Mortal Fall Page 21

  Dorian glared at me for a moment, then said. “Why the fuck am I here?”

  “Why do you think? By the way, I should say for the cameras”—I pointed to it mounted high in the corner of the room—“it’s 8:53 p.m. on July first. This is Officer Ken Greeley, and I’m—”

  “I haven’t done a goddamned thing.” His voice was low and throaty, just as I remembered from the bar. I ignored the pain spreading through my upper back and focused on the fact that he sat rigidly, maybe stressed after all, and that the table he leaned on was bolted down.

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that. First”—I gave Ken a quick glance—“you’ve assaulted a police officer.” I touched the corner of my eye and winced. “Damn, it smarts when I smile,” I said to Ken.

  “I’ll bet it does. That’s a good one there. Gonna turn all sorts of color shades in the upcoming days,” Ken said.

  “And, second, you assaulted said officer while he was simply trying to investigate a crime that took place on federal land.” I flipped a page in my notes that I jotted down in Gretchen’s car while waiting for backup, and quoted him: “ ‘You the one pokin’ around in our business? Askin’ about that wolverine dude who had no business around here in the first place?’ ” I looked at him. “Now, I’m not sure if you know this or not, but I work for the federal government, which means you’ve just assaulted a federal officer and that translates to a federal crime. Plus obstructing a federal investigation is a felony as well, and just so you know, I had every right to be asking questions about a federal case—call it poking around or what have you.”

  Dorian held my gaze for a moment, his eyes flat, just as I expected. When I became a game warden, this was one of the first things I’d realized about law enforcement, that it required a lot of near comical posturing, the use of the who’s-got-the-bigger-dick stare. But I was willing to continue to play the game if it helped me solve my first case as an investigator for Park Police. I’d solved plenty of cases in the poaching arena while game-wardening for the state, but as I mentioned earlier, this mission felt different to me. This guy might be mean and tough, but he was stupid to get arrested.

  “Third.” I held up his Glock in a plastic bag. “Carrying a concealed weapon without a permit is illegal, even in Montana. But with all the guns you own, I’m sure you know Montana gun laws quite well, and I don’t need to fill you in on those.” I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest as if I had all the time and patience in the world.

  Dorian’s eyes narrowed, then he said, “I ain’t helping you with shit. Asshole cops—just as guilty as the dirtiest criminal out there. I want an attorney.”

  “Okay then,” I stood and faced Ken. “You up for a bite?”

  “Me? I’m always up for food.”

  “Let’s go then. We’ll get one of the hands to let Mr. Dorian here make a call to his attorney—perhaps Mr. Rowland, although I don’t believe he’s practicing law anymore. Might need someone a little more, shall we say—current—than Mr. Rowdy, I mean Rowland”—I turned to Dorian—“if you’re going to avoid a few counts of felony. ’Cause you get a felony on your record, well, that changes the game entirely. I hate to inform you—although I know you’re not a man who puts much stock in the law—that it’s perfectly legal in Montana to stockpile weapons, unless, of course, you’ve got a felony on your record. That right, Ken?”

  “That’s the way I know the law,” Ken said.

  “Of course, cops are always cutting deals. Getting felonies down to misdemeanors if someone can help them out in some more important matter. Anyway, we can discuss it more after you speak to your attorney. In the meantime”—I said to Ken—“Mr. Dorian here can consider his situation.”

  Dorian mumbled something as we walked toward the door, but I couldn’t make it out. “What’s that?” I turned back to him.

  “What do you want?” Dorian said louder, clear and angry.

  “Just some information about Paul Sedgewick.” I walked back over and pulled the chair back out and straddled it, propping my forearms on the back of the chair. “For starters, I need to know if and how you knew him. He also went by the nickname Wolfie.”

  Dorian took a sip of his coffee, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and said, “I knew your dead guy. Is that all you want to know?”

  “And when did you see him last?”

  Dorian shrugged. “Couldn’t tell ya. Can’t remember.”

  “Well, I suggest you try real hard to recall that information. Let’s try a different angle. Sometimes that helps refresh the memory.” I smiled. “What did you talk about the last time you saw Sedgewick?”

  Dorian kept his eyes on me. “He was snooping around where he didn’t belong. Just like you, only worse—doing research in an area he had no business in.”

  “Why, you own that land he was on? Your property?”

  Dorian shrugged.

  “I take it that’s a no. And let me remind you that you assaulted me. So if you think his snoopin’ around was worse than my pokin’ around, then I wonder what you felt needed to happen to him.”

  “What happened to him has nothing to do with me.”

  “Okay, well, that leads me to my next question. What were you doing on the evening of June twenty-second?”

  Dorian stroked his Fu Manchu, his gaze adjusting slightly to the side, to the distance—as if beyond the walls of the interrogation room, then he looked back to me. “I was with someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Melissa.”

  “What’s her last name?”

  “You know her.”

  “What’s her last name?”

  “Tafford.”

  “Thought you had a different girlfriend?”

  “I didn’t say Melissa was my girlfriend. I was just with her that night.”

  “Just the two of you?”

  Dorian nodded.

  “And where were you?”

  “At her place.”

  “When did you go over there? Didn’t she have to work?”

  “Not that night. Her brother and Val were working. We got a burger, then went to her place. It was early evening.”

  “And where were you before that?”

  “At another bar.”

  “Where?”

  “In Columbia Falls.”

  “Can anyone vouch for that?”

  “Yeah, Tammy can.”

  “Who’s Tammy? Oh wait, let me guess—the one you had your arm around tonight at Melissa’s?”

  “Tammy and I hung out that afternoon. Had a few, but she had to go, so I went and hung out at Melissa’s and, like I said, we got a burger after she got off work.”

  “What’s Tammy’s last name?”

  “None of your business.”

  Suddenly it made sense why he had walked up to Melissa in a rage and was yelling at her. He felt betrayed that she’d given me anything, yet he was confident and entitled enough to sit in her bar with his hand draped over another woman’s breast. “If you want us to clear your alibi,” I said slowly, directly, “we will need her last name. If you refuse to give it, then we’ll assume you don’t have an alibi and then we’re looking at possible charges much, much more serious than assault. Not that assault isn’t serious enough, but murder . . .” I clucked my tongue.

  Dorian set his jaw into a clench and glared at me. I could feel the hate emanating off him like heat from hot coals. I knew he wouldn’t give me her last name, not because there was any good reason not to. He just couldn’t fathom letting me win. I stared back and he refused to look away, refused to say her name.

  “We have information that says you and Sedgewick got into it at one point.” I switched gears.

  He shook his head with disdain.

  “Okay, yeah, that’s a little vague. Let me rephrase that: you and Paul Sedgewick had some words outside the Outlaw’s, and we simply want to know what that was about.”

  “You know what it was about, from Melissa.” He sneered and I could tell he was still no
t happy with her, and she’d hear more about it as soon as he got out. Whatever relief I felt on her behalf for extracting herself from Stimpy vanished when I considered she was stupid enough to hook up with this goon.

  “No, she didn’t tell me anything,” I lied. “But we have other witnesses that say you and Sedgewick got into it.”

  “I didn’t get into shit with him.”

  I half-frowned like an amused and patient mother who knows her kid is lying. “Like I said, we have witnesses.”

  “Just Melissa. Lying bitch. Can’t trust her.”

  “Can’t trust her? Didn’t you just say she was your alibi and here you’re telling me I can’t trust her?”

  He gave me a piercing look that said I’m going to kill you the next opportunity I get.

  “There are others.” I clasped my hands together before me and set my chin on my woven knuckles. “You know Shane Albertson, right? Game warden covering the South Fork region?”

  The mention of the warden’s name got his attention. His gaze snapped back to me and a sharpness—another layer of hate, like blue fire—came into his eyes, which I didn’t think was possible. “Fuck him. He doesn’t know crap. All hearsay. Just another piece of shit working for the government.”

  I pulled out some photos from the crime scene and flipped through them, letting him glimpse the vague, grotesque images of Sedgewick, but not letting him focus on any of them for long. I wanted him to know this was serious. His reaction stayed the same, his eyes narrowed in hate, and his upper lip curled in repugnance. “Just thought you might know why Sedgewick would have come to the bar that day. Doesn’t seem like a typical hangout for a guy like him, you know, a wildlife researcher.”

  “You think I care what a typical hangout is for a guy like him?”

  “Apparently you care if he’s doing some wolverine research in your neck of the woods.”

  He didn’t answer, just looked away and crossed his arms, his eyes going to some distant place, a withdrawal into himself that said he trusted no one and had decided it was best to completely ignore the law, to ignore me, even to ignore the hate he was feeling. His face calmed slightly, and the room grew still. Then his gaze shifted casually and I saw his eyes settle on my chest where I had my ID clipped to my shirt pocket. At first, his eyes were blank, unobserving and withdrawn, then he squinted as something dawned on him. The corners of his mouth slowly curled into a smile and he allowed himself a big grin. “So, you cousins or brothers?

  “Who?”

  “You and Adam.”

  “It’s a common name.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet.” He started to laugh. “Now, it makes sense. I didn’t think I was going to enjoy this little talk, but now, well, now I’m thinking this might be fun.”

  “What’s fun, Dorian?” I felt my control over the interrogation begin to wither. I saw Ken sit taller out of the corner of my eye.

  “This.” He opened his palms out to the sides and let out an exaggerated sigh like he had just taken in a big dose of fresh air. He even acknowledged Ken—smiling at him—for the first time. “Your boy Adam,” he finally said. “Might want to check with him if it’s connections to Sedgewick you’re after.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because your brother’s the one who’s helpin’ that poaching ring out for a little extra cash, and they’re the ones not wanting the feds anywhere near the land your researcher was on.”

  “What poaching ring?”

  “Like I said. Best have a little chat with your bro. And while you’re at it, make sure you clear my alibi with Melissa.”

  “Even if I do, you’ll still be appearing before the magistrate in a day or two, unless of course, you give me information that’s a little more helpful. I need more than some vague reference to some poaching ring.”

  “I gave you information,” Dorian said. “Really not my fault that you happen to be related to the guy.” He laughed again as I stood up.

  “You’re going to have to do better than that,” I said, reminding him of his arrest, cautioning him again and going through his rights. Dorian didn’t look at me once. I put my pen back in my pocket and went to the door. “We’re far from done with you,” I said as Ken stood up and followed me out.

  “Don’t you need his last name?” I heard Dorian yell as the door shut behind us, his laugh echoing through the halls. “Harris,” he yelled louder. “Harris. But of course I don’t need to tell you that.”

  • • •

  In the observation room, Ken and I stood for a moment and watched Dorian as he sat motionless and composed in his chair, a satisfied glare frozen on his face and his hands on the table. It was earlier than I expected, going on eleven and I had to remind myself that we’d gotten to the bar in the early evening by six thirty and had made the arrest only an hour later. Gretchen had left to grab some coffee, and Brander was in the evidence room labeling Dorian’s things and making sure the paperwork was all in place. I would have a report to write as well before I left, so I turned to Ken and said, “Thanks for coming. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “But aren’t we going in again?”

  “There’s no point. He’s done. Look at him, full of piss, vinegar, and satisfaction. He’s too full of himself to understand the trouble he’s in even after we explained it to him. Some guys strap on bombs in the name of their crazy beliefs. He’d never do that—too much of a coward—but he wouldn’t bat an eye at some jail time.”

  Ken stared through the glass. Dorian reached up and smoothed his Fu Manchu slowly and rhythmically.

  “I’m actually surprised we got as much as we did from the guy though.”

  “So”—Ken bit his lip, then looked at me and tossed it out—“what’s this about your brother?”

  “You heard him. Apparently he thinks my brother, Adam, is involved in a poaching ring.”

  “You know anything about that?”

  “Not a thing,” I said flatly. “I don’t have much contact with my brother. We parted ways years ago. I’ll ask Albertson about it in the morning.”

  “How did he put it together?”

  “You were in there. He saw my badge.”

  Ken eyed me suspiciously, waiting for more of the story, but I didn’t tell him about my brother being in the bar, even though Ken must have figured that there was more to it. He continued to look at me, part surprise, part concern—perhaps part disappointment—that I wasn’t giving him more. “You think he’s just dickin’ you around?” he finally said in the quiet room.

  “Good chance he is,” I said. “Look, why don’t you go home to your family and we’ll look into this stuff in the morning. I’ll need you to check on his alibi first thing.”

  More disappointment flashed across Ken’s face to be dismissed. He was amped up and not ready to leave, maybe wanted to go in again, but I knew we were done for now with Dorian. Besides, Ken had given me mixed messages about this line of work. “I guess it’s harder for you to understand. I mean, you don’t have kids,” he had said to me.

  “The only thing that might possibly faze him is a few days in a holding cell with lots of time to think about what life will be like without all his lee-tle friends.”

  Ken smiled at my Tony Montana imitation and gave in. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Better get some ice on that eye of yours. It’s not looking too good.”

  I felt the ache of the night in every part of me, especially my upper back where I’d hit the wall. The pain was quickly and violently spreading to my muscles and bones like shrapnel. Since Gretchen worked for the county, Deputy Brander had let her watch with him from the two-way as we talked to Dorian before leaving for coffee, but she had moved to the sitting room after returning with a few cups and one of those instant ice packs she’d grabbed from a convenience store. She had patiently waited for me to finish my paperwork and come out, and some part of me felt relieved. When I saw her, I attempted a smile, but winced instead.

  “I figured I better wait for you aft
er you sent Ken home,” she said. “You forget you don’t have wheels?”

  “I guess I did,” I said. “But you didn’t need to wait. Brander could have given me a lift.”

  “It’s no problem. Let’s get some ice on that.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and we walked out to her car and she drove me home. It surprised me that there was still a slight glow outside, like when you exit a movie theater and expect it to be dark. The sun had dipped well below the western horizon, but still sprayed the sky above the mountains a singed tangerine color. I figured that in spite of the recent rain, there were fires starting somewhere, maybe Idaho or Washington, for the typical pink sunset to turn so amber. The vibrant, yet unnatural and eerie glow felt as if it were predicting a very uncertain journey. I also had the strange sensation that the sky pitied me somehow. Gretchen insisted on helping me in, even though I told her I was fine. I only agreed because I sensed it was her way of processing what had just occurred, but I really wanted to be alone.

  Even after questioning Dorian, Adam’s face was still in my mind. Seeing him had rattled me and I could feel a shakiness somewhere in the center of my chest. I hadn’t seen the guy in four years and when I finally did, he’s showing up like he’s in some Clint Eastwood movie saving my ass in a ridiculous, honky-tonk bar situation up the Line and mentioning Lara’s family reunion? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and worse, lurking dark and murky like fish in deep water, were thoughts of what the hell Adam was involved with to have that kind of power over the likes of Martin Dorian. And now, I had Dorian telling me that Adam was involved in some poaching ring.

  Gretchen made me sit and asked if I had any rubbing alcohol, which, of course, I did and she grabbed it from the bathroom above the sink along with a cloth. She wiped the blood off the side of my eye even though I told her I could do it myself. I felt strange getting such close attention from her. She was the first woman since Lara to get this personal and face-to-face in a decade, and her energy, her perfume surrounded me and made me feel dizzy. I had been punched in the eye and my head bashed against a wall, which also wasn’t helping me feel grounded.

  “So we did get some action after all,” she said.