live?”
“Lamar lives out back in a little cottage we built for him. He spent his life helping other people. Never thought of himself.”
“Who are we ?”
“The local ranchers and farmers. I can give you their names.”
“That would be helpful, sir.”
Bibby reached for a pencil and a writing pad on the table in front of him.
He wrote down the names. Halliday wondered about Genevive Labs. Were they the monsters that many citizens of the county, including Chuck Bibby, depicted? Or were they a company that took risks of sometimes questionable legality in the business of helping people?
“Mr. Bibby, have you talked to any other law enforcement officers from Santa Reina PD?”
“Not personally. Several of the farmers have made complaints. No one ever comes from Santa Reina PD to follow up.”
Bibby handed the short contact list to him.
“Detective, you can call me Chuck,” Bibby said. “I don’t believe the rumors that you’re a government stooge sent here to aid and abet Genevive.”
Halliday laughed. Word did get around. “Chuck, I just want to do my job, to find out what happened to Lamar Festus.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Okay, Chuck, when is the last time you saw Lamar?”
“It was last Thursday morning, after he was released from jail. We ate breakfast at the Black Bear Diner in town then I dropped him off at Jim Rogers’ ranch. Jim’s first on the list. He said Lamar was walking to the bus stop, a half mile from Rogers’ farm. Nothing unusual. But somewhere between Jim’s place and the bus stop Lamar disappeared.”
“Any reason you know why Lamar would want to disappear?”
“No.”
“Did Sheriff Barnes investigate?”
Bibby waved his hand. “Despite Sheriff Barnes’ attitude toward you, he’s a capable law man. He’s had some tough times of late. Will’s a good man at heart.”
Halliday didn’t comment.
“The sheriff found Lamar’s blue handkerchief alongside the road. Lamar had always been a frugal man who never threw anything out. He wasn’t prone to lose things, either. Sheriff Barnes found tire tracks nearby. He concluded that it was a lightweight pickup truck.”
Halliday recalled his conversation yesterday with Festus. He scribbled some notes in his memo pad, including: verify Genevive security vehicle types.
Bibby rubbed his chin. “Something click detective?”
“Notes to jog the memory. Chuck, what do you know about missing animals in the area?”
Bibby, a considerate man, paused. Halliday tried to read the man’s face.
“Lamar Festus’s brilliance suffered from demons that arrived at the same time as Genevive Labs. He believed that Genevive Labs conducted monstrous experiments on livestock abducted from the area. Now, I’m not saying Genevive isn’t guilty—I wouldn’t put it past them—but I know for a fact that a pack of coyotes have infiltrated the area during the last few weeks. They’ve been killing off pets and livestock. Coyotes most likely killed his dog, Shack.”
What was the term Gladstone had used to refer to Festus’s behavior? Absence of reality? “These coyotes, do you have proof?”
“Last Monday Lamar worked late with some farmers over at the Halverstad Ranch. Shack began howling. I went out back to take a look. Shack got agitated so I put him in the house. I grabbed my shot gun. There were noises out near the rear of the property. From out beyond the Cyprus trees, several pairs of yellow eyes stared back at me. I fired a warning shot into the air. They scattered.”
“Are you sure they were coyotes?”
“What else could they be? Wolves? After things calmed down I put Shack back in his dog run. He quieted down. I thought things were fine.”
Biddle pawed at his nasal hair and said. “It was rather odd, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw a lot of yellow eyes staring at me that night. Coyotes usually hunt in pairs, not in large packs.”
“Maybe they were wolves,” Halliday offered.
“There
“Lamar lives out back in a little cottage we built for him. He spent his life helping other people. Never thought of himself.”
“Who are we ?”
“The local ranchers and farmers. I can give you their names.”
“That would be helpful, sir.”
Bibby reached for a pencil and a writing pad on the table in front of him.
He wrote down the names. Halliday wondered about Genevive Labs. Were they the monsters that many citizens of the county, including Chuck Bibby, depicted? Or were they a company that took risks of sometimes questionable legality in the business of helping people?
“Mr. Bibby, have you talked to any other law enforcement officers from Santa Reina PD?”
“Not personally. Several of the farmers have made complaints. No one ever comes from Santa Reina PD to follow up.”
Bibby handed the short contact list to him.
“Detective, you can call me Chuck,” Bibby said. “I don’t believe the rumors that you’re a government stooge sent here to aid and abet Genevive.”
Halliday laughed. Word did get around. “Chuck, I just want to do my job, to find out what happened to Lamar Festus.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Okay, Chuck, when is the last time you saw Lamar?”
“It was last Thursday morning, after he was released from jail. We ate breakfast at the Black Bear Diner in town then I dropped him off at Jim Rogers’ ranch. Jim’s first on the list. He said Lamar was walking to the bus stop, a half mile from Rogers’ farm. Nothing unusual. But somewhere between Jim’s place and the bus stop Lamar disappeared.”
“Any reason you know why Lamar would want to disappear?”
“No.”
“Did Sheriff Barnes investigate?”
Bibby waved his hand. “Despite Sheriff Barnes’ attitude toward you, he’s a capable law man. He’s had some tough times of late. Will’s a good man at heart.”
Halliday didn’t comment.
“The sheriff found Lamar’s blue handkerchief alongside the road. Lamar had always been a frugal man who never threw anything out. He wasn’t prone to lose things, either. Sheriff Barnes found tire tracks nearby. He concluded that it was a lightweight pickup truck.”
Halliday recalled his conversation yesterday with Festus. He scribbled some notes in his memo pad, including: verify Genevive security vehicle types.
Bibby rubbed his chin. “Something click detective?”
“Notes to jog the memory. Chuck, what do you know about missing animals in the area?”
Bibby, a considerate man, paused. Halliday tried to read the man’s face.
“Lamar Festus’s brilliance suffered from demons that arrived at the same time as Genevive Labs. He believed that Genevive Labs conducted monstrous experiments on livestock abducted from the area. Now, I’m not saying Genevive isn’t guilty—I wouldn’t put it past them—but I know for a fact that a pack of coyotes have infiltrated the area during the last few weeks. They’ve been killing off pets and livestock. Coyotes most likely killed his dog, Shack.”
What was the term Gladstone had used to refer to Festus’s behavior? Absence of reality? “These coyotes, do you have proof?”
“Last Monday Lamar worked late with some farmers over at the Halverstad Ranch. Shack began howling. I went out back to take a look. Shack got agitated so I put him in the house. I grabbed my shot gun. There were noises out near the rear of the property. From out beyond the Cyprus trees, several pairs of yellow eyes stared back at me. I fired a warning shot into the air. They scattered.”
“Are you sure they were coyotes?”
“What else could they be? Wolves? After things calmed down I put Shack back in his dog run. He quieted down. I thought things were fine.”
Biddle pawed at his nasal hair and said. “It was rather odd, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw a lot of yellow eyes staring at me that night. Coyotes usually hunt in pairs, not in large packs.”
“Maybe they were wolves,” Halliday offered.
“There
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