Death on the High Lonesome (15 page)

That was all she said. Then she moved Ringo forward at a slow walk. Virgil followed. They looked down on the bloated carcass.

“Jupiter,” she said again. “Dad's horse.”

Two of the birds had settled near the body. Virgil reached in his saddlebag, drew out his sidearm, firing two shots in the air. The cloud of rebellious black flew into the air, loudly protesting the interruption of their anticipated feast. Then Virgil and Marian carefully made their way down the embankment to reach the dead horse. Marian sat in the saddle while Virgil dismounted. He bent over the dead animal. The bloating told Virgil that he was looking at an event that had taken place a couple of days before. The horse carried no rigging. Virgil walked around the animal twice, a little surprised at the absence of blowflies. He attributed that to the cold weather along with the persistent wind, which even now caused him to turn up his collar a little more. The wind
also blew away the scent of death. Finally, he returned to stand by Ringo's side. Marian's face was devoid of emotion, giving no hint of her suspicions.

“Obviously, no sign of your father, but this was no accident. The horse took a round squarely in the chest about two or three days ago. I'm not sure whether Charlie walked away, but someone took the saddle and any other gear the horse was carrying. I just don't know what became of Charlie.”

Marian's body language showed little change except for the tightness in her face, which caused her cheekbones to become more prominent.

“Guess our search isn't over,” Virgil said. We've just got to keep on looking.”

“Looks that way,” Marian said as she looked at the sky. “At least until we find another flock of vultures.”

D
octor Arthur Kincaid was a little surprised when he called the sheriff's office on the day after Thanksgiving and Jimmy Tillman answered the phone.

“Hey, Doc.”

“Hey, yourself. What are you doing there, Jimmy? Thought you would still be home nursing your wounds or eating leftovers. Where's Virgil or Rosie?”

“Hold on just a second, Doc. The other phone is ringing.”

The second lasted over two minutes, and Art Kincaid was tempted to hang up the phone.

“Sorry about that. It was Alex Rankin down in Redbud just checking in. He knows I'm alone here, like he is down there.”

“So, it's a little thin as far as personnel in the sheriff's department this holiday.”

“Yeah, well, things are usually pretty quiet this weekend. Most folks sitting around feeling guilty about eating too much. Then of course, there's football. I got nothing happening in my
life right now, 'cept physical therapy, which ain't exactly what I'd call much of an ingredient for an exciting social life.”

“What about that Simpson girl?”

There was a momentary hesitation before Jimmy responded.

“Guess nothing's secret in this town.”

“C'mon, Jimmy. We only got a weekly newspaper. This is news of the day.”

“Well, it ain't no more. That water hole is just about dried up. She met some guy who drives a Corvette. Guess she thinks he's got a little more potential for excitement than a deputy who lives in a double-wide with his mother and twelve-year-old sister, whose only means of transportation has a divider separating the front seat from the back. Hell, I ever pick up a girl in that, everybody in town will spread the word I'm dating a criminal.”

Jimmy couldn't see the smile on Art Kincaid's face.

“Jimmy, from where I sit, your life is pretty exciting. More to the point, I've never had a lady fall out of the sky on top of me.”

“Yeah, I could've passed on that.”

“Anyway, Jimmy, where's your boss? It's that lady I'm calling about.”

“Well, Doc, can't exactly say. He's somewhere up on the High Lonesome looking for Charlie Thompson. Been gone two days now.”

“Do you think there's any chance of cell phone service up there?”

“No way. He's probably thirty miles away and up over three thousand feet. Is it something real important? I could maybe get word to somebody at the ranch if he shows up.”

“No, it'll keep. I just wanted to find out if he remembered anything about the logo on that truck that lady was driving when he met her.”

“I'm sorry, Doc. You're digging a dry well here. I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Sorry, Jimmy, I thought you boys shared everything except your women.”

Art explained about his last conversation with Virgil.

“So the sheriff actually did meet that lady before?”

“Seems like, but that's all we got,” Ark said.

“Maybe, if we could find out where she was working?”

“Yeah, but how are we going to go about that?”

“Well, I haven't figured that part out. But you know how nothing's a secret in this town. I bet somebody knows.”

“You know, Jimmy, you might be onto something. Think you've just given yourself a job. Good luck with your search.”

Jimmy sat back in his chair after he hung up the phone, trying to figure out what had just happened and what job he had actually taken on. He was still sitting in his chair wondering when the phone rang a few minutes later.

“Jimmy, you want me to come in?”

“No, Dif. I've got it covered, unless you're looking to escape your relatives.”

“Jimmy, I do believe you're a mind reader. I'll be there in ten minutes.”

Dif was as good as his word. Jimmy had just come out of the bathroom when Dif walked through the door.

“How was your Thanksgiving, Dif?”

“Oh, it was good, particularly as far as the eats go. I'm still trying to recover from that overindulgence. You know, I promised myself I wasn't going to eat like one of those starving Armenians. Decided I was just going to take a little of everything. But there was so much of everything that it didn't make no
difference. Edna put out all these appetizers. Then her sisters come along adding more, insisting I had to try this one or that. Course to be honest, I didn't put up much of a fight. By the time we sat down for the main event, I'd already let my belt out two notches. You know what they say, Jimmy—the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“Yeah. I guess a lot of people are feeling like you today.”

“Not that brother-in-law of mine from Alamogordo. He got up today like yesterday never happened. My God, eating everything in sight. Couldn't watch anymore. For a second, thought he'd eat the plate. Wouldn't mind, if he was three hundred pounds, but my right leg weighs more than him. Go figure. There I am, trying to cut down. He's got a gleam in his eye like a cannibal at a Weight Watchers convention. Anyway, that's why I'm here—so you can take off.”

“Actually, I realized after you called I could squeeze in my last PT appointment in a half an hour, so I'm outta here.” Fifteen minutes later, Jimmy was sitting outside the physical therapy room at Hayward Hospital when he heard someone call his name.

“Hey, Deputy Tillman, we've got to stop meeting like this.”

When Jimmy looked up from the magazine he was reading, Virginia Dalton was standing next to his chair. There was a quick response hiding in his brain somewhere, but he couldn't find it.

“Hello.” It was the best he could do. She sat in the chair next to him.

“How are you feeling?”

He looked into the warm smile he saw in her blue eyes and felt like he was drowning. He mumbled a response. He could hear the words coming out of his mouth, but he had no idea what he was saying.

“That's good. So do you think this will be your last session?”

“I think so. I'll know in a little while.” He was finally getting a grasp on language.

“Hey, I have a great idea. I'm going upstairs to visit a friend. I'll stop back later. If you're done, why don't we grab some lunch at Margie's to celebrate your recovery?”

“Okay, sounds good. Actually I'm starving.”

He didn't say that if she asked him to walk hand in hand with her to the train station, to step in front of a fast-moving freight, he would have obliged with a stupid grin on his face.

*   *   *

Margie's place was like a church after a funeral. Not a soul in sight.

“Hope you have a reservation,” Margie yelled from in back of the counter when they walked through the door.

“We can always do takeout if you haven't got room,” Jimmy yelled back. Jimmy had found his voice.

They sat in one of the booths that looked out on Main Street. “Deader than a graveyard,” Jimmy said.

“Guess the day after a big holiday is always a bit of a letdown. Christmas is the worst,” Virginia said. “You work up to it for weeks, even months, then it's over in the blink of an eye.”

“Guess that's why a lot of people get depressed at that time of the year. All that expectation of something. Then they wake up the next day and realize nothing's really changed, except they have a boatload of bills they didn't have before.”

“So, you all done with PT?” Virginia asked.

“Seems so. They gave me a printout of exercises for my arm that I can do at home.”

“Pretty soon you'll be back to a hundred percent.”

“Don't know that I was ever a hundred percent. I'll settle for anything above eighty.”

Margie was standing next to the booth.

“So, you better get your order in before we run out of food.”

“Yeah, guess you could have stayed home today, Margie.”

“Well, you know how that works. If I had, I'd have gotten a call that they were lined up down Main Street. That's what they call Murphy's Law. So what can I get you?” Virginia and Jimmy each ordered the Southwestern burger and fries. Margie left only to return in a few minutes with a couple of lemonades. They each immediately took a long drink.

“I was so thirsty,” Virginia said.

“It's the hospital. Every time I come out of there, the first thing I do is get a drink. They keep that place so hot.”

“So, where's your boss? Still looking for Mr. Thompson?”

“Far as I know. Haven't heard a word.”

“So, who's minding the store?”

“I was, then Dif came in, so I was able to get to that last PT session.”

“Guess our meeting was meant to be,” Virginia said. “Kismet.”

“Kismet?” Jimmy said. “Like the word, but don't think I ever heard it before.”

When Virginia offered an explanation, he suddenly felt out of his depth. He had experienced the feeling many times, but never was it as painful as it was at that moment. Margie put plates of food in front of them. He immediately picked up his sandwich and took a bite. He felt Virginia's eyes on him. If he could have snapped his fingers and been a thousand miles away, he would have done it in a heartbeat. Instead, he ate quietly while her eyes burned a hole right through him.

“Margie sure knows how to cook a burger.”

Jimmy didn't respond.

“So, what are you going to do with the rest of your day?”

Jimmy had just put his glass on the table. “Oh, I'm going to try to track down something about that lady that landed on my car.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

Jimmy related his earlier conversation with Dr. Kincaid.

“I think that's a great idea you had. Find out where she was working. Nobody else thought of that. Way to go, Jimmy. Where are you going to begin looking?”

“Well, it'll take forever if I start door to door,” he said. “I've been thinking if there's some common connector. A place where she might have gone while she was in the area often enough that someone might have noticed her.”

“Like a gas station or a restaurant, you mean.”

Jimmy's eyes seemed to come alive.

“That's it,” he said. “Even if she was working on her own, she had to stay somewhere, eat somewhere. Maybe someone noticed her.”

He looked around the restaurant. One other person had come in while they were eating. He was sitting over a cup of coffee at the counter. Jimmy spied Carmella, one of Margie's longtime waitresses. She saw him wave to her.

“What can I get you, Jimmy?”

“Carmella, do you remember a woman who might have come in here alone a couple of times a few weeks ago? Mid to late thirties, maybe wearing a kind of uniform? A jumpsuit?”

Carmella shook her head. “Sorry, Jimmy. I missed a week a while back, but you should ask Margie. Even though she doesn't wait on that many people, she doesn't miss a trick. Anybody new,
she would know. I'll send her over as soon as she comes out of the kitchen.”

While they waited, they finished their food. When Margie came over, they put the same question to her that they had put to Carmella. She leaned on the corner of the booth for a moment, looking out onto Main Street.

“There was someone who came in by herself a couple of weeks ago. I'd never seen her before, but because she was alone I noticed her. I didn't speak to her or wait on her.”

“Was there anything about her that you noticed? Something different?”

Margie stepped back from the booth. “Sorry, Jimmy. Drawing a blank.”

“Thanks anyway, Margie.”

Margie turned, then walked back to the kitchen.

“Well, we can try some other places, like gas stations,” Virginia said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They stood up from the booth after paying their bill, then started for the door. They had it opened when Margie yelled to them. She came out from in back of the counter.

“I just remembered. There was one thing, Jimmy. It was because she was parked right outside the door. I noticed when I went outside to sign for a delivery. Her truck, she was driving a pickup. It had a cool logo. A wave. It said ‘Coastal' underneath.”