The Double-Jack Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) (19 page)

“Ray Blunt. Yes, I know him well. Quite the jovial individual.”

“That was my impression.”

The director laughed. “I believe we have three Cuban rifles in the exhibit, but the one from Ray Blunt will be identified as such. Come with me and we’ll go take a look.”

The exhibit showed three mannequins dressed in Cuban uniforms, each holding a rifle. They were surrounded by Rough Riders, one of whom bore a slight resemblance to Theodore Roosevelt. There was an open box of the green bullets at the feet of one of the Cubans.

“The Cuban soldier on the far right is the one holding the rifle donated by Ray Blunt,” the director said, referring to a note on the edge of the exhibit.

“Excellent, Mr. Mullan. Now I’m afraid I must take that rifle with me to have it checked by my CSI unit.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t permit that,” said Mr. Mullan.

Tully gave him The Look.

“Oh, you’re right of course, Sheriff. I’ll have to have you sign some papers, though.”

“No problem.”

Tully spent the night at the Davenport Hotel in Spokane and drove back to Blight City in the morning, stopping first at the office. The law-enforcement business seemed to be humming smoothly along under Daisy’s firm command, even though he knew his undersheriff would take credit for it.

“Looks like you’ve got everything under control, Herb,” he said, giving Daisy a wink. She rolled her eyes.

Herb said, “Yeah, but I’m glad you’re back, Bo. This job is wearing me to a frazzle.” He went back to reading his paper. Tully had noticed that in any institution or business, there are always individuals who do absolutely nothing. This was Herb’s function.

As usual, Lurch was hunched over his computer. He probably had already solved three crimes that morning.

“I’ve got a job for you, Lurch,” Tully said. “Something a little more interesting than your usual fare. It’s the rifle that may have been used in the mine murders. Check out the striations on its bullets against those we found in the mine.”

Lurch beamed at him. “Great!”

“The gun’s in the back of my Explorer. I guess you can use your water tank to fire the gun into.”

“Right. As soon as I have the bullet, I’ll head down to the crime lab in Pocatello to make the comparison.”

“I guess that will take you through Boise,” Tully said. “Why don’t you spend the night there on the way back? Take Sarah out to dinner at the Giggling Loon restaurant. Put it on your county charge card.”

Lurch stopped and stared at his boss as if he thought the sheriff had gone mad. “I’ll do it!” he said, grinning. “Sarah would love that!”

Sarah was the gorgeous and brilliant medical scientist in a Boise hospital. Why she took to Lurch, Tully couldn’t fathom. He suspected failing eyesight on her part, all that time spent looking through microscopes. Although he was fond of Lurch himself, he couldn’t imagine what kind of girl would fall in love with his CSI unit. Oh, yeah, Sarah was a scientist and Lurch was brilliant. He probably was attentive, too.

“What are you thinking?” the unit said, stopping on his way out.

“Nothing, Lurch. Get going before I do think of something.”

He walked into his office. Daisy followed him in. “So what hideous messes have occurred while I’ve been gone?” he asked her.

“Just the routine,” she said.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, it never ends.” She sat down in a chair across from him. As always, she was a model of perfect efficiency, her back ramrod straight, her legs crossed beneath her black skirt, the white blouse perfect.

Daisy is something else, he thought. Now that she’s divorced, she’s also available. So many women, so little time. “So how is our jail population getting along?”

“Oh, they’re grousing as usual. A couple of them tried to climb out of the playpen the other day. Herb put down his newspaper long enough to fire a shotgun in the air. Scared the wits out of them. Ever since then they’ve occupied themselves with basketball.”

“Who were the two miscreants?”

“Oh, Vince and Otto. They share almost a whole brain. Maybe you should think about getting some tax to expand the jail, especially the playpen.”

“If I ever get the urge to raise taxes, it will be to improve the wages around here. I don’t think we have one deputy with a decent car of his own. Pugh is still driving that ratty old blue Ford pickup he’s had for about thirty years.”

“Brian loves that pickup, Bo.”

“I know. All us old Idaho boys love our pickups. Speaking of Brian, I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from him.”

“No, nothing.”

“I’m starting to think we never will.”

“Don’t say that, Bo!”

“Sorry,” he said. “Anyway, it would be nice to get a new pickup once in a while. Come to think of it, I’ve never had a
new pickup. By ‘new,’ of course, I mean one not more than ten years old.”

Daisy said, “A raise would be wonderful, Bo! Can we count on that?”

Tully laughed. “No! The strain of my being gone must have affected your sanity. You know how folks around here feel about taxes. Of much greater importance is that the mention of taxes would certainly have an adverse effect on my next election. We don’t want to do anything that might threaten that, do we?”

“Oh, you know your Freezer Day guarantees your next election.”

He noticed the cartoon he had drawn of Susan on his desk calendar. He ripped off the page, wadded it up, and threw it in the wastebasket. “You think? Well, I suppose I should wander down to the jail and check on our criminals.”

“You should, Bo. You know they’re always so happy to see you.”

“Right.” He headed down to the basement.

Lulu, the jail matron, opened the door for him. “Hi, Bo.”

“Hi, Lulu. How’s it going?”

“Not bad, but don’t go over to the women’s side. They’re having a hissy fit of some kind. As soon as I’m done with my tea, I’ll go shut them up.”

“I’ll take a look at the men. Anyone of interest in there?”

“Naw. Just the regulars and your stick-up man, Tanzy.”

He opened the door to the men’s section and walked in. Someone called out, “Snap to, everybody. It’s Bo, come for a visit!”

Instantly there arose a great yammering of voices and pounding on bars with various objects. He walked along the cells, looking in. He knew all the inmates. Lulu was right, all the regulars. Suddenly he stopped, backed up, and took a second look into a cell. “Petey! What are you doing back in here?”

“It’s all a big mistake, Bo!” the little man cried. “I was walking home from your Freezer Day and saw this chain saw on the sidewalk. It looked just like mine. I figured somebody must of stole it, so I picked it up and took it home.”

“Petey, you’re not a chain saw kind of guy and you know it. You fall down on one of those things, they bury you in a dozen quart jars.”

“I hate it in here!” Petey yelled, very much the enraged pixie. “These guys are a mean bunch!”

Tully had to smile. “That’s one of the downsides of being a criminal, Petey—the company you get to keep!”

He walked to the end of the row of cells. “Guess what, fellows,” he shouted. “I’ve ordered in sirloin steak, baked potatoes, and salad with blue cheese dressing for each of you tonight. Crabbs is preparing it all right now.”

Cheers went up from the cells.

Tully laughed. “You guys are so easy. I was joking! Can you imagine what the commissioners would do if they caught me feeding my criminals a bunch of steak dinners from Crabbs with all the fixings?” He slammed the door behind him to shut off the screamed obscenities. People stupid enough to end up in jail just don’t have the intelligence to appreciate a good joke.

He returned to the briefing room, tugging thoughtfully on his mustache.

“Daisy, how many jokers we got locked up down there?”

“Six women and ten men. Why?”

“Call up Crabbs and order sixteen steak dinners with all the fixings. Have them delivered tonight.”

“Have you gone crazy, Bo! The commissioners will howl like banshees.”

“They howl no matter what. Give them something to howl about, I always say.”

THE NEXT MORNING
Tully had barely fizzed out his usual half cup of coffee when Lurch called. “We got a match, boss!”

“Great!”

He went into his office and dialed Agatha’s number. Bernice answered.

“Hi, Bernice. It’s Bo. Pap was going to help you out with that road into the ranch. I was wondering if he got around to it.”

“Oh, my goodness, yes! Agatha is going to have the whole thing paved.”

“Paved?”

“Yes. And there will be money left over.”

“Money?”

“Yes, Pap called yesterday and said the smelter up in Trail called yesterday and said there were forty-three ounces of
gold in the slag. They said at today’s gold prices that amounts to thirty-eight thousand seven hundred dollars.”

Tully frowned. “Pap set this up?”

“Yes, without even telling us. Agatha was in total shock. She called the Finches right away and said she couldn’t take the money, but Teddy said she had to take it, because all he had given her was an old pile of slag. So she finally gave in. She’s been calling contractors all morning to find out how much it would cost to get the road paved.”

“Pap set this up?” Tully repeated, still frowning.

“Yes, he really is a dear man. Not many men would go to all this trouble for two old ladies. I’m actually sorry I’ve called him such rather harsh names from time to time.”

Tully was now frowning and shaking his head. “So Pap set this up? Is Agatha handy?”

“Hold on a second, Bo, I’ll get her.”

Agatha came on. “Oh, Bo, it’s so good to hear from you. I guess Bernice has already told you the wonderful thing Pap has done. I tried to give the money back to the Finches, but they refused. They said the pile of slag had sat there for eighty years or more and as far as they were concerned it was totally worthless. They insisted I keep the money, so I am.”

“And Pap set this up?”

“Yes, and now I have to take back all the nasty things I’ve said about him over the years, at least those I can remember.”

I would be glad to help your memory, Tully thought, but I won’t. He said, “Agatha, I have some news about the death of your dad and Sean O’Boyle.”

He heard her suck in her breath. “What, Bo?”

“We found the gun that was used.”

“Oh, dear! And it belonged to Jack Finch.”

“I am happy to tell you that it didn’t. It belonged to a man named Howard Blunt, who became a partner of Jack Finch a year or two after Blunt had started the mine that Jack Finch later named the Finch Mine. Oddly, Blunt disappeared without a trace shortly before Jack took over the mine. But since Blunt was the one who started the mine, it is very likely he was the one who discovered Tom and Sean’s mine down on the side of the mountain. We can tie the murder weapon to him, although we can’t say definitely who pulled the trigger. My guess is that it was Blunt himself.”

He waited. There was no sound at the other end of the line.

“Agatha?”

The old woman finally spoke, her voice teary. “Oh, Bo, I choked up for a moment. I knew all along you could solve this murder, no matter how long ago it happened. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“No problem, Agatha. If you have any other crimes you want solved, it would be my pleasure.” He said good-bye and hung up.

He called Daisy back into his office. “Pugh say anything to you about Kincaid before he left?”

She sat down across the desk from him. “No, was he supposed to?”

“Nope, I just thought he might have mentioned something to you. I’m just afraid . . .”

“He’s been pretty busy, Bo. He hasn’t come into the office for nearly a week. I know he was very upset over what that monster did to the old couple. Maybe Kincaid has given up trying to . . .”

She stared out the window behind Tully. He saw her eyes widen in either fear or horror.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Suddenly, Daisy came flying over his desk. He held up his hands to fend her off but was too late. His chair went over backward. Glass shattered. A rifle shot rang in his ears. Something hit him hard in the back of the head and he blacked out. He was engulfed in darkness. So this is what it feels like to be shot in the back of the head! He didn’t see a tunnel of light. This could be bad. Then he opened his eyes. Daisy was sitting astraddle of him, her face pressed against his. Pieces of glass were falling out of the window. His head hurt. Daisy was crying. “Bo! Bo! Bo! Are you hit?” She was kissing his face all over, smearing it with her tears. “Don’t die, Bo!” she cried. “Don’t die! Don’t die! I love you so much!”

Then Herb was hovering over them. He lifted Daisy to her feet. “That was close, Bo,” he said. “He nearly had you.”

Daisy ran back to her desk, threw herself into her chair, and put her face down on her arms.

Tully felt the back of his head for blood. It was dry. For that much pain, he was disappointed to see no blood on his hand. He deserved a little blood.

“Daisy saved your life, Bo,” Herb said. “There’s the bullet hole in the gun cabinet.”

“Something hit me in the head,” Tully said.

“Your head smacked the windowsill when you went over. That bullet missed the two of you by a good half inch.”

Herb took Tully’s hand and pulled him up. “The shooter is still out there in his boat, trying to get his outboard started.”

Tully looked out the window. A man was standing up in the stern of the boat, flailing away at his starter cord. A sheriff’s department’s launch was bearing down on him. A deputy stood in the open bow of the launch, a shotgun at his shoulder. The shooter raised his hands.

“Can you see if it’s Kincaid?” Tully asked.

“Not from this distance,” Herb said. “It probably is though.”

“It’s not Kincaid,” Brian Pugh said from the doorway. “It must be one of your other disgruntled criminals, Bo.”

“Brian!” Tully jumped up and hugged the startled deputy. Then he shoved him away, still holding him by the shoulders. “Where on earth have you been?”

“I decided to take a few days off and get my head clear. I went up to Worley and got a room at the Coeur d’Alene Casino Hotel.”