An Officer and a Maverick

The next morning when the sheriff’s office dispatcher had cleaned up the cell, she’d found them under the mattress. It was clear and irrefutable evidence that she’d made a fool of him. It wasn’t the first time a woman had done that, but he vowed it would be the last.

Unfortunately, Lani was still keeping him up nights. He told himself it was because of trying to figure out what she’d really been up to the night of the Fourth. The truth ran more along the lines of he ached to touch her again. He hated himself for it, but every time something brought him to Rust Creek Falls, he had a devil of a time resisting the urge to stop by the Ace in the Hole to see her. For him it came under the heading of borrowing trouble, and that was never smart.

He got out of the truck and went into the building. Since Gage was still trying to fill the deputy position and the dispatcher had gone home at five, no one was in the main room. He walked over to the office Gage used and saw the door was open. The sheriff was behind his desk, poring over paperwork.

“Knock, knock.” Russ rapped his knuckles on the open door.

The other man looked up. “Russ. Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem. You said it was important.”

“That’s right.” Gage tossed his pen on top of the papers. “Have a seat.”

He grabbed a metal chair from against the wall and pulled it over. “What’s up?”

“Folks here in town are still unnerved about what happened on the Fourth of July. Everyone I talked to swears they weren’t drinking hard liquor that night but ended up drunk as a skunk.”

“Yeah. Not long after that night, Will Clifton paid me a visit while I was at the precinct in Kalispell. He knows I fill in here and wanted to talk to me, said he believed that someone had spiked his wife’s punch. But lots of people were three sheets to the wind that night, and he asked if I believed something was put right in the punch bowl.”

“What did you tell him?” Gage asked.

“That I hadn’t come to any conclusion yet.” Russ rubbed a hand across his neck. “But when I’m here, folks still bring it up. I also spoke with Claire Wyatt and her husband, Levi. Both said they were acting out of character after drinking the punch. What you just said is pretty much the same thing I keep hearing.”

It’s what Lani had told him that night, but he’d assumed she was lying. That hadn’t made a bit of difference to him in how much he’d wanted her. How dumb did that make him? Definitely not using his head.

“Yeah, I read your reports. Very thorough.”

“The only common denominator I can see is the wedding punch. It was most likely spiked.”

Gage nodded. “That’s what I think, too. But we can’t prove it. By the time the dust settled, all the evidence was poured out and washed up. There was no point in taking samples from people affected because it was out of their system by then. So we’ve got zero to go on.”

“And the more time that passes, the harder it is to get at the truth.” Russ knew from working numerous cases that the sooner a crime scene was cordoned off and investigated, the better chance there was of finding evidence and solving the case.

“You’re right about that. In two months I’ve made no progress on the investigation. But Labor Day is next week. Halloween is coming. There will be kids’ parties and adult get-togethers, usually some kind of a community event. People are worried that it could happen again.”

“I can see why folks are skittish,” Russ agreed.

“The thing is, I’m still short a deputy since the last one left to take a job in Helena.”

“Big city has bigger problems.”

Gage’s gaze narrowed on him. “Is that the voice of experience?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” Russ wanted to forget about the fact that he’d worked with some really good cops, but not one of them had his back when he needed it most.

“Okay, then.” Gage leaned back in his chair. “In case you were wondering, I didn’t call you here just to vent about this mess.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Russ had known this man since high school. His parents grew and sold hay to ranches in the areas surrounding Boulder Junction and Rust Creek Falls. Russ had helped deliver it. At the Christensen ranch, Gage always helped him unload the bales and they’d hit it off. Ever since, he’d considered the sheriff a good friend.

There was worry in the other man’s eyes. It wasn’t unusual because he tended to be serious by nature, but the depth of the unease was reserved for really serious situations. Like the flood that had nearly destroyed Rust Creek Falls a couple years ago. And now this.

“I keep the peace here,” Gage said. “I settle disputes, break up fights and make sure folks are safe. Right now they don’t feel safe and are coming to me for answers. I don’t have any, but I damned sure intend to get some.”

“How?”

“I need your help on this, Russ. You’re a detective and you were working on the night in question. You know how to conduct an investigation and piece information together to get the full picture.” Gage’s mouth pulled into a grim line for a moment. “I’m asking you to do that now. Part-time isn’t enough but there’s no choice, what with your job in Kalispell, but I’d really appreciate all you can give.”

Russ didn’t have to think it over very long. He quit his job in Denver after blowing the whistle on a dirty cop there, and then it became too dangerous to stay. So he’d come back to Montana and applied for a position with Kalispell PD. Gage had given him a glowing recommendation and since he was in the law enforcement field, his opinion carried a lot of weight.

Russ had a career thanks to this man, who gave him a hand up at a low point in his life. He would always be grateful for that.

“I’m in,” he said simply. “I haven’t taken a vacation for at least two years, not since starting in Kalispell. Between that and personal days, I can give you a month of full-time work.” He thought for a moment. “If I stay here in town, folks might open up to me more easily than if I come and go.”

Gage nodded thoughtfully. “Strickland’s Boarding House might have a room, and if not, Lissa and I would be happy to put you up.”

“I’ll try Strickland’s.” Russ was reluctant to impose on the couple who hadn’t been married all that long.

“Good. Thanks, Russ. I owe you.”

“No. This might put us somewhere in the neighborhood of even for what you did to help me.” He cleared his throat. “So the working theory is that someone spiked the punch. That would suggest this person wanted to make a public statement to a good portion of the population. It’s personal, but not focused on a single individual.”

“Yeah.” Gage nodded.

“We have to consider whether or not someone has a grudge against the whole town.”

“Makes sense,” the sheriff agreed.

“A lot of different people drank that punch.” Russ was thinking out loud. He kept the reference general even though a picture of Lani Dalton popped into his mind, sassy and sexy and tipsy in her soaked sundress. “Business types. Ranchers. Young parents.” He was thinking about Claire and Levi Wyatt. “Finding a common thread between them all could be a challenge.”

“Especially for someone who isn’t familiar with the quirks and personalities of folks in this town.”

Russ knew that was directed at him and remembered Lani saying he was an outsider, although looking back, some of the nature of that talk could have been due to the effects of the spiked punch.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea for me to be the investigator on this. What if I handle the routine calls and you do the footwork, ask the questions? We can collaborate on what you find out.”

Gage thought for a moment then shook his head. “Some day-to-day situations here can get delicate, and knowing history and temperament can keep a small dustup from turning into a full-blown feud. I need a guy like you asking the questions. You’re trained to read between the lines, to look for connections that aren’t obvious. Not knowing people could be a plus. You might see things I’d miss.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best, poke around and find out what people saw. Surely not everyone was drunk off their butt that night. Who knows what they might have witnessed? And I have the impression that in this town, no one keeps anything to themselves for long.”

He remembered Lani saying as much to him when they were stuck in the cell. Well, not stuck so much as her making a fool out of him. She could have given him back the key at any time.

What was her game? Why did she sleep with him? Because she wanted to—or was there an ulterior motive?

“I just had an idea.” Gage snapped his fingers. “People do talk, and they do a good portion of that talking at the Ace in the Hole.”

“Okay.” Russ nodded. “I’ll chat up Rosey Traven. She’s the owner of the place.”

The sheriff didn’t look convinced. “Because she is the owner, she’s not necessarily interacting with the clientele. Someone who primarily works with the customers is a better option.”

“Good point. I’ve been in there from time to time, so I know a couple of the waitresses. Annie Kellerman and Liza Bradley.”

Russ had struck up conversations with both women. Each was pretty enough but they weren’t Lani. He deliberately stayed clear of her and that was smart, as it turned out. One conversation with her and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Gage shook his head. “Neither of them has been in town that long. I think you should start with Lani Dalton. She knows everyone and might have overheard something.”

Color Russ surprised. “Do I have to remind you that her behavior on the night in question was suspicious? You’re aware that she deliberately took my keys and hid them to take me out of commission.”

Gage laughed. “There were an awful lot of good, upstanding people who did weird things that night because of the spiked punch. She was a victim, too, don’t forget. Whatever her reasons, I’d bet my badge her intentions were not about breaking the law. She’s salt of the earth.” A gleam stole into the other man’s eyes. “Maybe she just had the hots for you, Russ, and wanted to get you alone to have her way with you.”

That was right on the mark, and Russ had to wonder which of them was the better detective. And, for the record, Lani didn’t have her way with him. He’d actually started it and was a willing and eager participant.

Russ couldn’t quite meet the other man’s gaze when he said, “She’s a piece of work.”

“Like the rest of her family,” Gage said. “But I can tell you that she’s never been in trouble.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that, Sheriff.”

“Then take it on this, too. Talk to Lani. Start the investigation with her.”

Russ stood up. “Is that an order?”

“It can be. But let’s call it gut instinct.”

“Okay, then. It’s your town. We’ll do it your way.”

And wasn’t this a fine mess. The moment he’d laid eyes on Lani he knew getting close to her would be borrowing trouble. The time had come to look trouble in her big, brown eyes and hope it didn’t expect to be paid back.

So, after months of avoiding her, his job was to talk to the woman he had no reason to trust. The hell of it was that the person he mistrusted the most was himself.

* * *

It was just about quitting time for most people in and around Rust Creek Falls, and sometimes they stopped by the Ace in the Hole. But it was Tuesday and Lani never knew how busy her shift would be. She was getting ready for whoever showed up, filling napkin holders and saltshakers at the booths and tables.

Glancing out the window she saw the hitching post, where cowboys could tie up their horses when they rode in. Lighted beer signs in the window signaled the type of establishment this was as did the oversize ace-of-hearts playing card that blinked in red neon.

The screen door had rusty hinges and screeched every time it was opened and worked just fine as a signal for alerting them that a customer had arrived. Behind her the bar ran the length of the wall and had stools in front of it. Anyone sitting there looked into a mirror mounted on the wall, where the bottles of liquor lined up in front of it were reflected. Booths ringed the outer wall and circular tables big enough for six surrounded the dance floor in the middle of the room. In a couple of hours the place could be jammed with people ready to shake off the stress of the workday. Or not.

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