by Jeff Carson
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Right here, in front of that entrance. The casino and lounge is through there.”
Wolf parked and they got out. He stretched his back, studying the casino ahead. As he’d noted before on the drive in, it was brown stucco, accented with huge lodgepole pines framing the entrances and banks of glass windows reflecting the surrounding mountains.
“Here we are,” Cain said. “The Motherlode Casino.”
“After you,” he said.
Piper Cain could feel the sheriff’s eyes on her as she led the way through the parking lot toward the casino. The wind was relentless, whipping her hair into a frenzy behind her. It was going to take forever to get the knots out after the day’s events. Beneath their bandages, the scrapes on her cheeks were starting to itch fiercely, but she willed herself not to touch them.
She pulled out her phone and quickly looked at the screen. Still no messages or missed calls. She was assuming no news was good news, and she hoped she was right. Pretty soon she was going to have to wrap up this field day with Sheriff Wolf and get back to her father.
But not yet. The more time she could spend with these people—the sheriff being the most important of them all—the better.
The wind died down when they got to the automatic doors of the casino. In the glass reflection, she saw her hair swirling like smoke coming off a doused ember, so she quickly redid her ponytail. She could swear she saw Sheriff Wolf eyeing her backside as she bent to tie back her hair. When she straightened and looked at him, his attention was somewhere else completely.
She watched as he continued through the casino doors. She had to admit she didn’t mind watching that cute rear end of his, either.
Or maybe you’ve been seeing things and you need to get a grip.
She passed through the doors and into a jackpot bell to her senses. Smoke choked the air, invading her lungs. Bells, whistles, screeches, whines, cartoon barking, and all manner of digital sounds, both from this planet and fictional ones, flooded her ears. People of all shapes, colors, and sizes sat on stools, feeding their money into the machines in front of them.
It was so disorienting she had to slow down to find Wolf. It didn’t take much, he was a good head taller than anybody else in the place, except for a security pit boss who was standing next to him now, pointing in the direction of the lounge.
She followed him into a sunken area filled with cocktail tables doubling as electronic poker money ingesting machines. Only a few of the tables were occupied. Two middle-aged men stared at her, smirking and talking to one another. She felt her facial skin flushing under the bandages. She got the overwhelming urge to go to them and give them a closer look, maybe a smack upside the skull, but she ignored them instead.
When a cocktail waitress wearing high heels and short shorts walked by, Wolf stopped her and spoke into her ear.
"What was that, honey?" she asked.
"Does Mary Ellen Dimitri work here?”
The woman’s face soured. “Well, she should be working here. In fact, she should be working right under this tray, but I'm covering for her ass because she never showed up tonight."
Wolf's head swiveled. "Can you please point me to her boss?”
The woman tipped her chin toward the corner of the lounge, where a neon pink flamingo glowed on the wall above a bar. “See that guy with the blue shirt on? That's Jed. He's our boss.” She looked at Piper and then back to Wolf, something clicking in her brain. “What are you two doing in here, anyway, asking about Mary Ellen?”
Wolf said nothing. "Thank you, ma'am. We're going to go talk to your boss now."
"Wait a minute. What happened to Mary Ellen? Is something wrong? Is that why she’s not answering her phone?"
A drink slid off of the tray, crashed to the floor, and then five more drinks followed, splashing all three of them in the legs with liquid and shattered glass.
Piper backed up, feeling the liquid seep through to her shins and into her socks and shoes. She watched in mute fascination as Wolf, even more soaked than she was, act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He simply bent over, put the tray on the ground, and began putting the glasses back on top. Then he plucked the sharp shards of glass off the carpet, putting them on top of the tray. Before she realized she was standing there like a doofus doing nothing, it was all over.
The woman picked up the tray in both hands, holding it to her belly.
Wolf nodded toward the bar. "Back there, you said?"
She nodded, saying nothing.
"Thank you, ma'am."
Wolf led the way again, Piper following closely. The way he dove into action like that, and pretty much every other Wolf interaction she’d seen today, suggested this man was thoughtful and kind.
So how did her resume get overlooked without a single word? It must have been a disconnect somewhere in the department that Wolf was unaware of. He would have mentioned something by now if he’d remembered her. But that woman, the receptionist and dispatcher named Tammy, had told her the sheriff would get back to her personally. That she’d personally delivered her resume to his desk.
Maybe she was lying. Maybe he was lying.
Whatever was happening, it all started from the top and trickled down. She’d seen men acting like perfect gentleman until the going got tough, and it was tough to straight up tell somebody they didn’t get the job, or that they were fired. She suspected Sheriff David Wolf had somebody who did his dirty work for him. Maybe Tammy was tasked to do his dirty work but she was too scared to go through with it. Two cowards ducking and jumping over responsibility, passing it back and forth, like a shitty game of dodge ball.
Wolf arrived at the bar and leaned on an elbow. “Are you okay?” he asked her.
“What? Good. I’m fine.”
He studied her for a second, then turned to the passing bartender. “Excuse me, sir?”
The bartender, a skin and bones man with thinning hair, avoided eye contact as he picked up a soda gun and filled a glass with dark liquid. "Yes, sir. What can I help you with?"
"I’m Sheriff Wolf, this is Deputy Cain. We'd like to speak to you in private, please, about one of your employees.”
"I’m a little busy right now. It’s the rush."
The man re-holstered the soda gun and walk to the far end of the bar, placing the soda on a tray and then filling a beer in one fluid motion. With expert precision, he angled the glass, filled it with urine-yellow liquid topped with no head and placed it on the tray, spilling some in the process. He picked up a piece of paper, read it impatiently, and dove into a stack of cocktail glasses, filled them with ice and poured two cocktails.
She eyed Wolf, wondering what his play would be. The sheriff seemed unfazed. Had he moved since they'd gotten there? His eyes tracked the bartender.
"The rush," she said.
Wolf said nothing.
The bartender walked past, not looking at them. He filled up another soda. "Look, I'm one server short today. What's going on?"
“That’s who we’re here to talk about. Mary Ellen Dimitri.”
The bartender’s eyes flicked to Wolf’s, then narrowed. “What about her?”
"When did she last work?”
"I'd have to check the schedule." The man gathered some tiny pizzas out of a toaster oven and put them on a plate. Piper’s mouth watered at the sight and smell of the casino lounge fare, which meant she was beyond hungry. It had been so long since she’d eaten.
The waitress from before appeared behind the counter in front of Wolf and Piper. She slid the broken glass into the trashcan.
"What the hell happened?" the bartender asked.
"I dropped the tray."
"Shit. You’re killing me, Janine!”
"Something's wrong with Mary Ellen!” Janine shouted.
The bartender turned around, looking at them as if noticing them for the first time. "What’s wrong with her?”
“I think something happened,” Janine said.
"Ask them," Janine said with a quivering voice. “Can’t be nothing good. She didn’t show up tonight. She’s not answering her phone or texts. She always shows up, Jed. You know that.” She looked at Wolf and Piper. “Tell us.”
The bartender came over, lowering his rag onto the bar counter. “Okay, you have my attention.”
Wolf looked sideways at a man sitting belly-up to the bar. He was staring at them, a forkful of food hovering over his plate.
They walked down the bar the opposite direction. “I’m afraid we have bad news. We found Mary Ellen dead in her home this afternoon.”
“Oh my God,” Janine said. “I knew something was wrong. I knew it. I knew…” She stopped talking and began crying.
The bartender put an arm around her and glared at Wolf. "Why didn't you say that in the first place?"
Wolf straightened, then turn towards Piper and leaned his other elbow on the bar. His knee brushed her leg and she held it there, letting him move first, which he did, but only after a few moments. For the first time, Wolf's non-descript masculine scent cut through the smoke and food. Probably a budget shampoo or bar soap from Walmart mixed with a generic fabric softener and a splash of aftershave. Whatever it was she decided it smelled okay on him.
The bartender waved them further down to the end of the bar and then met them at an opening. "Okay, what the hell is going on? What happened?"
"Sorry we can’t discuss any of the details just yet, not while we’re investigating.”
“Investigating? What does that mean? Was she…murdered or something?” he whispered the last part of the sentence.
Wolf said nothing for a while, then nodded. “It looks that way, yes.”
Janine made a face that would have made a D-list horror actor proud. “Who killed her? Was it Rick?”
“Are you talking about Rick Hammes?” Wolf asked.
“Yes.”
“Why would you ask that?”
She started shaking her head. “I told her what she was doing was stupid. She was screwing him on the side. Shit. Chris was killed, too.”
“We really need to know when Mary Ellen was working last," Wolf said.
The bartender nodded and pulled a clipboard off a hook on the back wall. He flipped up a sheet of paper and tapped his finger. "Says here she was first cut yesterday."
“First cut?” Wolf asked.
“Yeah. The first of the waitresses to get to go home.”
"And what time was that?”
“It’s usually seven.”
“Usually?”
“I wasn’t here. Janine, what time was first cut last night?”
“Yeah. It was like, seven,” Janine said.
"You’re sure?”
“Yes. Seven. It was seven. Monday night. It’s always seven, unless its football season. It was seven.”
Wolf nodded. “I’m sorry to give you guys this news. I know it’s hard.”
Piper cleared her throat. “Why were you asking about Rick, Janine?”
Janine looked over at Piper as if she’d just materialized. “Like I said, she was hooking up with him. We’ve all heard about Chris’s death up at the mine. Shit, Mary Ellen was crying about it last night at work. That’s why we let her go at first cut. I was just…I’ve been thinking maybe Chris’s death had something to do with Rick. I mean, Rick’s a real scary guy. I was telling her she was playing with fire with him. She’s always hooking up with the wrong guy.” She put a hand over her mouth and started crying again.
Piper's phone vibrated repeatedly in her pocket, like she was getting a call, but she ignored it. This was not the time. Damn it. She needed to get back to her father. She’d already pressed her luck by at least three hours by her count.
She reached down into her pocket and pressed the call end button.
Almost immediately the phone vibrated again, and then another time. Another call.
She turned, slipping it discreetly out of her jeans and saw it was Jerry Slavens, her father’s neighbor. Again she pressed the call end button and pocketed her phone.
“… but they went to The Picker all the time. I think she went there after work. You’d have to check with them…” Janine was really talking now.
The phone vibrated three times fast, indicating a voicemail. She pulled out her phone and read the transcribed message, and her heart almost exploded, it began beating so fast. “Shit.”
"What is it?" Wolf asked.
“I…I have to…” she shook her head. “I have to go, sir. I have to go right now.”
Chapter 14
Wolf watched Deputy Cain’s fingers dig into her thighs, her blunt nails pushing into the denim fabric of her jeans. She gripped her phone with white knuckles in her other hand.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Wolf asked.
"You could maybe drive a little faster."
Wolf hit the lights and siren and pushed the accelerator.
“Where am I going?”
“Back to my Jeep,” she said.
“No, I’ll just take you straight where you need to go. Forget the Jeep.”
“No!”
He turned to her.
“No. It’s…look it’s not that big a deal. But I need to have my own car and deal with this on my own.” She forced a smile. “Really. Thanks, though.”
They sat in silence, listening to the roaring engine. It wasn’t long before he had to jam the brakes, though. What little traffic there was on the Main Street of downtown Dredge was pedestrian.
“Just hang a right here and go the back roads the last couple blocks.”
Wolf followed her orders, a minute later coming up on her Jeep, still parked on the side of Mary Ellen Dimitri’s house. He pulled up to her driver’s door and stopped.
She was out of his vehicle before he’d come to a complete halt, and then into her Jeep in a flash. She started up, cranked the wheel, and spit dirt as she accelerated around him and back the way they’d come.
Two deputies sitting inside a cruiser parked along the street stared out the windows in muted awe.
Wolf gave a thumbs up, sitting with the engine idling. What could possibly have spooked her so bad? It had to be something to do with her father.
He slammed the accelerator, fishtailing a one-eighty degree turn and following the stream of dust.
He followed down Main, speeding back through town, past the casino, and out a dirt county road that shot left up the eastern side of the valley floor. The engine howled as he passed a row of cows munching grass along a barbed wire fence. When he reached a dirt straightaway he pressed the accelerator harder, the vibration of the cab humming.
The sun had dropped behind the mountains in his rearview and the dust trail clung low to the ground over the road. He sneezed and coughed, feeling like he’d inhaled pepper, as the dust billowed through his vents. He hung back a bit, confident he wouldn’t lose her now that he’d caught her trail.
Five minutes later the road broke into a wall of trees, the light dipping even more.
A short while later the trees opened up and he passed a sprawling yard that stretched up to a modern house surrounded by a white wraparound porch. His headlights illuminated the dust trail leading straight ahead, so he followed. A bend came up quick and he let off the gas.
Halfway through the turn he jammed the brakes and slid to a stop. Ahead, Deputy Cain’s vehicle was stopped and angled at forty-five degrees, her headlights illuminating a form shrouded in dust in the middle of the road.
Wolf stepped out into the choking air and shut his door.
"Who's that?" a male’s voice came from the center of the road.
Deputy Cain stood at the edge of her headlight stream, ignoring Wolf’s arrival as she approached the man with both hands up, palms facing him.
“He’s a friend,” she said. “Dad, please. Put down the gun.”
The dust rolled into the trees, revealing her father, naked save a pair of white briefs and sand
als. He was tall and gaunt, ghostly white in the blazing lights, and he was holding a shotgun.
Wolf put his hand on his own gun, but saw Deputy Cain shaking her head, her eyes wide and pleading for him to stand back.
Wolf put his own hands up, showing her. But when he looked back at her father, his heart lurched, because the double-barrel was pointed straight at him.
“I said who’s that?”
“Dad, that's my boss. That's the sheriff."
Her father lowered the gun and put a hand up over his eyes to peer at him. “I can’t see him.”
A house stood on Wolf’s left, tucked inside the trees. Two elderly people were peering out the window, ducking low.
"Forget him. Listen, Dad, what are you doing? Why do you have a shotgun?"
Her father seemed preoccupied with something on the ground now.
Wolf stepped quietly to the side, coming up on Cain’s nine o’clock and into the edge of the headlight cone.
Her father pointed his shotgun at the dirt, tucking the stock into his armpit. Wolf tensed, every fiber in his being wanting to pull his Glock and start yelling, but her father aimed toward the other side of the road. Anything ricocheting would have hit the trees opposite the elderly couples’ house. Wolf opted to stay silent, giving the situation to Cain.
The silence seemed to intensify before the expected blast, but it never came. Instead, her father lowered the gun and looked up at his daughter like he’d just awakened from a deep sleep.
"Honey, what are you doing here?"
Cain's chest heaved as she clenched her mouth shut, then took a breath. "Dad, please come here."
Her father's face slowly turned to Wolf. The shotgun, still aimed at the ground, followed. "Ah, Jonathan," he said, "You're looking dapper tonight. Come. Come on in, boy."
That was different.
"You're looking very nice.” He held the shotgun in the crook of his arm. "Tell me. Where are you taking my daughter tonight?”
Wolf cleared his throat. “Um…I'm..."
“Speak up, boy. You gotta have confidence. Didn’t your father ever teach you that?”
