C. Box - Cold Wind

“Maybe,” Hand said. “Maybe not. Bud the informant says she tried to get him to kill Earl for her. For a while, he claims he went along with it to draw her out.”

Joe shook his head, even though Hand couldn’t see him disagree. If that was the situation, there would be phone records tying Bud and Missy together. Maybe even taped calls if in fact Bud was working with the sheriff for a while beforehand.

“One more thing the lovely Miss Schalk said,” Hand continued. “She claims The Earl was about to file divorce papers of his own. Do you know anything about that?”

Joe was speechless.

Suddenly, Hand said, “Eureka! I have found it. The key to everything.”

“Which is?” Joe asked hesitantly.

“The Blanton’s. Earl hid it on the top shelf of his closet. Good night, Joe.”

They went over what Hand had said even deeper into the night. Joe agreed with Marybeth that what had seemed fairly clear-cut just a few hours before-a boneheaded frame-up of Missy-was now even more complicated. On the one hand, there was motive if Hand was correct that Earl Alden had decided to leave. But if Missy believed that and wanted to kill Earl, why the elaborate staging? Why would she plot with Bud? Why would Bud trust her? And why would she leave the rifle in her car?

And if Bud Longbrake was the informant, why would he implicate himself as well as Missy? Did he want them both to go down together? Could he possibly be that vindictive? Or did he have a scheme going on the side?

Marybeth said, “Joe, I don’t feel I can trust Marcus Hand completely to exonerate her.”

“Have you looked at his track record?”

“I know all about it. But Missy isn’t well liked and the jury will be local. Bringing him in could backfire for her. He has a reputation for slickness and jury manipulation. Didn’t he even write a book about it?”

Joe said he had. It was called The Eight Percent Rule: A Top Attorney’s Foolproof Method for Defending Your Client . Hand’s strategy was to identify at least one juror of the twelve who was most susceptible to partnering up with him and who would to stick it to the system by holding out and refusing to go along with a guilty verdict. Joe had tossed the book aside in disgust.

“And I sure don’t trust McLanahan and his crew,” Marybeth continued. “He’s got everything riding on a guilty verdict. He’s put it all out there for everyone to see. If she goes to prison, he wins. If she gets off, he loses. Not only the case but probably the election as well.”

Joe nodded. “What about Dulcie Schalk?”

“She’s smart and tough,” Marybeth said, “but she’s never gone up against somebody like Marcus Hand. She’s kind of a control freak, as we know. She wants everything in perfect order to proceed. Marcus Hand will make it his mission to throw her off.”

Joe shook his head, confused. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“No.”

“I don’t get it, then.”

“Joe,” she said, setting her jaw, “I don’t want her found innocent because Marcus Hand ran rings around Dulcie in court. I want her found innocent because she didn’t do it . Don’t you understand? I don’t want this hanging over the heads of our girls. I don’t want it hanging over my head.”

“Mmmm.”

“Tell me you understand, Joe.”

He let a long stream of air out. “I understand what you’re saying.”

“Good. Then you have to do what you can to find out what happened. Who did it, and why. The sheriff and Dulcie have tunnel vision. Everything they’re doing is based on Missy’s involvement. They’re not even considering other factors, I’m sure. Joe, you’re the only person I absolutely trust to keep an open mind.”

He moaned. “I’m a game warden, honey. I’m not the governor’s point man anymore. He wants nothing to do with me. After what happened in the Sierra Madre, I made a promise to myself to just do my job as well as I can. No more freelancing.”

A smile formed on her lips and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight from the window. She knew him better than he did, sometimes.

“Okay,” he said. “In the midst of my day-to-day activities, I’ll find out what I can and push it. I’ll do what I do best-blunder around until something hits me in the head.”

She chuckled at that, then turned serious again. “Joe, what about getting some help?”

He looked away.

“Joe,” she said, putting her hand on his bare shoulder. “It’s been nearly a year. It’s time you called him again. You two have way too much invested to let it be destroyed.”

Joe said, “You know what happened.”

“I do. And I realize you two together are better than either one of you alone. I swear, you’re acting like a couple of schoolgirls. Neither one wants to make the first move to reconcile.”

“Men don’t reconcile,” he said. “We just pretend it never happened and move on.”

She kept looking into his eyes. She knew that would work.

“I don’t even know where he is,” Joe said, grumpy.

“You know where he was ,” she said. “Maybe you can start there.”

He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes. “If this was to get you out of jail, or save Sheridan or Lucy or April. ”

“Joe, she’s my mother.”

“Boy, do I know that .”

She sat up in bed, excited. “We’ll work on separate tracks. I’ll use library resources to find out what I can about Earl that we obviously don’t know. Maybe I can get a lead on someone who wanted him dead in that particular way. It’s strange when I think about it: I met the man fifty times, but I know very little about him before he got here. He’s made a lot of money over the years. I bet he’s made enemies, too.”

“No doubt.”

“And you’ll do what you do,” she said.

“Blunder around until something hits me in the head,” Joe said sourly.

“A little more enthusiasm would be nice,” she said.

He tried to smile. “How about if we figure out who did it, but we keep quiet and she goes to prison? That way, you’ll know in your heart she’s innocent and you’ll be able to sleep at night-but she isn’t around here anymore to cause trouble. That way, everybody wins.”

“That’s not a good solution. At all.”

“Had to try,” Joe said, kissing her good night as the eastern sky began to blush with dawn.

The initial appearance for Missy Alden took place in front of Justice of the Peace Tilden Mouton in his closet-like room in an older section of the City/County Building where the air-conditioning didn’t reach.

Joe arrived just as Deputy Sollis escorted Missy into the room. Marcus Hand was two steps behind and towered over both of them. If anything, Joe thought, Missy looked worse than she had the day before. Her skin was white and her hair was stringy. Her eyes looked out from the sockets, and her mouth was thin and wrinkled vertically, which reminded Joe of the stitched mouth of an Amazonian shrunken skull. He thought how humiliated she must feel to be in the county jail without her massive bathroom mirrors and makeup.

There were only a dozen chairs in the chambers, and Joe took one nearest the exit. Sissy Skanlon of the Roundup took another. They were the only spectators, which surprised Joe. He’d never been present for an initial appearance before, and was taken aback by the informality of the proceedings.

Twelve Sleep County, like several other small Wyoming counties, had retained the JP position. Joe surmised the main reason the county hadn’t modernized to a circuit court procedure was because no one wanted to tell Tilden Mouton he no longer had a job. Mouton ran the largest feed store in Saddlestring from a massive complex built by his father, which had been carried forward and expanded upon to sell hardware, sporting goods, and work wear. The building was on the National Historic Register and the single table and chairs across from the counter was the morning gathering place for ranchers and oldtimers. Joe loved Mouton Feed and had told Marybeth more than once that everything he ever wanted or needed could be found there. He delighted in the quantity and variety of tools, flies for fishing, and impressive duct tape selection.