5
October 21: six days earlier, afternoon.
It had meant a great deal that Eric Boss had driven down from Billings just to have this conversation.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, Walt, but you’d be doing me a big favor. We’re into this one to the tune of close to nine million dollars, and if there’s any funny business I just want to make sure we’re not the ones footing the bill.”
I sipped my coffee and slid it across the counter for Dorothy to refill. “What, exactly, is it you want me to do?”
The insurance man pushed the bone-white, cattleman-style hat back on his head, and I noticed the golden crucifix hat pin that glinted in competition with Boss’s grin. “Well, nothing illegal.” He shifted the smile to the chief cook and bottle washer. “How good’s the pie today, honey?”
She looked back at him more than just a little askance as she poured coffee. “Are you trying to get our sheriff in trouble?”
“Nope.” He picked up his mug and winked at her from over the edge. “Just got a tough job and need a tough guy for it.”
She placed the pot back on one of the burners and dumped the grounds from the other, readying it for a refill. “You get him hurt, and you’re gonna know what tough is.”
Boss ignored her and reached down to pull up a leather satchel that was engraved with the words COWBOYS FOR CHRIST across the hand-tooled leather. He retrieved a thick file from the bag and put the pile of papers on the counter between us. “You know me, Walt, I don’t mind paying on a righteous claim, but I need to know if this one’s on the level.”
“Don’t you have investigators who do this sort of thing?”
“We do, and the last one I sent barely escaped with his life.” He sipped his coffee. “They are a regular bunch of outlaws out there. The law of the land has left Absalom, and I need somebody to go out and reintroduce it.”
“To the tune of nine million dollars.”
“Exactly.”
“A feast is made for laughter, and wine makes life merry, but money is the answer for everything?” I didn’t see any reason to tell the insurance man about the phone call with Sandy Sandberg or the one with Attorney General Joe Meyer, for that matter, figuring there was nothing like getting offers for more marching orders on a march you’d already decided to make. “Ecclesiastes 10:18.” I slid the folder beside my mug and looked up at the blond man’s nonplussed face. “Who’s the beneficiary in all this?”
It took an instant for Boss to respond. “Barsad’s got a brother in Youngstown, Ohio, who sounded on the phone like he was just as glad to hear Wade was dead.”
“He hasn’t shown up?”
“Nope, but I don’t think there was any love lost between ’em.”
“What’d he say about the wife, Mary?”
He thought about it. “Didn’t say anything.”
“No questions about why she did it or how?” Boss shook his head. “Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“Some, but they sounded estranged, so maybe he never met the wife.” Vic swung open the door of the Busy Bee and sat on the stool beside me. Boss glanced at me and then at Vic. “Hello, young lady.”
I continued to study the file without looking up. “It’s all right, she’s with me.”
Taking his chances, Boss ordered the pumpkin chiffon pie and looked back at Vic. “We were just discussing that people do all kinds of horrible things to each other, young lady, but I figure that’s between them and God. I’m more concerned with the work at hand.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Vic nodding. “Amen.”
I flipped to the contact sheet. There were a couple of numbers for Wade’s brother-work, home, and a cell. “You mind if I give him a call?”
“Be my guest.”
I read the figures and tallied up. “So, you think he burned all those horses with the intention of insurance fraud?”
“I don’t know, but I’d say it was pretty telling of his character if he did so.”
I flipped some pages. “The problem being DCI didn’t find any signs of arson?”
The insurance man grinned in Vic’s direction, the effect being halfway between a snake-oil salesman and a snake. He watched her closely as Dorothy poured her a cup of coffee. She doctored it with the requisite cream and four sugars. “Exactly.”
“You want whipped cream on that pie?”
He was still looking at Vic when he answered. “Yes, ma’am. That would be fine.”
I followed the insurance man’s eyes and then gazed up to the crucifix on his hat. “Maybe your boss was trying to hit him with a lightning bolt and missed.”
His face colored a little, embarrassed at getting caught staring at my deputy. “My boss doesn’t damn well miss.” He leaned forward and tipped the brim of his hat to Vic. “Excuse my French, young lady.”
The coffee cup had stalled out, just in front of her lips. “Yeah, well, you watch your fucking mouth.”
October 28, 12:48 A.M.
I lay there listening to the loud voices and country music and thought about how much energy it was going to take to put my clothes on, go next door to room number three, and tell them to turn it down and quiet up.
There wasn’t a lot of space with the two of us on the bed, but the beast had insisted. He was sprawled across the bottom, so I’d attempted sleep with my feet hanging off the edge diagonally. It didn’t work, so I made use of the only reading material I could find in the room.
I stuck an index finger in the Bible I’d found in the bedside drawer, left for travelers in need of salvation via the Gideons; Absalom was seemingly prime territory. There was a loud thump against the wall, and Dog sat up at the end of the bed, a low growl beginning to emit from his pulled-back lips.
“Easy, easy-” I took a deep breath and rolled my head over so that I could see the partially melted clock- radio’s plutonium-like green numbers.
12:52 A.M.
The headache was still lingering, and I started thinking that I should’ve gotten some of Mary Barsad’s medication myself. The party in the next room had started at a little after midnight, and an hour later the soirйe was in full swing.
I retrieved my index finger, stared at 2 Samuel, and read aloud: “And unto David were sons born in Hebron: and his first born was Amnon, of Ahinoam the Jezreelitess, and his second, Chileab, of Abigail the wife of Nebal the Carmelite, and the third, Absalom the son of Maacah the daughter of Talmai king of Geshur-” I paused and looked at Dog’s big brown eyes. “Are you getting all this?”
His head lowered back to the stained bedcover.
“That’s a lot of begetting.” I skipped ahead to the juicy part. “Absalom was riding upon his mule, and the mule went under the branches of a great oak and his hair caught fast in the branches and he was left hanging between heaven and earth.” I nudged the beast with my foot, but he ignored me. “That’s what you get for riding a mule.” I continued my theatrics. “And Joab thrust three darts into the heart of Absalom while he hung, still alive in the oak tree. And ten young men, Joab’s armor-bearers, surrounded Absalom and struck him, and killed him.” As if the three darts hadn’t done the job. I nudged Dog again, but he didn’t move. “Seems like all they do is beget and slaughter people in this book. In the Old Testament part, at least.”
The volume of the radio next door increased. It was a station out of Durant, and I recognized Steve Lawrence’s voice as he introduced the next song. “This is an oldie but a goodie, ‘Cattle Call,’ from that Tennessee plowboy, Mr. Eddy Arnold.”
I remembered that it had been one of my mother’s favorites. A fellow by the name of Tex Owens had written it while waiting to do a radio broadcast. It had begun snowing in Kansas City that night, slowly at first, but then it had blotted out his view of the buildings across the street.
