Terry Odell - Mapleton 03 - Deadly Puzzles (23 page)

“
Affirmative, Chief,” Connie, the night dispatcher said. “Nothing noteworthy.” She read off the first plate, saying it came back to a local woman, long-time resident. The soccer mom with the kids Gordon had seen, he surmised. The second, which matched the car Bronco Fan came from, belonged to a Colorado Springs resident. Was he meeting friends here? Staying here? Gordon hadn’t recognized the other men at his table. A conspiracy plot flew through his mind and was immediately dismissed. No. They’d been laughing, enjoying themselves. Hardly a clandestine meeting.

The third Subaru was a rental, Connie informed him.
“Registered to the corporation. No way to identify the driver without paper,” she said. Was that Carhartt Cowboy’s vehicle? For all Gordon knew, the man could have parked in the lot hours ago, done some shopping, visiting, walking, and ended up at Finnegan’s, although he didn’t look like a shopper. The library wasn’t far. Maybe he’d been hanging there. The cowboy boots didn’t lend themselves to long hikes, but people who wore them were used to them and wouldn’t mind a stroll through the tiny city of Mapleton.

All questions, no answers.

“Thanks,” he said. “Keep me in the loop about any calls related to the burglary.”

Gordon returned to his wings. Lukewarm now, but still damn good.

And later, his visit with Angie was anything but lukewarm. And still damn good.

Gordon arrived at his office shortly before six the next morning. He poured the to-go cup of coffee he’d brought from Daily Bread into his mug, turned on his computer, and while it booted, brewed a pot of decaf for the rest of his morning. Decaf or not, the stuff Laurie had given him tasted ten times better than the real deal in the break room. Before dealing with work, he checked
Paula’s Places
. Still nothing about the Yardumians, Tranquility Valley, or any attractions in that area. Today’s post covered things to do in the Bellingham, Washington vicinity. Again, nothing to indicate when Paula had been there. Nice pictures, though.

After deciding it might be a place he
’d like to add to his
if I ever take another vacation
list, he clicked away from the blog and picked up the night reports. A quiet night in Mapleton. Gaubatz hadn’t come down on Jost or anyone else. However, Gordon would still have to talk to the sergeant. One’s personal life and being a cop didn’t always play nicely together. He decided he’d wait until after the morning briefing. If Gaubatz’s emotions were too near the surface, no need to stir up extra waves.

His internal line announced a call from Dispatch. His heart jumped. A break?
“Hepler.”

Connie
’s calm voice answered him. “TA I thought you’d want to hear about, Chief.”

Traffic accident. Dispatch wouldn
’t bother him if it was routine. Had someone he knew been hurt? He thrust away the possibilities racing through his mind. “Report.”

“
Subaru SUV you’ve had your eye on took a dive down the mountain an hour or so ago.”

Okay, a work call, not personal. Switching mental gears, he took a slow breath.
“State Patrol been called?” he asked.

“
They’re on scene,” Connie said.

“
Where?”

“
Outside of town.” She gave him the highway mile marker. Well outside Mapleton’s city limits. Like so much of this part of the country, a stretch of road with mountain on one side, cliff on the other, and plenty of switchbacks. Accidents that were too common, especially in the winter months when the roads were icy.

“
How’s the driver?” Gordon asked. At least they should be able to tell whether it was Carhartt Cowboy.

“
Not with the vehicle. But that’s not why I called you,” Connie said. “They haven’t found the driver yet—they’ve got a dog on it—but they found a bunch of clothes in the car. Men’s clothes. Including your jacket.”

The hairs on the back of Gordon
’s neck stood up.

“
Alert the State Patrol. I’m on my way.”

Gordon grabbed his coat and keys. His conversation with Gaubatz would have to wait. He jumped into his official vehicle, hit the lights, and sped out of the parking lot. He managed to keep his speed commensurate with the road conditions—no need for him to
become another casualty.

As he approached, the red and blue lights of the patrol
’s vehicles burned through the pre-dawn darkness. An arrow of yellow lights warned approaching drivers of the blocked lane ahead. He fell into line with the crawling vehicles. Troopers let traffic pass in one direction at a time, keeping them away from any potential evidence.

Once his side of the road was moving, Gordon pulled his SUV behind the trooper
’s Dodge Charger, well onto the shoulder, and hopped out. He made his way to the trooper directing traffic and showed him his badge. “I understand you’ve found some things that belong to me.”

The trooper shrugged.
“I wouldn’t know, sir. I haven’t seen anything. I’m directing traffic.” He didn’t sound happy about it, but he hadn’t complained outright.

“
Can you point me to who’s in charge?” Gordon said.

“
That would be Trooper Harris. He’s down with the vehicle.”

Gordon strode ahead toward the flashing lights of another Charger and a Ford Explorer, checking the road for skid marks as he walked, trying to reconstruct the accident. One set of tire tracks in the slush. Gordon was no expert, but it didn
’t look like another car had been involved. He stopped before reaching the point where the Subaru had gone off the road and peered over the edge. The patrol car’s spotlight was aimed down the mountain, giving Gordon a glimpse of several troopers working around the Subaru, at least fifteen feet beneath him. A rope extended from the front of the Explorer.

Déjà vu all over again.

No blizzard this time, but he wasn’t about to go down. This was the domain of the State Patrol, and they were welcome to it. He leaned against the fender of the Charger and waited.

Ten minutes later, the sky turning pink with the sunrise, a trooper made his way up the mountainside. Gordon stepped away from the car, pleased to see Brandon Harris hoist himself over the ridge.

“Someday, they’ll get guard rails along this stretch,” Harris said, shaking his head. “Think this is the fifth here this year, and it’s only February.” He offered a hand to Gordon. “Hepler. Good to see you again. Understand this one’s personal.”

“
So my dispatcher tells me. You have the evidence from the vehicle?”

Harris tilted his head toward the Explorer, the Vehicular Crimes Unit vehicle.
“Not all of it. What we brought up is bagged and tagged, though.”

“
I want to look,” Gordon said. “Confirm what’s mine.”

“
No problem.” Harris stepped toward the Explorer. “No signs of foul play in the Subaru. Doors were open. Driver might have been thrown clear. We’ve got a K-9 down there.”

“
You haven’t found the driver?”

“
Not yet. Car’s a rental. Going to have to track it down so we’ll know who we’re looking for.”

Gordon related his suspicions that the car had been rented by the man he
’d seen at Finnegan’s, describing Carhartt Cowboy for the trooper. “There’s a chance he might be involved in a burglary in Mapleton, so I’d like to be part of the investigation.”

“
Help is always appreciated,” Harris said.

Gordon waited while Harris unlocked the Explorer, reached in, and pulled out a large plastic bag. Gordon recognized his jacket. Also in the bag was the gift box with Angie
’s original Valentine’s Day earrings. Since he’d bought a slightly different pair as a replacement, it looked like she’d get another present.

“
Found a business card holder in the inside pocket,” Harris said. “Your cards. That’s when we called your PD.”

“
Any problem with me taking this?” Gordon asked. “It’s evidence in the Mapleton crime.”

Harris shook his head.
“Like I said, doesn’t look like this is a crime scene, and I doubt there’s evidence on the jacket that will help us reconstruct the accident. That much less to squeeze into our evidence collection. Help yourself.”

Gordon set the bag on the hood of the car.
“Mind if I check the other stuff?”

“
Be my guest. I trust you.” Harris laughed.

Gordon leaned into the trunk and recognized the shirts he
’d left at Angie’s, and the wrapped box she was going to give him for Valentine’s Day visible through one of the plastic bags. “Those are mine, too.”

With Harris
’s permission, he broke the seal on the bag and looked through the contents. His clothes, minus his sneakers and Dopp kit, were all there.

So, why had the driver—assuming it was the driver who
’d taken his stuff—left these behind? Maybe the clothes weren’t a fit. Maybe the sneakers were. And the Dopp kit held things of a ‘one-size-fits-all’ nature. Nothing, other than his toothbrush, he assumed, that someone else wouldn’t put to use.

“
I’ll need these, too.” Gordon resealed both bags and wrote his name over them.

“
Hey, Harris!” A man’s voice came from behind them. Gordon turned, watching a trooper stride toward them. “Got some more evidence,” the trooper said. “This stuff is interesting.”

Gordon stepped aside as the second trooper handed a plastic grocery bag to Harris.
“Found this half-buried under a tree trunk ten feet from the vehicle.”

“
You think it’s from our accident, or garbage that blew down the hill?” Harris said.

“
Dog says it’s from the accident. Looked like someone tried to bury it, but didn’t count on Sophie. I’ve been on cases with her before. She’s one smart bloodhound.”

“
I’d go with that,” Gordon said. He’d seen what trained search dogs could do, and would take a dog’s nose over the word of a human eyewitness any day of the week.

Harris slipped on a pair of gloves and opened the bag.
“What do we have here?” He pulled out a fake beard and moustache. Reddish brown.

“
Holy crap,” Gordon said.

Harris pulled out some rubbery things.
“What are these?”

The second trooper peered at them.
“That looks like a nose. And a chin. Don’t know what the other things are.”

“
Stage makeup? Things you shove in your mouth to change the shape of your face?” Harris said. “Mission Impossible disguises?”

“
I wouldn’t go that far—and you do know those disguises weren’t real, don’t you?” Gordon said. “But damn if this doesn’t all point to the man at Finnegan’s. He changes his nose, adds a different chin, full beard and moustache. Doesn’t matter if people see him. All he has to do is take them off, and he’s a new man.”

“
A lot of trouble to steal a few bits and pieces,” Harris said. “Or was there more?”

“
Nope,” Gordon said. “Aside from a pair of sneakers and a Dopp kit. But there’s something else that’s bugging me.”

Harris winged his eyebrows.

Gordon relayed the events of the accident from the B and B. “That car showed signs of being hit from the rear, though. And given the weather, it seemed reasonable that the car had been knocked over the edge.” He frowned, letting the facts grind through his brain. “Two accidents, both plausible given road conditions. In one, the driver claims his wife was waiting in the car while he went for help, but she’s gone. Looked like the car was clipped while it was on the shoulder. This one, there’s no driver to be found.”

Harris appeared to be mulling over the facts.
“And no signs of impact, which makes them appear to be unrelated. Looks like the driver slipped down the mountain.”

“
Or got out and pushed the car over,” Gordon said.

“
But that wouldn’t explain the buried disguise, unless he went down, too. Per Sophie’s nose, this bag connects to someone in the car, so either the driver or an unknown passenger was down there. He could have gotten there inside the car—which would have been a stupid, risky move—or he hiked down afterward.”

“
So why leave the other stuff in the car?” Gordon asked. “Why not get rid of all of it?”

“
I forgot to polish my crystal ball this morning,” Harris said. “Maybe he intended to, but got interrupted.”

Gordon set that one aside to deal with later.
“One other thing,” he said. “The other accident. The wife who was supposed to be waiting in the car? The one who was missing when we got there? Turns out she’s been dead over fifteen years.”

Harris gave a low whistle.
“And the husband says she was in the car? Sounds like a nut job.”

“
No question about that. Two similar accidents, but not identical. Probably a coincidence.”

Harris gave a crooked smile.
“But we hate coincidences, don’t we?”

“
Like the plague. I’m going to look into this. District Five should have all the reports for the other accident. If you have any strings you can pull, get me copied on both. I’ll compare them and let you know what I find.”

“
Shouldn’t be a problem. Like I said before, we’re always happy for help.”

Gordon remembered something Solomon had said.
“Shit. Don’t know if this is relevant or another damn coincidence. The husband who said his wife was missing. Orrin Wardell. He was a theater major in college. Must know his way around costumes and disguises.”

Could Carharrt Cowboy be Orrin Wardell? And how did that connect to the break-in at Angie
’s? Were they looking at one bigger puzzle now?

“
I’m going to want this stuff, too,” Gordon said, reaching for the trooper’s bag of hair and facial bits.

The trooper looked to Harris, who nodded.
“I’ll log it to show we gave it to you.” He paused. “Hang on one minute.” He reached for his radio, talked to the K-9 handler. “You’re good to go. Sophie has the scent, doesn’t need it again.”

Gordon could buy that. Bloodhounds were top of the food chain in the scent department. He took the bag.
“I’m going to head back. Keep me apprised of anything you find.”

“
Will do,” Harris said.

Gordon took everything to his unit, pleased that traffic was moving normally again. Rush hour was not a good time to shut down sections of road. Of course, there was the inevitable slowing as rubberneckers tried to get a glimpse of what had happened, but the units directing traffic had left, so there wasn
’t much to see other than a couple of State Patrol cars on the shoulder. He flipped on his lights before pulling out and hanging a U-turn, heading for Mapleton. He checked the time—no way he’d make it for crossing guard duty. He radioed Dispatch, asked Tessa to put someone on it, then tried to make sense of what he’d seen. If not for the disguise, he’d have gone along with Harris—that these kinds of accidents were common enough, especially in the dark. If the driver wasn’t familiar with this stretch of road, odds for an accident went up. Given the car was a rental, that was a viable assumption. No reason to connect this one to Wardell’s accident, staged or otherwise, over in Tranquility Valley.

But now there
was
a connection, at least one to consider. He could hardly wait to toss this one at Solomon.

He stopped at Laurie
’s desk when he got back. “Anything for me?”

“
Only that you forgot to turn off your coffee maker. Again. I took care of it.”

“
Again. I ever tell you I couldn’t live without you?”

She rolled her eyes and gave her usual response.
“Not nearly enough.”

No matter how much he wanted to work on connecting today
’s accident to Angie’s break-in, Gordon needed to follow up with Gaubatz. Get it over with. He sucked it up and found the sergeant at his desk, dealing with paperwork. “When you get a break, I’d like a word. In my office,” Gordon said.

Gaubatz stiffened.
“Problem, sir?”

Gordon shook his head.
“Shouldn’t be.”

“
I can finish this later.” Gaubatz shoved away from his desk and stood.

At his office, Gordon held the door for Gaubatz and closed it behind them.

Gaubatz stood at attention.

“
Have a seat. I want to ask you a couple of questions.” Gordon rummaged through his inbox, found the folder with Gaubatz’s write-up of Jost. He handed the printout to Gaubatz. “You remember this one?”

The sergeant glanced at it, then set it on the desk.
“Yes, I remember the incident,” a touch of defensiveness in his tone.

“
What I don’t see there is the part with Jost’s responses. Is there a page missing? It
is
SOP to report both sides of any complaint.” Although Gordon didn’t say it, he could tell Gaubatz caught the implied
or should I write you up for your own mistake?

Gaubatz reddened.
“An oversight on my part, sir.”

“
I’m trying to cut down on Jost’s duty hours,” Gordon said. “Nothing to do with your report, but since he’s a new father, I thought he could use some extra time helping his wife. Sometimes family takes precedence.” He steepled his fingers. “You have any family issues that might be interfering with the performance of your duties?”

Gaubatz
’s lips flattened. He shook his head. “No, sir. Although I might have been a little stressed when I wrote that report. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take another look at it. Maybe I’ll remember a few more details. Modify it, if necessary.”

“
Or, I could save you the extra work and suggest that perhaps this entire report could be deleted. If you feel that’s appropriate given the circumstances.” Gordon lifted the folder.

Gaubatz stared at the wall over Gordon
’s shoulder. “Sir, I think that’s the best resolution of the situation.”

“
Very well.” Gordon rose and gave Gaubatz a firm stare. “You can resume your duties, sergeant.”

Gaubatz practically jumped out of his chair, gave a quick semblance of a salute, and left the office.

After shredding Gaubatz’s write-up of Jost, Gordon brought the folder to Laurie for filing and went to Dispatch to see what Solomon was doing.

“
He’s on a call,” Tessa said. “You want me to order him back when he’s done?”

“
Not order,” Gordon said. “Have him check in with me the next time he’s in the station.”

Gordon went to his office and started making additions to his white board. He stopped. Too many circles and arrows. He
’d begin again, putting everything on one timeline. See if that helped.

His phone interrupted.

“It’s Trooper Brandon Harris,” Laurie said. “Shall I put him through?”

“
Please.”

“
We traced the rental,” Harris said. “Didn’t you say the other accident was in Tranquility Valley?”

“
That’s right.”

“
Then I might have another dreaded coincidence.”