Burning Ridge

by Margaret Mizushima

  Stella turned in the passenger seat to appraise Mattie. “What did you think of Lawson’s suggestion to take you off the case?”

  “He was just doing his job, expressing his opinion. I didn’t take it personally like you did.”

  Stella wrinkled her nose. “I guess I did a little bit.”

  “I appreciate the support. So does Robo.” Mattie directed the conversation to the upcoming interview. “How do you want to handle Lovejoy?”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “He’s lived here for years. He does a good job, and he’s never caused any trouble. We don’t even have a parking ticket on him.”

  “Then let’s go into it easy,” Stella said. “Save the confrontational stuff for the end. Watch his body language, see what we think.”

  Pleased to see Lovejoy’s green truck parked in front of the tan stucco building with brown trim and a metal roof, Mattie pulled up and parked beside it. “I could take the lead if you want, start with his opinion of the search we did together Monday morning.”

  “Take it away.”

  Mattie turned to look at Robo. As usual, he stood, eager and ready to go. “You’re going to stay here,” she told him, and he sat, ears pricked, apparently willing to wait.

  At the front desk, Mattie asked for Lovejoy, and she and Stella were directed back to his office. They approached the open doorway and spotted Lovejoy seated behind a desk piled high with paper, manuals, and books. He was writing on a notepad, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Mattie tapped on the doorjamb.

  Lovejoy looked up and his face lit. He leaned forward to pick up a coffee can from his desk, pulled off the plastic lid and spat a stream of tobacco juice into it. “Mattie!” he said when his mouth was clear enough to talk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Geez, Ed. Do you chew that stuff all the time?”

  His cheeks bunched as he tried to grin around the wad of snuff behind his bottom lip. “It’ll kill what ails ya.”

  “I sincerely hope that it doesn’t kill you someday.” Mattie gestured toward Stella. “You know Detective LoSasso, right?”

  “Call me Stella,” the detective said as she offered a handshake.

  Lovejoy stood to shake her hand and then scurried from his office, returning with two folding chairs. Mattie and Stella sat them in front of his desk while he went around to his own seat.

  “Where are you with your investigation of the ram shooting, Ed?” Mattie asked.

  “I’m filling out the paperwork this morning. All I’ve got so far is what you’ve given me—date, time, the .270 Winchester casing found at the top of the ridge, and the slug Doc Walker retrieved from the carcass. When will you find out if that casing and the slug match?”

  “Possibly today. What do you plan to do next?”

  “I’ll file the report, keep my eyes and ears open, see if I can dig up any leads on the shooter.”

  “What are your thoughts about the type of rifle used to fire that bullet?” Mattie asked.

  Lovejoy leaned back, making the chair’s spring creak in complaint. “Well, we know it’s a bolt-action rifle, but that’s about all I can say. That .270 is a good round, accurate at long distances. From what Cole said, the guy made a clean heart shot. He knew what he was doing.”

  Mattie nodded. “You have any locals in mind who could make that shot? Poachers you’ve busted in the past?”

  “Not really. Poachers are usually going after the meat, and they’re looking for deer or elk. This was different.”

  “It certainly was,” Mattie said. “Do you have any ties to California, Ed? Relatives or business?”

  “Nah, but it seems like every other person moving into Colorado these days is from California.” His discouraged expression reflected his opinion about this trend. “Even my own boss is from there.”

  That scored a hit with Mattie. “Oh yeah, are you talking about Tucker York?”

  “Yep. When that job opened up, the powers that be hired him from out of state.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Lovejoy scratched the blond stubble on his chin. “I’d say a little over a year ago.”

  “Where in California was he from?”

  “I think somewhere north of L.A. I don’t know for sure.”

  Mattie thought she’d exhausted the subject with Lovejoy, but had gained valuable new information to flesh out when they interviewed York. She sent a glance toward Stella to signal that she could take the lead.

  Stella took the interview a new direction. “How familiar are you with that backside of the ridge, Ed, where you all went yesterday morning?”

  “We’ve been scouting that ridge for a couple years now to make sure there’s enough feed. That herd has grown beyond the feed supply, which forces us to relocate some of them.”

  “Do you ever kill some of the animals or open up an additional season to reduce the herd?”

  Lovejoy frowned as he shook his head. “It’s not done that way, and especially not with mountain sheep. A set number of hunting permits are allowed each season to protect the state’s sheep population.”

  “Have you ever seen anyone up there, scouting the sheep when you are?” Stella asked.

  “People don’t go up that trail very often. I’ve run into only a handful of people during the past couple years, and I’ve never ticketed anyone up there for illegal activity.”

  “I noticed you carried a rifle with you on both days when we went up to the scene. Is that typical for you?”

  “Almost always carry and seldom use.” Lovejoy removed the coffee can lid so that he could spit again. “I carry for protection when I’m in the high country. You know, from cougar and bear. Occasionally, I have to put down an injured or sick animal, but that’s rare.”

  “What type of rifle do you carry?”

  “It’s a Model 70 Winchester with pre-64 action,” Lovejoy said, smiling proudly. “It’s a beauty.”

  “Impressive. Does it shoot the .270 Winchester ammo?”

  “It does.”

  “Is that what it has in it now?”

  “Yep.”

  Despite Stella’s probing questions, Mattie thought Lovejoy had maintained an even keel. She wondered if he was having to work at it.

  “You split off from Sheriff McCoy and me when we were riding down to go back to Timber Creek on Sunday afternoon,” Stella said. “Where did you go exactly?”

  Lovejoy lowered one brow and squinted at her. “Now, you’re not thinking I shot that ram, are you?”

  “I’m covering my bases, Ed. I’ve gotta figure out where each of the players who were up on that mountain were at all times, from the moment the partial remains were found Sunday morning until now. You get that, don’t you?”

  Lovejoy frowned, apparently thinking for several seconds before looking at Mattie. “You know me, Mattie.”

  “I do.”

  “Am I the kind of guy who’d poach an animal out of season?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued. “I enforce the wildlife management rules and regulations, for cripes’ sake.”

  “And Stella has a job to do. All we need from you is information.”

  His face showed his distaste as he looked back at Stella. “I rode north to the meadow down below Redstone Ridge. I didn’t go anywhere near the trail that leads up to the backside. When I went up there yesterday, it was the first time I’d been there since last fall.”

  Stella nodded as if in encouragement. “Thank you, Ed. Did you see anyone in that lower meadow?”

  “I did not. I counted elk.” He shuffled through some papers and pulled one out to show her. “Do you want to see my report?”

  Stella took the paper and scanned it. “Good. Just one more thing. May I take your rifle to have our lab test it to make sure it isn’t a match to the casing that was found?”

  “Shee-ite, Detective.” Lovejoy stood abruptly, his chair shooting backwards. “What gives you the right to ask for it?”

 
; “I think you know the answer to that question, Ed. I’ve got to rule things out as we go.”

  “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice. If I don’t give it up, you’re going to think I’m a suspect.” He gave Stella a disgusted look, raising his index finger for emphasis. “My rifle is not going to match that casing. And if there’s any damage to that gun at all, even the tiniest little scratch, I’m going to hold you personally accountable.”

  Calm and composed, Stella stood. “I appreciate your cooperation, Ed. We’ll get the gun back to you as soon as we can.”

  Lovejoy stormed out of the room, and Stella quirked a brow at Mattie before turning to follow him.

  * * *

  “That went well,” Stella said as Mattie drove the Explorer away from the Wildlife Division building. “What’s your take on Lovejoy?”

  “We have to look at him. He’s got horses, he’s got the rig, and he’s got the gun that might link to the ram. But he’s got no motive that I can see, and he’s not tied into California that we know of. I don’t think he’s our guy.”

  Mattie observed Lovejoy in the rearview mirror. He was still standing, arms crossed, glaring after them from the parking lot. He’d insisted on putting the rifle in the gun rack himself, checking to make sure it was well protected by its case.

  “Either way, let’s drop the gun off at the station,” Stella said, “and I’ll get a courier to run it to the ballistics lab. Then we’ll look up Mr. Gibson Galloway in Hightower. Hope the address he gave us is actually real.”

  “I checked his arrest report for the rifles that were in the back of Galloway’s truck,” Mattie said. “He’s got a Remington and a Winchester 70 Featherweight bolt-action rifle.”

  “Compatible with our ammo casing?”

  “Both are.”

  At the station, Mattie gave Robo a pit stop while Stella ran the gun inside. They were back on the road within minutes. Apparently deep in thought, Stella pursed her lips and stared out the passenger window. Mattie brought the Explorer up to speed on the highway, setting a course through the hay meadows around Timber Creek toward the foothills that surrounded Hightower.

  The silence in the car gave her mind freedom to revisit Willie’s gravesite, leaving her despondent. There’d been no indication that Ed Lovejoy was connected to Willie. If ballistics proved that he didn’t shoot the ram, it would eliminate him as a suspect, which would also eliminate that lead toward solving Willie’s case. She hoped they could glean information from Gibson Galloway that would hold more promise.

  TWENTY-ONE

  They reached the address that Galloway had given, and Mattie turned into a short lane that led to a ramshackle trailer house with faded blue and white siding. No trees or shrubs grew in the yard to block the view, and behind the trailer she could see an old pole barn and a corral shored up with various types of boards and wire. The same pickup that she’d first seen in front of the Watering Hole was now parked beside the tumbledown corral where four horses stood, listlessly swishing their tails.

  Mattie shook off her depression and scanned the property. It was important to remain vigilant. “Shall we stop at the house or at the barn?”

  As she spoke, a man came from the barn and headed for the corral carrying a bale of hay. Sunlight glinted off his bald head, and Mattie immediately recognized him.

  “Looks like that’s our guy,” Stella said.

  Mattie steered around the trailer house and parked alongside Galloway’s pickup. “I think you should take the lead on this one. And leave the doors open in case I need to pop the cage to let Robo out.” She was referring to the remote popper button she wore on her utility belt. It controlled the door into Robo’s compartment, and she could release her partner with the press of a finger.

  Stella nodded. “Good plan. You weren’t exactly in this guy’s good graces the last time you tangled with him.”

  Leaving both doors open, they exited the car while Galloway kept a hostile eye on them. He tossed the hay to the horses, and then stood waiting for them at the fence, his hands on his hips as they approached. Mattie stayed back a few feet, positioning herself between Stella and the SUV.

  “Good morning, Mr. Galloway,” Stella said. “I hope you remember us. I’m Detective LoSasso and this is Deputy Cobb from the Timber Creek County Sheriff Department.”

  “I know who you are.” He didn’t offer a handshake, and Stella didn’t push it by offering one herself.

  “You were a bit under the influence when we met and possibly not yourself.” Stella was giving him the benefit of the doubt, probably hoping to soften him up. “We need to speak with you and get some follow up information, if we could.”

  “What if I don’t want to talk to you?”

  “Then I’d have to wonder why not. I’m content to talk with you here today instead of taking you in for questioning, if you’ll let me.”

  With a disgusted expression, Galloway turned his gaze from Stella to Robo, who remained standing at his window, staring back at the man. “What do you want?”

  “Tell me why you were in Timber Creek Saturday night.”

  “I told you guys that once. Didn’t anyone write it down?”

  Stella offered a thin smile. “I need to confirm some things.”

  “We were driving through town on our way back home. We stopped to have some food.”

  “Driving from where?”

  He shifted with impatience. “From Kansas.”

  “And what were you doing in Kansas?”

  “We were at a rodeo.”

  Stella raised her palm slightly, as if encouraging him to open up. “Where exactly?”

  “Dodge City.”

  “What was the name of the event?”

  He paused. “We were at the Roundup.”

  Mattie retrieved a notebook from her pocket to jot down what he’d said. That fact would be easy enough to check.

  “Were you participating in the rodeo?” Stella asked.

  He glanced away and then back, narrowing his eyes. “We were entered, but we didn’t make it on time to check in.”

  And there goes his alibi. Mattie’s pulse quickened with that bit of information.

  Stella paused for a moment. “Was there someone you met there or someone in the crowd who could confirm you were present?”

  “My buddies can confirm it.”

  “Do you have receipts from your trip?”

  “I don’t keep receipts.”

  None of this would lead to establishing an alibi for the possible dates that Willie had been killed.

  Stella switched direction of the interview. “You still have California plates on your truck. How long have you lived here in Hightower?”

  “A few months.”

  “Where did you live in California?”

  “Bakersfield. I told all this to the guy at the sheriff’s station.”

  “Do you have any friends, family, or acquaintances in the Hollywood or Los Angeles area?”

  He studied Stella, a perplexed look on his face. “No.”

  “Not anyone in that whole city, huh? Do you know or have you ever heard of a man named William Cobb?”

  He gestured toward Mattie. “Any relation to her?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  He ground his boot into the dirt, looking down at his feet. “No, I never heard of a William Cobb.”

  That looked like deceptive behavior, and Mattie wondered if he was telling the truth.

  “Do you hunt wild game, Mr. Galloway?” Stella asked.

  He pretended to startle at the change in subject, holding up his hand. “What’s that got to do with anything? Oh I know, I know, just answer the question. I do like to hunt—deer and antelope—and I plan to this fall.”

  “What’s your gun of choice for hunting?”

  “I use my Remington.”

  “And the ammo?”

  He threw her an impatient look. “I use a .300 Winchester Short Magnum.”

  Not the same round used on
the ram, Mattie thought.

  “One of the guns listed on your arrest report is a Winchester 70 rifle. Do you use it to hunt?” Stella asked.

  “Not usually. It’s a varmint gun. I want something with more power for big game.”

  “But you carry it with you.”

  He shrugged. “It was already in the truck.”

  “I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Galloway. I need to know where you went last Sunday after you were released from the sheriff’s station?”

  “We came straight home, of course.” He raised his hands slightly, palms up. “You and your people threw a wrench into our plans. Delayed us getting back.”

  Stella continued in a pleasant manner, refusing to rise to the bait despite Galloway’s sour expression. “Just one more thing. What ammo do you use in your Winchester 70 rifle?”

  He crossed his arms. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Curiosity.”

  Mattie could tell that he was starting to shut down even a semblance of cooperation.

  He took a step back. “Look, I’ve answered your questions, but I’m done with this now.”

  “Could I see your rifle, Mr. Galloway?” Stella asked.

  “No, I’m done. If you come back, you’d better have a warrant. Because otherwise, I’m not letting you on my property.” He turned and strode toward the barn.

  “Sorry you feel that way, Mr. Galloway. We’ll leave now,” Stella said to his back.

  They retreated to the Explorer.

  Mattie felt more positive about this interview. Maybe it would lead somewhere. “No alibi for Willie’s dates, deceptive behavior when you asked him about knowing Willie, and he seemed pretty sensitive about that Winchester.”

  “Maybe.” Stella looked dubious. “Or maybe just fed up with me and my questions. I’ll check out that rodeo in Dodge City for a start. We can’t get a warrant yet, but if the casing doesn’t match Lovejoy’s Winchester, we might team up with the Wildlife Department and see if we can get our hands on Galloway’s gun for testing.”

  Feeling like they’d made a tiny bit of progress, Mattie started the engine, turned onto the highway, and headed back toward Timber Creek.