with a Coke. She’d parked that big Mercedes of her husband’s at the pump ahead of mine.”
“Was it a diesel pump?”
Light dawned on Ted’s face. “No, it wasn’t. And the Mercedes needed diesel, which meant she’d have to back up to use the same pump I was using. But I didn’t realize it then, and because of the way Donohue was carrying on, he wasn’t making any sense. Mrs. Tosches stood there giggling, like she was enjoying the whole scene. Next thing I knew, Donohue stumbled and began to fall. I tried grabbing onto him, but he went down anyway. You mean to tell me that’s what all the fuss was about, Donohue wanting to look good in front of Mrs. Tosches? Bully me away from the diesel pump so she could have first dibs?”
“Sounds like it.”
“But that guy has to be forty years older than her!” Ted sounded like he couldn’t fathom such disparity.
I could. “No fool like an old fool.”
Small events can have big consequences. If Ted hadn’t arrived at the gas station at the same time as Donohue, none of us would be sitting in the jail visitor’s room. Unless the sheriff knew something Ted had neglected to tell us about.
“Ted, other than the Black Basin Mine disagreement, which we’ll get to in a minute, was there anything else that connects you with Donohue? For instance, did he or his wife ever take part in activities at the ranch?”
He shook his head. “Not Mr. Donohue himself, but his wife came along on several of our trail rides. Pretty good in the saddle, too, doesn’t need any babysitting like some of the others.” He managed his first smile. “You know how dudes are.”
I remembered that photograph of Nancy Donohue, rifle in hand, foot on a dead elk. No dude, she.
“How about the murder weapon? Any word yet on the ballistics tests?”
“Not that I know of,” Ted said. “Does it matter?”
“Maybe.” Arizona being Arizona, there were would be plenty of firearms at the ranch, ranging from handguns to hunting rifles. Since the issue of firearms was a moot point until we saw the ballistics report, I decided to delve further into the personalities involved. Ballistics tests might provide proof, but personalities provided motive. “The newspaper account I read said you, let’s see, how did the reporter put it, ‘blamed Donohue for creating the hostile environment that led to Kimama’s death.’ Could you go into detail about that?”
Ted’s face grew guarded. “Mr. Donohue was the public relations flak for the Black Basin Mine, which meant that it was his business to make V.U.M.—the Victims of Uranium Mining—look bad. Some of the things he said about Kimama bordered on slander.”
“Such as?”
He looked at Jimmy as if pleading for help, but Jimmy remained silent. After taking a deep breath, Ted finally answered. “Lots of reasons. Apparently, before Donohue moved here, he was some big deal PR guy back east, and when Roger Tosches, the owner of the Black Basin, needed a little help, he hired Donohue. Well, Donohue set out to convince everyone the mine would be safe, which is just about the biggest crock of…Well, it wasn’t true, and Kimama knew it.”
After mentioning his murdered wife’s name, he had to swallow before he could continue, and when he did, his voice was bitter. “Kimama knew all about Tosches’ history with the Moccasin Peak mine on the Navajo rez, and how the thing killed the miners and how the tailings are still contaminating the drinking water. She called a press conference at the school auditorium, got the newspapers in, the TV crews, plus all the local bigwigs, and blasted his treatment of the Navajos. Cancer, arsenic poisoning, the whole deal. So what did Donohue do? He charged the stage, grabbed the mike, and called Kimama a gullible dupe of false research. Since he was a PR pro and a lot slicker speaker than she was, at least half the people bought into his version.”
He cleared his throat. “Look, Lena, I know darned well how
“Was it a diesel pump?”
Light dawned on Ted’s face. “No, it wasn’t. And the Mercedes needed diesel, which meant she’d have to back up to use the same pump I was using. But I didn’t realize it then, and because of the way Donohue was carrying on, he wasn’t making any sense. Mrs. Tosches stood there giggling, like she was enjoying the whole scene. Next thing I knew, Donohue stumbled and began to fall. I tried grabbing onto him, but he went down anyway. You mean to tell me that’s what all the fuss was about, Donohue wanting to look good in front of Mrs. Tosches? Bully me away from the diesel pump so she could have first dibs?”
“Sounds like it.”
“But that guy has to be forty years older than her!” Ted sounded like he couldn’t fathom such disparity.
I could. “No fool like an old fool.”
Small events can have big consequences. If Ted hadn’t arrived at the gas station at the same time as Donohue, none of us would be sitting in the jail visitor’s room. Unless the sheriff knew something Ted had neglected to tell us about.
“Ted, other than the Black Basin Mine disagreement, which we’ll get to in a minute, was there anything else that connects you with Donohue? For instance, did he or his wife ever take part in activities at the ranch?”
He shook his head. “Not Mr. Donohue himself, but his wife came along on several of our trail rides. Pretty good in the saddle, too, doesn’t need any babysitting like some of the others.” He managed his first smile. “You know how dudes are.”
I remembered that photograph of Nancy Donohue, rifle in hand, foot on a dead elk. No dude, she.
“How about the murder weapon? Any word yet on the ballistics tests?”
“Not that I know of,” Ted said. “Does it matter?”
“Maybe.” Arizona being Arizona, there were would be plenty of firearms at the ranch, ranging from handguns to hunting rifles. Since the issue of firearms was a moot point until we saw the ballistics report, I decided to delve further into the personalities involved. Ballistics tests might provide proof, but personalities provided motive. “The newspaper account I read said you, let’s see, how did the reporter put it, ‘blamed Donohue for creating the hostile environment that led to Kimama’s death.’ Could you go into detail about that?”
Ted’s face grew guarded. “Mr. Donohue was the public relations flak for the Black Basin Mine, which meant that it was his business to make V.U.M.—the Victims of Uranium Mining—look bad. Some of the things he said about Kimama bordered on slander.”
“Such as?”
He looked at Jimmy as if pleading for help, but Jimmy remained silent. After taking a deep breath, Ted finally answered. “Lots of reasons. Apparently, before Donohue moved here, he was some big deal PR guy back east, and when Roger Tosches, the owner of the Black Basin, needed a little help, he hired Donohue. Well, Donohue set out to convince everyone the mine would be safe, which is just about the biggest crock of…Well, it wasn’t true, and Kimama knew it.”
After mentioning his murdered wife’s name, he had to swallow before he could continue, and when he did, his voice was bitter. “Kimama knew all about Tosches’ history with the Moccasin Peak mine on the Navajo rez, and how the thing killed the miners and how the tailings are still contaminating the drinking water. She called a press conference at the school auditorium, got the newspapers in, the TV crews, plus all the local bigwigs, and blasted his treatment of the Navajos. Cancer, arsenic poisoning, the whole deal. So what did Donohue do? He charged the stage, grabbed the mike, and called Kimama a gullible dupe of false research. Since he was a PR pro and a lot slicker speaker than she was, at least half the people bought into his version.”
He cleared his throat. “Look, Lena, I know darned well how
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