Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“We had a special arrangement with Brandy—her own corner suite that she kept on retainer with us. When Michael was gone, which was often, she’d come into town. Let’s just say she hosted a lot of men in that suite, including some names you might know from the tabloids and the internet.”
Joe sat back, surprised. He said, “I’d probably not be familiar with the names, actually. Marybeth might, but I wouldn’t.”
“Not all of them were celebrities or finance guys,” Cheryl said. “Some were local.”
“Tell him,” Shawna said.
“Clay Hutmacher,” Cheryl whispered.
Joe was genuinely surprised. “Do you think Michael knew?”
“I doubt it,” Cheryl said. “They were very sneaky.”
“We think the cameras were the reason Brandy did her dirty business away from the house,” Shawna added.
“Well, what do you know,” Joe said. “I never picked up on that, and Clay didn’t mention anything to me.”
But it perhaps explained Clay’s almost irrational loyalty to the Thompsons, Joe thought.
“And Michael Thompson is either a crook or he’s in real financial trouble,” Betty weighed in.
“He wanted to host this big fundraiser for the 4-H kids out at the fairgrounds, which was odd for him because he’d never showed any interest in them before.
But he did a big event last summer, and invited all these big shots he knew from around the country.
I heard they raised over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which was impressive.
But to this day, I don’t think the 4-H kids have gotten a check from him. That’s pretty low, if you ask me.”
Joe turned to Bitzy and asked, “Do you know anything about the development Michael Thompson is planning for his ranch? Did he apply for building permits and such?”
“He has,” Bitzy said, “but it’s all hush-hush.
Since I’m not in the office anymore I don’t know the details.
All I know is that it’s supposed to be huge, and a couple of the county commissioners are in with him on it.
Thompson also claims he has contacts in state government that will help grease the skids.
My speculation is that it’s going to be some kind of multimillion-dollar resort. ”
That tracks, Joe thought, but didn’t say. He wondered if Thompson’s machinations had all been recorded by his in-house video system. And what else might be on those tapes.
—
On John and Shelby Bucholz, there was less insight overall from the Coffee Chicks. Shawna had worked for them years before, but when they delayed payment or the checks bounced, they’d parted ways.
Debbie said, “I’ve met them a bunch of times at county stockholder meetings.
They’re smiling glad-handers, but there’s something going on there if you ask me.
John, especially. He talks big, like he’s got the world by the tail, but if you see their place, you wonder why they’ve let it go to seed like it has if they’re so successful.
Plus, as I think you know, their names are always on a list near the cash register at the hardware store, the feedstore, and so on.
‘Don’t accept credit on these people,’ the list says.
Which means they don’t pay their bills on time or at all. ”
For Joe, it was information he’d heard before. What he hadn’t heard before came from Cheryl.
“A funny thing happened at the hotel a few years ago,” she said.
“An older gentleman checked in. If I remember correctly, his name was Henry Bucholz. Just to be friendly, I asked him if he was related to John and Shelby, since the last name isn’t a common one.
He took me aside and said John was his nephew and that he, Henry, was actually the primary owner of the Bucholz Ranch.
Anyway, the guy was really creepy. He carried around this huge book under his arm everywhere he went.
“I was at the front desk when he said he was going out to the ranch,” Cheryl said.
“It was a day or so later when I realized he’d never come back.
We checked his room and he’d left everything in it—clothes, shaving stuff, his suitcase.
I called John and asked him if his uncle was okay, and John said he didn’t know what I was talking about.
We put Henry Bucholz’s belongings in the lost and found, and I pretty much forgot about him until now. ”
“Did you think to call the sheriff?” Joe asked.
Cheryl shrugged. “For what? The bill was paid in full, and John claimed he didn’t know who the man was. And you know what the sheriff was like then,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Joe couldn’t help but think of the figure he’d seen in the run-down cabin at the Bucholz Ranch. Could it have been Henry Bucholz?
—
Corky was loudly shutting down the kitchen to make the point that he was ready to close the Burg-O-Pardner when Joe thanked the Coffee Chicks for their time. “This was very helpful,” he said, closing his notebook and sliding it into his breast pocket.
“It was?” Bitzy asked. “Really?”
“You helped fill in some blanks for me.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Bitzy said. “Or better yet, tell Marybeth to come by and join us. Frankly, she’s probably a better fit with this crew.”
Joe smiled. Bitzy was correct.
“Don’t get stuck out there,” Bitzy said as Joe headed for the door. “I don’t want to have to pull you out of a snowdrift.”
“I’ll do my best,” Joe said.
“And don’t wreck your truck,” Bitzy said to giggles from the other four ladies. “We know all about your record in that department.”
—
In the time Joe had been in the Burg-O-Pardner, the storm had increased in intensity and the roads were worse.
He pulled a car from a snowdrift on the street, and the young couple passing through thanked him and asked where they could get a hotel room for the night.
Joe suggested the Holiday Inn, and then thought about the exclusive corner suite Brandy Thompson kept there.
He called Marybeth and said, “I’m on the way.”
“Good,” she said. “It isn’t getting any better outside. Was it worthwhile?”
“Absolutely,” Joe said. “I need to sort a bunch of things out, but it was absolutely worth my time to come to town. Your Coffee Chicks are…amazing. They do know everyone and everything. They want you to join them, in fact.”
Marybeth laughed. “I’ll wait a couple of decades until I retire, if you don’t mind. But I’m glad they could be of help.”
“Learned some things at the FOB, too,” Joe said.
“I’m researching those photos you sent me,” Marybeth said. “I’m learning a lot myself. I can’t wait to fill you in. Are you still planning to go visit Lorne Trumley?”
“Nope,” Joe said. “I would get stuck if I tried, I’m afraid.”
“Let us celebrate your rare moment of caution and common sense,” she said.
“Apparently, God ran out of that somewhere along Antler Creek Road,” Joe said. When she didn’t reply, he said, “I’ll explain later.”
—
The tracks he’d made that morning had largely filled in with fresh snow, but there was enough of an indentation in the cover to use as a guide to stay on the road to his game warden station. As he drove, he punched up Lorne Trumley’s house phone. The rancher answered on the second ring.
“I hope you’re not out and about today, Joe,” he said.
“I’m headed home as we speak, Lorne.”
“Well, don’t get stuck.”
Joe rolled his eyes. How many times had he been told that in just the past few hours?
“It sure screws up shipping cattle tomorrow,” Trumley said. “It’ll probably take them at least a day to clear the roads after this. In the meanwhile, I’ve gotta pay for putting up semitruck drivers in motels for extra nights.”
After lamenting the snowstorm for a few minutes more, Joe got right to it. “Lorne, I’m doing some follow-up on a few of your fellow ranch owners. Specifically the Thompsons, the Bucholzes, and the McElwee sisters. I’m hoping you can help me figure them out.”
“Are the three of them colluding in something bad?” Trumley asked. “If so, it would be the first time those folks ever got along.”
“No. They’re individually suspicious.”
“That I believe,” Trumley said. “I’ve tangled with all of them over the years, as you probably know. It’s just too bad that you can’t pick your neighbors.”
“If you don’t mind, could you fill me in on any experiences you’ve had with them in the last few years? We don’t need to go way back.”
“I try my best to keep my head down and avoid ’em,” Trumley said.
“I understand.”
“Let’s start with Michael Thompson,” he said. “I actually haven’t spoken with him for quite a while now. Probably two years or so. He’s an arrogant so-and-so.”
“What was it about?” Joe asked.
“Well, for a while there, I think he wanted to buy up half of the valley starting with my outfit. He knows that, like most of us out here, I’m land-rich and cash-poor. He probably looked at the Crazy Z-Bar and figured he was doing me some kind of favor.
“He approached me through one of his lawyers in Atlanta, I believe. I think he was a little shocked when I turned him down.”
“Did he offer a lowball price?” Joe asked.
“No, it was pretty fair at the time. I didn’t accept it because I told the lawyer that’s not how I do business, at arm’s length through a lawyer in another state.
I told that lawyer that Michael Thompson could come talk to me face-to-face.
This place has been in my family for four generations.
I wouldn’t sell unless I could be assured that we kept it as is: a working cattle ranch. ”
“What did Thompson want to do with it?”
“He never really explained that to me, but I had the feeling he wanted to subdivide the ranch and develop it into a hundred little ranchettes and sell the tracts to other Michael Thompsons. That’s not something I’d want my name associated with.
We’ve got enough Michael Thompson types around these days as it is. ”
“Gotcha,” Joe said.
“Then he stopped calling,” Trumley said. “Or I should say he told his lawyer to stop calling. I haven’t heard from him since, which is okay by me.”
“What about the McElwees?”