I spent a few minutes cooling my jets in the Tacoma, watching shadows float to and fro behind the living room window. Lorna’s demeanor bothered me. The way she’d dismissed Kayla’s trauma, hawking over her like a jail guard.

What did she fear? The custody battle was over. Before I mentioned it, she didn’t even recognize any threat toward Kayla for possibly witnessing the murder.

I pulled out my notebook and started scratching down notes.

Lorna’s suspicious behaviors:

• flat emotion while telling me Kayla went missing
• hyper concerned I search Aidan’s property — normal?
• fluctuating reaction when Kayla was found
• seemed worried about Kayla talking?
• desperate financial situation
• no emotions over Aidan’s death
• sleeping with Derek Cooley the night Kayla disappeared?

Aidan’s suspicious behaviors:

• talked about Kayla like she was not real or dead
• clearly delusional and possibly dangerous
• no defensive wounds like someone he knew attacked him

• deed of sale for Jenkins’ property for $10k

These pieces didn’t make a complete puzzle, but they did make a partial picture. And that picture didn’t make Lorna look good. Aidan definitely came out worse by a mile, but he’d paid the ultimate price. If Lorna discovered the nefarious sale of their daughter, she’d have a righteous motive for killing Aidan. 

That line of query had to come later. I had pushed enough for now. When I did return, I had to be careful. If Lorna was guilty of murder, the job got a lot more dangerous.

I’d left Tony at the Nickelback. He needed to make amends with the friends he ditched the night before. By the time I returned from the morning visit with Lorna and Vicky, Tony was gone. I found Officer Ollie Gerulis behind the counter, looking plump with youth and pleasantry as expected.

The fact that someone shot at us, with real bullets, could remain a secret from the law for the time being. No need to complicate Ollie’s life with my questionable trespassing activities. 

Recollections of the incident had my heart pounding in my chest. Adrenaline pumped nervous energy into my hands, and I fidgeted with the pens in a cup on the countertop. My foot tapped out of time to the background music he had playing from an old radio.

“How goes the hotel business?” I asked.

“Keeps me honest,” he said with a twinkle. “In case the law profession fails me.”

“Seems a lot of responsibility, keeping the peace and maintaining a travel lodge.” I focused on the writing along the side of one of the pencils, hoping my internal turmoil wasn’t evident.

He nodded. “It’s a little rough during peak season. Get a passel of tourists heading for Canada.”

“Probably a bit more petty crime around then as well,” I said.

He gave a nod of agreement. “You tell the truth there, my friend.”

“Well, it is impressive. How you hold it all together. Got to be a challenge at times.” 

Another nod, slower this time. “When it rains, it rains hard.” His expression became forlorn for a blink of an eye. “But we come out of it.” The warmth returned. He smiled. “My nephew helps out quite a lot. Grateful to have him around.”

“Seems like a good sort,” I said and bobbed my chin. “He helped out with the noisy ice maker, so I’m mighty thankful myself.”

Ollie grimaced and shook his head. “Yessir. I am sorry about that. Expected more out of Derek Cooley.”

“Has a good track record, does he?” I asked.

“Hardly,” Ollie said, with a hard shake of his head. “I just figured, since he keeps getting work, that he’d do a decent job for a local lawman. One of the great mysteries of the valley is how folks keep turning up with cash for no apparent reason.”

“That a common thing here in the mountains?”

“For some. Cooley’s one. And Jenkins too. Never see him sell a lick, but his wife up and bought the Daylight Diner outright. That’s gotta be one for the Feds.” He lifted his eyebrows in a suggestive smirk.

I nodded. “Hard to pin down I’m sure.”

“And how’s it coming along for you?” he asked, his face open and genuine. “Sounds like the Peale women are done with it.”

“Does present a problem financially, I’ll give you that. I have to get my sister out of jail is the thing.”

“Wish I could help.” He pursed his lips, as if to hold back secrets he wasn’t obliged to share. “Making any headway?”

I studied his eyes and how they narrowed slightly when he listened, revealing genuine interest. How his open posture telegraphed acceptance, and each gesture revealed layers of authenticity. Based on his overall openness, his honesty about the potential lawlessness of the locals and the sense of integrity I felt in my gut, I decided to take the risk.

“If you count getting shot at as making headway, I think it’s going well.”

His eyes widened. “The hell you say.”

“Details aren’t important,” I continued, “but it may have had some to do with Aidan Peale’s empty house.”

Ollie blinked like a frog, but held his tongue.

“Might have found at least part of the reason Hugh Jenkins has a full bank account.” I paused a heartbeat. “Someone didn’t care for me snooping around a dead man’s property.” 

The retelling amped my pucker factor and I felt it squeeze the sphincter muscles tighter.  Sweat trickled down my spine and my arms tingled. I pressed my fingertips against the countertop to prevent them from visibly shaking.

His ogling eyes relaxed and his congenial attitude reset itself. “You must have a powerful spirit,” he said, his eyes gleaming . “Folks don’t like meddlers, true. Mostly they just gossip behind your back. ‘Cept maybe Aidan Peale with his dime store medicine man wisdom. But I can’t imagine he had much to do with it. For one, I don’t believe he owns a gun. Even if he did, the Creator Spirit would not let him fire it from heaven.” This last bit he spoke with a grin.

My mind spun to comprehend Ollie’s peculiar mix of Native spirituality and European religions. It was like trying to fit mismatched puzzle pieces together, and left me more off-center.

“I’m not that well known,” I said, hoping it was true, that I was protected by anonymity. My shoulders shrugged automatically. Sensitivity was likely heightened by conversations with Tony about Montana Freemen and the rights of man. Specifically, the right to shoot another man who disagreed with you.

Ollie peered at me with skepticism. 

His hesitation made me question my modesty. Maybe I had fooled myself into thinking humility, when it was just a disguise for inverted arrogance.

He offered a reassuring smile. “You found the girl that no one was looking for. You discovered evidence that Aidan may have had dealings with Hugh Jenkins. You dodged a bullet meant to end your investigation.”  

“So it seems,” I said. My eyes found the lower section of wall behind the odd Native, part hotelier, part lawman, part sage. A stack of books sat on the floor against the paneling. Old books. One looked like a tome on philosophy. Another might have been Black’s Law. It was hard to tell in the low light.

“That child is protected as well,” he said. “She has the hand of Nupika on her. Maybe it’s her that has the blessing.”

I glanced up.

“The great spirit of the Ksanka,” he explained. “Nupika must have guided her through the forest back to her home.”

“That makes Aidan sound safe,” I said, still trying to make out the titles of his books.

“For the girl, yes,” he said.

“I should have pushed harder when I realized how crazy he was.” In the stack on the floor, Plato’s Republic caught my eye. “And now that Jenkins character is tied up with it. His type are dangerous. Unpredictable.”

“Scary folks to take on alone,” Ollie said. “Specially that Hugh. Fights against the Government that conquered the Native for land rights, the land he lives on, yet doesn’t want to pay for the service in tax money. A curious situation.”

My eyes shifted to take stock of this bit of gossip. “Curious? Like how?”

The lawman philosopher shook his head. “Comes up with money like he found a way to grow it up out of the ground. The old ones grew tobacco up here before the railroad pushed them South. Jenkins found a way to harvest cash, as well. Only I doubt he uses a Sun Dance ritual. Him and that Derek Cooley. That’s an odd pair. Their pockets are usually full of simoleons without the work to back it.”

I thanked him for the insight and left for another conversation with Lorna Peale. The series of revelations held my attention during the drive. I had a fair idea of how Hugh Jenkins came across piles of cash. I wanted to know where Derek got his money.

One thing was certain. Ollie had it figured. I should be dead, but I wasn’t.