Death at the Black Bull (26 page)

“Tell my grandfather I stopped by,” Virgil said as he stood up to leave.

“He and Mrs. Hoya probably won't get back from the Senior Center for another couple of hours,” Carlos said. “It's a break from the kids. I asked them to take me, but they said I wasn't old enough.”

Virgil smiled. “It seems pretty quiet around here now.”

“That's because the baby is in for a nap and my wife took the other two up on the ridge to check on the flock. They like to hold the lambs. Your cousin's boy is up there. He is very good with the children. They've had a great time here. We really appreciate what you and your grandfather have done for us. I wish I could have been more help to you about it, about that trailer, I mean. But I came up with nothing. It looked like all the others. I can see it in my mind right now, parked as it always was at the end of the row, right next to the ice cream truck.”

“The ice cream truck?”

“Yeah, the semi that Buddy pulled always seemed to be parked at the end of the row, right next to that ice cream truck.”

“What was an ice cream truck doing there?”

Carlos paused before answering. “It seems like it was always there whenever the trailer was. At least that's how I picture it in my mind. I think one of Wade's guys did it as a sideline. It'd show up in the afternoon usually. People from the office or the factory would go out on a break and get ice cream. He did a pretty good business. It would always be parked at the end of the line. Buddy's trailer would be parked alongside. That's how I remember it.”

*   *   *

Virgil rehashed what Carlos had told him on his way back to Hayward, trying to make a connection. He had the feeling that he had missed something useful, but was no closer to what it might have been when he pulled into the office parking lot. Jimmy's cruiser was there. Jimmy was sitting behind the wheel, making no attempt to exit the vehicle.

“You might as well stay there. It's time to make that trip down to Taxco. I just came from going over everything with Carlos.”

Virgil went through the agenda for the trip with Jimmy. “And don't forget to stay in radio contact all the way there and with the Rurales when you cross the border.”

“Got it,” Jimmy said as he started his cruiser. “See you tomorrow, Sheriff.”

Virgil stepped back from the car.

“By the way,” Jimmy said, “did Carlos have anything new for you?”

“Not really. He said there was nothing more he could add except when the trailer was parked, it seemed always to coincide with the days when the ice cream truck was there.”

“The ice cream truck . . .”

“Yep. That's about it. If there's any connection, I haven't worked it out.”

Jimmy half waved and started to back up. Then he stopped.

“Sheriff, I don't know if it means anything, but when we were in Wade's yard, there was an ice cream truck there. I remember seeing it. I remember thinking it seemed out of place. Maybe that's why it caught my eye. Like I said, I don't know if it means anything.”

He waved again then backed up, turned the car, and drove out of the lot.

Virgil stood there as the late-afternoon sun beat down and the swirling eddies of dust kicked up by the departing car coated his shoes, trying to figure out why, with three murders keeping him from a decent night's sleep, all he could think about was that damned ice cream truck.

M
icah Hayward stood on the front porch of his house looking at the departing day, waiting for Virgil Dalton. He had always liked Virgil. Growing up, he had always been closer to Rusty than to his brother, and when Virgil came on the scene, Micah and Rusty had become even closer. She shared her feelings for Virgil with him in secret.

He envied what they had. It was something he had hoped for in his own relationship with his wife, but she had already begun slipping away from him, into a world of instability. He realized now these many years later that in reaching out to his wife for what he saw between Rusty and Virgil, he was attempting the impossible. Not because he didn't love his wife or she didn't love him, but because losing her grip on reality shortly after the birth of Caleb meant that any life together for them was doomed. By the time Rusty died, his wife had become a ghost of herself, and in a true sense he lost the two people he had loved the most. By the time she took her own life, she had already been dead for a long time.

The baby that Rusty had left, as well as his own son, had given the only meaning to his life. It was for them that he had stayed when his brother had not returned from Vietnam and his father had died.

Now as he stood waiting for Virgil, he knew that the world he'd tried to secure for them was perched on the edge of an abyss. He had to make Virgil understand.

The last flicker of light had left the sky when Virgil's car turned into the driveway of Hayward Ranch.

Neither Micah nor Virgil was aware of the slight figure looking out of the upstairs window as Virgil exited the cruiser. She thought it odd that a man she barely knew who also happened to be the sheriff should show up at the house at night. She knew that he had been with her grandmother the night she had died, and she knew her grandmother well enough to know that had not been a random visit. Virgil stepped onto the well-lit porch, his face splayed with the light. Their eyes locked for an instant as he glanced up at the window. He blinked and she was gone.

Virgil followed Micah inside to the same room where he had sat with Audrey on her last night. It felt odd, almost like a trespass. Micah motioned to the chair where Audrey had last sat. Virgil instead sat in the chair opposite. Micah walked to the small table next to Audrey's chair and without asking Virgil, half filled two glasses with the same amber liquid that she had offered to Virgil. Virgil took the glass. When Micah slid into Audrey's chair and raised his glass, Virgil did the same. They drank. Virgil felt the sharpness first, then the smoothness. The warmth that followed felt good. It had been a long day. He sat back deeper into the comfort of the chair and took another sip from the glass.

“I think I know why you're here,” Micah said. He took another drink. “As soon as you called, I knew.”

“If I were just going on what I know as fact, Mike, then we wouldn't be meeting like this with a glass in our hands, like old friends.”

“Virgil, I always thought of you as a friend.”

“That may be, and whether it's true or you're just trying to play me, I'm here as sheriff, trying to get to the bottom of some pretty grisly stuff. But somebody whose input I value said I should follow my gut instinct. That gut of mine makes it hard for me to wrap my head around you being the guy responsible for Buddy's bloated body floating in one of my stock tanks. Or as a guy who would allow two young people, a brother and a sister trying to get a leg up against great odds, to end up at the bottom of a ravine, with their heads severed from their bodies. But cutting through any bullshit, Mike, everything points toward you, and if you're it, I'll whip your ass into a cell so fast, you'll feel like you were hit by lightning.”

The words hung in the air. Virgil was the first to stand. He drained his glass and put it on the table.

“The way I figure, the clock is ticking, Micah. Whether it's in your favor or not, I'll probably know the next time I come here.”

Micah didn't respond. He stood silently and nodded as Virgil left the room.

Virgil's hand was on the doorknob when something made him stop and turn around. Virginia was standing at the top of the stairs. It was the first time he had seen her, really
seen
her this close. Her hair fell over her left shoulder, catching the light from the hall chandelier. He saw everything of Rusty that she had passed to her daughter, but at the same time he also saw the face that so much mirrored his own. He thought he heard a slight exclamation escape her lips, but the moment had become too much for him, so he put on his Stetson, turned, and walked out the door.

*   *   *

By the time he reached the ranch, Jimmy had called to say everything had gone uneventfully, and that Carlos and his family were safely under the protection of Mexican authority. He was on his way back to Hayward.

Virgil was still feeling out of sorts when he finally lay back on his bed. Uncharacteristically, his clothes lay in a pile where they had fallen on the floor, and when he closed his eyes he still saw the image of Rusty, standing at the top of the stairs.

V
irgil was finishing his second cup of Rosie's brew and wondering why he couldn't duplicate it when the phone rang.

“Virgil, it's Kyle.” He was surprised to hear from Kyle Harrison, his DEA contact, so soon after reaching out to him.

“Thought I'd try to catch you early before I get caught up. Beginning of the week at the border is always crazy, especially in the summer. That trailer you called me about just went through. No reason to hold it. Dogs got nothing. I checked it myself with two other agents. Nothing but a load of pecans, going to Juárez.”

“But what about the fake wall?”

“Virgil, think about it. Nobody would be smuggling stuff
into
Juárez. Wait until the return trip. Even if the dogs don't get a hit then, we'll make sure to check it out.”

“Okay, that makes sense. Thanks for the call.”

“Virgil, there was one thing.”

Virgil sat up in his chair. “Go on, Kyle.”

“The truck is idling . . . I mean our look-over takes time and I know the AC in the cab is on, but when he pulled away he left behind a lot of water on the road. We checked it and it was only water, but it seemed like a lot. I know the trailer's not refrigerated, but one of the agents said he remembered this from another time, but he didn't know if it was the same trailer. Could be from a bad water pump, but I just thought I'd mention it, because I know you're friendly with the Haywards. Maybe you'd want to let them know in case it is a bad pump or something up with the AC before they have that truck break down on them, and they have to tow it all the way back to their facility.”

“Okay, Kyle, thanks for the effort and the info. I'll look into it.” He had just put the phone back into its cradle when Jimmy came through the door.

“You didn't have to come in early, Jimmy, after that trip you made.”

“I never went home. Just stopped on the way back once or twice for a catnap. I'm beat and I need a shower. I'm a little ripe.”

“Thanks for sharing, but that's more than I needed to know. Go home, get that shower, and catch some
z
's. I might need you big-time later today.”

“What's up?”

Virgil gave Jimmy a quick update.

“I don't get it,” Jimmy said when he was through. “Outside of your talk with Mr. Hayward and some water on the road, what's going to bring us any closer to solving this thing?”

Virgil didn't answer right away.

“I think it's going to be the water on the road and an ice cream truck.”

Jimmy stopped at the door.

“Go on,” Virgil said. “I'll explain later.”

Jimmy shook his head and walked out.

*   *   *

Wade's dealership was even more impressive in the daylight. All the construction was done and as Virgil pulled in he could see some landscapers putting finishing touches in place. When he stepped out of the cruiser, Virgil could smell the newness of the asphalt. There must have been fifty brand-new cars of different models and another twenty or so new pickups gleaming in the afternoon sun. He could see another five or six in the showroom.

“Hello, Sheriff.”

Virgil recognized the young man, but was fumbling for the name. “Talbot, right?”

“You got it. Me and Jimmy went to school together. Joe Talbot.”

“Back of the hardware store. Yes, I remember.”

“That's long over and done with. Me and Jimmy are friends now. I've grown up some since then, even learned a thing or two. Hope you don't hold that against me.”

“No,” Virgil said, giving the young man a level stare. “If it's history to Jimmy, it's history to me. Where's your boss?”

“Inside. Want me to get him?”

“I'll find him if he's there.”

Virgil headed for the front door of the showroom, leaving Joe Talbot trying to figure out how, after a dozen years, Virgil could still remember a bunch of kids using Jimmy as a punching bag in back of the family hardware store.

“So you know that old saying,” Virgil said when he spotted the man he was looking for. “You can dress them up, but you can't take them out. Nice suit.”

Wade Travis looked up from his desk. It was obvious he was not thrilled to see Virgil.

“Actually, I've got a closetful. I might even have one in your size, Sheriff. I'll check it out.”

“Thanks for the offer, Wade. Boy, you've sure come a long way in a couple of years. All this and a closetful of suits. Kind of makes me wonder. I mean, from just automotive repair to Hayward Trucking. Now I hear maybe you're going into the ice cream business.”

“Is there some point to this visit, Sheriff?”

“Well, nothing special. I kind of just wanted to stop by and admire your success, but I still can't figure out how you got here so fast. I'm going to keep my eye on you for some helpful hints. Maybe I can learn something. You know on a sheriff's pay I got to buy my suits off the rack, nothing custom like yours, but at least the county picks up the tab for my uniform. Hope the ice cream business works out for you, too, Wade. See you real soon.”

*   *   *

The afternoon sun had begun to slide toward the horizon while Virgil sat at his desk trying to get caught up on paperwork. He couldn't ignore the mundane. Rosita took care of the nuts and bolts that went with the day-to-day operations, down to and including washroom supplies, but Virgil's signature had to be at the bottom of every purchase order and every expense had to be validated in a monthly report that went to the county. It had always been the hardest part of the job for him.

This was at the heart of Virgil's nature. He saw life in terms of the least common denominator. Good and evil, life and death, crime and punishment; the rest was all footnote. It had made him hard to know, for some unreachable. Ruby had been the latest to try to break in, but as she said on more than one occasion, he was a tough nut to crack.

“You're really big on small talk,” she said sarcastically over coffee on their most recent morning together, as Virgil stared into his cup.

As if in confirmation, Virgil didn't respond.

“I think you've been alone too long. You've forgotten how to share.”

Virgil continued in silence, which she would not accept, and for the next twenty minutes she pulled and prodded until he had given up more information about his life and his past than he had to people that he'd known for years.

When he was a teenager, he would often come home from school, throw a saddle on one of the horses, and head out over the rangeland, exploring every gully and wash. He came to know the land and the creatures that lived on it. Time stood still and he never felt alone. Many times his mother would join him. They would often ride in silence, stopping to observe a newborn calf struggling to nurse or a coyote on the prowl. He missed those times, but as the years passed without her, he came to feel that when he went on those solitary jaunts she was riding beside him.

Finally, he signed the last invoice on his desk and placed the overdue stack that had been waiting for his acknowledgement on Rosie's desk so she could enter everything into the computer and file the hard copies. He left a note on her desk and headed out the door.

The sunlight made him squint, but the warm air pushed by a slight breeze made him feel good, and the dullness of the last few hours of clerical duties faded away. He was still savoring the feeling of a lightened load when Jimmy rolled in.

“You early or am I late?” Virgil said.

“You're late, Sheriff. I just had a hard time getting out of that bed. If it hadn't been for my little sister, I'd still be there.”

“Why don't you bring her out to the ranch some day? We'll put her up on Sugar. I bet she'd get a kick out of it. Get to know a little something about horses.”

“Well, sure, Sheriff. That'd be nice. Abby would love it.”

“Didn't you say something a while back about going fishing with her off the bridge? Well, there's trout in that creek back of the barn. You could try your hand.”

“Yes, sir, that'd be nice.”

“You know, when I was a kid, I'd skinny-dip in that creek.”

It was the first time Jimmy ever heard a reference to Virgil's childhood.

“Well, I guess it's time for me to head down the road,” Virgil said. “Any problems, give me a call.”

Virgil stepped past Jimmy and opened his car door. A blast of hot air escaped.

“Like an oven in there. Good talking to you, Jimmy.”

He gave a wave, got into the car, and left Jimmy standing in the doorway trying to figure out what had come over the sheriff.

Once he was on the road, Virgil's thoughts went quickly to the one thing that had become a constant in his thoughts. There was a basic law of physics he knew: that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Leaning on someone, as he had done with both Micah and Wade, would get a response. He just wished he had a clue what it would be.

The twenty-minute trip to the ranch allowed him time to consider a range of possibilities. He realized as he looked toward the dipping sun that it must have been later than he thought. This part of the country had a reputation for spectacular sunsets. The shades that every artist since the dawn of time had tried to capture. Blends of reds and blues mixed with dust from the earth. The closer he got to the ranch, the more dominant the red in the sky became. He glanced at the clock on the dash. It was 5:40. He glanced at the sky again, then again at the dashboard clock.

This sky was way too red.

As his car climbed the last rise, the ranch came into view. It was then he saw the explanation to the illusion. Swirls of smoke rose into the sky, filtering the light. The ripe orange-red glow that he'd mistook for a departing sun was one of the barns engulfed in flame.

Virgil reacted automatically. He called in the fire as he pressed the accelerator to the floor. Help would be on its way, but it would take time. His eyes fixed, his hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white, he barely slowed at the driveway, taking the turn on two wheels.

A dense dust cloud trailed after him all the way up to the house. Flames licked the walls of the barn as they reached for the roof. There was an eerie quiet as he threw open the barn door. The inside was untouched, but dense smoke was rolling down the passageway between the stalls. He knew that he had only moments before the fire would reach the packed hayloft. Virgil had seen barn fires when that happened and he knew what to expect. The intense heat, suddenly fed by all that hay, would blow the barn apart. Anyone or anything inside would become just another combustible.

He threw open the stall doors as he made his way toward the far end of the barn on the outside chance that there was anything within. A couple of chickens squawked as they ran toward the open barn door. The closer he got to the last stalls, the denser the smoke was. It started to gag him and his eyes started to water. He heard the movement in the last stall, followed by a nervous nicker. He couldn't see them through the smoke, but he knew they were there. He knew there was no way he could get the mare and the foal back the way he had come. Before opening the stall, he felt along the wall until he found the double door at the back of the barn. Virgil gave a tremendous push and the doors swung open.

Billowing smoke poured out through the opening as sunlight threaded its way in. He turned to go back to the stall. He threw open the stall door and saw the mare huddled in the back corner with the foal. Grabbing a saddle blanket off a nearby peg, he moved toward her, relieved to see she had her halter on. When he reached her, he threw the blanket over her head, shielding her eyes. Then he grabbed the throatlatch and started to move forward. At first she resisted, then took a few hesitant steps. She called to the foal and it came alongside.

She moved forward more deliberately, following Virgil's lead through the stall door. Virgil became aware of the sudden intense buildup in heat. The mare called again to the foal, then again, even louder. Finally, the foal nickered in response. Virgil was having a hard time controlling her. She was throwing her head left to right and up and down. The blanket slipped from his grasp and off her head and fell to the ground. She let out a scream and reared. Virgil held on and actually felt his feet leave the ground. A shaft of light momentarily showed through the smoke and she bolted. This time Virgil lost his grip and fell. He saw her plunge through the opening toward the light, the foal at her heels.