Lester was obviously pleased to see Tully back with Daisy. He seated them at their special table, up near the front of the dining room. While they waited for their martinis, another waiter brought them a plate of raw vegetables and dips. “Compliments of Lester,” he said.
They had ordered vodka martinis. Upon his return with the drinks, Lester stood by awaiting the couple’s approval. Tully sipped his and glanced up at Lester. “There’s something wrong with this martini, Lester.”
Lester looked horrified. “What?”
“I can taste actual vodka in it.”
“Me too!” Daisy said.
Lester smiled. “That’s because I made them myself. The vodka is top of the line. And I added an extra dollop. I figured if I got the two of you drunk, I might get you back together.”
“Good thinking, Lester, “Daisy said, laughing. “Two sips and Bo is already starting to looked pretty good to me. I may require a couple more of these martinis, though.”
Lester disappeared into the kitchen, smiling broadly.
Daisy sipped her martini again. “So, Bo, fill me in on our murders.”
That was one of the things he liked about dating Daisy. They could always talk business. He munched a piece of celery, took another swig of his martini and blinked a couple of times. He tried to clear his throat, but his voice had already become gravelly. “What we have here, Daisy, is a convergence. It may seem like a simple bank robbery, but it’s actually a convergence.”
She peered at him over the top of her martini glass. “What’s a convergence?”
“It’s where certain things start coming together. Or seem to. For example, lines of suspicion start emanating from various situations and clues and they converge on a particular point.”
“And that point is?”
“Gridley Shanks.”
“And who provided you with this theory?”
“Gridley Shanks.”
Daisy set down her martini and frowned. “Why would Shanks give you a theory that pointed to him as a killer and robber?”
“Grid’s point exactly. He said usually a convergence is only a convergence and has no meaning. That’s what he claimed after I told him about some of the evidence pointing to him. He said a convergence gives you a false conclusion.”
“Describe this convergence.”
“The partial fingerprint Lurch found on the strip of flagging tape that happened to be hanging from a limb right at the point Vergil drove the getaway car into the ditch. The Unit matched the partial print on the tape to Grid.”
Daisy shook her head. “That tape is ubiquitous.”
“Yeah, I know, and besides that, it’s everywhere. But I had to ask myself, how do you tie a piece of flagging tape to a branch and not leave more than a partial fingerprint on it. I figured you had to wipe the tape. But why wipe flagging tape except to get rid of your fingerprints?”
“Maybe the prints belonged to an extremely neat person?”
Tully frowned. “I don’t think so, Daisy. Anyway, I hunted Shanks down at his home, and he was very cooperative, even agreed to introduce me to the two fellows who wanted to hunt his land, the two guys who, to hear them tell it, arrived at the scene of the shooting about the same time it occurred. Grid put up the tape, presumably, to show them where to hunt. Anyway, according to Grid, that explained the tape’s hanging from the tree, and the two hunters would vouch for the fact it served no other purpose than to show them the property owned by Grid.”
“And did they?”
“Did they what?”
“I’ve forgotten. You know something, Bo? This is the best martini I’ve had in years.”
“I believe it. But, yes, I think these two guys had been properly schooled by Grid. They said all the right things, except one of them mentioned seeing a herd of deer.”
Daisy stood up and waved her hand. “Lester, we’re going to need another round of martinis here pretty quick! I’m caught in a convergence!”
Tully frowned at her. “Very funny. Do you want to hear this or not?”
“Yes, I really do.” She sat back down. “It’s just that martinis help me focus my attention.”
“I bet.”
Daisy picked up a radish, dipped it in salt and thoughtfully munched it. “Any more to this convergence?”
“Yes, indeed. It turns out that the victim, Vergil Stone, was the husband of Grid’s mistress. The night after Vergil’s murder I found Grid’s car parked in Vergil’s garage. When I mentioned this to Grid he explained he was sitting up with the widow because she was his daughter, the result of an affair many years ago. I later mentioned this to the young lady. She scoffed at this bit of information. She said no way was she Grid’s daughter. She had been his lover ever since she had got out of high school. The Stones were getting a divorce. Among other things, Vergil’s getting murdered saved the cost of the divorce. Grid was always looking to the upside of things.”
Daisy dropped a carrot stick halfway to her mouth. “What! She told you that?”
“No, I reached that conclusion myself. I don’t think the widow Stone was involved in Vergil’s murder, but Grid owned their house and had been supplying the couple with money. He probably saw the murder as an inexpensive divorce, but the main reason was to shut up a weak link in the bank robbery and cut Vergil out of his share of the loot.”
Lester delivered them each a second martini and asked if they were ready to order.
Tully stared at him blankly. “What?”
“Food,” Lester said. “When folks dine at Crabbs sooner or later they like to order food, unless of course they’ve heard some of the unfounded rumors.”
Tully and Daisy each went with the wood-fired shrimp, even though both doubted the authenticity of a wood fire. After Lester had left and stopped by another table to chat with the diners, Daisy said, “So what happened to the loot?”
Tully shoved his second martini away from him. “Here’s my theory. I vaguely recall going by an old pickup truck headed into town when we were in pursuit of the getaway vehicle. I suspect it was parked alongside the road between town and the point Vergil ran the getaway car into the ditch. I supposed the driver had pulled over to the side of the road to avoid our pursuit vehicles. The driver of the truck I took to be a farmer— striped overalls, battered hat pulled low over the eyes, tattered jacket, the usual outfit for one of our farmers. There were a couple of hay bales in the back of the truck. So let’s say Vergil slid to a stop, Dance jumped out of the getaway car with the loot, dove with it into the bed of the pickup, and pulled a tarp over him. The fourth guy in the robbery drives the pickup off toward town as soon as we pass him.”
Daisy sipped her martini. “So who’s driving the pickup, if Dance dived into the back of it with the loot, with Beeker waiting up on the mountain to shoot Vergil?”
“The fourth guy—Gridley Shanks.”
“Yeah.” Tully tugged on the corner of his mustache while he thought about this. “We’re pretty sure the actual robber was Dance. Vergil’s job was to keep the getaway car running.”
Daisy stared at him. “So Shanks was involved in the robbery?”
“Yes. More than that. My guess is he’s also the mastermind of the whole thing. We even found a pickup truck parked out in his woods. It looks a good deal like the pickup I saw on the Canyon Creek road.”
Lester arrived with two salads. He set a bowl of dressing next to each. “Blue cheese dressing on the side for both, if I recall correctly.”
“You’re terrific, Lester!” Daisy said.
“Thank you, my dear. The wood-grilled shrimp will be out in a moment. May I bring you each another martini?”
Tully looked up at him. “That depends on whether you have a free taxi service to haul soused diners home.”
“Would that be two residences or one, sir?”
Tully looked at Daisy. She smiled back.
“That remains to be seen, Lester, but for now, hold off on martinis for me.”
Daisy forked out some salad, dipped it in her bluecheese dressing, and poked it in her mouth, missing on the first thrust, but connecting on the second.
After dinner, Tully drove Daisy to her home, carried her into her bedroom, poured her into bed, kissed her on the forehead, and started toward the door.
“I really needed that, Bo.”
“The kiss?”
“No, the martinis.”
The last was part whisper, part doze.
As he was climbing into the Explorer his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at it. Lurch! “What are you calling me for at this hour? Can’t you sleep?”
“Sleep? What’s that, boss?”
“You’re still at work?”
“Yeah. I just put together something I thought you’d be interested in.”
“Well, since it won’t wait until morning, shoot.”
“You remember that hassle Shanks got into with those bikers at Slade’s.”
“Yeah.”
“He was carrying a concealed weapon. He had a permit for it but when he was arrested, his weapon was confiscated. Before returning it, my predecessor ran a ballistics check on it to see if it had been used in any crimes. He didn’t find any, but he kept the bullet and all the paper work. I just checked the bullet against the bullets that killed the old couple. They were a match.”
“Shanks killed them? Then it must have been Shanks that Alma and Harold saw walking into the Beeker mansion with the loot! That was why he had to kill them! He substituted the dead Beeker and Dance for himself. Good work, Lurch!”
‘“So, can I take the day off tomorrow, boss?”
Tully checked his watch. It was almost 1:00 in the morning. “Let me think about that. Well, okay, Lurch, but don’t let this get to be a habit.”
The next morning Tully met Pete Reynolds at the airport. As usual, Pete was tinkering with some lastminute adjustments on his plane.
Pete shook his hand. “What are we looking for this time, Bo?”
“A wickiup along the edge of that meadow up on Boulder Creek.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Pete said. “What’s in it for me if we find it?”
“A thousand dollars.”
“Seems fair. “What’s in it for you?”
“Dinner at the Space Needle in Seattle.”