'Nope,' Sandvick countered, 'I'll prove it to you.' Sandvick pushed his glasses up on his nose and studied the photos under the glass on the counter. He settled his index finger on a shot of Finotta's bull elk mount while it was still in the studio. Joe bent, a little stiffly, to get a better look.
'You Okay?' Sandvick asked.
'My back hurts from that fall,' Joe said, distracted. He studied the photo. There were nine tines on one antler and seven on the other, just like Sandvick said. There was also a very small LCD date stamp on the bottom right of the photograph that read '9-21.'
'That's it, all right,' Joe conceded. 'You were absolutely right.'
'That was a damned big elk,' Sandvick said, but there was something different about his voice. Joe looked up to see that Sandvick was studying him intently, practically squinting. There was fear in
Sandvick's eyes.
'You had this mount finished by the twenty-first of September,' Joe said. 'And rifle hunting season doesn't open until the fifteenth of October. You say in your brochure that it takes about six to eight
weeks to finish a mount. So when did he bring it in? June or July?'
Sandvick's face drained of color and his eyes widened. He was caught. A taxidermist who worked on a game animal that wasn't accompanied by paperwork to prove it was properly taken could not only get his license revoked and be put out of business, but he could be jailed or fined. Matt Sandvick was well aware of that. So was Joe Pickett.
'June or July?' Joe asked, not unkindly
'Maybe I ought to call my lawyer or something,' Sandvick said weakly, then swallowed, 'Except I don't have a lawyer.'
'I'll tell you what, Matt,' Joe said, feeling ashamed of his trick but pleased with his discovery, 'if you agree to sign an affidavit stating that Jim Finotta brought that animal in to you out of season I won't ask the County Attorney to prosecute you. I'll even argue against it if he brings it up. But I can't promise that he won't do it anyway'
Sandvick brought both of his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. 'Finotta didn't bring it in himself. His ranch hand brought it in.'
'When?'
'I think it was June,' Sandvick said. 'I could check my records for the exact date. I talked to him on the phone. Finotta offered me one of his new lots for it. That was kind of hard to pass up. Plus I didn't want to piss the man off.'
Sandvick continued to rub his eyes, then his face. It was painful for Joe to watch.
'You do good work,' Joe said. 'Finotta told me he had that mount done in Jackson Hole, but everybody knows you're the best around and you're right here in town. So it makes sense he would come to you.'
'He said he had it done in Jackson?' Sandvick asked, clearly hurt by that.
Joe nodded. 'I'll leave you alone now But I'll be in touch about that affidavit, okay?'
'That's really an insult. Jackson?'
Before Joe left the studio, he reached across the counter and patted Sandvick on the shoulder. 'You're a good guy, Matt, but don't ever do that again.'
Sandvick didn't need to be told. He was still trembling.
'The thing was,' Joe explained, 'they left the meat. Finotta shot it, probably got his flunky to cape it and take the head off, and they left the body to rot.'
Sandvick said nothing. He lowered his hands to grip the counter and steady himself.
'That just makes me mad,' Joe explained. Then he tipped his bent hat brim at Sandvick and left the shop.
***
'I think I got him,' Joe told Marybeth when he entered the house, tossing his misshapen hat through his office doorway
She looked him over carefully her eyes widening in alarm at his appearance.
'I'm fine,' Joe said. 'I think I've nailed Jim Finotta.'
'I heard you,' she said, approaching him and fingering a tear in his shirtsleeve.
In his excited state, he blurted: 'Marybeth, we have to talk.' She probed his eyes with hers, then patted his cheek. 'Soon,' she said.
***
MARY BETH PICKETT WAS REPLACING videotapes in the shelves behind the check-in desk when she heard the door to the library open and close. It was weekend procedure to try to keep count of the people in the library because of the early afternoon closing. Several months before, one of the other volunteers had inadvertently locked a patron who was in the bathroom inside the building. The man locked inside had to call the sheriff and wait for someone with a key to be tracked down.
Marybeth glanced around the video shelf at a shrunken woman in a wheelchair being pushed by a dark man who had a toothpick in his mouth. The man saw her, tipped the brim of his dirty ball cap, and looked Marybeth over as he walked past. Marybeth nodded cryptically and continued to replace the videos. Since the Twelve Sleep County Library had started renting movies for $2 each a year ago, the librarians fretted over the fact that books would become an afterthought in the community. That had happened, to some degree.
When she was done with the videos, she returned to the front counter to find the man there. He was leaning
