DreadfulWater Shows Up

by Thomas King

  “Of course, we may be chasing rabbits,” said Traynor. “Daniel was programming the computer. The disk you have may be no more than a program that controls the odds on the slot machines or the sequencing of the security cameras or the text on the digital signs.”

  “Doesn’t sound promising,” said Thumps, turning the disk over in his hand.

  “Let’s talk to George anyway,” said Traynor, sliding out of her seat and looking at her watch. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

  The day had gone to clouds, and the air was cool enough to breathe. In the distance, against the mountains, Thumps could see the faint flash of lightning strikes, and he could feel the sky begin to stir. All around the resort, tourists would be searching for their umbrellas, but Thumps knew that there would be no rain. Just the illusion of rain. And a hot wind.

  “How much do computer programmers make?” asked Thumps, as they walked up the path to the condos.

  “It depends,” said Traynor. “You thinking about changing jobs?”

  “Actually,” said Beaumont, “we try not to talk about salaries.”

  “That much?”

  “No,” said Traynor. “We don’t talk about salaries because of the competition. The world of computer technology and technical services is a nasty place. If a company knew how much we were paying our top people, they’d try to buy them off.”

  “And if our top people knew what other folks made,” said Beaumont, “they’d want to be paid at least as much.”

  “It’s like sports,” said Traynor. “You pay for your stars and try to keep the ball away from the other team.”

  Somehow Thumps couldn’t picture Virginia in shorts and a jersey, running the court, splitting the defence, and floating to the hoop for a one-hand jam. She was more the private-box, big-screen-television, catered-food type. But that was the beauty of metaphors. They only existed in the imagination.

  “So, who got paid more? Takashi or Chan?”

  “I’m afraid that’s confidential,” said Beaumont.

  “Doesn’t matter to Takashi.”

  George Chan had the same kind of luxury townhouse that Daniel Takashi had had. All things considered, Thumps had to admit that he had probably made some questionable career choices.

  Beaumont knocked on the door.

  “What’s a place like this rent for?”

  “About three hundred,” said Traynor. “You interested in another round of golf?”

  There was no answer. “George. It’s me, Elliot.”

  “When?’“

  “Opening ceremonies for the resort are on Saturday. We’re doing a full-scale test of the computer that day. Sometime after that.”

  Thumps wasn’t sure that watching a computer do anything would be exciting, but there was a bounce in Traynor’s voice that resembled enthusiasm.

  “George!” Beaumont knocked again, hard this time. And the door tipped open.

  Thumps forgot about computers and high-priced hotel rooms and stepped in front of the man, pushing him back.

  “Hey!”

  Thumps quickly moved to one side, eased the door open all the way, and waited for his eyes to adjust. “George! It’s Thumps DreadfulWater.”

  Beaumont moved impatiently behind him. “He probably went to the coffee shop and just missed us. I’ll go back and get him.”

  “No,” said Thumps. “He’s not in the coffee shop.”

  Traynor stepped in against his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “You two stay here.”

  “Bit melodramatic, don’t you think?” said Beaumont. “I’m not sure George would want us going into his place.”

  George Chan wasn’t going to mind anyone coming into his townhouse. Almost as soon as Thumps opened the door, he could smell the sharp stench of death. He took two quick steps into the room. George Chan was lying next to the sofa, his body splayed out on the floor, the side of his head blown away. On the floor beside him was a gun.

  Beaumont froze. “My God!”

  Thumps took one more step into the room, just to be sure. But there was no mistake. George’s suit jacket had fallen open when the man hit the floor, and Thumps could see the label clearly. Brioni.

  “Back out,” said Thumps, taking out his handkerchief “And don’t touch anything.”

  “What are we supposed to do?”

  “We call the sheriff,” said Thumps, and he stepped out of the room into the sunlight, laid the handkerchief gently over the knob, and shut the door behind him.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Hockney didn’t waste any time getting to Shadow Ranch. Andy Hopper was not with him, and while Thumps was curious about the deputy, he wasn’t willing to press his luck. So far he had been at the scene of three murders and a shooting. Sooner or later, Hockney was going to notice.

  “You found Chan?”

  “It was a group effort.” Thumps looked at Traynor for support.

  “That’s right, sheriff,” she said. “Elliot and Mr. DreadfulWater and I came here to talk to George.”

  “About what?”

  “He was supposed to meet us in the coffee shop,” said Elliot.

  “Why?”

  Duke was asking all the right questions, and Thumps guessed that the sheriff knew he wasn’t getting any answers. No one had mentioned the disk. It was almost as if the three of them had each decided independently to leave that piece of information alone for the time being. Thumps knew what his reasons were. He wondered what reasons Traynor and Beaumont had decided on.

  “You need me anymore?”

  “Why? You got somewhere to go?”

  “Want to stop off at the hospital and see Stick.”

  “You know, you got a real knack for this.”

  Thumps shrugged. The sheriff didn’t know how right he was.

  “Walk with me,” said Duke.

  The sheriff followed the stone path that ran above the swimming pool and vanished into the prairies. Thumps wasn’t sure where Duke was going, but he knew there was no point in asking. The sheriff didn’t stop until he got to the edge of the bluff overlooking the river.

  “What do you suppose we found back in the room?”

  He had a good idea, but the sheriff had earned the pleasure of explaining to Thumps what he already knew.

  “Suicide note.”

  “No kidding?”

  “On the guy’s laptop.” The sheriff pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes and looked down at his boots. “You know what it said?”

  “No idea.”

  “I thought you might have looked when you were in the room.”

  “We didn’t stay.”

  “But you saw the gun.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was a nice surprise, too.”

  “Same calibre as the gun that killed Takashi and Floyd?”

  “We did some checking,” said Duke. “Chan didn’t arrive with Beaumont and Traynor. He got here two days earlier. Did either of them mention that to you?”

  No, Thumps thought, but Floyd had told him, if Thumps had been listening. That day at the garage. A couple more showed up, that’s what Floyd had said. Beaumont and Traynor. Not Chan. Because Chan was already here.

  “Looks like you’ve got it wrapped up.”

  “I’m the best.” The sheriff looked at Thumps expectantly.

  “You’ve got no argument with me,” said Thumps.

  “That’s what the note said. ‘I’m the best.’ Now what do you suppose that means?”

  “Professional jealousy?”

  “People kill people for less.”

  “Works for me.”

  “You like it because it gets Stick off the hook.” Duke rubbed his hands together. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s in a coma.”

  “Shit.”

  “So how do you figure Chan got in and out of the resort without Cooley seeing him?”

  “There you go doing that dumb Indian routi
ne again,” said the sheriff.

  “You think Chan was in the camper van?”

  “Don’t you? We did some checking and found that Takashi rented one of those camper vans every weekend. Evidently, he liked sightseeing. Anyway, he picks up the van, and he and Chan go to Buffalo Mountain. Chan hangs out in the back, so Cooley doesn’t see him.”

  “It could work.”

  “I’m not asking why Stick was at the computer complex,” said the sheriff, looking at Thumps, “but you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Of course if I wanted to find out . . .” Duke let the threat hang in the air.

  Thumps didn’t think the sheriff was looking for a reason to charge Stick with anything, but if Duke was still angry about what his deputy had done, making Stick partly responsible for being in a coma might help spread the guilt around.

  “Lot of people on the reserve have problems with the casino. Maybe it was something like that.”

  Duke reached down and broke off a piece of brown prairie grass. “So, Chan kills Takashi because he’s jealous of the man’s success or because he wants his job. And to throw suspicion off him and shift it somewhere else, he paints ‘Red Hawks’ on the wall. Stick arrives, finds Takashi dead, sees the writing on the wall, and figures the frame right away. You can join in whenever you like.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  “Screw you, DreadfulWater.”

  “No, I mean it.”

  “We found the paint roller in the dumpster in the garage, along with Takashi’s wallet and the rags Stick used to wipe up the blood.” Duke paused for a moment and picked at the corner of his eye. “Now why do you suppose Stick would take Takashi’s wallet?”

  “Guess you’ll have to ask Stick.”

  “I figure he did it to buy time.” Duke shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “The one thing Chan didn’t count on was Stick’s showing up and ruining the frame.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Except Chan has to get away without being seen.”

  “The camper van.”

  “Yeah,” said the sheriff. “This is the part I like. Now, I’m not going to be the one to say they all look alike, but I’m betting that that’s exactly what Chan was counting on. He trades jackets with Takashi, puts on Takashi’s dark glasses and cap, and drives out the front gate. Cooley lets one Asian computer programmer in. He lets one Asian computer programmer out.”

  “And Cooley doesn’t notice that it’s not the same man?”

  “Why should he? The people at the car rental office didn’t.”

  “Chan returned the van?”

  “Saturday afternoon,” said Hockney. “Had to be him.”

  “And Stick hikes out of the resort?”

  “Nothing to it. If you know the mountains.”

  Duke knew more than Thumps would have given him credit for. Maybe he had figured it all out.

  “You think Chan was watching my place?”

  “Why not? Soon as Stick shows up, Chan plants the jacket in Stick’s car and calls us.”

  “And Floyd?”

  “Somehow Floyd figured things out, and Chan had to kill him.”

  “I’m impressed,” said Thumps.

  “No, you’re not,” said Duke. “But you should be.”

  Thumps looked back toward Shadow Ranch. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Retire to Hawaii,” said the sheriff. “Assholes like Andy make this job harder than it needs to be.”

  Thumps waited in the coffee shop until the police were finished taking Traynor’s and Beaumont’s statements.

  “Thank you for sticking around,” said Traynor.

  “Where’s Elliot?’“

  “In his room. He doesn’t handle stress very well.”

  “Looks like he’s in the wrong business.”

  “We normally don’t shoot each other.”

  Thumps’ stomach began growling, and he realized that, with all the excitement, he had missed lunch.

  “Are you hungry?” Traynor signalled a waiter before Thumps had a chance to lie. “Steak sandwich sound good to you? My treat.” She settled back in the chair. “Nasty little drama, wasn’t it?”

  “Did you know that Chan and Takashi hated each other?”

  “We brought Daniel and George into the company at about the same time. Both men were talented. Daniel got the promotions.”

  “But Chan thought he should have got them?”

  “Evidently.”

  “Why was Chan out here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Takashi was already here. He knew how to program and test the computer. Why did he need Chan?”

  “Ah,” said Traynor. “The sheriff may be satisfied, but you’re not.”

  “Loose ends are always annoying.”

  “Daniel was worried about the Red Hawks. He thought they might try to do something to the computer system. George’s specialty was computer security. He was a genius when it came to things like viruses and worms, anything that could crash a system. We sent him out as a precaution.”

  “The hired gun?”

  “If you like. Why?”

  “When did he arrive?”

  “You’d have to ask Elliot,” said Traynor, “but I think he got here the Thursday before Daniel was killed.”

  The steak sandwich arrived, and the conversation moved away from Buffalo Mountain and slipped into a string of pleasantries about golf and life in the west.

  Thumps was finishing up the last of the French fries when Traynor’s cellphone went off.

  “That was Elliot.”

  “How’s he feeling?”

  “Better.”

  “You guys still staying for the grand opening?”

  “Absolutely. Now that everything’s cleared up, we might as well enjoy the rest of the trip. You wouldn’t be interested in showing me around, would you?”

  “What about Elliot?”

  “He can find his own Indian.”

  There was a great deal about Traynor that reminded Thumps of Claire. A tough woman in a tough world. He wondered how she would have managed if her son had been shot.

  “You don’t seem very happy. Do you think the sheriff missed something?”

  “Duke’s pretty thorough.”

  “That sounds like a loose end.”

  Thumps could feel the disk riding in his pocket. “Why do you think Chan killed himself?”

  Traynor shrugged. “He didn’t want to get caught.”

  “No one knew he did it.”

  “You knew.”

  “No, I didn’t. All I knew was that Stick didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Maybe you were getting too close. Maybe George believed that it was just a matter of time before you or the sheriff put the pieces together.”

  Maybe, maybe, maybe. “Why not run?”

  “George was proud.” Traynor looked out the window. “He liked expensive things. Maybe he saw that world slipping away.”

  “He kills two people and then gets depressed?”

  “People kill themselves for a lot less.”

  Thumps put his napkin on the table. “I better get back. I’m glad things worked out for you.”

  “Yes,” said Traynor. “I guess they did.”

  Thumps took the disk out of his pocket and looked at it.

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  “Don’t know,” he said. “Should give it to Duke, but if I do, he’s going to yell at me.”

  “Curious about what’s on it?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Very,” said Traynor. “If you want, you can leave it with me and I’ll get one of our guys back at our office to decipher it.”

  Thumps turned the disk over a couple of times in his hand. “Why didn’t you tell the sheriff about the disk?”

  “That was your call.”


  “Maybe I’ll hang onto it for a while.”

  “Suit yourself.” Traynor stood up and straightened her skirt. “What about golf?”

  Thumps shook his head. “I’m probably going to be busy for the next couple of days.”

  “Pity,” she said. “And just as I was beginning to enjoy the wide open spaces.”

  The wind was up. The cloud cover had been blown east, and the land was once again awash in sunlight. Some people lived for sunshine, wasted their vacations in places where there was nothing to do but lie in the sun. Even with all the warnings about the holes in the ozone and the damaging effects of sunlight and the real possibilities of skin cancer, humans continued to stampede to the sunny places in the world like a herd of lemmings looking for a cliff.

  Thumps opened the door to the Volvo. It was a credit to Swedish engineering that the car hadn’t melted by now. From the parking lot, he could see Sheriff Hockney’s sport-utility and the police cruisers parked by the reception area. Duke would be putting the finishing touches on the case about now, closing the file, and moving on to the new crime of the week.

  Hockney was right. All the pieces fit. Everything made sense. Chan had most certainly killed Takashi. The second cup of coffee had been for him. Chan had painted “Red Hawks” on the wall of the computer complex. Chan had killed Floyd. And Chan had planted the jacket in Stick’s Mustang.

  The only question that Thumps didn’t have an answer for yet was who had killed Chan.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Of course, Thumps wasn’t sure Chan hadn’t killed himself, but the man’s death made everything else much too neat. From what Thumps had seen of the room, it could well have been a suicide. Duke would check Chan’s hand for powder residue. He’d look at the blood splatter patterns. He’d probably even consider the position of the gun. If Chan hadn’t killed himself, someone went to a lot of trouble to make it look as though he had. And if Chan had been murdered, then whatever the killings had been about was still in play.

  On the other hand, Thumps had nothing to offer to prove another murder. Duke had pieced the case together rather handily. And there was little that Thumps disagreed with. As soon as the jacket showed up in Stick’s car, Thumps knew that Chan had to be involved. How else could someone get in and out of the resort with a vehicle and not raise Cooley’s suspicions? As far as Cooley was concerned, his account of that morning was accurate. An Asian man in an Indian Motorcycle Company jacket, dark glasses, and a 4gers cap drove a camper van through the front gates, and an Asian man in an Indian Motorcycle Company jacket, dark glasses, and a 4gers cap drove the same vehicle out.