In the Ground (David Wolf Book 14)

by Jeff Carson

  Two men stood outside smoking cigarettes near the front entrance, eyeing Wolf as he walked up. They offered no greeting, and Wolf offered none in return.

  He walked into a miasma of beer and bar food. A group of hairy, burly-looking men were playing pool while a jukebox behind them pumped out a Journey song.

  All eyes went to him in his non-uniform—a buttoned-up flannel tucked into jeans, a Carhartt jacket over it, but with his badge prominently displayed on his belt next to his holster. He might as well have been wearing spurs. Everyone straightened, elbowed each other, whispered, improved their behavior by a notch or two.

  He stood eyeing the bar, spotting Casey Lizotte filling a couple of beer steins behind it.

  Wolf walked up and stood at an open spot along the counter, watching Lizotte work his trade. If the man had seemed out of place up at the mine last time Wolf had seen him, Lizotte was in his element here. Working like he had four arms, he slapped glasses under taps, wiping the bar top, returning to the liquid and tilting the mug just so before sliding it in front of a waiting patron and starting another order.

  Lizotte nodded at Wolf between making drinks and held up a finger.

  Wolf nodded back, taking in the scene while he waited. As far as hole in the wall bar and grills went, The Picker was cleaner than most. Standard décor for this half of the state hung on the walls—rusty mining tools and black and white photos of bearded men holding mining implements.

  “Sheriff?”

  Wolf turned around to find Lizotte leaning toward him. “I need to talk to you.”

  “It’s kind of busy.”

  “I can see that. It won’t take very long.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, until Lizotte blinked first. “Spritz!”

  A man materialized from the restaurant, looking like any other patron, until he acknowledged Lizotte.

  “Sup?” Spritz put an order down on the counter, eyeing Wolf.

  “Can you cover for me?”

  “You’re Spritz?” Wolf asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’d like to talk to you, too.”

  Spritz looked like it was less than okay, but he nodded, his dreadlocked ponytail bobbing behind him. “Now?”

  “Can you get somebody to cover for you two?” Wolf asked. “It’ll just be a few minutes.”

  “Both of us?” Lizotte looked skeptical, then relented. “Maybe…Johnny!”

  One of the patrons in the lounge area set down his pool stick and came over. “What?”

  “Can you cover the bar for a couple minutes?”

  “It’s my night off,” Johnny said.

  Lizotte rolled his eyes and gestured to Wolf. “Kind of not my choice.”

  Johnny pointedly ignored Wolf. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just giving you grief. I’ll cover.” Johnny went behind the bar and started chatting up a patron.

  “Okay.” Lizotte put a bleached rag on the counter and pointed toward the front door. “Out there’s probably best. Unless you want to sit at a table.”

  A guitar solo was wailing out of the speakers. “Outside sounds good.”

  Lizotte led them out the door and lit a cigarette.

  “Can I get one of those?” Spritz asked.

  Lizotte looked annoyed but handed one over. “You want one?” he asked Wolf.

  “No thanks.”

  They walked around the side of the building to the edge of the parking lot. Two worn out card-table chairs had been set up next to a side door. A coffee can overflowing with cigarette butts sat on the ground.

  "Right here’s good,” Lizotte said.

  “Thanks for taking some time away,” Wolf said, zipping his jacket high to his chin.

  Lizotte and Spritz both wore short sleeves, looking oblivious to the chill drizzle and plummeting temperature as night set in.

  "I'm sure you've heard about what happened to Chris Oakley up at the mine,” Wolf said, pointing his words toward Spritz.

  Spritz nodded.

  “And Mary Ellen Dimitri,” Wolf said.

  “And Rick Hammes," Lizotte said.

  “All sorts of shit going on up here," Spritz said.

  “What’s your full name, Spritz?” Wolf asked.

  “Jake Spizzerelli.” He spelled it for Wolf.

  "We found some text messages on Chris Oakley's phone between you and him, Spritz. Were you two good friends?"

  “Yeah.” Spritz put some feeling into the response.

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” Wolf said, watching Spritz’s reaction.

  Spritz sucked his cigarette.

  "Like I said we found some text messages saying that Rick Hammes and Mary Ellen Dimitri were, quote, 'hooking up behind the bar.'"

  "That’s right.”

  “Can you tell me about that?”

  “I went out here to take out the trash.” Spritz pointed toward the dumpster. “I saw Hammes and Mary getting busy over by his truck, which was parked right there.”

  "Are you sure it was Rick Hammes?” Wolf asked.

  Spritz’s nodded. “Oh yeah. It was him.”

  “It’s pretty dark back here,” Wolf said.

  “Hammes had been coming in with Mary lately,” Lizotte said.

  “Is that right?”

  “They both work at the casino. They come in here after work and have a few.”

  “Ah, I see. And what about other people? Did Mary and Rick come in with other people from the casino after work?”

  “Janine.”

  “Her waitress friend from the casino,” Wolf said.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Lizotte said. “I don’t know, everybody comes in here. Best place in town.”

  Wolf nodded. “Were you two working here last Monday night?”

  “I was,” Spritz said.

  “I wasn’t,” Lizotte said. “My day off.”

  “Was Mary Dimitri here Monday night?”

  Spritz nodded. “Yep. Came in after work. Had a couple beers.”

  “What time did she arrive?”

  “Um, like seven-thirty or something like that. She had dinner at the bar. Like I said, a few beers.”

  “And was she with anybody?”

  “Nah. She was first cut at work. Came in alone.”

  "Did you speak to her that night?"

  "Yeah, sure. I was behind the bar. She was sitting at it.”

  “What did you two talk about?”

  Spritz shrugged. “We were talking about Chris. You know, how he died and all. She was pretty broken up. Crying. I was pretty torn up too, you know? We had a couple shots in his honor."

  “Did anybody else join you for these shots?” Wolf asked.

  “Let’s see.” Spritz looked up, exhaling a long drag. “Just the normal Monday crowd. Couple of guys from town.”

  “Derek and Larry?” Lizotte asked Spritz.

  “Yeah, they were there.”

  “Who are they?” Wolf asked.

  “A couple old dudes who drink their pension away here.”

  Wolf nodded. “Anybody else?”

  “Not really. Not that late, when we were having the shots. That was right before I closed up.”

  “And what time was that?”

  “Eleven.”

  “How about Kevin Koling or James Sexton?” Wolf asked. “Where they here Monday night?”

  “No sir,” Spritz said.

  “Eagle McBeth?”

  “Nope.”

  "When she left, did she drive?"

  He said nothing.

  “You can tell me the truth.”

  "Yeah. It’s like five blocks."

  “What did you do after she left?”

  The cigarette fell out of Spritz’s hand but he made no effort to pick it up. “I went home.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “Over there a few blocks.” He pointed with his thumb, keeping his eyes on Wolf.

  “And you drove?”

  “No. I walked. I always walk. Why are you asking that? You think
I had something to do with this or something?” Spritz stamped his foot on the cigarette. “I don’t have to talk to you anymore. I know my rights. This is bullshit. This is bullshit, Casey. I didn’t have nothing to do with no murder.” He marched around the front of the building and out of sight.

  Wolf kept his movements slow and measured as he turned back for fear of scaring off Lizotte, too.

  Lizotte’s arm was frozen, his cigarette streaming smoke across his wide eyes.

  “Are you still working up at the mine?” Wolf asked.

  “Huh? No.”

  “Why’s that? It was good money, right?”

  Lizotte looked like he was thinking about following after his friend, then took a drag of his cigarette. “It was until I dug a dead body out of the ground and dumped it onto the wash plant grate. Then all the money in the world wouldn’t be enough to get me to work up there again.”

  “When you worked up there Monday morning, what exactly did they have you doing?”

  “Like I told you guys earlier, I was just running the loader, putting dirt onto the hopper grate. I told that short detective guy. Hachet or something?”

  “Detective Rachette. I know, I just want to make sure we have this correct. Where were the piles of dirt you were pulling those scoops from?”

  “Just right there. Right next to the wash plant. They had them all lined up for me, ready to go.”

  “Did you ever take a scoop from somewhere else other than those piles?”

  “No.”

  Wolf nodded. “And one more thing.” He paused. “Who do you think killed Chris Oakley and Mary Dimitri.”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Who?”

  “Rick Hammes.”

  Chapter 25

  Wolf went back and sat inside his SUV. He stared out the windshield, watching the neon-lit rain streak down, his thoughts bouncing between the living and the dead, landing on Piper Cain again.

  He pulled out his phone and scrolled to her number. His finger hovered there for a moment before scrolling down to Patterson’s number and pressing the call button.

  “Hello?” Patterson’s voice burst through his car speakers.

  “How’s it going?” He could hear pots and pans clanking in the background, kids laughing and squealing. “Sounds like I’ve interrupted dinner. Can you talk?”

  “I still have a few minutes. What’s up?”

  “I’m up in Dredge.”

  “Geez. You put on some miles today.”

  He told her about his visit to Jackson Mine and his visit to The Picker.

  “Do you like Spritz as our killer?” she asked.

  “My gut’s telling me it’s not him. But let’s dig into his record. You’ll need his full name, Jake Spizzerelli.” Wolf spelled it out for her.

  “Okay. I’ll look into him tomorrow.”

  “I also want to know exactly what those miners did when we put them up in the hotel Monday night. Did they stay at the Edelweiss all night? Where did they eat? Dine in? Take out? Did they go for drinks somewhere? I want all three of their movements accounted for.”

  “We really don’t have a probable to look into their financials yet. But, yes, I’ll dig into it. And FYI, Rachette and Yates went to County to talk to Hammes this afternoon, but were told he was out cold again. They’re going back up tomorrow to try to catch him when he’s awake.”

  The noise behind Patterson died down and he heard a door close. “Are you okay? You sound tired. Why don’t you let us go up to Dredge tomorrow? My foot’s feeling better.”

  “MacLean is retiring.”

  “I know.”

  “How?”

  “Charlotte came across some paperwork that got me suspecting. Then I twisted Margaret’s arm and she told me.”

  Wolf squinted. “What did she tell you?”

  “She told me MacLean wasn’t coming back. Is there more to tell after that?”

  Wolf said nothing.

  “Is Wilson taking that job in Denver?” she asked.

  “Why are you asking that?”

  “Never mind.”

  They sat in silence a beat.

  “I’ll go to Dredge tomorrow,” Wolf said. “Rest your foot and broken arm. Goodnight.”

  He flipped the wipers on, put it in drive, and drove down the main drag of Dredge.

  He drove slowly, lost in thought, past the tiny shops converted from the ancient buildings, past the chic restaurants and the holes-in-the-walls, past a gas station and the hulking casino. At the end of the road, where it bent ninety degrees to the right and back toward Rocky Points, he slowed to a stop.

  The dark and muddy county road that led to Piper Cain’s house branched to the left, beckoning.

  “Okay, fine,” he said, turning the wheel left.

  Ten minutes later he drove out of the open valley floor and into dense woods. Hypnotized by the sound of his rumbling tires, the windshield wipers, and the darkened wall of pine trees flitting past on either side, he leaned into the windshield waiting for a sign of Piper Cain’s house.

  He’d been driving too long, he thought. Maybe it was the wrong road altogether. Had he missed a turn that he’d taken last time? The previous drive up here had been a blur—literally—as he’d been slipstreaming her cloud of dust.

  A few seconds later the road brightened from a light ahead and the trees opened up, revealing the familiar house at the top of a broad lawn.

  He slowed to a stop in front, flicking off his headlights. The place stood a good fifty or so yards up from the road, up a slight rise. The windows glowed yellow, revealing the interior.

  She immediately came into view, something in her hands as she passed the window, then disappeared. Then she was back, pressing her face to the glass, looking out.

  Wolf waved, realizing he was invisible to her inside the cab so he flashed the brights.

  She held up a hand and waved, reluctantly, then motioned for him to come up.

  He drove up to the driveway and parked next to her Jeep, then got out, zipping his jacket to his chin. The rain had stopped and the air was still, smelling of cut grass.

  “Is everything okay?” She said from the porch. “What are you doing here?”

  He walked to the foot of the stairs. “Hi. Uh, I was just in Dredge, on my way back to Rocky Points, and I thought I’d stop by to talk.”

  She zipped a fleece to her chin and shoved her hands in the pockets. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, a few strands left loose and cascading down her shoulder.

  “Okay,” she said expectantly.

  “Can I come up there?”

  “Sure. Come up.” She turned around and walked to the railing as he climbed the stairs and into her now-familiar floral scent.

  She walked to the railing, and looked out across her lawn.

  Wolf followed her gaze. The underside of low hanging clouds glowed from the sparkling lights of Dredge in the distance.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t exactly ooze enthusiasm.

  “Listen,” he said, “I’m really sorry about what happened earlier today.”

  “What happened earlier today?”

  He took a step toward her, catching sight of her father inside. He carried a beer to a lounge chair and sat down in front of the flickering television.

  “How’s your dad doing?” he asked.

  “Good.”

  “Good.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about what I said to you today.”

  She remained silent.

  “It was out of line. In the end, you were trying to help. I get that. You went through a lot yesterday, and I can see how that fired something in you to do something. I should have been a bit more sensitive to your situation. To your state of mind.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. That was completely out of line of me to drive up there and take things into my own hands like that. Like you said, there’s a whole detective squad dedicated to this case, and I went behind all of
your backs.” She looked at him. “The truth is, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to fire me right now.”

  “That’s not why I’m here.”

  She looked at him for a beat, then back out into the valley.

  “About what you said earlier,” Wolf said. “Up in the parking lot. About what I made clear in February. I wanted to explain that. Back in February I was in a bit of…well, I’m not one to make excuses, so I won’t. I’ll just say I wasn’t at my best and I made a mistake and I overlooked your resume. I know this sounds so ridiculous like, the dog ate my homework. Or, ate your resume. But I really did overlook it. With all the things I was already avoiding at work, I also avoided hiring people, too. I mean, I hired one deputy, but that was more of a personal favor and the second hire I never took care of. Now I feel foolish, and responsible for your situation up here and what happened the other day with your dad, because the truth is I would have hired you if my head hadn’t been up my ass, but it was.”

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  He sucked in a breath and looked at her, surprised to see her smiling.

  “You can stop apologizing now,” she said. “I accept.”

  “Okay. Good. I…accept yours too.”

  She nodded. “Then it’s settled.”

  “Not really,” he said. “We do have an opening for a deputy position in Rocky Points. Still. It’s yours if you want it. Your resume, and the recommendation from your boss up in Gallatin County that came with it, outshines the other hire I made and any of the others in my neglected stack of candidates.”

  She stared at him, her eyes sparkling in the light streaming out of the windows, like they might be welling with tears. It was hard to tell, and before he could get a better read on her she turned her back to him.

  “Is everything okay?” His feet pulled him toward her of their own volition. Without thinking he raised his hand and put it on her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

  She turned. Her eyes were perfectly dry. Unblinking. Staring down at his hand.

  “Sorry,” he said, and pulled it away and stepped back.

  But she followed him, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He stood rooted as her body crashed into his.