Canyon Secret (22 page)

Her right hand touched his shoulder just like she’d done two days earlier with her son when he broke down in her kitchen. It broke her heart to see this beautiful young man cry so hard for her husband. This demonstration of strong emotion proved to her how much her husband affected people. Tom barely knew her husband. Yet here he was. A big strapping young man emotionally crushed over the death of his partner. She expected it from their son but not a fellow worker who he barely knew. “Let it out, Tom. Let it all out. It’s the only way to begin getting over it.”

Talking through his runny nose and gushing tears, he asked, “How can this be fair? What’s God thinking? Shorty saved our life and lost his own. It’s not fair I tell you!” Tomas wiped his face with his arm and fought to regain himself.

“I’ve wrestled with this same thing over the past weeks. One minute I’m fine. The next minute I’m yelling at God, at the people who brought in the Dam, the shitty weather. Everything. It’s gonna take a long time. That damn man spoiled us. Then he had the nerve to up and die on us.” Her slight laugh injected some relief into the difficult moment. “Keep talking about him, Tom. See me as much as you need to. In the end though, you got to go it alone.”

“Okay, Mrs. Davis. I mean Carol. Thanks, you really helped. And you miss him more than all of us. Thanks.”

She stood up and walked around to the counter near the sink and the waiting cake. A big smile found its way on her face as she picked up the cake knife. “How about some of this cake? It’ll change your mood alright.”

Tomas nodded, “I’d like some of that cake. I ain’t had any since my mom fixed it for me a long time ago before she left.”

After eating the cake and drinking coffee, Carol placed the dirty plates and silverware in the sink. She walked into the living room and returned with a small brown paper bag. One by one she gingerly picked out a photograph from the bag and placed it in front of Tomas. With her long index finger she pointed to a young Shorty Davis in his dress blue Navy uniform. “This here one was taken in Singapore with a couple of his buddies. It was that damn smile that stole my heart away. Look at them pearly whites. What a ham he was, even back then.”

Tomas smiled and touched the edge of the well-worn black and white photograph. “I can see him in there alright. He looked good in that uniform.”

“Oh yes he did. And he knew it too that little scamp. When he came home on leave, he’d show up with them dress blues on. He knew what he was doing all right. We got married six months after this picture was taken.”

Tomas moved his wooden chair in closer to the table. Carol placed the next photograph down. “In this one here, he’s in San Francisco on the deck of their battleship standing behind one of their machine guns. Look at the cigar in his mouth. Showing off again with his white hat cocked off to the side. The man with him was his best friend and stood up for us at our wedding.”

The memory of the last story Shorty told Tomas about the Navy came alive as he stared at the photograph. His blank stare caught Carol’s attention. “Are you alright, Tom?”

“Oh yes, ma’am. Shorty told me a story that last time we worked together.” He stopped there and checked his watch. Cliff planned to meet him back at Carol’s at three. He had a half-hour left.

Carol showed him all five of the photos in the bag. “Pick out one of these if you’d like. I’d like to keep the rest of them to show his grandkids some day.”

Tomas selected the photo of Shorty behind the machine gun in San Francisco. As they prepared to say goodbye, Tomas sheepishly spoke, “I hope the little bit of money we put together from the crew helped some.”

She stopped, lowered her head, and twisted her face to the side, “I’m not sure what money you’re talking about, Tom. The Superintendent dropped off some groceries, but nobody brought any money.”

“Didn’t David Sednick bring you the six-hundred fifty dollars the men gave for you and your family?”

“Tom, I don’t know any David, whatever you said his last name is. Nobody gave us any money.”

Tomas touched his fingers to his lips. “Oh. He probably hasn’t had a chance to yet. But he will. I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning. He’s been pretty busy.”

They heard Clifford’s car pull up outside. “Thanks Carol for everything. The cake was great, and I’ll take good care of this picture of Shorty. Most of all thanks for hearin’ what’s been on my mind hard for sometime now.”

She hugged him and invited him back. From the front seat of the car Tomas waved at Carol as she stood on the doorstep with her arms folded. His mind raced and his temper boiled as he thought of David not bringing Carol the money. “I bet he spent the money drinkin’. He’s gonna have to pay her back and soon. I’ll see to it.”

At the top of the Dam, crews from the graveyard shift gathered at the bus turn around near the cement mixing plant. Their replacements prepared to step down the bus steps to begin the process all over again. Tomas finished telling his dad about his plan to go see David this morning. “Dad, would you do me a favor and take my lunch bucket back to the barracks? I’ll see David, and then I’ll just walk down the haul road.”

Mikhail blew some air through his pursed lips, “What’s so big you have to see him right now? You worked all night. He can wait.”

“Oh, it’s okay Dad. I’ll be back down and in bed in an hour. It’s important. I need to do it right now.”

Mikhail nodded his head, grabbed his son’s lunch bucket, and climbed the steps to the bus.

Once the bus cleared the lot, Tomas fast-walked across the walkways covering the entire length of the Dam. He stopped and looked upstream. Small tugboats toted rafts of logs from the west side of the reservoir to the waiting logging trucks on the east end. Tomas couldn’t read the words on the side of the tugboat from where he stood. As he made a mental note to find out the name of that boat sometime, he covered the distance to the bosses shack in ten minutes. As drilled into him by his father, Tomas waited until David finished talking to the group of three men before he approached. David caught his eye and nodded he’d be right there by raising his finger.

The three men left. David made a quick note and stuck the pad back into his pocket. He waved Tomas over to him. As Tomas neared, he noticed how haggard and tired David looked. He used to admire how good David always looked. Clean shaved, clean hair, fresh clothes, and he even smelled of aftershave lotion. “What’s up Tomas? Didn’t you just finish graveyard?”

“Ya I did. But I got to talk to ya. It’s real important.”

“Let’s hear it. I got a ton to do.”

“Maybe we could talk over here. It’s private.” David followed him behind the shack and onto a small wooden landing. “I talked to Shorty Davis’ widow the other day and she told me you never gave her that six-hundred fifty dollars from our day’s pay.”

David jerked his hands in front of him before he said anything, “Oh shit! I totally forgot all about that. I’ll get it to her next week or so. She—”

“No David!” She needs the money right away. Their new house costs her a fortune. Carol doesn’t start to work at the Columbia Falls Bank for two weeks. She’s pert’ near broke. You gotta—”

David quickly slid right up to Tomas’ face, “Don’t ever tell me what I gotta do. Never. I’ll get to it when I get the chance. You can go to hell you ungrateful little prick.”

Tomas stepped back. Stunned. “Come on, David. She needs it now. Those other men would hang you if they find out.”

A patented David Sednick smirk covered his face, “You tellin’ em’?

“I don’t want to. But it ain’t right. They gave their money.”

David started to walk away and stopped ten feet away. He turned and wrote a note in his pad. “Meet me here tomorrow morning at the same time and I’ll have it then. Then get off my ass. After everything I’ve done for you. Got you and your old man a job up here. You’d be nowhere without my help.”

“David! We’re all doin’ this for Anna. Have you forgot?” “Wait right here! I’ll be right back! David walked away toward the bosses shack and flipped Tomas the finger over his head with both hands. He slammed the makeshift metal door shut behind him. A few minutes later David walked back out the door and slammed a personal check for six-hundred fifty dollars into Tomas’ hand. “Now stay the hell away from me. You’re just like your old man.”

Tomas turned, jogged across the Dam roadway, and ran down the haul road as fast as he could go. Finally he stopped in the parking lot at the barracks. He bent at the waist and placed the palms of his hands on his knees as he searched for a normal breath of air. Sweat drenched his entire body. His feet stung from the blisters on his feet from the pounding of his work boots and sweaty socks on the gravel road. Tomas Anzich ran his anger deep into the rock bed of the road. But a proud smile filled his sweaty face. Carol Davis would get her money later that afternoon.

T
he August 16th afternoon brought the warmest temperature of the summer of 1952. Record breaking heat shot the temperatures into the nineties for the fourth day in a row. The third floor of the Federal Building in Butte roasted the four FBI agents who sat around the turn of the century oak round table. Stacks of photos, notes, and files covered the surface of the table. Agents labored in rolled up white shirt-sleeves and loosened ties. Suit jackets hung on the back of the heavy wooden chairs.

Special Agent Moore set his water glass down, wiped his forehead, and tapped the tablet in his hands against the corner of the table. “I feel good about this list of possible victims here. The victims from the other murders were bosses. Each of them had large savings accounts. All three men were in their mid to late thirties. They also hit the bars pretty hard at night. We have two guys here on Hungry Horse who fit that profile.”

Agent Ted Hughes looked up from the opened file in front of him. “Who are the two again?”

“Robert Mular and David Sednick.”

“Let’s take a closer look at both of them. Mular worked at both Coulee and Hoover. You’d think he would have been a target at one of those projects. If Mular was our guy, why wasn’t he killed working one of those jobs?”

The elderly gray haired agent sat at the head of the table and cleared his throat before he spoke. He pushed his glasses up on his nose with his index finger and said, “Sednick is our man. He flinched at some of the questions Superintendent Scalf asked him. There’s a reason a workingman like him has eight-thousand dollars in his bank account. Mular has ten-thousand but he damn near had that much when he left Coulee City four years ago. It’s Sednick all right. He started as a laborer at Hungry Horse and then became a walking boss. We zero in on him. Follow Sednick and we find the killer.”

Moore set his paperwork back into his manila folder. “Okay. That settles it. We plant one of us to hide in Sednick’s back pocket. Superintendent Scalf will set up the job alongside Sednick. We can begin right away. Who goes in?”

Agent Hughes nodded his head as he convinced himself he was the best person to go undercover. “I think I’d work out. God knows Moore cannot fix a flat tire, let alone work tools on a Dam project.” The timely humor lightened the moods and lowered the temperature of the men in the room. “Scalf assured me one of us can work his way in pretty easily with Sednick. Apparently, the guy’s shy on friends and men who trust him.”

Back in Martin City, the Montana Liberty Bell parade started in front of Mabel’s. The ladies in the Care Less Group laughed amongst themselves at the irony of kicking off the U.S. Savings Bond Independence drive in front of a cathouse. The mayor of Columbia Falls didn’t share their opinion of starting places, but the truck hauling the copper liberty bell rolled down the hill into the main street of Martin City. Hannah worked her way through the crowd that lined the street on the south side of the gravel road while Lila slid in and out of the men, women, and children on the north side. The ladies distributed pamphlets, which explained the savings bond drive to the adults. They gave small bells to the children. Betty Hansen walked with the sheriff in front of the truck. She tossed small bags of candy to the children standing with theirparents. A big smile filled Sheriff Schustrom’s face as he waved to the parade watchers. Betty left his bed only an hour earlier and the glow from their passionate love making changed his attitude about another parade in his area. The drum and bugle corps from Kalispell rallied the crowd who clapped as the liberty bell truck crawled by.

Two men stood between the Club Café and Byrd’s Grocery. Both men looked ahead as they quietly took care of their business. The shorter older man in the blue suit sipped on a bottle of Pepsi as he uttered his instructions. “Just like Coulee and Hoover, right?”

“Five-thousand. Half up front. The other half when he’s dead.”

“Agreed. Today is August 16th. Truman dedicates the Dam on October 1st. You’re to kill David Sednick on the last day of September. With Truman and secret service people all over the place, the murder will be hushed up.”

“I’ll come back in five weeks and track your man and pick my spot and time. You can meet with him then so I can see him. Call me in Seattle and tell me when and where you’re meeting him. He won’t see Truman dedicate the dam.”

As the liberty bell passed in front of him, the man in the suit slid his hand into the pocket of his suit coat and retrieved a white envelope. He nonchalantly handed the envelope across to the other man and whispered out of the side of his mouth, “You’ll get the other half when I learn Sednick is dead.” He smiled and waved to his wife Betty Hansen as she paraded by next to the sheriff. The man’s hand paused in the air as he noticed his wife smiling as she looked up at the sheriff. It had been quite awhile since he noticed that happy of a look on her face.

Roy Devers slipped the white envelope into his right pant pocket and slowly walked away from the main street. He turned his back on the thousand people that turned out to watch the Liberty Bell Parade. As he rounded the corner to the side street, he yelled at the three teenagers gathered around his 1952 Lincoln Capri, “Get away from my goddamn car you little punks!”