Jim walked to the house and stepped onto the porch towards Rissley.
“Hello Sheriff,” she said with a thoughtful smile. “I’m sorry about Buck.”
Jim nodded his appreciation, but he wasn’t ready to deal with that yet. He looked at the collection of goods on the porch. “What are you doing?”
“Logging in the…uh…evidence.”
By her tone and facial expression, Jim knew she was as skeptical as he was. “How do you know this is evidence?” Harper asked, even though he knew what the answer would be. “Agent Bradley,” they both said in unison.
“Where is this Agent Bradley, anyway?” Jim wanted to know.
“I’m right here, Sheriff,” Alan said as he stepped through the doorway and onto the porch behind Jim.
Jim turned to look at Alan. “Then I suppose you have some identification.”
“Right here,” came the reply as Alan reached into his jacket and brought out the ID and handed it to Jim.
“Where do you get off starting an investigation in my County without notifying me first?” Jim examined the picture ID and badge.
“I didn’t have time, Sheriff. As you can see, I was too late as it was.”
Jim handed the ID back to Alan. “I find it hard to believe that you couldn’t find time to make a phone call before you got here.” Jim scolded then turned towards the cabin door and peered in. “What have you done?” he exclaimed.
The place was in shambles. All of the books were off of the shelves and scattered on the floor. The elk’s head was lying on the floor in front of the fireplace with its back broken open. The deer mount was lying next to it in the same condition. The steelhead was cut open and its contents were spewed over the floor. The couch was tipped over. Each side of it and its cushions were cut open and its stuffing was pulled out. Jim saw one of his deputies behind the chair. “Conley!”
The deputy stood up with a handful of stuffing and a knife. “Yes, sir?”
“Get everyone out here, now!” Jim replied, turning around to see Milhouse walking up to the porch accompanied by a few other deputies. Then the rest of them filed past Jim through the doorway. One of the deputies had his sleeves rolled up wearing latex gloves and carrying a mayonnaise jar. “You’re going through his fridge, too!” He scowled at Alan.
“In a drug investigation you have to go through everything,” Alan defended.
Jim turned his attention back to his deputies. “Now that you’re all here, I have something to tell you. As of this moment, on behalf of the Sheriff’s department, I’m taking over this investigation.”
Alan spoke up. “You can’t do that! On what grounds—”
“On the grounds that you have no evidence,” Jim cut Alan off. “This is a homicide case.”
“What do you call this?” Alan said as he stepped around Rissley, picked up a plastic bag with a yellow marker and handed it to Jim. Jim opened it up and looked at it closely.
“Its opium.” Alan told him.
“I know what it is,” Jim scowled. “But it takes more than a handful of drugs for the Feds to get involved.”
“This was a drug smuggling operation!”
“So you say!” Jim snapped. “But I don’t see anything here that leads me to that conclusion.”
“What about this store house of weapons?” Alan asked as he pointed towards the dozen or so fire arms leaning against the porch rail.
“Buck was an outfitter. He always kept extra rifles around for those of his customers who didn’t own one.”
“These aren’t used for hunting!” Alan protested as he lifted the assault rifles.
“They’re war souvenirs,” Jim stated. “Buck doesn’t even have ammunition for them.”
“What about all this money? I’ve asked some of your deputies. Henderson always paid for things in cash. That’s a sure sign that he was involved in something illegal.”
Jim looked at Rissley. “How much is there?”
“Twenty-seven thousand dollars and thirty two cents,” came the reply.
“So what if Bucks a little strange when it comes to money. He’s never trusted banks and has always kept it with him.” Jim explained calmly.
“If you knew him so well, how do you explain this?” Alan said as he lifted a book and handed it to Jim. “Why does his journal have several references to D.B. Cooper?”
“This is probably the worst of your so called evidence,” Jim snarled. “There are also references to bigfoot sightings in it as well. Are you going to believe that too?” Alan didn’t answer. “This is a story book. You would’ve known that if you had spent more than a few minutes looking through it. Buck wrote these for his pack trips. He liked to tell them in the evenings while his customers were huddled around the campfire. Hell! You all should know that!” Jim looked at each of his deputies in turn. “You’ve all been fishing and hunting with him. Now look at you,” he said with disgust. “Selling him as a criminal, to the media, so that you can get your picture on the news.”
Milhouse felt ashamed of himself and looked at the ground as Jim spoke. “Now let’s turn this investigation around and find ourselves a murderer. We owe Buck that much.”
Alan saw that he was losing control of the deputies so he spoke up. “Well isn’t this cozy,” he growled as he stepped in front of Jim and looked accusingly around. “A man pals around with the Sheriff, takes the deputies out fishing, and they look the other way while he runs an illegal smuggling operation!” All of the deputies looked around at each other nervously.
“That’s not true—” Jim started to say but Alan cut him off.
“You can’t deny the facts, Sheriff!” Alan lifted two plastic bags of evidence. “I’ve got drugs and I’ve got the finger prints on this coffee cup of the man who drove that truck and killed Henderson!”
“You’ve got it all wrong! That’s not what happened at all!” Jim barked.
“If you have all the answers, Sheriff, maybe you can tell us who drove that truck because the instant I find him I’m arresting him for murder!” Alan yelled loudly into Jim’s face as he lifted the evidence.
Jim froze, looked at the coffee cup and opium and wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, Sheriff, we’re waiting. Do you know who was here this morning or not?” Alan scowled after a moment of awkward silence. Jim could feel the questioning eyes of his deputies on him waiting for an answer.
Click-chikeeg, click-chikeeg, click-chikeeg.
Jim turned as Chet’s camera recorded the face-off just a few feet away. “What’s that reporter doing here? Milhouse! Get him out of here!” Milhouse grabbed Chet by the arm and started to pull him away from the porch.
“You can’t suppress the news, Sheriff!” Chet yelled as he was dragged away.
Jim ignored him but was relieved by the break it gave him. Thinking quickly, he immediately barked out orders. “All right. I want Simms, Brown and Kruger to comb the dock, the beach, and the tree line for any signs of bullets.” Three men started to move. Alan slipped off the porch while Jim was turned the other way and moved quickly to where Chet and Milhouse were standing.
“I’ll take care of him, deputy,” Alan said.
“Yes, sir.” Milhouse turned and walked back towards the cabin.
“Let’s go,” Alan said as he walked up the road.
“That jerk of a Sheriff, really ripped into you, didn’t he?” Chet commented.
“It wasn’t that bad, I recovered nicely.”
“Well, it was a good thing I was there to distract him, otherwise he would’ve finished you off.” They reached the Chief and Chet put his camera in its case.
“Nothing happened that wasn’t planned for,” Alan defended.
“Really!” Chet said sharply. “Look at him down there. He just took over.”
“Let him. I got everything I wanted before he arrived. His intervention was anticipated. When the time is right, I’ll pull in the reins a little and ride him and his
department until he falls on his face,” Alan said, smugly.
“I hope you’re right,” Chet said nervously as he closed the back of the Chief and walked around to the driver’s seat and got in. Alan got into the passenger seat. “Aren’t you going back down there?”
“No, there isn’t anything left to find. Let them waste their time.”
“What if they find the bullets?”
“They won’t. I know exactly which direction I fired. They can’t be anywhere other than the bottom of the lake.” Alan assured him.
“What about the spent cartridges?”
“I picked them up earlier,” Alan replied. “Now relax.”
Chet tried to calm himself but it was hard. Earlier, he was uneasy about Alan’s plan, and now he felt a whole lot worse. He was upset with himself for going along with it and even more upset that he allowed Alan to manipulate him yet again.
But there was no way out for him now—he was locked in. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but feel excited about what this story could do for his career. If he had to be in this situation with anyone, he was glad it was Alan. “What do we do now?”
“Let’s go back to the motel.” Alan pulled Blake’s book, Sky Pirate, from his pocket. “I have some reading to do. Maybe there’s some other information in here that I can use.”
“That’s it?” Chet objected. “That’s your great plan?”
“Not all of it. I also have a lead to follow up on. It’s just going to take a little time to figure out how to use it.”
“It’s a real lead, right?” Chet asked, hopefully. “I mean, this isn’t just another one of your hunches is it?”
“You just concentrate on doing your job and let me do mine,” Alan said firmly. Chet started the Chief, turned it around, and drove back up the road.