A Nose for Justice (31 page)

The coroner’s slate was full after a rash of street deaths. In the latest bout of cold weather, some of the local homeless had frozen to death. The coroner’s report on Egon’s death would be issued at the earliest by Friday night or Saturday morning.

A smaller article buried deeper in the first section of the paper outlined the difficulties authorities faced in trying to locate and house the homeless in shelters. Many refused to go to the Salvation Army, as they emphatically did not wish to hear about salvation in any form. They preferred hunger to prayer. Other shelters were full up. These days, whole families were destitute and homeless.

Not too many people paid attention to that story since the possible murder
of a celebrity chef commanded more attention, especially coming on the heels of the killing of Oliver Hitchens. Tongues were wagging.

This was big news.

From the passenger seat, Lonnie read the paper aloud as Pete cruised down dilapidated Fourth Street to Teton Benson’s apartment. They’d yet to find the mysterious man who’d bought two acres in what would become Horseshoe Estates.

After parking next to the curb, Pete knocked on Benson’s shabby door, then tried the knob to see if the door was unlocked. No luck.

This was the officers’ first visit when Jugs was open. The two policemen walked into the neighboring topless bar.

A thin young man—the bartender—with an equally thin beard, glanced up to see the men in uniform. “Hi.”

Behind him women paraded, none of them exhibiting their natural breasts. Every single woman had had surgical enhancements.

“Do you know Teton Benson, lives next door?” Pete asked.

“Yeah. He in trouble?”

“No. We’re hoping we can save him from trouble,” Pete replied genially.

The young fellow kept polishing a glass. “He’s not using. Tets is clean.”

“That’s good to hear. Do you have any idea where he is? We really need to find him.”

“Last week I saw him leave with his duffel bag, and the mail’s been piling up. Didn’t see him get in his car, but he usually parked it on the street.”

Although usually quiet, Lonnie spoke. “Did Mr. Benson ever talk to you about land investments?”

The fellow laughed loudly. “Tets? Hell, he could barely pay his rent. I’m hoping now that he’s clean he can hold a job. Maybe it makes sense to move on from here. Too many people know his rep, you know?”

“Did you ever see anyone unusual go into his apartment? By that I mean if they looked, say, a little better off than Tets.”

“No. Even though he had family in town. He embarrassed them. I never saw anyone stop by for a visit.”

“Did he talk about his family?”

“It’s not like we were best friends.” The slight fellow stopped a moment.
“All he ever said was he’d had every advantage and had blown it, and that his family was sick of him.”

“Well, thank you very much.”

Back in the squad car, Pete said to Lonnie, “We’re going to have to track down other Bensons in Washoe County.” They headed to the other side of town.

“Let’s be glad his last name isn’t Smith.” Lonnie scribbled Benson in his notebook. “Jeep sure took masterful control of that mess last night, didn’t she?”

Jeep had stopped the band once she knew what had happened to Egon Utrecht. Requesting her guests to remain seated temporarily, she’d asked Pete if he needed to question everyone. With six hundred guests, Pete let them all head home. He had all their names on Jeep’s invitation list.

“Jeep Reed can handle just about anything,” said Pete. “You ever see the planes she used to fly? Pilots actually flew them, controlled them. No computer chips. They had to have physical strength. Impresses the hell out of me. Anyway, I’m glad we questioned the staff before their stories got cloudy. As it was, some were scared and others were glad he was dead.”

“Lisa Giogionides seemed close to Utrecht,” said Lonnie. “I guess she was his apprentice, but he never mentioned anything to her about land purchases. Maybe that’s not so weird, but most people can’t resist bragging about a good investment. Still, one thing I thought interesting in her statement was when she said Utrecht had been increasingly irritable and worried for the last week. She thought it had to do with Ms. Reed’s upcoming party. He was hoping to make all the gourmet magazines or whatever. I think there’s more to it.” Lonnie fell silent as Pete pulled into a parking lot. “Ah, Jonas Larkin.” Lonnie looked at the small wooden sign by the front door. “Office is closed.”

“Dammit.”

“Probably working.”

“We’ll come back later. Leave a message on his answering machine, will you, Lonnie? Just say we’d like to chat again, slippery creep. Don’t say that.”

As Lonnie was dialing the number, Pete again crossed the bridge over the Truckee, the water running strong now. He parked the SUV in front of Anthony Diamond’s high-rise.

The doorman greeted Pete with his ever-present smile. “Deputy Meadows.”

“Hi, Chaz. Is Mr. Diamond here?”

“No. He left last week. Said he was going to Maui for two weeks. Lucky devil.”

Pete smiled, palmed him five, and climbed back in the car. “Another one gone. Diamond went to Hawaii.”

The last person Pete and Lonnie called upon was the nurse, Kylie Prentiss. She looked like she’d eaten a prune when she saw them. Again, her responses to their questions were terse.

As they drove back to HQ, Lonnie asked, “Do you think it’s us she’s afraid of, or someone else?”

“She wasn’t all that happy on our first visit,” said Pete.

Back at their desks, Pete and Lonnie phoned the remaining three purchasers of land.

The doctor in Las Vegas seemed calm. This was the first time Pete had spoken to him.

Lonnie reached the elderly lady in Carson City who bitched him out for bothering her again. However, he did manage to wrangle out of her who it had been that advised her to buy the property at Horseshoe Estates.

“My grandson.”

“And what is his name, ma’am?” Lonnie asked.

“Jonas Larkin.”

“Slippery, our Jonas, like I said,” Pete replied when Lonnie told him.

Their last stop of the day was at a Virginia City clothing shop. Again, its owner swore the real estate purchase was just dumb luck. She sounded about as convincing as a congressman who has just switched votes on a highly public issue.

After, the two men sat silently in the car.

“If I were a smoker, this would be the ideal time for a cigarette.” Pete blew out his cheeks, then changed the subject. “Amelia’s something, isn’t she?”

“Got a date with her tomorrow night.”

“And you waited this long to tell me?”

“Lot going on.”

“Ain’t that the truth? Lonnie, nervous people make other people nervous, don’t you think?”

“I’m not nervous. I know she’s pretty unusual, owning a construction company, but she’s hot.” He put his finger to his thigh and made a hissing sound.

“I’m not talking about that kind of nervous. I mean Egon Utrecht kind of nervous.”

“Oh, yeah. Good chance that Teton Benson took off because he’s scared, or smart in some way we don’t yet know. As for Anthony Diamond, you know he’s pretty smart. He drives a Bentley.” Lonnie had checked his records.

“That’s over the top.” Pete grimaced.

“I want a Dodge Ram half-ton. No extended cab or that crap. A real truck. Black with a gold pinstripe and a mascot, a bucking bronc. Leather interior. Great sound system. Bentley’s are for old rich men. And if I have an air mattress I can use the eight-foot bed for”—he paused, looked heavenward—“those intimate moments.”

“I’d wait until spring.” Pete laughed but thought it was a pretty good idea. “Okay, let’s find Teton’s family.”

Turned out there were eighteen people with the surname Benson in Washoe County. From the car, Pete and Lonnie started making calls.

Ten minutes later, Pete got out of the car and stretched. “All we do is sit on our asses in this squad car here. Drives me crazy.”

He took a five-minute walk, came back, and started calling more Bensons. He also phoned Mags.

“Sorry to leave you last night.”

“You saw us to the car,” Mags said. “How long did you stay?”

“Until one.”

“Utrecht was poisoned, wasn’t he?”

“Looks like. Ready for the shooting range tomorrow?”

“I am. Pete, isn’t someone taking a terrible chance killing Egon like that, at a big party?”

“Yes, but there’s also safety in numbers. No doubt our man is under pressure. You were right.”

“I guess it’d be pretty easy to hand Egon a bad drink.”

“With everyone pouring champagne into his glass or handing him glasses, it would be hard to pick out anyone in particular. One thing, nothing toxic was in a bottle, or there’d be more dead people.”

“I guess we can be grateful for that.”

S
aturday morning at seven-thirty, darkness still enveloped Dixie Lane and Wings Ranch. Jeep and Mags walked from the house to the old barn. Mags had already gotten in her morning three-mile run so she felt terrific.

“You’d think after all these years I would get used to the loss of light,” Jeep mused.

“So many people get depressed. There was this one woman in my old office who used to sit and bake below an ultraviolet light during the winters.”

“Did it do any good?”

“Not that I could tell.” Mags watched as Baxter raced ahead of King. “Out here less light means it’s harder to get your chores done.”

“True, but it’s also a great time to attack those inside jobs. Dot’s major redecorating fits always took place late in winter.” She pushed open the barn door.

Baxter and King had slipped in through the back animal door so they awaited the humans, their lot in life. Humans did everything so slowly, including the way they ate. Took forever.

Jeep hefted the heavy door closed after Mags stepped in.

“I could have done that,” the younger woman said.

“I’d rather wear out than rust out. Would you look at this?” She swept her hand away from her. The pipes had been laid, the various layers of drainage over the pipes had been tamped down. Two large drains, slightly recessed, shone in the center aisles and each stall also had a recessed drain.

“Great job.”

“See, winter is good for the inside stuff. Now I’ve got to put PaveSafe down.” That soft surface that interlocked, resembling bricks, would cost Jeep a pretty penny. “If I don’t install PaveSafe, then the soil and fine sand will get into the drains. All this work would be for nothing. I wish I could find a way to make the PaveSafe look old, you know, like the original surface, but I can’t.”

“It’s nice to walk on.”

“It is. That’s one thing I notice as I age. If I’m on my feet a long time, they hurt.” She looked around. “King, you’re alert.”

“Mice.”

“I can kill them but they are hiding,”
Baxter bragged.

“Those two have become good friends.” Jeep smiled. “You know, Mags, if dogs as different as that can get along, what’s wrong with us?”

“I don’t know, Aunt Jeep. Maybe the human animal was born to dominate and kill anything that competes for the same food. Ever notice how animals who eat different things rarely fight? Why would a woodpecker and a cow fight? Sometimes I harbor dark thoughts about us, especially after what I saw on Wall Street. People acted with absolute compelling disregard for other people, lying and ruining lives.” She shook her head. “Maybe we aren’t a very nice animal.”

“But then think of people diving into a river to save others, sometimes even strangers. I’m older than dirt and I just have no idea why we are the way we are, but I’m starting to think what we call due process of law just allows criminals to flourish. Take the bastards swindling the little guy out and shoot them. Catch a man molesting a child, take out the son of a bitch. Wouldn’t the ACLU have a field day with me?”

Mags put her arm around her great-aunt’s waist. “I have a field day with you.”

“Liberal, are you?”

“More than you.” Mags changed the subject. “What’s next after the Pave Safe?”

“Put the stalls back up, natural wood, of course. Oak. Should be oak. Lasts forever, but Christ, it’s heavy. And expensive. Anyone who could,
used oak. Well, it’s still the best. But given the expense, most people use pressure-treated pine. I love doing this the way Dot loved colors and fabrics.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you have gifts in that direction.”

“Decorating? Well, I’m better than you.” Mags laughed.

“That’s not saying much.” Jeep walked to the other end of the barn, Mags with her. She slid open those doors a crack, the view was toward the southeast. “Pink. Why is the sunrise so exciting?”

“Hope.”

Jeep then pointed in the other direction toward the Petersons. “Can you see Dixie Lane?”

“Barely.”

Jeep moved her arm toward the left. “Connects to Dry Valley Road. If we had been working outside, we might have seen the headlights of Oliver Hitchens’s killer. But, of course, it’s winter. I’m starting to take these murders personally. One man is dumped at the edge of my property and another killed at my party.”

“It’s too close for comfort. I’m glad Pete is taking me to the shooting range. I think if I practice, I’ll be a pretty good shot.”