Chapter 27 #2
“He hated decaf,” Goldie replied. “He even called Martha the day he died and made a joke about how he’d be up for days.
” She looked at Tully and Crosby. “You two pricks ran him off the road, didn’t you?
Charles knew he didn’t have any life insurance because, as either the head of the historical society, his realtor, or as mayor, he knew the particulars of the Eggleston finances.
If Bucky were dead, Martha couldn’t hang on to the house.
” She looked at Charles. “You also knew from pestering them about upkeep, she probably wouldn’t want to. ”
“Those are huge assumptions,” Charles said.
“No,” she countered. “Eli examined Bucky’s car at the junkyard and suspected it could’ve been run off the road.
He gave his findings to the state police.
I also have a picture of Tully’s truck with a scratch of light-tan paint on it.
The same color as Bucky’s car. In fact, my photo is in beautiful color. ”
“That’s impossible,” Crosby replied.
“No, it isn’t. I snapped it with a flash while you two were breaking into Midland Elementary School Sunday night. A couple of friends took me over there with this great camera,” she explained, referring to Josie, Dexter, and the borrowed camera from Dexter’s father.
“That was before we painted it,” Crosby said to Charles.
“Oh, did you paint over it?” Goldie asked, not knowing.
“No worries. Eli used to work in a body shop. I’m sure he’ll be able to spot the difference.
Which brings to mind some questions: Why did you boys follow me to Midland Elementary?
Why did you feel it necessary to return at night, break into the school, and steal a list of the employees?
Why were you so concerned about who I saw?
Unless, of course, you had something to hide? ”
“Lupe,” Charles muttered, now realizing she had been listening in on the basement stairs. “I’m going to kill her.”
“You mean like how you had your boys kill Bucky Eggleston? You mean like when you killed Jason Shirk by poisoning him when he suspected what you were up to? How did that work, incidentally?”
Banyan hesitated momentarily, then decided he didn’t have anything to lose by answering.
“Our late sheriff was even more of a Boy Scout than our current one. He was also more experienced as a lawman. He became too curious about too many of my business dealings. I couldn’t allow that.
But he was also a creature of habit. He ate breakfast at the same place every morning.
A place where our friend Mr. Tully here worked as a short-order cook. ”
She looked at Tully, who smiled, then she looked at Peter. “You did say he worked in town for a while.”
“I did,” Peter confirmed.
“And now somebody’s slowly poisoning Harriette Noise,” she continued. She turned to Banyan. “Yeah, I know she’s ill, Charles. You’ll discover her kids will be picking her up and taking her to the hospital later today.”
She looked around at the four men.
“Basically, boys—you’re all fucked.”
There were several seconds of silence where Charles, Peter, Tully, and Crosby looked at one another, beginning to realize that they were. Until Charles confidently smiled and responded,
“The state police closed the case on Bucky Eggleston, and I can arrange to have his car destroyed. I know from Peter that you talked to Evie Hines about exhuming her father, but what if we dig him up first? The cemetery in Idaho Springs is quite scenic, but isolated. Or maybe we’ll have his body disappear from the mortuary?
If Harriette Noise’s kids are going to take care of her, wonderful.
I wish her a speedy recovery and can’t wait until she’s back to work.
It’ll give me time to convince her that her house is too big for her.
And as for the geology report at the historical society, that was my supposed motivation for all this?
Artifacts get lost all the time. Especially with an elderly, forgetful caretaker like Harriette. ”
He took a step toward her. “Then there’s you, Goldie.
A nice, but slightly eccentric woman who seemed to be confused and disoriented when she came to town, as witnesses will attest. A woman who decided to go caving on her own.
A woman who cut a fence, trespassed onto closed city property, and disappeared into this labyrinth of tunnels.
As for me owning the mineral rights to most of what’s under Falcon Drive, I can generously share some of my newfound riches with Evie Hines, Martha Eggleston, George and Susan Ash, and Harriette.
I can give them all a one-time payoff, look like a hero, and still make a fortune.
” He smiled. “So you see? Everything you think you have—you don’t. ”
“Enough of this!” Crosby said, agitated. “Let’s toss the bitch into the cavern.”
He took a step toward her, but Goldie held out a hand like a traffic cop.
“Bad idea, Carrot Top! What I know, my editor knows. So does a reporter for the Associated Press. So does a prominent citizen in town. I also left a note in my room sayin’ I was comin’ up here with Peter.
I’ve additionally got photos of you and Tully’s snowy boot prints from when you broke into the school, and photos of you two clowns wearing those same boots at the dance Friday night, standing right next to your boss, the mayor.
I’ve even got a footwear expert who will verify the boot prints in my photos belong to your boots,” she said, remembering Gerome’s brother. “So, again, you’re screwed.”
“Dad?” Peter asked, concerned.
“Tully,” Charles ordered, “go to her hotel room right now and retrieve the note before a maid cleans in there and finds it.”
“But—”
“Do it!” Charles insisted. “And hurry! Go the back way around the mountain. Don’t leave tracks in the snow and—uh—don’t be bothered if you hear a ruckus behind you.”
Tully didn’t want to miss the fun of Goldie’s death but reluctantly obeyed. As he did, Peter, holding the .45 on her, warned: “You should learn to keep your mouth shut, Goldie.”
“Not to mention, think things through,” Charles added.
“You took pictures of Tully, Crosby, and me at the dance as well as some footprints in the snow outside of a school? So what? Nothing was taken from the school. The lock wasn’t even broken.
It was picked. All that’s missing is an eight-and-a-half-by-eleven-inch piece of paper, which is impossible for you to prove.
It also doesn’t matter if you contacted one or a dozen reporters, or who you spoke to in town.
Without Bucky’s car, the geology report, or Jason Shirk’s body—all of which I can handle—you have nothing. ”
He stepped away from her, went over to the drop-off in the floor of tunnel “22,” then turned back to her.
“You’re going to have an unfortunate fall of several hundred feet.
We’ll take down all the lights, the spikes holding them up, and remove the generator.
I doubt investigators will want to consider what you’ve told others and spend hundreds of dollars on core samples without that geology report.
But even if they do, all it proves is that there is still silver in a mine that I legally purchased.
And the mineral rights to the properties?
They were legally purchased, too. So, checkmate.
If no one considers your conjectures, then I’ll let a respectable amount of time pass, build a bridge across the collapsed floor, and start mining.
In the interim, you, my dear, will have become a distant memory.
So, again, checkmate. There’s no way this ends well for you. ”
“Time for a swan dive, lassie,” Crosby said, coming for her.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a loud bang from the darkness of tunnel “12.” A wide-eyed Crosby grabbed his chest, stumbled back a few steps, then, with a scream, tumbled backwards into the black cavern where the floor had given way.
The sounds of the shot and scream seemed to echo everywhere as Charles and Peter looked at one another, astonished.
Goldie turned to Peter, confidently.
“Your team got here early. Mine got here earlier.”
He looked at her, open-mouthed.
“How, how did you know—”
“That you were setting me up?” she finished.
“I read one of your short stories Friday night while you were sleeping.
Loved the one about the abandoned mine with all the core sample holes.
Except, how would you even know what core sample holes were unless you researched them, or had recently seen ‘em?”
With an impulse of fury, Peter raised his pistol at Goldie’s head and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The firing pin just clicked. Surprised, he looked at it, then at her.
“I took your bullets yesterday while you were in the church checking out Father’s pictures,” she clarified. “I knew you kept your gun in your glove compartment. Right next to the whisk broom.”
Peter looked at her for a few more seconds, then dropped the pistol, turned, and ran down tunnel “22,” heading back the way they had come.
“Well, that was unexpected,” she observed. “I didn’t think he’d turn into a wuss.”
With a sudden blood-chilling scream, Charles Banyan charged at Goldie with outstretched arms, intending to strangle her.
But a second shot and flash of light came from tunnel “12,” striking Charles in his left knee.
With a painful yell, he collapsed to the ground in front of her and grabbed his leg.
As the sound from the second shot bounced around the rock walls, she looked down at him, chewing and cracking her gum.
“You can’t hurt people you were elected to serve, Charles. It’s the mountain code.”
“You bitch!” he screamed. “You Goddamn bitch!”