Sparkledove

Chapter 25

Twenty-Five

CHESS

She slept in on this Monday, grabbed a late breakfast, then called her publisher.

“Been expecting to hear from you,” Owen Mitchell began. “You’ve been in Sparkledove for thirteen days. I figure you’re about ready to wrap things up.”

“For the article I was sent to do? Yeah. But what if there was another story I found?”

“What kind of story?” he asked, intrigued.

“The story of a man who uses his position to bully people and impose his will on others. The story of a man buyin’ up a row of houses to obtain valuable mineral rights underneath them, but the people who own those houses don’t know what they’re sittin’ on.

The story of a man who—when he couldn’t buy these houses from some of the owners—resorted to murder so he could buy them from relatives in distress.

The story of a man who, if he succeeds, stands to make millions and millions of dollars.

And if we don’t publish this story, he’ll get away with it. ”

“Who are you talking about?” Mitchell asked.

“My host, Mayor Charles Banyan.”

“What?” her publisher gawked. “Holy Toledo! Are—are you sure?”

“Yeah. Well—pretty sure.”

“Goldie, with these kinds of accusations, you can’t be ‘pretty sure.’ Your evidence has to be one-hundred percent rock solid!”

“I’m workin’ on getting’ more proof. But I’m right, Owen. I know I am. I’d stake my career on it.”

“Believe me, if we do something with a story like this, you are! W-what in the world led you to these accusations?”

“It’s a long story. I spent half the night typin’ up what happened and everythin’ I found. I’m mailin’ it off to you today by special delivery as an insurance policy.”

“Insurance policy? Do you believe you’re in some sort of danger?”

“I believe I’m playin’ a type of game with a pretty cagey opponent, and things are about to heat up.”

“I don’t like this, Goldie,” Mitchell protested. “I don’t like this at all!”

“What am I supposed to do? I didn’t ask for this. I just stumbled across it.”

“Go to the local law.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The town’s sheriff might be Banyan’s boy. The mayor hired him.”

“I-I’ve got to think about this,” Mitchell said, the wheels in his head spinning.

“Adventure Escape Magazine can’t publish a story like what you’ve described.

I mean, we’re a travel magazine for God’s sake.

But I do have a good friend at the Associated Press.

You could call him with the details. Still, Goldie, if you’re wrong, you could be sued.

I could be sued. This could be a nightmare! ”

“I’m not wrong!”

“Okay… here’s what I want you to do: Give me a little time. I need to talk to our attorney, then call my buddy at the AP. In the meantime, continue gathering information, but absolutely do not put yourself in a dangerous situation. Understand?”

“Got it.”

“Alright. Call me back in two hours. Also, is there anyone in town you can trust with what you know?”

“Yes. A priest at Saint Mark’s Catholic Church named Father Fitzsimmons.”

“Saint Mark’s, Father Fitzsimmons,” Mitchell repeated, writing it down. “Good. Make sure he knows what you know, give me two hours, then call me back.”

At nearly the same time that Goldie was hanging up the phone with her publisher, Charles Banyan was sitting in the cab of Tully’s black pickup truck.

It had snowed the night before, and there was now a solid six-inch base of snow in Sparkledove.

Tully sat behind the wheel while the mayor reviewed a piece of paper he and Crosby had taken from the Midland Elementary School the previous night.

“No Diana Ross listed among the staff,” Banyan said, staring at the paper.

“The magazine writer told you her friend was a new hire,” Tully recalled. “Maybe she’s too new to be on the employee list.”

“I suppose,” Banyan said, still reading. Then, his eyes recognized a name. “Wait a minute. She didn’t go see Diana Ross. She saw Evie Hines.”

“Who?”

“Jason Shirk’s daughter. She’s a teacher who used to work in Denver.”

“What do you think the writer knows?” Tully wondered.

“She knows something,” Banyan realized. “She’s seen Martha Eggleston, she’s been to the historical society, now she’s seen Evie Hines… she obviously has suspicions. But how much does she know? That’s the question.”

“What do you want me to do?” Tully asked.

“I think I need to have another talk with Harriette Noise about Miss Maraschino’s visit with her. I’m missing something. Go find Eli Johnson. Tell him I want to see him. I want to know if our guest has asked him about the old Maynard site or has been poking around it.”

“I can put wheels in motion to do containment,” Tully suggested.

“But who do we contain?” Banyan responded.

“Evie Hines? Goldie Maraschino? I need to gather more information before we put plans like that into action. Goldie knows something’s going on with me, but I know she lied about Diana Ross, so that’s an advantage.

We’ve got ourselves a little chess game, Tully, and I’m a very, very good chess player. ”

Within a half hour after Tully and Banyan spoke, Goldie walked into the sheriff’s office to find Eli studying one of his correspondence course textbooks behind his desk.

“Light A Candle in the Chapel” by the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra, featuring a young Frank Sinatra on lead vocal, was playing on the radio.

She came in carrying a dozen wrapped roses and a gift-wrapped package.

“Hi,” she said. “How ya doin’, Sheriff?”

He leaned back in his chair and cracked a faint smile.

“Goldie, good morning.”

“What? No howdy?” she asked.

“What brings you in?” he queried, keeping things businesslike.

“Embarrassment. Humility. Contriteness. And roses, I bought you roses to say how sorry I am that I missed our dance Friday night.”

“Oh, right. Our dance. I kinda forgot about that,” he lied.

She stepped forward and placed the wrapped bundle of flowers on his desk. He looked at them, not quite knowing what to say.

“I, uh, I—nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“First time for everything,” she said, unzipping the jacket she got at Miller’s. “I also wanted to say I met your mom Friday night, and she was really nice. I liked her a lot.”

“Yes, she mentioned you two met.”

“I also wanted to say I know this is an unhappy anniversary for you. Well, for everyone in the country, but especially you. So, that’s another reason for the roses.”

He looked at the flowers again, realizing his mother must have explained how he was injured at Pearl Harbor.

“Well, this is very nice, but it really isn’t—”

“I messed up, Eli,” she said, cutting to the chase. “I should’ve never forgotten my promise to you, even if you did, and I’m sorry.”

He rose from his chair.

“It’s thoughtful, but I don’t have a vase for these.”

She handed him the gift-wrapped package.

“Yes, you do.”

He unwrapped the offering to find a nice hand-thrown gold, blue, and bright-yellow vase with a mountain landscape on it. He recognized it from one of the storefront windows in town and remembered liking it.

“This was very kind of you, Goldie,” he said sincerely. “Thanks.” He took the vase to the bathroom to fill it with water, and on the way, turned off the radio. “So, eh, is that what happened Friday? Our dance slipped your mind?”

“I left early,” she confessed. “Peter Banyan wrote this really nice article about me that he wanted to publish in The Wing, but it was inappropriate. I’m not the story. Sparkledove is. I needed to talk him out of it.”

“I see,” he said, filling the vase with his back to her. “I agree with you. You’re not the story.”

“I think he wrote it just to have his way with me,” she joked.

“Hmm,” Eli acknowledged, still with his back to her.

She looked at him curiously. “So, aren’t you going to ask?”

“What?”

“Did he have his way with me?”

“Nope. That’s as inappropriate as the article you said he wanted to publish about you.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agreed. “But it would still be the next question a typical guy would ask.”

“Would it?” he answered, coming out of the bathroom and heading back to his desk.

Goldie watched him as he set the vase down, then carefully unwrapped the roses. “It’s good that they bundled them from top to bottom instead of just the stems,” he observed. “The petals are very sensitive to weather like this.”

She watched as he carefully separated the flowers, then one by one placed them in the vase. His silence spoke very clearly to her that he was not a typical guy.

“I don’t get you, Sheriff,” she admitted. “I really don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I met your mom. You apparently come from a great family. You’re brave.

You tried to save that pilot at Pearl Harbor and faced down Horace Mason.

You keep your cool. Like when that mountain lion came after me.

You study to improve yourself. You clearly care about this town and its people.

So, why are you working for a man like Charles Banyan? ”

“I don’t understand,” he replied, putting a rose in the vase.

“Did you know there are three houses for sale on Falcon Drive?”

“What?”

“There are three houses for sale on Falcon Drive on the same side of the street. Did you know that?”

He cracked another smile. “A fella could get whiplash trying to follow your stream of conscience.” He inserted another rose into the vase. “Of course I know that. I patrol every street.”

“Did you know Charles Banyan owns all of those houses?”

“I know his realty company listed them.”

“Not just listed, Eli. He owns them. Plus another one he says he wants to restore and rent out. That’s a total of four houses in a row. Did you know that?”

The lawman inserted another rose. “Why would I know that? And how do you know he owns all of those houses?”

“He bought Martha Eggleston’s house because Bucky had no life insurance, and she was strapped for cash.

He did the same thing with Jason Shirk’s house in the name of helping his daughter.

One by one, he’s bought up four of the five houses on the same side of the street, except Harriette Noise’s place.

Take care, Sheriff, she doesn’t suddenly become ill and die. ”

Eli put another rose into the vase, thinking, then another.

“Well, I didn’t know that he actually owned all of those houses. But, so what? Buying houses isn’t against the law. And what do you mean about Harriette Noise?”

Just then, Tully opened up the front door and walked in. He was surprised to see Goldie, and she was equally surprised to see him. But they both covered it quickly.

“Mayor wants to see you, Sheriff.”

“Where is he? City hall or his office?”

“Realty office,” Tully said, looking Goldie over.

“Have you two met?” Eli asked Goldie.

“No.”

“This is Tully.”

Eli looked at the man with the black stubble on his face and realized something: “You know, I’m embarrassed to say, I don’t know your first name.”

“Just Tully,” he replied, nodding at Goldie and keeping his hands in the pockets of his black leather coat.

“And what do you do, Mr. Tully?” she asked.

“Odd jobs for the city. This and that.”

“I’ll be down directly,” the lawman replied, putting some more stems in his new vase.

Tully eyed the roses and vase, slightly amused. “Considering a second career as a florist, Sheriff?”

“I’ll be down directly,” Eli repeated. “Thanks.”

Tully looked at Goldie straight-faced, nodded at her, then left the office. His appearance only reinforced in her mind that the sheriff was, at worst, complicit with Banyan, or at best, ignorant about what was going on. She just didn’t know which was which.

“Charming guy,” she noted, insincerely. “Lots of personality.”

He shrugged slightly in agreement, then continued with the roses.

“I gotta go,” she announced abruptly, zipping up her jacket.

“Okay… thanks again for the flowers.”

She turned and headed for the door. When her hand was on the handle, he decided to make an observation:

“Hey, you ever notice how our conversations start off going one way, but then stop and go another?”

She paused and considered. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then she walked out the door.

He stood there for another few seconds, arranging his bouquet.

“Okay then,” he said to himself. “See ya.”

Six minutes later, Eli walked into Charles Banyan’s office. He greeted the secretary in the front office, then went into Banyan’s office in the back. He noticed that Tully was nowhere around.

“You wanted to see me?” he began.

“Yes. Have a seat.”

The sheriff unzipped his brown suede jacket and sat in one of the two chairs in front of Banyan’s large desk.

“Tully told me Goldie Maraschino was down at your office.”

“Yeah. She dropped by to apologize for not saving a dance for me Friday night. She left the festivities early with Peter.”

“Oh. Actually, she’s what I want to talk about. Has she expressed any interest in the old Maynard operation? She ever been up there?”

At this moment, Eli Johnson had to make a quick decision.

On the one hand, the mayor was his boss, the man who hired him without giving prejudice to his injury or lack of experience.

He certainly felt he deserved the truth.

On the other hand, Goldie had demonstrated a clear talent for discovering things that others didn’t immediately see and bringing those things to light.

Like, Martha Eggleston’s belief that her husband didn’t fall asleep behind the wheel.

Or, finding out about Claude Bolton and a suicide he knew nothing about.

Now, she had questioned Banyan’s character and brought to Eli’s attention the fact that he had not only listed numerous properties on the same street, but also owned them.

So, at this particular moment in time, Eli decided to withhold what he knew.

“No, not to my knowledge,” he replied. “But it’s interesting you mentioned the Maynard site. I just shot a mountain lion up there the other day that was getting chickens from the Nelson place. I also tightened up the chain on the main gate so critters and people couldn’t slip through.”

“You didn’t change the padlock, did you?” the mayor asked.

“No, just tightened up the chain.”

“Good,” Banyan nodded. “Alright. Let me know if she asks about the place. Eh, maybe we can arrange a tour. But only if she asks. Personally, I’d rather not. Lots of dilapidated buildings up there.”

“Sure. Understood.”

Banyan rose from his chair. “Okay. I’m off. Going over to Harriette’s place to see how she’s doing?”

“Harriette?” Eli asked. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Didn’t come into work today. Called and said she was under the weather. I thought I might take her a nice fresh cup of coffee.