Double Blind Page 8

“He looks like one,” Alyss said.

  Sam stacked the plates in the overhead cabinet, while Alyss poured each of them a cup of coffee. They sat at the table.

  “So what happened?” Alyss asked.

  “I found an incredible overlook with views of the entire valley. Next to a beautiful waterfall. He came through trees like King Kong.”

  “What’d you think of him?”

  Sam leaned her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. “At first, I was apprehensive. But, I figured if worse came to worst I could out run him. Or shoot him. Of course, the bullets would probably bounce off.”

  Alyss laughed.

  Sam sipped her coffee. “But, he seemed...nice.”

  “Nice?” Alyss raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. Soft spoken. Even polite.”

  “And if he killed Lloyd Varney?”

  “That crossed my mind.”

  “Do you think he was the one that bulldozed you saw last night?”

  “He’s big enough.”

  “This gives me the creeps,” Alyss said, pulling her cardigan sweater around her. “You were out in the forest with a killer.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  But, was he? Sam thought. She had sensed no guilt or deception in Billy. Of course, murderers, especially the sociopathic variety, could lie at will and usually spoke and looked and acted like everyone else. Rarely did they stand out in a crowd or incite fear in those around them. Except for their victims, that is.

  “And you’re basing that on what?” Alyss asked.

  “A hunch.”

  Alyss rolled her eyes. “Come on, Sam.”

  “Plus, he didn’t know about Lloyd’s murder. He was surprised when I told him.”

  “He could have been acting.”

  “I know. He’s going to talk with Mrs. Varney and Chief Wade. That doesn’t sound like a guilty person to me.”

  “Unless he’s a smart guilty person.”

  *

  Louise Varney was in agony. Her head hurt and her stomach wound into a painful knot. But, mostly her heart ached.

  She had cried almost continuously since Chief Wade knocked on her door at 2:30 a.m., telling her Lloyd had been killed. The only breaks she took from her sorrow were two hours of fitful sleep at mid-day and the repetitive calling of well-wishers who stopped by with condolences and food. They were dear friends and she knew each meant well, but she would rather they left her alone, to expel her grief in privacy.

  Now, she wandered around the kitchen, too tired to sleep, too sick to eat. She opened the refrigerator several times, intending to eat some of the ham or tuna casserole or corn bread or fruit salad her friends and neighbors had brought to her.

  Why did people think food would soothe such a loss? That a banana cream pie might make her accept Lloyd’s death or fill the hollowness in her heart. Nothing could bring him back. Couldn’t they simply leave her alone?

  Human nature, she decided. The feeling that you should do something, but knowing there was nothing to do. Besides, she had made similar visits, bearing stacks of her famous biscuits to friends caught up in their own personal nightmares.

  She stared into the open refrigerator. Even her favorite comfort food, Oreos dipped in cold milk, wasn’t appealing. She finally selected a piece of cornbread, split it with a knife, and sandwiched a slab of ham inside, and then sat at the table, eating with little interest.

  She found herself continually looking up at the back door, hoping to see Lloyd through the windowpanes of the Dutch door that he had repainted only a month ago. She silently prayed he would walk through it and put an end to this unbearable pain.

  She thought of all the things she had to do. The funeral, the store. Lloyd’s will and the insurance papers. Lloyd’s clothes. How could she ever sort through his clothing? Give them to the Salvation Army, Lloyd’s favorite charity? She buried her face in her hands. It was all too much.

  She had finished only half the cornbread when she glanced up at the back door once again. Billy stepped from the trees and walked toward the house. She raced to the door, flipped the latch, and yanked it open as Billy climbed the three steps to the porch.

  “Billy,” she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his massive body. Tears erupted. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Billy embraced her while she cried into his chest. They stood silently for several minutes.

  Finally, Billy spoke. “I’m so sorry. I would have been here sooner, but I just found out. I’ve been out hiking the last two days.”

  She stepped back, grabbed his hand, and pulled him through the door. They sat at the table. She saw tears had welled in Billy’s eyes.

  “Don’t you start crying,” she said. “You need to be strong for both of us.”

  He pulled a paper napkin from the holder on the table and wiped his eyes. He exhaled hard. “I’ll try.”

  Louise sniffed back her own tears.

  “What happened?” Billy asked.

  “According to Wade, someone robbed the store. Lloyd was down there staking it out and apparently surprised the thief.”

  “Why the hell was he down there? I told him not to go playing cop.”

  “You know what a stubborn old mule he can...could be.” Sobs racked her.

  Billy reached out and clasped her hand in his. “You OK?”

  “No. But, I’ll survive. Somehow.”

  Would she? Could she carry on without him? She had always hoped they would die together. In their sleep. That way neither would have to go through the pain of losing the other.

  She stood. “Want something to eat? I’ve got a refrigerator full of stuff.”

  “I’ll get it. You sit down,” Billy said.

  She waved him away and walked to the refrigerator. “I know you hardly eat when you’re off on one of your hikes. I bet you’re starving.”

  She placed the ham, cornbread, and a five-inch thick banana cream pie on the table. She didn’t bother with the tuna casserole, knowing Billy wouldn’t eat it. She then set a plate, utensils, and a tall glass of cold milk before him.

  Billy forked a slab of ham on to his plate and sawed off a hunk. It disappeared into his beard. “Good,” he smacked. “Pauline Whitaker?”

  “Who else?” Louise said.

  Pauline Whitaker raised pigs. She always brought ham, regardless of the occasion.

  “I heard Wade came by and told you about it. About Lloyd. Sorry it wasn’t me that broke the news.”

  “He was very kind.”

  “He say anything else?” Billy asked.

  “Like what?”

  “I understand he thinks I might’ve done this.” Billy stabbed another piece of ham.

  “What? That can’t be true.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “Have you talked with him?”

  “Not yet. But, I’m sure as hell going to.”

  “How could he suspect you?” She nervously wound a dishtowel around her fist. “He knows how close you and Lloyd were.”

  “Because Wade’s a moron.”

  Louise captured his gaze. “If you were up in the mountains, you don’t have an alibi.”

  “Don’t need one.” Billy wiped a dribble of grease from his beard with a paper napkin.

  “I could tell him you were here,” Louise said. “That I wasn’t feeling well and you came by.”

  Billy smiled. “No, you couldn’t. That’d be a lie.”

  “But, I’d tell him anyway.”

  “I know you would. But, I wouldn’t let you. Besides, Wade knows I wasn’t here.”

  Billy finished two thick slices of ham and three wedges of corn bread, and then dug into a piece of pie.

  Louise smiled. “You don’t know how good it is to see you here eating. Like so many other times. It let’s me know life will go on.”

  “It will.” Billy shoved a forkful of pie into his mouth. “I’ll go in early tomorrow and make sure everything’s OK at the store. I’ll open up and work all day so you can stay home.”<
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  “I’ll be there in the morning,” Louise said.

  “”No. You stay here. You need the rest.”

  “I can’t. These walls are driving me crazy. I need to be there. The store is all I have left.”

  “And me,” Billy said.

  “Yes. And you.”

  Chapter 13

  Sam lay in bed clad in a white tee shirt emblazoned with a gold Caesar’s Palace logo. One of the trinkets the hotel gave her for fighting there. The down comforter and the feather pillow enveloped her and the residual fatigue from yesterday’s long drive and last night’s lack of sleep should have pulled her into somnolence long ago. But, that was not to be the case.

  Even the paperback she had been reading, an activity that typically guaranteed drowsiness, lay open on her chest as she stared at the ceiling.

  The creaking and squeaking and moaning of the Kendall’s love making filtered downward and filled the room. At first, she found the sounds humorous. For about 15 minutes. Then, they moved to irritating, to maddening, and finally to mocking her as she lay there by herself. She missed Nathan.

  The couple had been at it for nearly an hour. Sam knew they were too young to suffer a heart attack, but she could at least hope.

  Closing the book, she picked up the phone and dialed the number to Nathan’s hotel room in Syracuse, New York. He answered after the third ring, his voice low and thick with sleep.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  “Late.”

  “Everything OK?”

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “I was just missing you.”

  “I was missing you, too,” he said.

  “No you weren’t. You were sleeping.”

  “I was dreaming of you, though.”

  “You’d better be,” she laughed.

  “So, what’s going on?”

  “I can’t sleep. The newlyweds upstairs are making too much racket. I expect them to crash through the ceiling any minute now.”

  “Sounds titillating.”

  “Maybe. If you were here. But, right now it’s frustrating.”

  “I wish I were there. This story is going nowhere, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, just make something up,” Sam said. “Your readers won’t care.”

  “Don’t start with that.”

  “OK. You should see it here. It’s beautiful.”

  “I bet it is. What have you been doing?”

  “Relaxing mostly. Except, there was a murder here Saturday night.”

  “You’re kidding. What happened?”

  “Long story. I’ll tell you another time. But, I found the body.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Nathan said.

  “I didn’t do anything. I found it by accident.”

  “You mean like it just fell out of a window on the sidewalk right in front of you?”

  “Well...no.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “I heard gunshots.”

  “Gunshots?”

  “It’s OK. I wasn’t in the line of fire. But, I stopped to check it out.”

  “Like I said, I’m not surprised.”

  ”OK, you win. So, when are you coming here?”

  “I don’t know. I have some interviews tomorrow. I’ll have a better handle on it after that.”

  “Hurry.”

  “Cool your jets. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “Meanwhile, I have a ring side seat to Ken and Barbie’s honeymoon.”

  *

  Billy Bear Wingo despised Forrest Wade. Wade was soft and lazy and corrupt. Always had been. He had remained Police Chief for over 20 years simply because nobody else wanted the job. But, Wade did. Absent the job, the badge, he would be nothing. Invisible.

  Billy pulled his truck to the curb in front of the Police Station. He glanced at his watch, 9:15 p.m. He hadn’t called Wade to tell him he was coming. Had he, Wade would have waited for him downstairs in his office. Wade didn’t like people invading the privacy of his upstairs apartment. Probably because the two times Billy had seen it, it was a mess. Unkempt, disordered, like Wade himself.

  Besides, Billy enjoyed irritating Wade.

  As he took the stairs to the police chief’s apartment, this weak thread of pleasure dampened his growing anger. Somewhat. He rapped his fist against the doorframe, shaking the wall.

  He smiled to himself as he heard Wade muttering and shuffling across the floor. He banged the frame again. The latches clicked and Wade yanked the door open, his face furrowed with anger.

  “What the hell...” he began, but stopped when his eyes focused on Billy. He wore wrinkled khaki pants and a stained white tee shirt, no shoes. He took a step back.

  “You wanted to see me?” Billy said.

  “Yeah,” Wade said, recovering from his initial shock. “But, not here. In my office.”

  Billy planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “Right here’ll do. What do you want?”

  “Lloyd Varney was murdered last night.”

  “I know.”

  Wade stepped closer to him. “How?”

  “I suspect everybody knows by now.”

  “And?” Wade pushed his thinning hair back. “You know anything about it?”

  “Just that it happened.”

  “A witness put you there,” Wade said, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

  “I don’t think so,” Billy said. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, one hand propped on the doorframe. He could smell the alcohol on Wade’s breath. His shadow, created by the dim porch light, fell across Wade’s face.

  “Someone saw you in the store right before they found Lloyd’s body,” Wade said.

  Billy chuckled. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? But, that ain’t how it went. Someone saw somebody who happened to be big. Not me.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I know. How’s not important.”

  “Where were you last night? A little past midnight.” Wade asked.

  “Asleep.”

  “Where?”

  “You know where. Up there.” Billy yanked his head toward the peaks to the south.

  “By yourself?”

  “No, Wade. I had a covey of super-models with me. Of course I was alone.”

  “You didn’t sneak back into town last night?”

  “You got something to say, Wade, you say it and cut the bullshit.”

  “Did you kill Lloyd Varney?”

  “No. And you know I didn’t.”

  “I don’t know any such thing,” Wade said. “You act like Lloyd and Louise are such good friends. But, I know what the real deal is.”

  “What deal?”

  Wade smirked and shook his head. “I think you finally fucked up big time, Billy.”

  Billy glared at him. “How do you figure that?”

  “A witness saw someone big. Like you. The killer had access, knew the layout. Like you. He bashed Lloyd’s head in, which means he was strong. Like you. And, he stole a pair of boots. Timberland. Size 14. Like those.” Wade nodded down toward Billy’s feet.

  “None of that makes me the killer.”

  “Not yet. But, my investigation is just beginning.”

  “Investigation?” Billy spat. “You couldn’t investigate a one car accident.”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  “Yes. I guess we will.” Billy turned to leave, but stopped and faced Wade. “Be careful, Wade. Don’t go making accusations you can’t back up or I’ll have your ass in court so fast it’ll make you dizzy.”

  “Look, Billy...”

  Billy stepped closer. The smell of alcohol increased. “You look.” Billy jabbed a finger in the air between them. “You fuck with me and you’ll be sorry.”

  He turned and stomped down the stairs.

  Chapter 14

  Sam awoke to silence. Wonderful blissful silence. Maybe the couple upstairs had suffered heart attacks after all. Her prayers had been answered. What time had she finally dozed? Three
o’clock or so. The sexual Olympics above her had gone on at least until then.

  So, why was she awake? God knows she needed the sleep. Then, she heard birds chattering outside her open window. That must be what awoke her. Or maybe it was the gentle breeze that rustled through the aspen leaves. Or perhaps the first light of morning that pressed against the sheer curtains.

  She stretched and yawned, glanced at the clock. Eight. Her muscles were less stiff. Her run had done some good. She flexed her hands. Still stiff and swollen, but less than yesterday.

  Fortunately, her next fight was two months away. Plenty of time for her body to heal. Then, back to the gym, the heavy bag, and Jimmy Ryker, her trainer, beating her into physical and mental condition.

  Maybe 30 more minutes of sleep. After all, she was on vacation.

  Then, it started. A giggle, a laugh, a moan. A faint creak, a squeak, and finally the full-on gasping and grunting of sex. Great. The happy groom had awakened with an erection and just couldn’t let it go to waste. Maybe she should call the bride’s father and tell him his new son-in-law was a sex addict. Maybe he’d come get his daughter and Sam could get some sleep. Or maybe she should call Nathan again and threaten him with bodily harm if he didn’t get his butt on a plane pronto.

  She lay there listening for ten minutes and then gave up and rolled out of bed.

  Jesus. Someone should throw cold water on them.

  She stepped into the jeans she had dropped on the floor the night before and pulled on a sweatshirt. After splashing water on her face, she joined Alyss in the kitchen. Breakfast preparations were well underway. Bacon sizzled in a skillet and the aroma of baking biscuits drifted from the oven. Sam poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, sipping it.

  Alyss broke eggs into a bowl. She looked at Sam and laughed. “Not much sleep last night?”

  “A few minutes here and there.”

  “I heard them, too. At least until 2 a.m.”

  “Then, you missed rounds four and five. Round six’s underway right now.”

  “Tell me about it,” Shelby said as she came in. Her hair was a wild mess of tangles and several of her short braids had come unraveled, their Sesame Street clips missing. She accepted a cup of coffee from Sam and fell into a chair at the table, rubbing one eye with a balled fist.

  “I wonder if they’re coming down for breakfast,” Alyss said.