said.
“Yeah. I know,” Wade said. “But, Billy’s not our most upstanding citizen.”
“Oh?” Sam said.
“He’s got a sheet. Nothing like this, but fighting, growing dope, stuff like that.”
“Marijuana?”
“Never could prove it. It was on his land, but out from his house a ways. Guess it could have been anyone. Of course, Billy never denied using the stuff. Just denied growing it, which would have gotten him before the judge.”
“Have you talked to him?” Sam asked.
“Not yet. Went by his place. Wasn’t there. He’s probably out in the mountains. That’s where he is half the time.”
“Doing what?” Sam asked.
“Hiking around mostly. He’s gone for days sometimes. Likes to camp up there.”
“You going to go find him?”
“Me? No way.” Wade shook his head for emphasis. “Couldn’t find him anyway. Nobody knows these hills better than Billy and if he doesn’t want to be found, ain’t nobody going to find him.”
“You really think he killed Mr. Varney?” Alyss asked.
Wade scratched his ear. “He knows the lay out of the store. Even has a key.” Wade shifted the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth. “If Billy did this and run off, we’ll never find him in these mountains. If not, he’ll be back in a day or two, I suspect.”
Eloy Fuller, head bouncing on his long neck, cigarette bobbing from the corner of his mouth, eyes darting around as if following a gnat, walked toward them. He seemed to focus one eye on Wade and the other on Sam. He offered Sam a grin and then turned to Wade. “Chief. They’re here to take the body over to Montrose.”
Sam flashed a quizzical look at Wade.
“Abe Summers. County Coroner,” Wade said. “Up in Montrose. Examines all homicides in the county, which is almost never. But, we’ll see what he has to say. Probably not much since the cause of death seems fairly obvious, and I doubt he can tell us who did it.” He plucked the toothpick from his mouth and tossed it in the nearby trashcan. “I’d better get this done since Abe has kindly agreed to do the post today. That way we won’t have to delay Lloyd’s funeral too long.” He nodded to Sam. “See you later.” He turned and followed Eloy up the sidewalk.
Eloy looked over his shoulder at Sam a couple of times as he and Wade crossed Main Street and headed toward the Police Department.
Alyss walked up, Shelby in tow. “Looks like you have a fan.”
“Spare me,” Sam said.
“Come on,” Alyss said. “I’ll show you the town.”
“I’ve seen it,” Shelby said. “I’m going over to the music store and see if they have anything that’s not like totally lame.”
“OK,” Alyss said. “We’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
Sam and Alyss strolled down Main Street. While they walked and chatted, Sam decided that despite her introduction to the town last night and the understandably suspicious nature of the crowd outside Varney’s, she liked Gold Creek.
In the daylight, it appeared very different. The stores were old but seemed to wear their age well. Clean and tidy, but with no hint of Disney-like contrivance, they were the real thing. Built by hand from sturdy materials. Aged by time and weather, not some artisan’s patina.
Alyss pointed out some of the historic buildings, mostly Victorian, dating from a time when gold and silver were big business. Many had served as homes for the wealthy mine owners. Most had been restored; others still needed work.
Alyss showed her one particularly impressive three-story Victorian that had been the town’s main brothel. It was now the Begley Hotel. Stately, sedate, yellow with caramel trim, and stained glass everywhere.
“The brothel was run for over forty years by a woman who called herself Belle Bovary,” Alyss said. “I forget her real name.”
“When did it close?”
“Belle died in the 1930’s. A couple of the girls kept it running until the mid Forties. After the war, Thomas Begley bought it and
“Yeah. I know,” Wade said. “But, Billy’s not our most upstanding citizen.”
“Oh?” Sam said.
“He’s got a sheet. Nothing like this, but fighting, growing dope, stuff like that.”
“Marijuana?”
“Never could prove it. It was on his land, but out from his house a ways. Guess it could have been anyone. Of course, Billy never denied using the stuff. Just denied growing it, which would have gotten him before the judge.”
“Have you talked to him?” Sam asked.
“Not yet. Went by his place. Wasn’t there. He’s probably out in the mountains. That’s where he is half the time.”
“Doing what?” Sam asked.
“Hiking around mostly. He’s gone for days sometimes. Likes to camp up there.”
“You going to go find him?”
“Me? No way.” Wade shook his head for emphasis. “Couldn’t find him anyway. Nobody knows these hills better than Billy and if he doesn’t want to be found, ain’t nobody going to find him.”
“You really think he killed Mr. Varney?” Alyss asked.
Wade scratched his ear. “He knows the lay out of the store. Even has a key.” Wade shifted the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth. “If Billy did this and run off, we’ll never find him in these mountains. If not, he’ll be back in a day or two, I suspect.”
Eloy Fuller, head bouncing on his long neck, cigarette bobbing from the corner of his mouth, eyes darting around as if following a gnat, walked toward them. He seemed to focus one eye on Wade and the other on Sam. He offered Sam a grin and then turned to Wade. “Chief. They’re here to take the body over to Montrose.”
Sam flashed a quizzical look at Wade.
“Abe Summers. County Coroner,” Wade said. “Up in Montrose. Examines all homicides in the county, which is almost never. But, we’ll see what he has to say. Probably not much since the cause of death seems fairly obvious, and I doubt he can tell us who did it.” He plucked the toothpick from his mouth and tossed it in the nearby trashcan. “I’d better get this done since Abe has kindly agreed to do the post today. That way we won’t have to delay Lloyd’s funeral too long.” He nodded to Sam. “See you later.” He turned and followed Eloy up the sidewalk.
Eloy looked over his shoulder at Sam a couple of times as he and Wade crossed Main Street and headed toward the Police Department.
Alyss walked up, Shelby in tow. “Looks like you have a fan.”
“Spare me,” Sam said.
“Come on,” Alyss said. “I’ll show you the town.”
“I’ve seen it,” Shelby said. “I’m going over to the music store and see if they have anything that’s not like totally lame.”
“OK,” Alyss said. “We’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
Sam and Alyss strolled down Main Street. While they walked and chatted, Sam decided that despite her introduction to the town last night and the understandably suspicious nature of the crowd outside Varney’s, she liked Gold Creek.
In the daylight, it appeared very different. The stores were old but seemed to wear their age well. Clean and tidy, but with no hint of Disney-like contrivance, they were the real thing. Built by hand from sturdy materials. Aged by time and weather, not some artisan’s patina.
Alyss pointed out some of the historic buildings, mostly Victorian, dating from a time when gold and silver were big business. Many had served as homes for the wealthy mine owners. Most had been restored; others still needed work.
Alyss showed her one particularly impressive three-story Victorian that had been the town’s main brothel. It was now the Begley Hotel. Stately, sedate, yellow with caramel trim, and stained glass everywhere.
“The brothel was run for over forty years by a woman who called herself Belle Bovary,” Alyss said. “I forget her real name.”
“When did it close?”
“Belle died in the 1930’s. A couple of the girls kept it running until the mid Forties. After the war, Thomas Begley bought it and
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