| |
On the road to the Big Horn Ranch the next morning, they rode in Darren’s patrol car with Randy in front and Carrie in back. It smelled clean, which surprised Carrie. She had been in so many dirty and smelly patrol cars that a clean one was an anomaly. Officers lived in their cars and often had ripe bags of old fast food meals still in there. Even when the bags and trash were gone, she was certain that crumbs and bits of food rolled under the seats to rot.
The ride was the reverse of the one they had just made into town the day before when heading back from the coroner. They followed Central out past the railroad and across the creek. About ten miles later, Darren slowed to turn into the grand entrance.
“This is some place,” Carrie declared in awe. The drive was lined with mature trees on each side, each of which were the same size and equal distance apart. Carrie had no doubt someone had planted them many years ago to achieve this very effect.
The drive was about a quarter mile long and just before the last tree, a large, two-level ranch home filled the view. Carrie gawked at the home’s grand size.
It had a lodge feel with a rock face and timbers as trim and supports. There was a large, covered portico to cover vehicles at the front door which was made from those same large timbers and had an open ceiling rising high, showing the structure.
The front entry had beautiful pots with freshly planted flowers and a bench with a colorful cushion. “Definitely signs of a female influence,” murmured Carrie.
They rang the bell and waited.
After only a minute or two, the door opened and a woman of about fifty-five stood before them. She was dressed casually, in jeans and a button-up shirt, and had an air of class about her. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was full and slightly wavy.
The lady saw Darren and smiled as she opened the door. “Hi Darren. Lovely to see you but I am certain this is not for a happy occasion. What can I do for you?” she asked as her smile faded.
“This is Randy Jeffries and Carrie Border. They are with OSBI. Can we come in and talk with you?” asked Darren.
She opened the door wide to welcome them in, motioning toward a large, great room with a huge, stone fireplace. “Have a seat.”
They sat in deep brown leather club chairs. As Carrie rubbed her hand along the arm of the chair, she thought about how it would take a month of her salary to buy a chair like that.
“We are here to ask about Justin Thatcher. He was one of your ranch hands, correct?” Randy asked. “I assume you’ve heard of his murder?”
“Well, yes, but I couldn’t tell you anything about him. My husband handles all of that. All the business on the ranch,” June McGivens answered. She looked uneasy and stiff.
“Did you know Justin at all?” Carrie asked. She noticed the tendons in June’s neck were protruding and taut.
“I’ve met him. We have ranch gatherings from time to time. We had an all-ranch cookout a week ago last Saturday. I met Justin there, briefly.” June’s eyes darted to the floor.
“I have it here that he has worked for your ranch for one year,” said Randy. “Is that about right?” He was looking at the notes he had written on the small, leather-covered pad he kept in his pocket. It had been a gift from his wife Sandy and she’d had it embossed with his initials, RJ.
As Randy read, Carrie watched June McGivens. She squirmed as she listened to Randy. It was a very subtle shift in the way she was sitting. But her face remained blank.
Randy looked up, waiting for an answer. He knew to wait that eventually the silence would draw it out.
Finally, June responded. “Again, you would have to ask my husband. I do not keep the records, but that seems about right.” She concluded with a tight nod of her head.
Randy continued to look her in the eye. He was reading her, looking for signs that showed she was being honest, or hiding something. But he couldn’t tell. It was obvious that she was uncomfortable, but he could not pin down why.
“You seem uncomfortable, Mrs. McGivens. Why is that?” Randy asked.
Her eyes grew wide, and she sat up straighter. Her right hand went to her chest just below her collarbone.
“Yes, I am, I suppose. This murder has gotten me on edge. I am confident it had nothing to do with the ranch, but it is all just so unsettling.” Her words tumbled out.
Randy watched her for a few brief seconds, then said, “Yes, I am sure it is. May we talk to your husband?”
“Well, he’s out at the barns somewhere, I believe. I can ask our ranch foreman.” She picked up her cell phone and sent a text.
There was a whoosh and then a ding. She looked up and said, “Pinky said Jack has gone into the city to get supplies and he is not sure when he will be back.”
Carrie jumped in, “Can we talk to... Pinky, was it?”
“Yes, we call him Pinky because when he was a kid he used to drink with his pinky held up. With all the teasing he stopped, but the nickname has lasted. His real name is Andrew, or Andy.”
June McGivens looked back at her phone and sent another text. Another reply came quickly. “He said yes he can talk, if you don’t mind coming down to the big barn.”
“No, we don’t mind if you will point us in the right direction,” Carrie said as she stood.
Darren had been quiet the entire time allowing the two detectives to conduct the interview. But he never took his eyes off of June.
Randy reached out to shake June’s hand. “Please let us know if something—anything—should occur to you," said Randy.
“I will. It’s a horrible thing. I promise if I think of anything, I will call you.” She seemed relieved to be done with the conversation.
She walked them to the door and from the porch pointed to a red building that was barely visible through the trees. “That is the big barn you can see there just through the trees. Follow the path or you can just drive down, and Pinky will meet you there.”
Carrie smiled and shook her hand. “It was nice to meet you.”
June didn’t reply, just simply nodded. Her hand was up at her collar again fiddling with the button there.
~~~
They should have taken two separate cars. Just as they were leaving, Darren’s mike squawked, and a deputy summoned him to another incident. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Darren said. “I’ll need to take you back to get your car.”
“Sure, but we need to let June and Pinky know that we will have to come back,” said Carrie.
Darren called June on his cell phone and explained the situation. “June said that would be fine and that she would let Pinky know.”
Carrie looked over at Randy as they walked to the car. “Did she act funny to you?” she asked so Darren wouldn’t hear.
Randy looked up as he opened the door. The sun was so bright she had to shield her eyes with her hand to see him.
He stopped with the door open and looked at her. “Yes, she did,” he said. “She was as nervous as a kitten meeting a new puppy.”
“And Darren couldn’t take his eyes off of her.”
“Yes, I noticed that, too.”
Twenty minutes later they were back at their car in town. They got in the hot car and the instant Randy cranked the engine Carrie reached for the AC controls. “You know turning that up will only shoot the hot air straight out to us like a blow dryer. Best to let it cool down a bit.”
“I know,” said Carrie, “but it’s a hard habit to break. It’s so hot in here and I just want to fix it and get cool. You would think I would get used to this crazy weather, spring and ninety degrees. Tomorrow it could be fifty.”
Once back at the ranch entrance, Randy turned the car onto the drive and this time turned to head toward the barn and other outbuildings rather than take the drive up to the house.
The barn, stable, and other buildings were as well-appointed as the house. Not only void of peeling paint, but beautifully trimmed as well. Underneath the gable of each building they had fashioned a large logo of the ranch.
Anyone looking at this ranch, the home, property, and buildings, could see who the owner was and the statement he was making. He was successful, and he was proud of it, it showed everywhere you looked.
“Jack must have a tight rein on things around here. Look how orderly everything is,” Randy pointed out.
They were driving so slow on the gravel drive you could hear the popping of the gravel under the tires. It sounded just like popcorn in a popper. They were giving themselves time to survey the land and take it all in.
“Hey,” said Carrie, “speed up a bit. At least outrun the gravel dust. I can’t see a thing. Feels like our car is PigPen on Charlie Brown.” Randy gave her one of his looks but sped up.
At the barn that June had directed them to, which was the largest building of them all and the first one on the drive, an old cowboy was just coming out the door. He was slim and short and bowlegged; he looked like he had been born with his legs strapped around the belly of a horse.
His light straw hat was stained with sweat and battle worn. He was taking a red bandana and wiping the sweat and dust from his face. His face was twisted as he wiped, and he squinted at the car coming up to the barn.
As they stopped, he shoved the bandana in his rear pocket and put both hands on his hips to wait.
“Hello, I’m Agent Carrie Border and this is Agent Randy Jeffries from the OSBI,” Carrie introduced them as she approached. “Mrs. McGivens said you would talk with us.”
Pinky nodded, ducked his head and turned back toward the barn all in one fluid movement. “Come on back to the barn. We’ll find a cooler spot to talk than out in this hot sun.” He motioned with a swipe of his hand indicating for them to follow.
The barn was an architectural marvel. Carrie couldn’t help but stare up at the construction of the thing. The thought crossed her mind that she should watch where she walked since she was in a barn, but someone had swept the concrete floor cleaner than many houses she had seen.
They followed Pinky until he led them into a room within the barn. It appeared to be his office. Who knew cowboys could have offices?
“Have a seat,” said Pinky as he moved some tack out of one of the chairs in front of an old beat up, but clean desk. He dumped the tack on an old saddle rack off to the side and fell into the chair behind the desk.
In the window there was a window unit trying to keep the office cool. As he plucked his hat off of his head and dropped it onto his desk with one hand, he reached and cranked up the AC knob with the other.
“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” Pinky asked as he leaned back in the chair not looking enthused.
“Tell us about Justin Thatcher,” said Randy.
Pinky took a minute to answer. What did he tell? He pondered what was actually necessary to tell to help solve Justin’s murder.
“He was young, but a hard worker,” replied Pinky.
“Who did he associate with here at the ranch?” asked Randy.
“Well, everyone associates with everyone. We all have to work together to get things done,” replied Pinky.
Randy studied Pinky. Was he trying to be evasive or was he just answering as he felt he should? Pinky’s gaze back at him was calculating and deliberate.
“I guess what I am wondering, Pinky, is who did he hang with during his off hours.”
“Well, most of the younger ranch hands kept to themselves. They liked to go to town and hang at the bar, play pool, drink, and flirt. You know how it is when you’re young.”
“Did Justin have a girlfriend, someone in particular?” asked Carrie.
“Not that I know of. Leastwise he never talked about a special someone and he never brought anyone around here.” Pinky had a knot in his stomach when he said that. He didn’t dare talk about the night he walked around the corner of the back equipment barn and saw Justin and June McGivens in a close embrace.
“Who else could we talk to that might know more about what Justin did in his free time? Was there one particular guy who he hung out with the most?”
“I would say you should talk to Keith. He and Justin were buddies. I’ll get him for you,” Pinky said as he picked up his phone and sent a text.
~~~
“So Keith, you and Justin had gone to the Darkside Tavern earlier that night?” asked Randy.
“Well, just for about an hour. We were worn slick out from working all day. Pinky had us doing a bunch of stuff we don’t normally do. We went for a drink, played a game or two of pool and then left.” He shuffled his feet trying to find a stance that felt right in order to discuss his best friend’s murder, but nothing did.
Keith looked so much like Justin. He was thin and about the same height. His hair was lighter, Carrie thought, but they could almost be twins.
They were standing out in the sun now talking to Keith. They were out in the space between the main barn where they had spoken with Pinky and the bunkhouse. It was hot, the sun bright, and they were all squinting to see each other. Keith kept pushing up his sweaty John Deere cap and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Perhaps it was the heat, or could it be something else?
“Did Justin have a girlfriend?” asked Carrie.
Keith looked away before answering. “Naw, he didn’t have a girlfriend.”
“Was there anyone that had a beef with him? Someone who had an axe to grind with him?” asked Randy.
“Not that I know of,” replied Keith. “This is a small town and here at the ranch we just try to do our work and make it through the day. Justin was a good-natured guy. He was easygoing and everyone liked him.”
There was frustration in that statement. Carrie thought to herself that they were friends and his death must have been hard on Keith.
“Look, we know you guys were buds and this must be very hard on you, but the only way we can find out who did this is to ask hard questions. Most of the time we ask questions no one wants to answer when they least like to answer them. Please understand we want to find his killer and the only way is to trace Justin’s steps and get to know him and his life better,” explained Carrie.
Keith looked at her and she saw the pain in his eyes for the first time. The tough cowboy facade was all gone. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion and it was evident it was difficult for him to talk.
“Yeah it is hard, real hard. We grew up together, went to high school together. We’ve shared football, hunting, and more days hanging out than I can count. I have no idea who would have done this to Justin.”
“Okay. If you think of anything will you please give us a call?” asked Randy as he handed Keith his business card. Keith looked at the card and nodded.
On the drive back to town, neither Carrie nor Randy said a word. They were processing the three interviews they had just conducted.
Finally Carrie said, “Something else is going on that they are not telling us.”
“Yes, but what?”
“I don’t know. June was fidgety and nervous, and Pinky was picking and choosing each word he said. Keith is grieving and probably not thinking of details that could help us right now.”
“You would think June would have opened up with Darren there. He’s a nice guy, but too willing to step back and let us conduct the interviews. It's evident to me that the local people do not trust us.”
Tomorrow we’ll go to the Darkside and see what that place reveals.
~~~
Senna’s family hadn’t had a TV while she was growing up. Her father frowned on it and so Senna had never learned to enjoy it herself. She had watched one while at her grandparents’, but little time was spent on that activity. Her Gran loved to be spending her time with Senna, doing things like baking or shopping, even just sitting in the backyard in the garden watching Senna play.
So, each day after work Senna came home and read the afternoon paper. She always purchased it from the vending machine just outside the library front door. Because it was so routine, she rarely stopped to look at it until she was home. She would pull it out, tuck it in her bag, and head for home.
It wasn’t until she settled on her sofa with a cold glass of tea beside her, that she opened the paper and saw the headlines, ‘Body Found in Kachina, Oklahoma’, with a subheading of, ‘Local Police Say It Is Murder’.
Senna felt shocked. Moving to the edge of her seat, she devoured the article. Apparently, a local resident had been found in a remote part of the town with his throat slashed. There were no witnesses. They had not elaborated on clues. Probably best to keep that out of the paper, she thought.
She read the article again. A strange feeling began in the pit of her stomach. Was it fear? No. Was it anxiety? No. What was this strange feeling? For the first time she could remember, she shut the paper without reading the entire thing.
She jumped up and thought to herself that she needed to get out of the house, had to get out of the house.
Walking along the sidewalk, her thoughts jumbled in her mind and distracted her. It occurred to her she must be crazy to be out for a walk with a murderer on the loose. But surely that guy in the paper was killed for a reason. He must have certainly done something or harmed someone. Maybe he was doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. If he had been more careful then he wouldn’t be dead, right?
Senna viewed people differently as she walked. She wondered if each person she saw might be the one, the one who could take a life. Suddenly, she was bumped out of her thoughts—literally—by a blonde bombshell of fur. She looked down into the happy face of a big, friendly dog. Grabbing the leash, she then stooped to pet the wayward fellow while also looking around for its owner.
A very handsome man about her age ran up to her and the dog. “I am so sorry he jumped on you!” he said breathlessly, adding a smile.
“No, he’s fine. He just wanted a petting I think.” What a dope she thought. How dumb did that sound?
“Buddy loves people and loves to be petted. I do my share, but he loves to befriend everyone he sees.”
“His happy face makes me want to laugh,” Senna said. She felt the urge to laugh and suddenly realized how few things made her want to do that.
The man studied Senna as she petted Buddy. Then she straightened and looked into the man’s eyes. She thought he must be about six feet tall. I’m five feet, ten inches and I can see him nearly eye-to-eye.
Eye contact made Senna extremely uncomfortable, but they had locked gazes and couldn’t look away. It was as if she no longer had control over her own body. Is there such a thing as involuntary eye-lock?
With that thought, a chuckle burst forth from Senna that caused her to break their gaze. She ducked her head and brought her hand to her mouth feeling subconscious about the laughter.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing, it’s not you,” she said, once again feeling uncomfortable and looking away. She wanted to explain, but couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to have a casual conversation with this guy.
“Okay, well that’s good.” He took the dog’s leash from Senna and said, “I’m Blake, Blake Burton. Nice to meet you.” Again, he grinned at her with a half grin and she was able to give him a tentative smile. She wanted to return the half grin with a welcoming smile, but couldn’t.
“I like him,” she blurted out.
“Oh, you like him, but not me?” he laughed.
“No, that’s not at all what I meant,” she was feeling like such a fool. This is why she didn’t socialize more. “I mean that I really like him.”
He burst out laughing. “Well, at least then you like me a little even if you like him more.”
Her mouth fell open a bit as she looked at him dumbfounded. Realization broke through at how she’d sounded.
She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I meant either.” She had to laugh then.
“I know. I am just having fun with you.” The blonde bombshell jerked against the leash and tried to walk away.
“Maybe I’ll let Buddy jump on you again sometime,” he said with a wide smile, the kind she wanted to give back to him. And with a small salute he turned and was gone.
He left her watching him jog away. Finally, she slowly turned and walked away, too.
With her mind still on Blake and Buddy she continued walking the two blocks to main street. She thought to herself how she always cooked at home, but felt like eating out just then. She pondered this thought which felt very foreign to her. Growing up, she had been taught that eating out was an unnecessary extravagance. She didn’t ponder it for long, however, and walked to the All American Diner, a favorite spot for most residents of Kachina.
It was your typical diner and on any given day it was filled with locals. Senna usually avoided this place because she was uncomfortable socializing and had always felt tense when she found herself in a large group of people.
Finding a booth in the back that was isolated, she sat down. She had never learned to enjoy food, but had to say she liked the taste of meat which seemed odd to her. After reviewing the menu from the rack, she decided on a cheeseburger with bacon. She replaced the menu and waited for the waitress.
To Senna, most women her age seemed so concerned about their weight they would never eat such a thing. Her weight had never been a concern though. She had always been thin, particularly because she was always working at home. Her father had not tolerated laziness. Her mom did not cook elaborate meals either. They were utilitarian and there was never any waste. Father would not have allowed that.
As she sat waiting, Senna noticed that the diner was old. A person could tell that the profit, if there was any, did not go into decor or renovating. As expected in a diner, there were booths along one wall with vinyl tufted red pleather. Some cushions had little rips where a white felt-looking substance peeked through. Others had duct tape repairs.
The diner sat on Kachina’s main street between two other businesses. The only source of light was from outside and came in from the wall of windows at the front of the diner. It was spring, and the days were growing longer, so it was still light out. She noticed how the light played off of the walls and floors. Sitting so far back in the diner, she felt like she was almost sitting in the dark, which was okay with her.
The waitress served her burger, and she noticed they had added fries. Senna hadn’t ordered them, but guessed they must come with the burgers. She had eaten there so few times she couldn't remember.
The first bite into the burger released juices that sparked her taste buds. The greasy meat and bacon tasted so good that she shut her eyes as she relished the rare guilty pleasure. Once she had eaten just enough to be full, and no more, she asked for a to-go container, paid her bill, and left.
Walking back home, she realized how exhausted she felt. She realized that she had felt very tired, exhausted even, most of the time lately and she didn’t understand why. She thought to herself as she walked that she would just rest a bit before doing her nightly chores.
Unlocking the door, only silence greeted her and fatigue overwhelmed her. Thinking she would sit for only a bit then clean, she sat down and pulled the afghan over her.
As she drifted off to sleep she thought to herself, I have to keep on schedule. That’s a rule I made to keep order in my life and I have to have order.
The sofa was soft and almost instantly her eyes closed and she drifted.