possessive.”

  “Why send the photo to Lester?”

  “Margo was determined to find out who the woman was. I think she was hoping that Lester might know.”

  Thumps looked back at Claire. “You drugged her.”

  “I need to know what the police know,” said Parrish.

  “The sheriff will figure it out.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Parrish. “After I discovered that Knight had seen the photo, I changed the memory card on my phone. No one will ever be able to find a trace of Amanda Douglas or any of the others in my electronic footprint.”

  “How many?”

  “Do you really care?”

  Thumps knew it was a matter of buying time. The more time he could buy, the more chance he had of figuring a way out of this mess.

  “So, how did I do it?” said Parrish. “I wasn’t even in town when they died. Impress me with your deductive powers.”

  “You were in town, all right,” said Thumps. “I’m guessing you bought a car. Off the internet? Something cheap? Picked it up when you flew into Great Falls. Comfort Inn isn’t your style, but it’s on the highway out of town, and inexpensive motels don’t pay that much attention to their guests, and they don’t have the same surveillance as the more expensive places.”

  Parrish tilted his head. “I am impressed.”

  “But I don’t know how you got Lester and Knight out to the monitoring well.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Parrish. “Well, let’s say I called Lester and told him that I was coming in on an evening flight and that he and Knight should pick me up at the airport.”

  “You had good news for them,” said Thumps. “The Austin deal?”

  “A counter offer,” said Parrish. “Ten million over what Austin had put on the table.”

  “A celebration.”

  “Champagne under the stars. Profits on the prairies.”

  “But the champagne was drugged.” Thumps stiffened. “And you shot Knight where she lay, put Lester into his Jeep, drove him back to the airport, shot him in the head, and tried to make it look like it was suicide.”

  “Just bad luck the idiot had a heart condition and died before I shot him.”

  “And then you got into the car you bought and drove back to Great Falls.”

  “Do you know how easy it is to buy a car on the internet?”

  Thumps looked at the gun in Parrish’s hand. “And that’s Knight’s gun.”

  “Well,” said Parrish, “the sheriff did take mine.”

  “So, now what?”

  “No, no,” said Parrish. “We’re not done guessing.”

  “Redding?”

  “Exactly.”

  Suddenly, Thumps could see what had happened. “You bought the file.”

  Parrish was smiling, pleased with himself. “Yes, I did. The same day she took it from you, I suspect.”

  “That’s why she didn’t have it when she called me.” Thumps waited. “But then she found out about the new victim and called Jonathan Green at the Herald. When she saw the photograph, she recognized the woman.”

  “She called me, said she suspected that Lester was the Kanji Killer, said she wanted to see the file she had sold me.” Parrish waved the gun in a circle. “I told her I had already sent it to main office and didn’t have it anymore.”

  “So she called me.”

  “Evidently.”

  “She didn’t know that the photo had come from your phone.”

  “I will allow that luck did turn in my favour.”

  “How did you get into her room?”

  “That was easy,” said Parrish. “Redding was a reporter, so I told her there were some things she might want to know about Lester.”

  “And you drugged the wine.”

  “Fruit juice,” said Parrish. “I was ready to drug the wine, but Ms. Redding wanted fruit juice.” Parrish turned toward Claire on the sofa. “Much like your Ms. Merchant.”

  “She was pregnant.”

  “Redding?” Parrish seemed surprised. “Now that is unfortunate.”

  Claire began to stir, trying to climb her way back to consciousness.

  “Excellent,” said Parrish. “It’s time for me to make my exit. Would you help Ms. Merchant to her feet?”

  “If I don’t?”

  “I can shoot you here,” said Parrish. “The gun is not quiet by any means, but you’d be amazed how quickly the sound of a gunshot vanishes and how little attention it generates.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The parking lot,” said Parrish. “Let’s start there.”

  Fifty-One

  The drug was beginning to wear off, but Claire was still groggy and barely able to walk. Thumps supported her as best he could as Parrish forced them down the stairs. At each landing, Thumps had to stop and reposition his arm around Claire’s waist. When they got to the ground floor, Parrish motioned for Thumps to stop.

  “We’ll take your car, Mr. DreadfulWater,” he said.

  Thumps half turned. Parrish had the gun pointed at his chest. “What’s wrong with your car?”

  “Late-model rental,” said Parrish. “You drive a beat-to-shit Volvo. My car has GPS and an anti-theft tracking system. Yours does not.”

  The exit door on the ground floor had a crash bar. Thumps looked for wires or a junction box.

  Parrish read Thumps’s mind. “The door’s not alarmed.”

  “Why should I help you?” said Thumps. “You’re just going to kill us.”

  “Killing you isn’t the smart play,” said Parrish. “Even if the sheriff hasn’t put all the pieces together, he doesn’t strike me as a stupid man. Your bodies would only confirm what he might already suspect. Better to keep him chasing his tail for as long as possible.”

  Thumps had expected a well-lit parking lot of sodium-vapour lights that would make it difficult for Parrish to get to the car without being seen. But the lot was dark and cold, all the l
ights turned off.

  Archie. National Dark Skies Week. One of these days, the little Greek was going to get him killed. Thumps leaned against the side of the building with Claire in his arms. She was moving in and out of consciousness.

  “Where’s your car?” said Parrish.

  “By the front entrance.”

  Parrish made a face. “Not exactly private.”

  “I didn’t know you were going to kidnap us.”

  “Irony,” said Parrish. “It’s overrated.”

  The Volvo was about fifty yards away. There was a large van between it and the entrance to the resort, blocking the sightline of anyone who happened to step outside for a breath of mountain air or a smoke. And on the other side of the parking lot, a shelter of dark trees. Close enough to see. Too far to reach.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen.” Parrish nudged Thumps with the barrel of the pistol. “We’re going to walk to the car, no silly moves, no calling out for help. You’re going to put Ms. Merchant in the back seat. Then I’m going to get in the passenger side and you’re going to drive.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a good idea,” said Thumps.

  “You have a better one?”

  “There’s probably nothing to link you to the murders in Sacramento,” said Thumps. “Not much to link you to Lester and Knight. Or to Redding for that matter. Without the photograph of Amanda Douglas and a way of demonstrating that you took it, everything else is vaguely circumstantial.”

  “Yes,” said Parrish, “but you know the truth.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Thumps. “My word against yours. Disgruntled, washed-up cop. Couldn’t solve his own serial-killer case. Looking for a scapegoat.”

  “And Ms. Merchant?”

  “Rohypnol?” Thumps waited to see if he was right. “She won’t remember a thing.”

  “Bravo,” said Parrish. “Now let’s get in the car.”

  The interior of the car was dark and cold. Thumps slid behind the wheel and slipped the key into the ignition.

  “Walking away is the smart move,” said Thumps. “I’ll even give you a head start.”

  “And then you’ll release the hounds?”

  “Even if they catch you, you’ll walk,” said Thumps. “In the end, you’ll walk.”

  “Start the car.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Thumps saw something hanging from the rear-view mirror. A round silver pendant on a piece of rawhide that hadn’t been there when he had parked the car.