Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (read out loud books txt) 📖

He frowned like he didn’t like the question, and didn’t understand why I would ask it. “Well, that ain’t far as the crow flies, but unless you’re a crow,” he laughed like that was funny and I pretended I thought it was, “you got to go pretty far out of your way, up to Gold Hill, and then take a dirt track. Otherwise you have to go down to Boulder and take Lefthand Canyon Drive. Some trekkers go there…”

He shrugged and gave me a look that said he didn’t like talking about Lefthand Canyon.

“Not a place you’d recommend, huh?”

“It’s a place you’d only really go if you had a particular reason. And most folks don’t have a particular reason for going there, if you see what I mean.” He pointed through to the bar. “Sheriff Watson’s wait’n’ on you in the lounge. I took the liberty of putting you upstairs instead of one of the cabins. You’ll find it’s more comfortable in the cold weather. I’ll take your bags up, if you like.”

I told him that was mighty civil of him and turned to Dehan. “Watson awaits us, dear fellow. Shall we…?”

She gave me a look you could only describe as baleful. “You know the only thing I hate more than people who joke on freezing, early mornings in the Rockies after a twenty-six-hour drive?”

I smiled. “Nope.”

“Neither do I.”

The sheriff was sitting at a table by a vast log fire where they seemed to be burning a whole tree. He was an amiable-looking man in his early sixties, with intelligent eyes and the easy manner of a man who makes a point of rarely being in a hurry. He stood as we approached and held out his hand.

“I saw you arrive and took the liberty of ordering you some coffee and some of Elsie’s blueberry pancakes. I never come this way without stopping for some of Elsie’s pancakes.”

We shook hands and thanked him, and sat. The warmth of the fire was welcome. A bright-eyed girl with peaches and cream skin delivered our second breakfast and told us to enjoy it in a way you just couldn’t refuse.

As I buttered a pancake, I said, “Sheriff, I want to reassure you that we don’t plan to encroach on your jurisdiction. We just want to clarify a couple of points with some people who might be witnesses and then we’ll be on our way. If the case turns out to be yours, we’ll hand it right back.”

He smiled throughout my little speech and then gave his head a little shake.

“I know what your homicide statistics are for the Bronx, Detective Stone, because I took the trouble to look ’em up. But I don’t suppose for one moment that you looked up the figures for Lee County.”

I was a little surprised at the question. “No, Sheriff, I confess I haven’t.”

“Well, I can tell you without having to. Last time we had a murder in Lee County was in 1922. And then the fellow who done the shooting was from Denver. I guess we have a small population, everybody knows everybody, and we just don’t go around killing each other. Now,” he wheezed a laugh, “I know that ain’t no defense in a court of law.” He put on an absurd voice. “‘Your Honor, couldn’a done it coz I’m from Lee County, and we don’t do that kind’a thing there!’” He laughed. “But the fact is that my resources, as sheriff, reflect the fact that we ain’t had a homicide in nigh on a hundred years.”

We watched him stuff a pancake onto his mouth, nod with pleasure while he chewed, and wash it down with coffee. There was something almost hypnotic about the slow pace with which he did it.

“Now, what I do have, is a canyon where people from out of state like to dump their bodies. We’ve had a lot of bodies dumped in Lefthand Canyon. It’s known for it, and it’s been on TV. That was before my time. We even had people drive eight hundred miles from Las Vegas to dump their bodies here. Italians, mainly. But when they allocate resources to the county sheriff’s department, they don’t look at who dumps bodies there, they look at where the bodies was killed. So, what I am telling you, Detectives, is the reason I called on you was because we just don’t have the resources to look into this case.”

I drew breath to answer him but he held up his hand and said, “Now, just hold on one minute. If you’re telling me that Seth Brown has gone and shot Pete Svenson on account of Pete makin’ improper suggestions to Seth’s wife, then I can deal with that. I have the resources. But in this case…” He shook his head and stuffed another pancake in his mouth, chewed slowly, still shaking his head, swallowed and drank coffee. Again we watched him throughout, listening to the crackle and spit of the fire. “Well now, that’s a whole different matter, ain’t it? Because we don’t even know that she was killed here at all. And if my experience is anything to go by, she weren’t.

“So what am I saying here? I’m saying, if you two want to stay a week, or two weeks, or six months and investigate this murder, and solve it, and take the darn thing off my hands, you won’t get no complaint from me. Anything I can do to help, except manpower, all you have to do is ask.”

I nodded, watching him, wondering if he was going to start talking again. He didn’t, so I said, “Good to know, Sheriff. We appreciate it.”

“You want to see the scene now, or you want to settle into your rooms and have a rest?”

I looked at Dehan. She was chewing on a pancake. She swallowed, gave her