William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

“Right, right. Fine.” Tobias tossed his hands up in the air. “Whatever.”

After judge Pickens recessed trial for the day, Ben and Christina returned to the office, where they found a note tacked to the office door. It was from Sheriff Allen, and to Ben’s surprise, it was for him, not her.

Ben hotfooted it over to a hotel on South Kennedy. Following the instructions on the note, he walked up to the fifth floor.

He stopped at the top of the stairs. A uniformed deputy was standing at attention, obviously planning to restrict further access,

“I’m Ben Kincaid. Sheriff Allen asked me to come.”

The deputy nodded and waved him through. Ben marched down the short corridor till he located Room 52. He turned the corner and took a short step inside.

And gasped. The room was a wreck. The floors were so cluttered it was hard to walk. Pictures had been torn off the wall; drawers had been dumped. Lamps were overturned and destroyed. Even the television had been smashed.

Sheriff Allen appeared at Ben’s side. “I see you got my message.”

Ben nodded. “Boy, when you people search a room, you really search a room.”

Allen shook his head. “We didn’t do this. We found it this way.”

“You-” Ben turned to face him. “But then-”

“You got it. The killer.”

Ben took a few steps forward, tentative ingress into the maelstrom. “This is where Tess O’Connell was staying?”

“Right. Except get this-she wasn’t a Green Rager, or at least that wasn’t her principal mission in life. She was a reporter.”

“A reporter? Like for a newspaper?”

“I guess you could call it that. She worked for one of those tabloids. The National Whisper . Offices in L.A.”

“Then what was she doing out here?”

Sheriff Allen shrugged. “I have to assume she was working undercover on some story.”

“About Green Rage? Hardly seems like the National Whisper ’s cup of tea.”

“It probably isn’t. Actually, I’ve spoken to her editor, Murray Hamner, back in L.A. He says they sent her out here to do a story on Bigfoot.”

“Bigfoot?”

“Hamner says she turned in a preliminary story, then disappeared. He lost contact with her. Said she didn’t answer the phone, didn’t return messages.”

“She must have been working on something.”

“My thinking exactly. But what?”

Ben crouched down and gazed at the debris covering the floor-clothing, books, papers-looking for anything that might give him some answers. She wouldn’t have gone undercover in Green Rage just to get the straight scoop on Bigfoot. It had to be something else.

Could she have been trying to solve the murder of Dwayne Gardiner? Maybe she thought the Green Rage crew could tell her something about Zak that might provide a motive for murder. Or maybe she was acting on a lead of her own.

A sudden chill gripped his spine. It might explain why she had been killed. Maybe she knew something, something Ben hadn’t figured out yet. Maybe she even knew who the killer was. And the killer wanted to make sure she didn’t share that information with anyone else.

“How long have your men been sifting through all this stuff?”

“Since about two this afternoon. I got a call from Ossie Smith, the manager of this joint. He didn’t know about the murder, but he knew no one had seen the occupant of Room 52 for several days. When no one answered his knock, he let himself in. And found … this.” His hand swept across the room. “So he called me.”

“Have you found anything that might give us a hint why Tess was killed?”

“Not so far. Nothing specific, anyway. I’m still hoping something will turn up. But at least one thing is obvious.”

“What’s that?”

“It must’ve been her murderer who came in here and tore the room apart. Probably took her room key off her body when he nailed her to that tree. I’ve checked-there was no room key in the purse we found in her rental car.”

“That’s a reasonable deduction.”

“I can go further. The killer wouldn’t risk coming up here and prowling around in her room unless he had a good reason.”

“He was looking for something,” Ben murmured.

“Bingo,” Sheriff Allen echoed. “He or she.”

It was more than just something Tess knew, Ben reasoned. She must’ve found something, or had something. Something tangible. Something the killer wanted back.

“How’s the trial going, anyway?”

Ben shrugged. “This was only the first day of testimony. Granny made a few points on direct, and I managed to score a few on cross. But we’re not into the critical testimony yet. Granny was just setting down the groundwork, laying the foundations. Most of the witnesses didn’t directly incriminate my client. She’ll be bringing out the heavy hitters soon.”

“You can count on that.” Allen shifted his hat from one hand to the other. “But I was wondering …”

Ben frowned. “Yes?”

“Since you aren’t into the really tough stuff yet, I wondered if I could have your permission-”

“I’m not Christina’s mother,” Ben snapped.

“No, but-”

“She’s a grown-up. She can do whatever she wants.”

“Well, sure. I just-” Allen shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. “You know, I never actually asked you about this business.”

“What business?”

“Me and Christina. Going out and all.”

“I told you before. We’re just friends and coworkers.”

“Well, yeah. I know that’s what you said. But sometimes, what a man says, and what he feels …” He took a deep breath. “This is damned awkward. But look, if I’m stepping on your toes-”

“It’s a free country. You do whatever you like. If you want to take her to dinner, take her to dinner.”

“Well … good. That’s fine. But I was hoping that maybe after dinner …”

Ben stopped short. “ After dinner?”

Allen almost blushed. “Well, you know. We have been seeing each other for a good while now. I thought maybe she’d like to come back to my place and-”

“Christina has work to do.”

“Oh. Well, sure … But I thought you said-”

“If you don’t mind, I’m very busy.”

Sheriff Allen frowned, then shuffled off toward the door to talk to one of his deputies.

Ben closed his eyes. What was with him, anyway? He was behaving like a fool and he knew it. It was Christina’s life and Christina’s business. The smartest thing he could do was just butt out.

But somehow he didn’t want to butt out.

So what did he want? That was the $64,000 question, the question that so far he didn’t seem able to answer.

But it was becoming abundantly clear that if he didn’t answer it soon, it might be too late.

The television sparked to life. An eerie blue glow bathed the darkened room. And the VCR began to play.

After the tape was over, Sasquatch had to laugh. So much worry, so much concern. Desperation, even. And when it was all over, the tape didn’t show a damn thing. It was too dark, too blurry. The image was herky-jerky and then it was gone altogether, when that damn reporter started running. After that, all you could see was dirt and grass.

It couldn’t possibly be used to identify the person in the Sasquatch suit. Even Sasquatch’s mother couldn’t tell who was on that tape.

All that anguish had been for nothing.

Well, at least the worry had been eliminated. This tape couldn’t be used by anyone. Sasquatch was safe again.

Too bad about the woman. But the error had been made, and that woman understood its significance. Now there was nothing left to worry about. Except …

The early word from the courthouse was that the defense lawyer was doing a damn sight better than anyone expected. Worse, that he was investigating, trying to figure out what really happened.