Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Wolf spent the rest of the morning and time after lunch at his desk catching up on a mound of paperwork and emails. When that was done, he took to staring at the wall and then fell asleep.

His cell phone buzzed on the desktop, jerking him awake. He picked it up. Piper.

“Hey,” he answered.

“How’s the case coming?”

He wiped the drool from his chin and stretched an arm overhead. “Good.”

She chuckled. “Sounds like you were just sleeping.”

“Only a little.”

“Listen, not to wake you up too much here, but I just had an interesting conversation with your mother.”

“Oh no. What now?”

“She seemed to think we should be inviting her cousin or someone to the wedding. I didn’t recognize the name or how we knew or didn’t know the person. I told her we’d talk about it and get back to her. ”

“Oh. Okay.” He sighed, standing up and stretching an arm over his head. The muscles in his back felt like they were poked with a red-hot iron rod. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Thank you. I told her you’d call. I didn’t know what to say…but we’re pretty much tapped out on capacity as it is.”

“I know. I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you. So, are we good on what I showed you yesterday?” she asked. “I have to drop off a check by next week if that’s how we want everything. I was thinking about dropping it by today when I come into town.”

He stared at the wall, thinking of the plans again.

“David?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you’re okay with everything? Yes, I should deliver the check today?”

He went to the window and looked outside.

“Or…” she said, “I could wait a few days. Like I said, we don’t have to give them the check until next week. You definitely don’t sound convinced. If it’s not a hell yes, then it’s a hell no.”

“Okay, sure,” he said. “Whatever you think.”

She scoffed, then said nothing. He didn’t blame her as he repeated what he just said in his mind. She obviously wanted to get this piece of planning out of her hair, and he was acting like an idiot. Still, this wasn’t the time to open up about his troubled past.

Stop complaining.

“Listen,” he said, narrowing his eyes with resolve. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit busy. Go ahead and drop the check off. I’m good. Everything’s good. Let’s do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. ”

“O-kay,” she said slowly. “Well, have a good day. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, bye.”

He hung up, noting the pain from his back rapidly moving to his head. Rubbing his temple with his free hand, he dialed his mother and put the phone to his ear.

The phone rang eight times and went to a voice recording that told him her voicemail box was full.

He hung up, and a second later, the phone rang. It was his mother.

“Hi,” he said.

“You called me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I hear you called Piper. Something about inviting a guest to the wedding? Somebody that’s not already on the list?”

“I did?”

He sagged back into his chair, closing his eyes. His mother’s dementia was steadily growing worse, with more reminders every time he interacted with her. “She said you wanted to invite a cousin of yours.”

“Shirley?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Is that your cousin?”

“Yes. Did you invite her?”

“Mom. Is Derek over there?” Derek, the in-home nurse, visited her apartment five days a week.

“He just left.”

Two knocks hit the door, and Patterson poked her head inside. “Hey—” she stopped talking and waited.

Wolf pulled the phone from his ear. “Yeah?”

“Cabin owner’s here.”

Wolf nodded. “Listen, Mom. I’ll call you later, okay? I have to get back to work. ”

“Have a good day,” she said and hung up.

He looked at the phone and sat it down.

“Everything okay?” Patterson asked.

“No.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. The cabin owner’s here? Where?”

“Reception. You want us to bring him in here?”

“Yes, please.”

“Be right back.” She left.

Wolf stood up and stretched his arms overhead again, sucked in a deep breath, then blew out. Stress from the last few minutes left his body, but not all of it. Some still squat on his chest like a stone gargoyle.

He turned at the sound of the door opening. “This way, sir.”

Patterson came in, followed by an elderly man dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. A trucker hat with a picture of a jumping trout perched precariously on his head.

“This is Mr. Jim Everson,” Patterson said. “Mr. Everson, this is Detective Wolf.”

Everson nodded, eyes squinting in a distrustful glare.

Wolf shook his hand and gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Everson took off his hat, revealing a wispy combover, and sat down. Patterson sat next to him.

Rachette came in last and perched on the couch armrest.

“Thanks for coming in to speak with us today, sir,” Wolf said.

“You’re welcome.”

“I take it you’ve heard what happened at your property.”

“Yes.” The man held his hat in both hands on his lap, looking around at the stark walls of Wolf’s office, landing his gaze on the CSU Rams clock. “I graduated from there myself.”

Patterson cleared her throat. “Sir, we spoke to the property management company for your cabin to get your number, and they informed us they had no knowledge of anybody staying there. But we also found a key inside the property. No sign of forced entry.”

Everson rarely blinked as he watched Patterson speak.

“Were you there in the last couple of days?” she asked.

“No.”

“Okay. Does that mean you gave somebody access to the property without giving notice to your property managers?”

“I did.”

“And who was that?”

A hint of anger narrowed Everson’s eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. It’s my property, and I can rent it out to anybody I want.” Everson pointed at a wall with his hat. “This property management company’s doing a terrible job. Dropping the ball all the time. Not cleaning the place right, and then I get the bad reviews online for it. One time, they didn’t even hand over the key. Straight up had the tenant waiting at their office, which was closed for some godforsaken reason on a Tuesday afternoon! They stink.”

Wolf put up a hand, nodding with sympathy. “Sir, I get it. These companies can be a pain. What we’re trying to ascertain is who rented the place. That’s all. You’ve heard about the two dead bodies. We believe the person who rented the cabin could be responsible.”

“Yes. Of course. I heard.” He looked down at his hands, nodding profusely. “I don’t know exactly who he was. He called himself Adam. ”

“Adam?” Patterson wrote down the name in her notebook.

“But I don’t think it was his name. He said, ‘You can call me Adam.’ Which I took to mean, don’t ask me my name . ”

“Doesn’t that raise any red flags for you when you’re considering renting the cabin to somebody?”

Everson twisted the hat in his hands. “Normally. But when he pulled out a banded wad of ten thousand dollars in cash, I didn’t really care what his name was. I asked him how many nights he wanted it.”

Rachette whistled softly.

“And there was just one man?” Wolf asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Was he on a motorcycle?”

“No, sir. In a pickup truck.”

Patterson and Rachette looked up from their notes.

“A truck?” Patterson asked.

“That’s right. He said he wanted the place for a week and would decide if he needed it longer after that.”

“And so he paid you, and then what?” Patterson asked. “You didn’t ask any questions? Took no information from him? A license plate, a phone number?”

Everson shook his head.

“I’m confused,” Rachette said. “How did this man get ahold of you if not through the property management company?”

“I have a friend down at the gas station that told me about him. This guy came in asking around for a place to stay, and my friend told him about me.”

“What gas station is this?” Wolf asked.

“Prickly Pines Pumps on 734. ”

“That’s the one just north of Ashland,” Patterson said, writing furiously in her notes. “Right?”

“That’s right,” Everson said. “That’s the one.”

“Which day was this?” Patterson asked.

“Let’s see.” He looked at the ceiling. “Saturday.”

“Time?”

“Just after lunch. I remember because my friend called me right as I was washing the dishes.”

“So, noon?”

“I eat lunch at noon every day, on the dot. So must have been more like 12:30.”

“What kind of vehicle was he driving?” Wolf asked.

“A Ford F-150. Kind of beat up. Had a big dent and scratch on one of the rear sides.”

“Color?” Patterson asked.

“Dark blue.”

“Did you take down a license plate number?” Rachette asked.

“No, sir. And I can’t remember. I know it was Colorado plates. I do remember seeing that because I wondered. But that was when he was driving away. And my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

“Tell us about the meeting,” Wolf said. “How did it go down?”

“I got the call from my friend at the gas station. I went there and met him. We went outside to chat, and that’s when he showed me…how he planned on paying me. After that,” Everson shrugged, “I led him by vehicle out to my cabin. I gave him the key and left him be.”

“This is all very helpful,” Patterson said. “How about what he looked like? ”

Everson shrugged. “White guy. Tall. Kind of overweight.”

“Tattoos?” Rachette asked.

“No. No tattoos.”

“Long hair? Short hair?”

“Short. Gray and black. Mostly gray.”

“Age?” Wolf asked.

“Old guy. Older than you. But younger than me. He was probably in his sixties.”

Wolf exchanged glances with his detectives. The description was anything but typical of a biker gang member or somebody who would go on a killing rampage.

“Clothing?” Patterson asked.

“Uh, let’s see. I think he had a gray T-shirt with some kind of writing on it, something or other.”

“Harley-Davidson motorcycles?” Rachette asked.

“No. More like…something with palm trees. Yeah. Some island. Something you get on a vacation, like that. And he had dark sweatpants on. I remember thinking somebody dressed like him and driving that beat-up piece of junk had no business having ten grand in cash.”

“Didn’t that set off any alarm bells for you?” Patterson asked.

“Maybe.” Everson shrugged unapologetically. “Ten grand. The money did the talking.”

“Did he have any luggage?” Wolf asked. “A duffle bag?”

“Nothing that I saw. I showed him how to get in, gave him my phone number in case he needed anything, and left him be.”

Patterson wrote in her notes.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Everson said. “It was my place. I can do what I want with it. ”

The property managers would probably have something else to say, but Wolf didn’t care how that turned out for the man. They’d gotten a lead.

“I’m going to get on the horn with Ashland PD,” Rachette said, leaving the room.

Wolf nodded, standing up and holding out a hand. “Thank you, sir.”

Everson grunted as he stood, offering a frail grip.

Wolf and Patterson walked him to the door.

“Sir, if you wouldn’t mind filling out a form for me, I’d be very appreciative,” Patterson said, leading him down the hall.

Wolf left the door open and sat back down, swiveling to look out the window. The sky was darkening in the west, threatening rain.

“Okay,” Rachette said, marching in. “I called Ashland PD. They’ve got a unit on the way to the Prickly Pines Pumps. They’ll check the surveillance and let us know.”