“Then what was she doing out here?”
Sheriff Allen shrugged. “I have to assume she was working undercover on some story.”
“About Green Rage? Hardly seems like the National Whisper’s cup of tea.”
“It probably isn’t. Actually, I’ve spoken to her editor, Murray Hamner, back in L.A. He says they sent her out here to do a story on Bigfoot.”
“Bigfoot?”
“Hamner says she turned in a preliminary story, then disappeared. He lost contact with her. Said she didn’t answer the phone, didn’t return messages.”
“She must have been working on something.”
“My thinking exactly. But what?”
Ben crouched down and gazed at the debris covering the floor-clothing, books, papers-looking for anything that might give him some answers. She wouldn’t have gone undercover in Green Rage just to get the straight scoop on Bigfoot. It had to be something else.
Could she have been trying to solve the murder of Dwayne Gardiner? Maybe she thought the Green Rage crew could tell her something about Zak that might provide a motive for murder. Or maybe she was acting on a lead of her own.
A sudden chill gripped his spine. It might explain why she had been killed. Maybe she knew something, something Ben hadn’t figured out yet. Maybe she even knew who the killer was. And the killer wanted to make sure she didn’t share that information with anyone else.
“How long have your men been sifting through all this stuff?”
“Since about two this afternoon. I got a call from Ossie Smith, the manager of this joint. He didn’t know about the murder, but he knew no one had seen the occupant of Room 52 for several days. When no one answered his knock, he let himself in. And found … this.” His hand swept across the room. “So he called me.”
“Have you found anything that might give us a hint why Tess was killed?”
“Not so far. Nothing specific, anyway. I’m still hoping something will turn up. But at least one thing is obvious.”
“What’s that?”
“It must’ve been her murderer who came in here and tore the room apart. Probably took her room key off her body when he nailed her to that tree. I’ve checked-there was no room key in the purse we found in her rental car.”
“That’s a reasonable deduction.”
“I can go further. The killer wouldn’t risk coming up here and prowling around in her room unless he had a good reason.”
“He was looking for something,” Ben murmured.
“Bingo,” Sheriff Allen echoed. “He or she.”
It was more than just something Tess knew, Ben reasoned. She must’ve found something, or had something. Something tangible. Something the killer wanted back.
“How’s the trial going, anyway?”
Ben shrugged. “This was only the first day of testimony. Granny made a few points on direct, and I managed to score a few on cross. But we’re not into the critical testimony yet. Granny was just setting down the groundwork, laying the foundations. Most of the witnesses didn’t directly incriminate my client. She’ll be bringing out the heavy hitters soon.”
“You can count on that.” Allen shifted his hat from one hand to the other. “But I was wondering …”
Ben frowned. “Yes?”
“Since you aren’t into the really tough stuff yet, I wondered if I could have your permission-”
“I’m not Christina’s mother,” Ben snapped.
“No, but-”
“She’s a grown-up. She can do whatever she wants.”
“Well, sure. I just-” Allen shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. “You know, I never actually asked you about this business.”
“What business?”
“Me and Christina. Going out and all.”
“I told you before. We’re just friends and coworkers.”
“Well, yeah. I know that’s what you said. But sometimes, what a man says, and what he feels …” He took a deep breath. “This is damned awkward. But look, if I’m stepping on your toes-”
“It’s a free country. You do whatever you like. If you want to take her to dinner, take her to dinner.”
“Well … good. That’s fine. But I was hoping that maybe after dinner …”
Ben stopped short. “After dinner?”
Allen almost blushed. “Well, you know. We have been seeing each other for a good while now. I thought maybe she’d like to come back to my place and-”
“Christina has work to do.”
“Oh. Well, sure … But I thought you said-”
“If you don’t mind, I’m very busy.”
Sheriff Allen frowned, then shuffled off toward the door to talk to one of his deputies.
Ben closed his eyes. What was with him, anyway? He was behaving like a fool and he knew it. It was Christina’s life and Christina’s business. The smartest thing he could do was just butt out.
But somehow he didn’t want to butt out.
So what did he want? That was the $64,000 question, the question that so far he didn’t seem able to answer.
But it was becoming abundantly clear that if he didn’t answer it soon, it might be too late.
The television sparked to life. An eerie blue glow bathed the darkened room. And the VCR began to play.
After the tape was over, Sasquatch had to laugh. So much worry, so much concern. Desperation, even. And when it was all over, the tape didn’t show a damn thing. It was too dark, too blurry. The image was herky-jerky and then it was gone altogether, when that damn reporter started running. After that, all you could see was dirt and grass.
It couldn’t possibly be used to identify the person in the Sasquatch suit. Even Sasquatch’s mother couldn’t tell who was on that tape.
All that anguish had been for nothing.
Well, at least the worry had been eliminated. This tape couldn’t be used by anyone. Sasquatch was safe again.
Too bad about the woman. But the error had been made, and that woman understood its significance. Now there was nothing left to worry about. Except …
The early word from the courthouse was that the defense lawyer was doing a damn sight better than anyone expected. Worse, that he was investigating, trying to figure out what really happened.
Sasquatch turned off the television set. That lawyer couldn’t be permitted to ruin everything, just when it was starting to come together, just when it was beginning to look as though the worries had ended.
And if Sasquatch had to intervene to make sure that lawyer didn’t screw up the works, then so be it. Sledgehammers and spikes were in abundant supply, and there was a tree in the forest just his size.
Chapter 46
It seemed as if Granny was in no hurry at all. Like a seasoned veteran, she had enough confidence in her case to wade methodically through the critical elements of a prima facie case, systematically including both the monumental and the minutiae, without worrying about losing the jury’s interest. And Ben knew her confidence in the jury was not misplaced. She had baited them more than adequately during her opening statement. They would wait patiently until she had something exciting for them.
So she matter-of-factly dedicated the next morning of trial to forensic evidence. She called two more deputies from the sheriff’s office, principally to talk about the procedures and cautions taken at the crime scene. Then she called two forensic technicians to discuss how the evidence at the crime scene was collected, how it was handled, how it was preserved. She was careful at all points to establish the chain of custody for each bit of evidence, trying to leave Ben no opening for questioning the purity of the evidence on cross.
The only remotely interesting bit of testimony came late in the morning, when Granny called Deputy Goldsmith to the stand. Goldsmith had first reported to the crime scene, then was instructed by Sheriff Allen to join him on an expedition to the Green Rage camp.
“First I went back to town and woke up the judge,” Goldsmith said, glancing up at Pickens. “Then I got a search warrant. Then me and Sheriff Allen and two of the boys drove out to the Green Rage camp. Luckily, we’d had a report from some campers that gave us a good idea where the camp was that night. Even so, it took us a good half hour of driving around before we found it. When we finally did, we woke everybody up and started asking questions.”