J. Jance - Rattlesnake Crossing

"We don't know," Joanna said. "We were hoping you might be able to help us answer some of those questions. Did your wife quarrel with anyone recently? Did she have any disagreements with some of the guests here, or maybe with one of the other employees?"

Daniel Berridge's teary eyes met Joanna's. "Only me," he said bleakly. "The only person Tina ever quarreled with was me."

"When?"

"Just before she went out Monday afternoon. She told me then that she was going to leave me for good. She insisted she wanted a divorce, and it I wouldn't give her one, she'd gel one anyway. When she disappeared right after that, I thought that was what had happened. Even though she didn't take anything with her-no clothes, no luggage I still thought that the next time I heard from her would be through a lawyer. I never thought she'd turn up dead. I still can't believe it. I can't."

"What was the quarrel about, Mr. Berridge?"

"Money," he said. "Money and racing."

Just then a door on the far side of the lobby opened, and Crow Woman swept in. She was dressed much as she had been the day before, except this time her hair was pulled back into a hair net and she wore a long white cook's apron over her almost floor-length squaw dress.

"Danny?" she called. "Are you in here? Somebody said there were cars out front-" Crow Woman stopped short when she saw Joanna and Ernie. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"They found Trina," Daniel Berridge said.

"Good. I'm ready to have her come home to the kitchen, where she belongs. That substitute cook we hired from Sierra Vista doesn't know up from down."

"Trina isn't coming home," Daniel Berridge said softly. "She's dead, Carol. Somebody shot her."

Now it was Crow Woman's turn to stumble in search of a place to sit. "Shot?" she echoed. "No. Are you sure?"

"It's Trina, all right. They found her watch."

Crow Woman stood up and went over to the man who was supposedly her brother, although the two of them were as different as day and night. "Oh, Danny," she murmured. "I'm so sorry. Who did it? Do they know yet?"

"No…" Joanna began.

"And she wasn't just shot, Carol. Sheriff Brady here says she was scalped." Daniel Berridge’s voice broke over the word. "Whoever killed her scalped her."

"My God. I can't imagine…"

"I can," he said fiercely. "It's probably one of the guests. I've been telling you all along, Carol. Some of these people are nutcases. Just because they've got enough money to come here and stay for two weeks doesn't mean they aren't crazy."

"Oh, no," Crow Woman gasped. "A few of them may be a little strange, but I'm sure they're not killers. That's utterly out of the question."

"What do you mean, strange?" Joanna asked.

"Strange?" Daniel Berridge repeated. "I'll tell you about strange. Most of the people who come here have been playing at being Indians for years. It's a big deal over in Europe, in Germany especially. Sort of like Boy Scouts, but for grown-ups. For adults. People have little bands that go on camp-outs together. They give themselves Indian names and dress in Indian costumes. Some of them learn to make baskets or do beadwork.

"They believe Indians still live close to nature, and they think that by coming here, they're getting the real thing. It's bullshit, of course. They'd be astonished if they saw 'real' Indians, if they went out to Sells or over to San Carlos or into one of the reservation gambling casinos. Our guests don't want to know that the Indians in this country aren't any better off than, say, Turkish immigrants are in Germany. And here at Rattlesnake Crossing, they don't have to. They're in no more danger of meeting a genuine Indian here than they are a genuine Turk-"

"We give them what they want," Crow Woman interjected. "We give them what they expect to find here."

"We make money and we give them a crock of horse-shit," Danny Berridge countered. "We let them sleep on Posturepedic mattresses in air-conditioned cabins or spend the night cooking their brains out in a stupid sweat lodge. And when they go hick home after this 'native' experience-when they go hack to Düsseldorf or Frankfurt or Kempten-they're convinced that they've been touched by the Great Spirit. Give me a break!"

"Danny, please. What if one of them were to hear…"

"Let 'em," Daniel Berridge said fiercely. "Because when I find the son of a bitch who did that to Tina, I swear to God I'm going to return the favor!" With that he stood up, strode across the lobby and disappeared outside, slamming the heavy wooden plank door behind him.

Crow Woman gazed after him wonderingly. "I've never seen Danny like this," she said. "And he doesn't mean it, of course. He's the kindest, most gentle man I know. He wouldn't hurt anyone, but still…"

"Your brother told us that he and Trina quarreled before she left," Joanna said. "Is that true?"

Crow Woman looked at her. "I suppose so," she said. "I mean, I didn't hear them fighting myself, but Danny told me about it later. And I guess I knew it was coming."

"Knew what was coming?"

"That she'd leave."

"Why?"

Crow Woman shrugged. "She was tired. Tired of working so hard and getting nowhere. Struggling along with an operation like this is a lot different from being an Indy driver's wife. Cooking three meals a day for twenty-five or so fussy people isn't exactly glamorous, and I'm sure she thought she deserved better. She had this unrealistic idea that Danny could go back to racing any time he wanted; that he could pick up where he left off with cars and sponsors and all, and things would go back to being the way they used to be." Crow Woman stopped. "I don't suppose you know about any of that."

"We know your brother is a retired Indy driver," Joanna said.

"That news is out, then?" Crow Woman shook her head. "That means people around here are going to know who he is."

"People all over the country are going to know who and where he is," Joanna replied. "As soon as the wire services pick up on the murders, you can bet it'll go national."

Crow Woman stared questioningly into Joanna's face. "Did you say murders?"

Joanna nodded. "Your sister-in-law and at least two others. One of the other two victims was found here in the immediate area. The other one was a fourteen-year-old run-away from Yuma. Her body was found up near Phoenix."

"Then the killer couldn't possibly be one of our guests," Crow Woman said with what sounded like genuine relief.

"Why do you say that?" the sheriff asked.

"Our guests are booked in for two weeks at a time with a tour operator out of Munich. When they leave here, they get on a bus and go straight to the Grand Canyon. Do not pass Go; do not collect two hundred dollars. Between here and there one of them wouldn't be able to stop off in Phoenix long enough for visiting a Burger King, to say nothing of killing someone."

"If your sister-in-law worked here for you as a cook, what's your brother's function?" Ernie put in.

"Danny's my handyman extraordinaire," Crow Woman answered. "From the time he could walk he was taking things apart and putting them back together. It used to drive our parents nuts. He keeps the air-conditioning units running, fixes the pool filter when it conks out, looks after the grounds. But you're wrong about one thing. Danny doesn't work fin me, and Trina didn't, either."

"But I thought…"

"We're all equal partners in this," Crow Woman said. "If it weren't for the money and effort the two of them sank into this place, I never would have made it. You see, the ranch belonged to my husband originally," she explained. "To my ex-husband, that is. You may have heard of him-Dr. Lamphere, Dr. Carlton Lamphere."

Joanna remembered the story well enough. The scandal surrounding Dr. Lamphere and the sexual exploitation of his patients had been big news in Cochise County. But she, along with everyone else, had been under the impression that the people who had taken over the place and renamed it Rattlesnake Crossing were unrelated to the previous owner. And Crow Woman had done nothing to disspell that notion. No wonder she changed her name, Joanna thought. Under the circumstances, I would have changed mine, too.