Read Online The Tamarack Murders by Patrick F. McManus - Free Book Online Page B

ever eaten. When they had cleaned all four plates, Dance said, “I guess we better head back to our cabin. Be four in the morning before we get there, so I guess we’ll sleep in. Thanks much for the whisky and breakfast, Sheriff. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
    â€œDon’t thank me,” Tully said. “It’s on the county.” He glanced at his wristwatch. Eleven o’clock. “You fellas going to stick around for a while? With this cold weather blowing in, the elk hunting will pick up.”
    â€œOh, yeah, we’ll stick around,” Dance said. “We have a week, maybe more”
    They walked outside.
    â€œHope you get an elk,” Tully said. He thought it was highly unlikely, though. If hunters can’t tell a herd of deer from a herd of elk, their chances aren’t that good. He stopped suddenly. “Oh, oh,” he said. “I have to go back. I forgot to leave a tip for the waiter. The poor devil probably needs it, too.”
    â€œSee you around, Sheriff,” Beeker said. They went off down the street.
    Tully walked back into the cafe. The waiter was clearing off their table and putting the dishes into a blue plastic dishpan. “Just leave the dishpan and everything else right where it is,” he told the waiter. The man straightened and stared at him. Tully took out his badge and showed it to him. Then he took out his pocket notebook and opened it to two blank pages. “Press the fingers of your left hand on the left page and the fingers of your right hand onto the right page.”
    The waiter did as he was told.
    â€œHow’d you guess I done time, Sheriff? The tattoos?”
    â€œNaw. Would you take a crappy job like this if you hadn’t?”
    â€œGood point. Just for your information, Sheriff, I’ve been clean ever since I got out.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. Now sign your name on the bottom of each page with your prints. I just want to distinguish them from those of my friends.”
    â€œYou’re some kind of friend, Sheriff.”
    â€œAren’t I though?” He pulled a roll of cash out of a pants pocket and thumbed through it until he found five twenties. He gave them to the waiter. The man almost fainted.
    Tully stepped to the door and looked down the street. Beeker and Dance were nowhere in sight. “Listen to me now,” he told the waiter. “I want you to leave the dishpan, dishes, and silverware right where they are. I’ll drive up out front in a few minutes and come in and get them. You make up your own mind if you want to share your tip with the owner as rental for his dishpan and contents.”
    â€œYeah, right.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought.”
    Tully walked the four blocks down the street to where he had parked his Explorer. Pugh leaned against it.
    â€œYou get the license plate on my friends’ vehicle?”
    Pugh handed him a slip of paper. “Right here, boss. I drove along after them for about a mile, until they took the Old River Road to Famine.”
    Tully studied the information. “So they’re driving a late model Land Rover. Pretty ritzy. Oregon, huh?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œTrailer hitch?”
    â€œNo. I think it’s mostly their town car. It’s all polished up. I doubt it’s ever been off pavement. The River Road will be a new experience for it. Maybe they want to avoid driving through Famine. You know, there’s plenty of good elk hunting in Oregon. Funny they’d drive all the way to Blight County for elk.”
    â€œBe interesting to see if they bought out-of-state licenses to hunt in Idaho. Must have cost them a fortune. If they’re driving a new Land Rover, I guess at least one of them can afford it. Oh, one more thing, Brian.”
    â€œRight, boss, I’ll check with Fish and Game tomorrow to see what kind of licenses they bought, if any, and what addresses they used.”
    Tully