Dead Girl Moon (21 page)

Wrong. He’d seen something usable, but he hated to go back for it. What if Paint was already tracking him? Couldn’t be helped. He sprinted for the spatula resting on the sideboard of Dovey’s barbecue.

62

G
RACE WAS A BLOCK
from the Conoco when she felt a car pull alongside her. Heard an electric window buzz down.

“You called?”

Larry. She continued walking as he rolled along beside her.

“Hey, you disappeared. I was worried about you. I thought something happened.”

“You know why I called?” she asked, turning to him, wondering if she’d see a pistol pointed at her.

“Something about a ring? Nope, but I’m glad you did. I missed you.” He smiled. “Let me pull in, talk to me a minute,” he said, pointing to a driveway between stores that connected the street to the alley in back.

He made a right into the passage and stopped the Town Car a few feet in. Hard to see now from the street.

Grace followed as far as the back door on his side. If he tried to get out, she could beat him to the street and run to the service station. Fitz would protect her. “I told you I found something of yours,” she said, suddenly wondering if she should ask for two thousand and safe passage to Missoula.

“Can’t think of anything I’m missing, hon, but whatever it is, I ’preciate you returning it.”

“Like the jewel in your ring?” Grace said.

“My ring?”

“The V-Club thing.”

“That right there is amazing. Who told you about the Vs?”

Grace ignored the question. “More important, guess where I found it?”

“You got me,” he said, continuing to smile, leaning out the window a few inches to see her better.

“The river?” Grace said, planting her front foot, getting ready to sprint.

“Can’t say I’ve been up there recently,” he said.

Up there!
“How’d you know which river I meant?” Grace asked, feeling unprepared for such a risky conversation so soon in the negotiation.

“I’m a guesser. Always have been. Helped me make a lot of tackles.”

“I’ll give it to you for three thousand,” Grace said, suddenly deciding it would be worth at least that to him.

“Well, it’s a relief I won’t have to pay it,” he said.

He’s going to kill me right here.
Grace took an involuntary step toward the back of the car. “Why not?”

He stuck his hand out the window and Grace flew for the street.

She stopped when she reached the sidewalk because she didn’t hear the car door open and she knew he wouldn’t shoot her down in plain sight. When she looked back, his hand was still sticking out the window … Looking closely she saw sparkle on his finger. Not his ring!

She was an idiot. She’d played her cards in front of the wrong person. Now he, they, whoever it turned out to be, could plan how to deal with her. Could get rid of anything incriminating, like the ring with the missing stone. Could even replace the ring if that was simple. She’d given away her edge and put herself at major risk at the same time. That thought made her sick and the ham-on-white she’d eaten in Trout Creek rose in her throat till she swallowed it back, spit.

“Hey!”

Grace jumped, ready to run again.

Larry had pulled his arm back inside the car, stuck his head out the window in its place. “Not to worry. Probably easy to find out who lost that. I’ll help you.” He smiled and lowered his voice. “Look, I know you’re scared. You should be. If it can happen to Ev, right? I’ll tell you something. You were heading to the café? I don’t think I’d do that. If somebody’s looking, that’s the first place he’d go.”

Grace found herself listening to him in spite of her misgivings. She hadn’t been going to the café, but let him think that. She knew Ev wouldn’t date Larry because he couldn’t take a no, but Grace’s experience had been different. He had been unusually generous and always respectful of her limits. If anything, he and Grace seemed to understand each other. Each out for what they could get. It was possible … he could be an ally instead of a dupe. Maybe they could each make some money on this and then he’d help her get away. She’d have to be totally careful, but it was worth checking. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he could have done that already.

She walked back to the Town Car, to the passenger side.

He leaned over the front seat and opened the door.

She looked in, hands braced against the door in case he tried to grab her. “Give me your gun,” she said, holding out her hand.

His eyebrows went up. “What?”

Grace kept her hand out, didn’t respond.

Larry thought it over for several seconds. Shook his head. Reached under his seat and retrieved a black automatic pistol, handed it to her by the trigger guard.

She took it by the grip, held it at her side. “Now the other one,” she said. She’d looked through his car one night on one of their outings when he’d gone in a store to get more beer.

His smile disappeared briefly but he put it back. “You
got
it,” he said, turning both hands up empty, showing her.

She continued to stand outside the car, one hand out. Waited.

“Goddamn it!” He scooted to face her directly, his face coloring now with irritation. “Stop dicking around. Get in or forget it. See how you do on your own.”

Grace didn’t move, pleasant look on her face. Patient. Back in control.

Larry sighed. Smiled again. Let the tension dissipate from his muscles. Leaned to open the glove compartment, brought out a tiny gun so small it looked like a toy.

She pursed her lips. Question.

“Derringer,” he said as if that explained it. He pinched the gun by the handle and gave it to her.

Grace took it, put it in her pocket. Slid her purse off her shoulder and put the larger gun in it.

“Safety’s on,” he said, nodding at her purse. “The other won’t fire unless you cock it.”

Grace got in, ignoring the safety belt. No way she was going to strap herself down. “Where we going?” she asked.

“Someplace beautiful,” he said, steering the car slowly toward the end of the alley.

Grace loved the Lincoln’s black leather seats, the way they smelled, the way they felt. Everything about the car was luxurious. She leaned against the headrest and let herself notice how good-looking Larry was, his tan arms, his strong hands … Was that ring the same kind JJ’d shown her? Larry’s black stone had an upside-down V on the top overlapping a V on the bottom, making a diamond-shaped box with a small capital G in the middle. That’s not right. And why was the car stopping?

*   *   *

Grace woke up in a room so dark she couldn’t see her hands.

63

JJ
WAS MORE STARTLED
than Dovey when Mick ran. She didn’t get it. What about their plan? She looked to Dovey for an explanation, but Dovey was opening the door for Sheriff Paint.

“Your boy just flew my coop,” she told him as he stepped inside, took his hat off, rubbed his hand over his hair.

Paint took a phone off his belt and told dispatch to scramble all available to Dovey’s neighborhood. “Young male, six two, two twenty, dark hair, wearing…” He looked to JJ.

“What does he ever wear?” she said. “Jeans and a T-shirt.”

Paint relayed that, added the Bonneville info. Asked Dovey for a glass of water and went to her dining room for a straight-backed chair.

Paint waited for Dovey to come back and sit, then turned his chair around and tried to straddle it. Gave up. Sat regular fashion. “Smart thing to come here,” he said to JJ. “I trust her, too,” nodding at Dovey. “Where have you been?”

“Coeur d’Alene for a day or so,” JJ said. “Why are you after Mick? He didn’t do anything.”

“Some think he did. There’s evidence he needs to explain. Know where he went?”

JJ looked away. Not enough practice lying.

“Is he safe?”

“Probably.” JJ was pretty sure he went back to Gary’s garage. When he couldn’t get in, maybe he’d jump in the Pontiac and disappear. Maybe he’d call JJ later but she couldn’t think how.

“Tell me anything that’ll help about the Edmonds girl.”

“I didn’t know her,” JJ said.

Paint looked to Dovey for confirmation.

“Five or six years older, different schools. I never saw Evelyn around here,” Dovey said.

“So anything at all.” He bent over slightly, rested his elbows on his knees, made his voice even softer. “Her family’s miserable. You understand that.”

JJ got it. Mick didn’t need protecting. He was innocent. And Grace? Who knew what that girl was doing?

“You want me here for this?” Dovey asked.

Paint nodded. “Witness.”

“It wasn’t Hammond,” JJ said, bringing puzzled looks.

“Who said it was?” Paint asked.

“We thought … I found this jewel and we … it probably…” JJ stopped, sensing Paint’s confusion.

Paint shifted in the wooden chair, trying to get more comfortable. “Tell me the whole thing. From the start. I got Jon before they took him to placement. I know you all found the body.”

“I didn’t,” JJ said. “But I found this.” She brought the black stone out of her pocket and tried to hand it to Paint.

He leaned away, fumbling for a handkerchief so he could accept the stone without adding any more prints. “Found this where?”

Dovey leaned over to see it better. Caught her lip between her teeth and sat back.

“I went for a walk that day. It was in the dirt above those big rocks, upstream from the girl.”

“In the dirt…”

“At the riverbank. At the water, where you could put in a boat, a canoe—”

“By a break in the willows,” Paint said. “You wear a nine shoe?” He was looking at JJ’s feet.

“I thought it was beautiful. Like something a king … I put it in my pocket and kind of forgot. I was going to ask Gary…” JJ ran down.

“Didn’t tell anybody?” Paint asked.

“Mick and Grace. A couple of days ago,” JJ said.

“You know what it is?”

“Now, I think,” JJ said. “The stone from somebody’s ring?” She looked to Paint for confirmation. He was still, but Dovey nodded.

“Grace said it was probably Hammond’s, or maybe a couple of other people had one like it,” JJ said. “So I looked. When he was here. I checked for it.” She mimicked his gesture, the hand coming forward to shake Dovey’s. “He was wearing a ring with a black stone, tiny diamonds all the way around the outside. Silver V with another diamond in the middle. Pretty much the same kind as the one I found, so I don’t think it was Hammond. He has his.”

“Do you know anything about rings with a V?” Dovey asked.

JJ shook her head.

“You do,” Dovey said, nodding to Paint. “How many people have those?”

Paint shot her a look like not here, not now.

“Please,” JJ said. “This is really important for my friends.”

Dovey ignored Paint’s signal. “A long time ago, twenty-something years, the Trappers took state, football and basketball, back-to-back years. The best players were Sam Hammond and Scott Cassel, but Greer was the point guard, Bolton and Mackler were starters. They made some kind of vow at the end of their junior year. Got written up in the paper. They said they were going to do the same thing their senior year and then, after college, come back here and build a winning town, like a business hub for northwest Montana.”

Paint was shaking his head, remembering, or annoyed with Dovey’s revelation? “That was the rings,” he said. “Each kid had one. Patterned after Sam’s father’s masonic ring. A V with a diamond chip in the middle. V-Club. Stood for victory.”

“I was pretty new in the clerk’s office at the time,” Dovey said. “I don’t think anybody took them seriously, but it was … what? Inspiring? The kids, the hope for the future.” She sighed. “Anyway, they did it. They won the next year, too, and even more amazing, they came back. Became community leaders.”

“Of a sort,” Paint said.

JJ thought his face looked redder than it had before. “So does anybody else have these rings?”

“Not that I know of,” Dovey said, “but if Hammond’s got one with diamonds around the outside, then he has a new one.” She looked right at Paint. “You should find out what happened to the old one.”

64

M
ICK WAS INSIDE THE GARAGE AND SWEATING
. Had to get the Bronco out and the Bonneville in and hidden before one of the deputies spotted it. He’d found the button to raise the garage door, but could he start the Bronco? Would the keys be in it? No. So where? It was a secret. Gary’d never mentioned it earlier when they talked about needing a car. If Gary carried them, someone might see the Ford key, so he would leave them here. Convenient. Mick thought about his dad saying anything under a doormat or floor mat was begging for theft. Same for under flowerpots or up on ledges above doors. He looked around the garage, a zillion places, one as good as the next. But Gary smoked a lot of dope. He needed something he could remember.

The car. Somewhere by or in the car. The Bronco was sitting on outdoor carpeting. Mick knelt beside the driver’s door and checked the blue mat for seams. None. He looked for a magnetic box inside the bumpers, the top of the wheel wells, between the hood and the windshield, under the front and rear frame. Nope. He tried the driver’s door. Unlocked. Okay! The ashtray, the glove compartment, under the seat, under the lip of the dash. Looked for a toggle switch down by the fuse box that meant you didn’t need a key. Nope. Felt in the air vents and the slit for the cassettes. Turned the sun visors down. Realized he was too nervous, making this too complicated.

Mick sat in the driver’s seat and thought for a minute. Arm’s reach away. Down. Nothing. To the front behind the steering wheel. To his right, on the passenger seat, a dark blue bandanna. Lifted it … Yes!

The SUV rumbled to a start on the first try, which was a surprise after the fact because Mick realized he should have thought to check whether the battery was connected. He jumped out, pressed the garage door button, backed to the street. In a minute the Bonnie was inside with the door shut and Mick was searching the building for a phone or a weapon and anything else he might need. Like a sandwich. When was the last time he ate?