Demon Hunt, page 4
“How beautiful!” She took the proffered book to examine the picture. “What on earth is it doing in a Bible? The picture must have been printed as a part of the original book - and what about the caption below?” She squinted to decipher the stylized script. “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock. Where have I heard that before?”
“Revelations,” Pam replied and took a gulp of coffee, trying to ignore Rhi’s questioning glance.
Rhi cleared her throat.
“Okay, okay - I’m a fallen Catholic, if you must know. And things like my mother forcing me to memorize Bible verses are what made me fall.” Pam took the Bible to stow the book in the box. “Bibles give me the willies and this one’s creepier than most.”
The sausages were done and the pancakes browned and warming in the oven. Rhi took her coffee to the breakfast bar to lean and face her friend. She glanced at Katie, who had managed to find the cartoon channel on the television in the interim. By mutual, unspoken assent, they had avoided the subject of the last night’s events thus far.
“The accident last night – any other news?”
“Nope, but we will know more this morning. They’re sending someone out to talk to us since I knew Marie and you … well you were the last person to speak to her, they think. I left a note on my door. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Great. You’ve invited the cops here and I only have enough sausages for us.” Rhi hurried to the freezer and dug for another package of sausage links.
“If they send the cop I think they will, I doubt he’ll break bread with us. He thinks casinos are the root of all evil. He opposed the vote a few years ago when they held the gambling referendum. Like my maw maw always said - cards are the devil’s play pretties.” Pam waggled her empty plate in front of Rhi’s nose. “He’s also the owner of one of those god-awful gingerbread houses you worship.”
“Okay, okay. No wonder you’ve been divorced twice, demanding little creature.” Rhi turned to the stove with the plate to fill with food. “Is he some old miner turned cop?”
Pam grinned. “No, he’s not an ex-miner and he’s not old - unless you think I’m old. Besides, in the right light, Nick’s kind of cute.”
Rhi dished out lumberjack-sized portions of food for her guests and placed the plates on the breakfast table with the coffee pot, orange juice, butter and syrup.
“Come and get your chow while it’s hot!” She pretended to cower as Pam and Katie rushed the table.
Rhi took her seat as Ellie Mae jumped up to start voicing the bloodhound’s characteristic bass howl in response to the sound of the doorbell.
Pam glanced up as her hostess stood. “Watch out, the testosterone level in here might go up a few notches, even if it is only Nick. You know, you need to let more men into this house or you might just dry up.”
Rhi ignored her friend and opened the door to be greeted by a rounded bundle of nylon and down that topped off a baggy pair of Levis and hiking boots. Not much taller than her own five and a half feet, her guest lowered his hood to reveal a jolly, round face covered in a neatly trimmed brown beard.
She stifled a giggle. He resembled a young Santa Claus.
The twinkling blue eyes narrowed at the sight of Rhi, body lost in giant woolen socks and baggy sweats, black hair gathered into a heavy braid hanging over one shoulder.
“Well, here’s another eastern carpetbagger moving in to suck us dry,” he said dryly, his eyebrows moving up a notch.
Rhi almost stepped back when he pushed forward into the house without an invitation. She stopped, blocking his path. He paused for a moment.
“Mind if I come in?”
She forced him to wait another heartbeat before nodding and stepped back to allow him into her territory. Rhi noticed that the moment he stepped through the door and removed his Stetson, the lawman examined everything and everyone in the room, ticking off some unseen mental checklist. She almost offered him her camera to take a picture before deciding back off as her newest guest examined her well-furnished little home.
“I‘m from the South. Where I come from the term carpetbagger is worth a black eye!” Rhi turned her back on him to sit back down to breakfast.
“Ms. Douglas found someone to feed her child something besides frozen entrees?”
“She can clean too,” Pam announced around a mouthful of pancakes. “Chief Nicholas Boyd, Rhi Brennan. Rhi Brennan, Nick Boyd, but I am the only one who gets to call him Nick.”
Katie attacked her breakfast, ignoring all stimuli in the room but her syrup coated plate.
Ellie Mae ambled over to the new visitor and gave his jeans the once over with her nose. He knelt down to scratch her ten- inch long ears.“Well, someone who has a dog like this can’t be all bad.” He smiled, Looking all the more like the jolly old elf.
Saint Nick. Rhi snorted a laugh down.
Suddenly all business, Cripple Creek Police Chief Boyd took a small notebook from his jacket pocket and turned his attention to Pam.
“Katie, since you are done eating, why don’t you go up to my bedroom with Ellie Mae to watch cartoons,” Rhi suggested. “You guys can lie on the comforter and not have to hear us interrupt your show.”
“Okay, Rhi. Come on Ellie,” the child chirped and jumped up to head for the stairs, the dog trailing behind.
Rhi offered up a mug of coffee to the invader. He accepted, not taking his eyes off of his interview subject.
“Cream and sugar, Chief?”
He grinned again and his round face lit up the room. Rhi revised her estimation of the man.
“Call me Boyd and no frills, thanks, I don’t like my coffee scared.” He plunked down in the chair closest to Pam. “I’m sure you know the details of what happened last night, Pam. Telephone, telegraph, tell a Pam.”
Rhi shuddered. Yes, they were aware of the details.
“Rhi, let’s run down your evening. I’ve talked to Stephen and a few of the other dealers. But I need your version too.”
Rhi took a deep breath and told the chief everything she could remember about the Silver Pearl’s New Year’s Eve bash. No, she didn’t notice anyone eyeing Marie at the table. Yes, there were a few weirdoes in the casino the night before but there were always weirdoes in the casino, any casino, any time.
His eyes narrowed.
“Weren’t you worried about her heading to the lots alone?”
“Why? We all walk to the lots alone, all of the time … I didn’t like her very much but … oh hell,” Rhi sat back in her chair with her head in her hands. Why hadn’t she insisted on Marie staying to help close?
“Yeah, there’s another problem I’ve got,” the chief shook his head as he jotted another note in his book. “It seems everybody in town detested the girl and quite a few wives had some serious reasons to hate her. And there is a rumor, Pam, you threatened to kick Marie’s ass more than once.” He hesitated before speaking again, examining his hands as he spoke. “I hate to ask this, but I have to. You and Marie had a big falling out a little while ago, didn’t you? Where were you last night at about two twenty or two thirty?”
“If you’re asking if I murdered Marie in that Gawd-awful way because she was a spoiled little slut who liked to gossip, the answer is no.” Pam was obviously not bothered by the whole ‘don’t speak ill of the dead’ thing. “She tried to convince everyone I dumped to try to steal the pit supervisor’s spot from me a few months ago.”
“Now Pam, you know I don’t know diddly about casino lingo.”
“Dumping, Chief … reshuffling the cards when they grow cold to dump more money to the players and up the tips. The trick is illegal if you get caught. Marie did the dumping in that casino and we all knew it. I might have told her I would kick her ass a few times, I don’t know. It’s a figure of speech. As for where I was - I was home to set loose Katie’s sitter at two on the nose on this side of town. If you think I drove back into town with my sleeping daughter in a snowstorm to cut some girl’s heart out, you’re crazy!”
“Do either of you have any idea who’d want to do this to her?”
Pam sat back and stared ruefully at the licked clean plate in front of her. “No idea, Nick. I can’t see her making anybody that angry. Maybe the boyfriend who traveled up with her from the cruise ships in Key West, but he hated the cold and took off a few months ago. He was kind of a jerk but this?”
Boyd nodded. “We’re digging him up and going over her house. I brought her cat to you.” He glanced sideways at Pam, who was famous for taking in every stray that wandered across her property.
“Drop the fuzzy-wuzzy off at my house. I gave the kitty to her in the first place. Bart knows how to get to the barn to keep warm with all of his buddies.” Pam sighed and patted her bulging stomach. “I’m glad I’ve got you to feed me, Rhi. I won’t be able to afford food with all of these critters taking over.”
“Did any customers get angry with her last night?” he asked as he scribbled in his little notepad.
The two women exchanged tired looks.
“Nick, you’ve got to know enough about casinos to know we piss off about a hundred people a day.” Pam fidgeted with her silverware as she spoke, a sure sign of restlessness. “We’re blackjack dealers - we make twenty people angry enough to commit murder every day of the week.”
“She dealt to the same lunatics we all do, Chief,” Rhi added. “I’ve gotten two death threats in the last week. Gaming tracked them down through pictures from the security tapes. Can’t you check out the tapes of Marie’s tables for the night? You might get lucky.”
“My guys are reviewing her tapes as we speak, Miss Rhi.” The chief stood, his knees creaking, his gaze taking stock of the well-kept little A-frame. “You girls need to be careful out here. Someone nasty visited town last night.”
“I think we can handle things, sweetie.” Pam grinned at him wickedly. “A locked door is nice but there’s no substitute for a product from Smith & Wesson. You need to tell Rhi guns don’t kill people. There’s always a warm body pulling the trigger.”
“Guns need a hand on the trigger that knows what to do and has respect for the weapon. If Rhi doesn’t know how to use a gun - she doesn’t need one.”
Rhi sputtered, spewing pancake over the table. “Mrff - I didn’t say I couldn’t use a gun. I just never liked using one.” She stood to glare at him. Direct eye contact was a rarity for her. “I grew up in North Carolina. Back home, we like to shoot something every day, just to keep our hand in.”
“Then, living out here with the lions and tigers and bears, you might want to think about some firepower,” the chief replied. He pointed out Ellie Mae as she made her way back down the stairs towards him. “Unless you want to depend on this mutant lap dog to protect you. How much bourbon have you guzzled this morning, girl?” he asked the dog, who leaned against his leg, staring up beseechingly. He obliged and rubbed the dog’s golden head.
Pam inquired, “Can we expect some police protection out here in the wilds?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Since you are the one female who I know I could drop off in a battle zone and pick up a week later looking like you just visited a spa - no! Ms Brennan,” he nodded in Rhi’s direction, “It has been a pleasure. Don’t let Pam eat you out of house and home.” He stood to begin the process of refastening his cold weather gear.
Rhi walked him to the door. The moment she opened it, Ellie Mae rushed straight through to jump into the bed of the police pickup in the driveway, eliciting a hiss from the cat carrier in the truck’s bed. Rhi moved to retrieve the dog but the chief breezed past her.
“I think I can get my own dog if you don’t mind.”
“We wouldn’t want those delicate southern tootsies out in this cold, now would we?” he answered, reaching in the truck to grasp the dog’s collar. “Come on, old girl, we can maybe go out for a cocktail later,” he whispered loudly to the dog as he led her back up the steps where Rhi took hold of the dog’s collar.
Moments later, as the chief’s truck steered down the drive, the hair on Ellie Mae’s neck rose and a low growl rose in her throat. Shocked at the unfamiliar sound, Rhi gaped at the dog, who stared into the woods off to the side of the house. Rhi clutched the animal’s large leather collar and made soothing noises to the frantic hound.
Pam joined her, hands on her bony hips, staring after the truck with disgust. “You mean to tell me with us hot, lonely women here in this godforsaken forest, he asked out the dog?”
With an uneasy laugh, both women began to return to the warmth of the house, Ellie Mae’s discomfort almost forgotten. Ellie Mae was protective of her mistress, but to Rhi’s recollection the dog had never growled in her life.
“What do you think of Nick?”
Before Rhi replied, Ellie Mae jerked herself free of her restraining hand to bound, yelping, into the grove of pines covering the side of the hill across the yard from the deck. The baying of the dog rose to a fevered pitch as Rhi and Pam ran to the open area where the animal dug and sniffed. Rhi grabbed the dog’s collar in time, as Ellie Mae stared up at her, pleading to follow the scent.
“Oh, no, you don’t, I’m not chasing you to the Sangre De Cristos today.” Rhi gritted her teeth as the tops of her moccasins filled with snow and she tightened her hold on the dog’s collar. Bloodhounds were notorious for following a scent to the bitter end.
Pam hunched down in the snow, poking at the fresh powder Ellie Mae had excavated a few moments earlier. The other woman’s face turned grim. The crusted, red snow beneath the powder stood out in stark contrast with the fresh white snow and the deep green of the trees.
“You had a visitor last night. Probably a mountain lion with a fresh kill - somebody didn’t watch their poodle close enough.” Pam rocked back on her heels when an unexpected movement behind them startled her enough to fall over in the snow.
The trees rustled, and Ellie Mae struggled against Rhi’s hold. The hound began to bay, and Rhi whirled to see a man clad in black, white and gray snow camouflage and holding a large shotgun rise from the cover of several bushes.
Chapter Six
Pam scrambled to her feet as the stranger approached. Shocked, Rhi realized that she appeared unconcerned about a man who had crawled out of the underbrush, wearing more guns than a rap star.
Refusing to let Pam know she was shaken, Rhi took a moment to examine him further. The man’s shotgun was tucked under one arm, a game bag hung off his shoulder, and his camouflage ensemble was starched to perfection. The newcomer’s heavy boots were spotless, the creased pants tucked neatly into the tops.
His guns, both the foot long forty-four strapped to his side and the pump shotgun tucked under his arm were immaculate. The blue-black metal shone dully in the morning light. The sixty-something man’s salt and pepper hair had been buzz cut and his leathery face had no acquaintance with SPF 30. Hard blue eyes took in the scene, narrowing at the sight of the stained snow.
“What have we here, ladies?” he queried, approaching to examine what Ellie Mae and Pam had dug up. “This looks fresh - but where’s the carcass? I don’t see any bits and pieces?”
Rhi’s stomach gave a lurch, and she surveyed the snow around her, fearing the worst.
“Maybe something dragged away after one of those big cats brought it down?” Pam suggested. She went to Rhi’s aid, who struggled with the dog, trying to hold her back. Both women succeeded in getting knocked down by the bloodhound, which made a beeline for the well-starched visitor.
The man stood immobile, his empty hand held out for the dog to smell. Ellie Mae skidded to a stop in front of him to examine his open hand, sniffing at it before giving the unoffending limb a long bath with her tongue. She turned her back on him to rejoin her mistress and stand protectively to one side.
“Interesting choice for a dog, ma’am,” he said in his gravel filled voice to Rhi. He nodded at Ellie Mae. “Purebred bloodhounds like this one can smell or sense anything. Even ghosts.”
Pam huffed. “Bobby Wayne, if you’re trying to freak us out, jumping out of the bushes armed is good. You don’t need to add a ghost story on for good measure.” She turned to the house where Katie observed from the door. “I told you that you could hunt on the property but not near the houses. You’ll scare off my tenants.”
“I think this lady and I are your only tenants. Besides, I was just strolling through. I’ve been hunting up on the ridge.” He glanced at Rhi, then at Pam.
“Oh, crap, am I being rude again?” Pam exclaimed insincerely. “Bobby Wayne Bedford, this is Rhi Brennan. Rhi, this is Bobby Wayne, the nut job who rents an old hunting cabin from me.” She whispered, in a voice loud enough to be heard in the next valley. “And if you give him a chance, he’ll tell you about the end of the world. He’s stocked up. You, too, can survive!”
Rhi nodded at the intruder. He offered her a gruff nod in return before squatting down to examine the stain in the snow. He continued, ignoring Pam’s jibes. “Snow is covering the blood, which I find curious. Whatever left these stains did it during the storm last night. And what predator in its right mind would be out hunting in that weather? But I’ve seen more than a few odd prints covered up with fresh snow this morning,” he mused, digging around with a gloved hand.
Even his gloves were crisp, Rhi realized before she caught the intense expression on Pam’s face. What kind of predator was crazy enough to hunt in a snow storm? Only one predator killed for fun. Suppressing a shudder, she nodded towards the house. “Mr. Bedford, you’re welcome to some breakfast if you’re hungry.”
“Bobby Wayne,” the man corrected her as he stood. “I’d be honored, ma’am.”
As the group marched back to the house, Pam whispered into Rhi’s ear, “Good thinking. Have no gun - feed the owner of the nearest one.”
Inside, Rhi served her newest guest some fresh coffee and breakfast before sinking into a chair to enjoy her now cold meal.
“What did you mean, Ellie can sense ghosts?” she asked, interrupting Pam and Bobby Wayne’s running monologue of local news and gossip.
