Death Without Company

by Craig Johnson

  He didn’t move. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His tongue flicked across his lips. “Walt, you’ve known me . . .”

  “No I don’t.” I leaned in on the back of my chair. “Did you kill Mari Baroja before you got Leo over here? You knew you could get him to kill Lana and Lucian, certainly Anna, but he didn’t kill them all, did he? And you didn’t do so well with Isaac.”

  I was tired, and I wanted it all over with, but there was so much more to tell. “Leo tried to save his grandmother; he was hurt and was going to run for it but you knew we were down on the old Nurburn place. You were the one that shot Wes Rogers, and then you sent Leo down there in the cruiser even though you knew we were waiting and either way, you figured this problem would solve itself.” I kept the .45 leveled between Joe’s eyes. “What were you going to do, Joe? Blame it all on Leo?”

  His voice was strained. “I want a lawyer.”

  Lucian exhaled, his arm still extended. “Best you can hope for is a priest, and that right soon.”

  “You can’t prove any of this.”

  I looked into Joe’s eyes, trying to see some common ground between us, but there was nothing there. I glanced back at his rumpled coat, hanging from Henry’s hand. “If I go over there and pull a .32 automatic from your coat pocket, and it makes a ballistic match with the gun that shot Wes Rogers, I can start proving a lot.”

  I reached into the pocket of my jacket and lay the Christmas ornament on the table, face up. I slowly pushed it toward Joe, where the visible part of the man’s face in the photograph matched the man in front of me. “Never mind all the others . . . he was your son, Joe. How could you do that to your child?”

  The old sheriff cocked the revolver.

  I could see the lanyard ring at the base of the pistol’s butt, the loop that used to attach Lucian’s old service revolver to his belt in the style of the cavalry riders so that they wouldn’t lose their sidearms while mounted. Like Lucian, this morning it was untethered, out there in the wind where bad things could and would happen. “Lucian, you know what it is Joe here was getting ready to tell you. Whether it was as a bartering chip or leverage, you can’t do what you were planning to do because you’re not alone in this anymore.” He blinked, and I could see the welling in his eyes as Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians took the Christmas train home amid four-part harmony.

  I saw his trigger finger tighten, and the legendary grip squeeze the wooden handle like a lifeline. The best I could hope for was to knock it away with my own gun, flip the table, or throw myself sideways into him. In the split second I was thinking this, Lucian swung the revolver around and emptied it with five thundering reports into the shuddering and now forever silent jukebox. He tossed the empty .38 back onto the table where it clattered and spun with its barrel pointed at an absolutely immobile Joe Lesky. Lucian’s voice was low and weak in the silence. “Jesus H. Christ . . . I always hated that damn thing.”

  EPILOGUE

  The sounds the piano made were soft and just a little melancholy, with a poetic lyricism that matched the surroundings. Henry was planted behind the bar; Bill McDermott was dancing with Lana Baroja; Saizarbitoria was dancing with his wife, Marie; and Cady was dancing with our newest Powder Junction deputy, Double Tough. Dog was curled up by the piano; he had already called it a night, the shaved portion of his middle and the bandages on his head and abdomen making him look like a stuffed animal.

  I made the musical bridge and cut in with an improvisational riff that paused the dancers but held my attention for a while longer. My fingers felt stiff, but I was loosening up. My eye patch was gone, and there was no serious damage to the cornea; my vision was a little blurred on the right, but Vic was to my left. I kept sneaking glances at her, still a little startled by her civilian clothes. She was wearing a short black dress and black cowboy boots with embroidered red roses and blue leaves. With the turquoise and silver chandelier earrings, it was western, with just a touch of gypsy insouciance thrown in for good measure.

  There was brief applause as I reached for my beer and nodded in acknowledgment toward the dance floor alongside the pool table. I shifted my weight and leaned against the wall, looking over at Henry and signaling the jukebox. I had only played a half dozen songs, but my fingers hurt, and I needed a little relief.

  Vic took a sip of her dirty martini and shrugged as the wind continued to batter the outside of the bar. Another storm had come in from the Arctic Circle and had dropped about eight inches of snow. The Ferg had volunteered for duty, but so far there hadn’t been any phone calls; it was the kind of holiday we liked, where the weather was so bad that the populace stayed in, including Ruby and Isaac, who had elected to stay home to avoid the amateurs who might have decided to drive.

  “How’s your leg?”

  “Still not up to dancing.”

  “Nobody asked.” She glanced over her shoulder at my daughter. “Cady flying out tomorrow?”

  “If the weather’s decent.”

  “Air Omar?”

  I nodded and took the opportunity to watch her for a moment, like I always did when she wasn’t aware. “You got two new deputies for Christmas.” She stayed turned to the dance floor, watching Saizarbitoria, and tipped the delicate stem of her glass for another sip. “He’s a dark horse, but he’s sharp and he works hard.”

  I took another sip of my beer. “The wife is nice.”

  “Whatever.”

  I smiled behind her back. “What about the hillbilly?”

  Her head pivoted a little as she watched Double Tough, who was still dancing with Cady. “He’s durable.”

  “That he is.”

  She turned back around. “All right, so Joe got his name from the priest in Casper. Where did Leo get his?”

  “Foster parents in Fremont County.”

  She nodded. “Joe brought Leo over for the job after he laid the groundwork by keeping Charlie Nurburn alive?”

  “Basically continuing Lucian’s efforts in hopes of getting a percentage for himself, but who knows? It looks like he was ready to kill half of Absaroka County to get what he thought he deserved.”

  “What about Anna Walks Over Ice?”

  “We found an unfinished letter at her house, in Crow.” I glanced toward Henry. “She outlined the whole situation; she had seen Joe add something to Mari Baroja’s Metamucil that night.” I took another sip of my beer. “I guess she just wasn’t sure enough, at the time, to accuse him, and then with Leo it was too late.”

  She stared at the piano and tentatively reached out for a key. “Very understanding of you.”

  I looked at my friend with the bandaged face; he was still mixing drinks behind the bar. “I didn’t have to kill him.”

  In the dim glow of the stained glass of the billiard’s light and the Rainier beer advertisements, my chief deputy looked like some courtly renaissance woman, the kind that would poison your wine. “It’s Tuesday night. He’s probably got the board out.”

  I waited for more, but there wasn’t any. She just sat there, with her finger resting beside the keys, her eyes far away. She had looked like this at the hospital the night she handed me Lucian’s love letters from Mari. She waited there for a moment, then got up and straightened her skirt in an action that seemed both symmetric and disquieting. “Where are you going?”

  She didn’t turn when she said it but downed the martini in one gulp. “Dancing.”

  As I watched her approach the stilled dancers to choose a victim, Lana came over and occupied the bench seat next to me. “I’m leaving.”

  “I seem to be having that effect on people.”

  She glanced back at the Yellowstone County coroner. “Bill says he’ll give me a ride back into town.”

  “You should take advantage.” She placed a hand on mine and ducked her head to catch my eye. She kept looking at me with those familiar dark eyes, so I diverted her thoughts. “What are you going to do with all your money?”

  She didn’t pause. “Hire some
one to work at the bakery.” She smiled the jaunty smile that always seemed to put the world off kilter. “What would you do if you had a million dollars?”

  “I don’t have a million dollars.”

  She tipped my hat back as she rose and planted a gentle kiss on my bared forehead. “You never know.” I watched with great unease as she turned to Bill, who assisted her in putting on her coat, the same purple, quilted teepee as before. “I left you something on the bar. Merry Christmas.” The teepee swirled out with the coroner, and they were gone through the glass door with a flurry of flakes blowing in to take their place.

  I drained the last of my beer and gingerly got up, keeping the weight off my left leg and trying to negotiate between the bench and the piano with the blurred vision of my right eye. I decided that the next time, I would make a concentrated effort to get wounded all on one side; it might make post-adventure life a little easier. I limped my way across the makeshift dance floor as Dog followed and threaded my way between Saizarbitoria and Marie and Double Tough and Vic, who ignored me as I passed.

  Henry and Cady were congregated at the bar when I finally got there. We all studied the white box, tied with twine and resting on the worn surface of the counter. Cady laid her forearms along the bar and rested her chin on them, eye to eye with the box, her butt stuck out and her ankles crossed. She was wearing those fancy jeans with the sequins outlining the pockets. “Whatever happened to Charlie Nurburn?”

  “Oh, like a bad penny, he’ll probably turn up.”

  The lawyer reached down to pet Dog, careful to avoid the patched-up parts. “What do you think happened to him?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows if the bones Leo found belonged to Charlie or not?”

  “You don’t seem overly concerned.”

  I glanced at her. “This case has had enough skeletons in the closet; I don’t think I need to go looking for any more.”

  Cady’s smile was brief. “What about Mari Baroja?”

  I waited a moment, and then said what I was trying to hold back. “She’s still dead.” They all looked at me. “Mari Baroja is dead, Anna Walks Over Ice is dead, Wes Rogers is dead, and Leo Gaskell is dead . . . All for nothing.”

  Henry wasn’t going to let it rest. “What does Lucian have to say in this?”

  “He doesn’t have anything to say in this, the law is the law and whatever DCI finds, they find. Whatever Charlie Nurburn was ended with Mari Baroja. She stopped him from hurting her children, and in a way she stopped him from hurting her children’s children. Wherever she is, she can take a certain amount of satisfaction in that.” Except for the jukebox, it was quiet in the bar. “I’m sorry. I’m tired, and I should take Dog and go home.”

  Cady protested. “Daddy, it’s not even midnight.”

  “I’m sorry, Sweet Pea. I’m just worn out.”

  She straightened the collar of my new Christmas corduroy shirt. “Who am I gonna kiss?”

  I glanced around the room at all the possibilities. “I bet you find somebody.”

  The Bear changed the subject, giving me an out. “We’re supposed to visit Wes’s family on Thursday?”

  “Yep.” I pulled on my heavy sheepskin coat from the adjacent bar stool and put on my hat.

  He stuck out his hand. “Happy New Year, Walt.” I took the hand, and he pulled me in for a hug, slapping me on the back with his other. “It has to be better than this one.”

  When I turned to Cady, she reached up and clasped her hands behind my neck. “What if I don’t let you go?” I slowly stood up straight and felt her feet leave the floor as she trailed up after me, a ritual we had practiced since she could stand, even though I didn’t lift her anywhere near as high as I used to. She frowned the frown that always got her what she wanted but let me go. “I’ll be home, but it might be late. I love you.”

  I scooped the small box off the bar and slowly made for the door, Dog in tow. I paused by the dancers and reminded Saizarbitoria that he was on duty tomorrow. He smiled, being the last man on the totem pole of Absaroka County Sheriff ’s Department had its disadvantages. I reminded Double Tough to come in on Thursday to get measured for a uniform, and he said he would.

  I started to step around Vic but, when I did, she turned and slipped my left hand into a reverse wristlock that suddenly brought my head down to her level. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The big, tarnished gold eyes blinked as she reached out and nibbled my lower lip, gently sliding into a long, slow vacuum.

  She kissed like she was pulling venom.

  Her hand glided down the back of my neck, the nails leaving scorched earth as they went. She pulled her face back, and I wasn’t sure if I could stand. She studied me for the effect, lessening the pressure on my left hand as I rose away from her, willing my injured leg to stop trembling. I stood there for a moment and didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. I remembered to breathe, and the moment passed when she turned to Double Tough, pulling him back to the center of the dance floor, her eyes away from me.

  It was dismal outside, with the wind blowing the snow in all directions. I closed my right eye, since it was still a little tender, and opened the door for Dog. I gently lifted him onto the new seat cover, a Christmas gift from Cady, and he traversed to the passenger side, sitting and looking out the windshield in anticipation. I crawled in after him and fired up the Bullet; the small bakery box sat between us.

  I adjusted the defroster on the truck to high, backed away from the Red Pony, and turned the wheel, slowly making my way from the border of the Rez toward the quiet of my little cabin.

  When we got inside, Dog stopped by the door and looked at me. I looked back at him, then unbuttoned my coat and stood in the middle of the room. “What?” He didn’t say anything back, just sat by the door and waited. “What? We’re not going anywhere, that’s it for the night.”

  Red Road Contracting had finished installing my wood-burning stove for Christmas and had left a card on the flat black surface that read, MERRY CHRISTMAS, NO CHARGE.

  Dog still waited by the door.

  I shrugged and walked toward the bedroom. I was trying to convince Dog of the strength of my convictions. It was Cady’s room for the moment, and the amount of clothing splayed across the floor gave little hope to our meeting Omar at the appointed time tomorrow morning.

  The little red light on the answering machine blinked 2 at me; I hit the button. “Hey good-lookin’, I was just hoping I’d catch you home alone, but I guess you’re out playing in the snow. I understand the Wyoming Attorney General has requested your appearance here in Cheyenne.” It was silent for a moment, long enough for me to see dash light reflecting golden curls and a ferocious and devouring set of blues. “I read about you in the papers again. I think I’ll start a scrap-book.”

  I stood there, punching my hat back on my head with a forefinger, and looked at the machine. “Anyway, it looks like I’m moving back to Virginia. Louis and I are going to give it another go.” Silence again. “Well, I hope you have a Happy New Year.” I looked at the machine, expecting there to be more, but there wasn’t. Those echoes were still reverberating through me, but I had made the smallest investment and had gotten the smallest return.

  The next message played for only a moment with a barely discernable sound. I bit my lip and punched the replay button. “Hey good-lookin’ . . .” I forwarded to the next message and listened more carefully, barely hearing the word. “Horseshit.”

  Dog was waiting for me when I opened the door and walked gingerly out to the truck. I helped him up, and he climbed over the little white box on the seat and happily sat on the other side of the cab. I ducked in out of the wind, straightened my hat as I started the truck again, and glanced at the smiling dog. “You don’t have to look so satisfied.”

  There wasn’t much parking at the Durant Home for Assisted Living, and it looked like there was a subdued celebration going on in the main lobby. I wasn’t really looking forward to running the gauntlet. The end doors were locked
this late at night, so I walked toward the small stand of pines outside Room 32.

  There was a light on, and the hide lampshade cast a warm glow. I stepped off the plowed parking lot and into the midshin depth of the snow, Dog staying in my tracks. As I got nearer, I could see more clearly.

  He was seated in his usual chair, his head resting a little forward with his hands on his knees, both real and artificial. The chess set lay before him on the folding table, white toward me as it always was, along with a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve, which was adorned with a green ribbon.

  The door opened smoothly with a barely perceptible sound. I shook my head and stepped in, allowing Dog to go over to the sofa as I closed the door behind me. I stood there for a moment to let the room still again. He must have been awfully tired, because he didn’t move, and the gentle whiffing of his snoring filled the room. I wondered how often he must have slept in the chair and figured it was more times than were good for him. I wondered if he was really asleep, if this was his way of welcoming me back. I wondered about the sad-eyed lieutenant and about how much Lucian knew about the baby who had been born perhaps not so prematurely to Mari Baroja, about the child that Charlie Nurburn had tried so hard to kill, and about the man who was fortunate enough to father a child of his own before a senseless war took from him all that he had left to give.

  I reached a hand out and once again began the Queen’s Indian Defense, Petrosian Variation, by advancing my pawn to F4 and moving his knight to F6; I approached chess the way I approached life, way over my head.

  I smiled and took a step back; when I looked up, I saw a different set of dark eyes. It wouldn’t have been surprising if they had risen from the old man in front of me, but they stared up from the sofa. Dog’s head was lying on top of a chief ’s blanket that covered her. Lana smiled and started to speak, but there wasn’t any need; she was holding the tattered letters that had been bound together with a thin ribbon, and they told the tale.