much this town relies on the tourist trade, but not everyone works at a resort or guest ranch. With so many of the mine closings—yep, the gold, silver and copper are all gone—a quarter of the people up here are unemployed, and they’re desperate. Once Donohue got through slandering Kimama, he pointed out that the Black Basin Mine would bring in more than four hundred jobs. In a town this size, that’s a lot.”
“So Kimama’s warning about the safety issues was ignored?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. But she didn’t give up. V.U.M. filed a petition in federal court, and using the disaster at Moccasin Peak as an example of what could go wrong when a uranium mine was operated by the wrong people, she got the Black Basin’s opening date put on hold. When the mine didn’t open when it was supposed to, everyone blamed her. She got threatening phone calls and hate mail, unbelievably creepy stuff. She ignored it, and for a while there, it looked like V.U.M. might get the opening put off indefinitely, or at least until the mine management was transferred to someone with a better reputation, but then…”
“But then she was killed.”
His eyes flashed with hate. “But then she was murdered! And I’m telling you that Donohue’s responsible!”
I hoped Ted’s attorney would counsel him not to speak ill of the dead. Especially not to a cellmate, who might be tempted to turn state’s evidence in exchange for a lighter sentence for his own crimes.
After cautioning Ted against loose talk, I said, “One of the unusual things about your situation is that you’re being held as a material witness, not an actual suspect. What do you know about that?”
Disgust replaced the rage in his eyes. “The sheriff told me it was partially for my own protection.”
“Because of the Black Basin Uranium Mine business?”
Ted looked like he was ready to spit. “Don’t forget, I’m a long-time member of V.U.M., too, and I wasn’t exactly being quiet about the mine, either. From what I hear, once Donohue was killed, the sheriff was worried—he says—that the same people who went after Kimama might come after me out of some sense of revenge. But if you believe that tall tale, I’ve got a three-legged horse I’d like to sell you.”
Ted’s disbelief notwithstanding, the scenario did make sense. The sooner I sat down for a confab with the sheriff, the better.
Before I could tell Ted what I planned to do, the visiting room door opened and the elderly detention officer shuffled back in. Behind him waddled a short man in a wrinkled gabardine suit, carrying a briefcase almost as fat as he was.
“Your attorney’s here, Mr. Olmstead,” the officer announced, motioning for us to leave.
We did.
On the way back to the lobby, Jimmy told me he’d wait behind to alert the attorney that his father had hired Desert Investigations to help with the case.
“Officially?” Handshakes seldom impress lawyers.
He fished in his shirt pocket and drew out a piece of paper. It was a hand-written note on Desert Investigation letterhead. “Dad gave me a dollar and I wrote out a receipt.”
Oh, that Jimmy, always a step ahead, sometimes in the wrong direction. When he asked if I’d wait with him, I shook my head, saying I had several errands to run, but first, I was going to try and see Sheriff Alcott.
“Tell you what, Jimmy. It’s ten now. How about we meet for lunch around one at that restaurant down the street from the park? Ma’s Kitchen. That’ll give me time to take care of a few things. Don’t try to interview anyone, you hear? It would be a shame if your father had to bail you out again.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. Next time I talk to anyone, I’ll stand well back.” With that, he settled himself down on the same bench we’d been sitting on earlier.
The lobby was still crowded, but the bruised woman and her child were gone.
Chapter Six
Sheriff Alcott’s secretary informed me that he was
“So Kimama’s warning about the safety issues was ignored?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. But she didn’t give up. V.U.M. filed a petition in federal court, and using the disaster at Moccasin Peak as an example of what could go wrong when a uranium mine was operated by the wrong people, she got the Black Basin’s opening date put on hold. When the mine didn’t open when it was supposed to, everyone blamed her. She got threatening phone calls and hate mail, unbelievably creepy stuff. She ignored it, and for a while there, it looked like V.U.M. might get the opening put off indefinitely, or at least until the mine management was transferred to someone with a better reputation, but then…”
“But then she was killed.”
His eyes flashed with hate. “But then she was murdered! And I’m telling you that Donohue’s responsible!”
I hoped Ted’s attorney would counsel him not to speak ill of the dead. Especially not to a cellmate, who might be tempted to turn state’s evidence in exchange for a lighter sentence for his own crimes.
After cautioning Ted against loose talk, I said, “One of the unusual things about your situation is that you’re being held as a material witness, not an actual suspect. What do you know about that?”
Disgust replaced the rage in his eyes. “The sheriff told me it was partially for my own protection.”
“Because of the Black Basin Uranium Mine business?”
Ted looked like he was ready to spit. “Don’t forget, I’m a long-time member of V.U.M., too, and I wasn’t exactly being quiet about the mine, either. From what I hear, once Donohue was killed, the sheriff was worried—he says—that the same people who went after Kimama might come after me out of some sense of revenge. But if you believe that tall tale, I’ve got a three-legged horse I’d like to sell you.”
Ted’s disbelief notwithstanding, the scenario did make sense. The sooner I sat down for a confab with the sheriff, the better.
Before I could tell Ted what I planned to do, the visiting room door opened and the elderly detention officer shuffled back in. Behind him waddled a short man in a wrinkled gabardine suit, carrying a briefcase almost as fat as he was.
“Your attorney’s here, Mr. Olmstead,” the officer announced, motioning for us to leave.
We did.
On the way back to the lobby, Jimmy told me he’d wait behind to alert the attorney that his father had hired Desert Investigations to help with the case.
“Officially?” Handshakes seldom impress lawyers.
He fished in his shirt pocket and drew out a piece of paper. It was a hand-written note on Desert Investigation letterhead. “Dad gave me a dollar and I wrote out a receipt.”
Oh, that Jimmy, always a step ahead, sometimes in the wrong direction. When he asked if I’d wait with him, I shook my head, saying I had several errands to run, but first, I was going to try and see Sheriff Alcott.
“Tell you what, Jimmy. It’s ten now. How about we meet for lunch around one at that restaurant down the street from the park? Ma’s Kitchen. That’ll give me time to take care of a few things. Don’t try to interview anyone, you hear? It would be a shame if your father had to bail you out again.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. Next time I talk to anyone, I’ll stand well back.” With that, he settled himself down on the same bench we’d been sitting on earlier.
The lobby was still crowded, but the bruised woman and her child were gone.
Chapter Six
Sheriff Alcott’s secretary informed me that he was
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