Rough country

"A.223?"

Service shook his head. "I've never seen him with anything like that, with a centerfire. He may have one. Probably could get one. But I don't think he really needs one-getting really close is part of his game."

Virgil took a sip of coffee and thought about it, about the way the shooter found his way into the back-bay, the pond, off Stone Lake. "Does he drive? Does he work?"

Service said, "He did. He's got a Chevy pickup, and he used to work out at a junkyard on Highway 2, tearing down cars for salvage parts. He was the yardman for a few months, but then he quit. I don't know why. I guess he works for his old man now, at the kennels. His old man does septic-system excavation, and he helps with that."

"You think he could hurt somebody?" Virgil asked.

Service said, "Going back to movies. Have you ever seen Of Mice and Men?"

"Yeah."

"Lennie, you know, who kills the guy's wife. The Deuce is like that," Service said. "He could get excited and kill somebody by accident, but I don't see him planning it out."

"How about if he popped a couple of people because he got the urge?"

"Maybe," Service said. "He's had enough shit shoveled on him, all his life. He could be pretty angry under all of it. Kids gave him a hard time in school, old man gives him a hard time at home, doesn't have the brains to deal with it. He just heads for the trees."

Interesting, Virgil thought, when he said good-bye to Service. A good suspect whom he had no good reason to suspect.

FROM HIS CAR, he called Mapes and asked him about Slibe's AR-15, and was told that they'd done test shots with it, and whatever it might be, it wasn't the weapon that had produced the shells at Stone Lake or the Washington shooting.

"Could you get that back to me? Is there some way I could get it back this afternoon?"

"Let me check around. We'll figure out something."

The gun, Virgil thought, was an excellent reason to go back out to Slibe's place.

HE WAS ON HIS way to the hospital, to check on Washington, to see if she was awake and had anything else to say, to ask if she or her husband knew anything about Jared Boehm or the Deuce, when Sanders called. "I got a woman who wants to talk to you. She says she might have some information."

"Yeah? Who?"

"Iris Garner. She's Margery Stanhope's daughter."

IRIS GARNER was a tall redheaded woman in her mid-thirties who lived not far from the Boehms, in another sprawling ranch house, but on the precise edge of town, off the water, with an actual ranch in the back. Not exactly a ranch, but a training ring for horses, with a small horse barn behind it, and a pasture that extended out to a tree line that marked the edge of the real countryside.

She smiled in a tired way when she answered the door, said, "Come in," and as they walked through to the living room, she said, "I wasn't sure I should call you. I had to think about it. But after Jan Washington… I'm not even sure that this amounts to anything…"

"I take everything," he assured her.

"Mother doesn't know that I called you," she said. "Please don't tell her, unless it's necessary. She'd be really upset."

She sat down in a red armchair next to a flagstone fireplace, and Virgil settled onto a couch. "That's not a problem. The only time the specifics of an investigation get out is when they get into court. At that point, of course, things are pretty serious."

She understood that. "All I want to say, that I think you should know, is that Mother told me that you were a little friendly with Zoe Tull. Is that right?"

"A little. She gave me a ride from the Eagle Nest to the airport, to pick up a rental-and she showed me the Wild Goose, so I could interview some of the people who hang out there," Virgil said.

"Wendy and her band. I know about that." Garner sighed, then asked, "Did you know Zoe wants to buy the Eagle Nest from Mother? That she's been trying to do it for a couple of years? And that Erica McDill is… was… another possible buyer?"

A moment of silence, then Virgil said, "Nobody mentioned it to me."

"Here's the thing," Garner said. "Mother would like to retire. Earl and I-that's my husband-think she should stay on for a few years. The real estate market is falling to pieces, and five years from now, she could probably get a lot more. Unless we're in a depression, or something. Anyway, Zoe is pushing her to sell. Zoe would like to market the place more to lesbians. She thinks that lesbians are a rich specialized market. Mother has never really done that. We had lesbians, but we had a lot of straight women, too. Heck, when I was a kid, we were a family resort. My folks only started the all-women thing when every Tom, Dick, and Harry from the Cities started building fishing resorts."

"About McDill…"

"Mother mentioned to Erica McDill that she might want to sell the place, and Erica right away said that she might be interested in buying it," Garner said. "Mother told me at dinner Sunday before last. I don't know how serious Erica was, and I don't know what became of it."

"You're saying that Zoe might have had competition for the place," Virgil said.

"Not just that… by the way, I do like Zoe, even if she is gay. What I'm saying is that Zoe works really hard, and saves her money, and really has her heart set on this. Then Erica comes along. A bidding war would push up the price, and Zoe can't afford that. A bidding war would be the end of her. Erica, as I understand it, has a lot of money. Had a lot of money."

"When's the sale supposed to take place?" Virgil asked.

"Well, if it does, this winter. Usually, that sort of thing happens in the off-season. It would have happened last winter, but Zoe couldn't get the financing together, and asked Mother for another year."

"Why wouldn't your mother have told me this? Or Zoe?"

"I suppose because… they didn't want you to suspect them," she said. "I'm only telling you because… well, what if it is Zoe? What if she's gone a little crazy? What if Mother's on her list?"

"Huh. All right. Interesting," Virgil said. "You did well to tell me. I will keep your name under my hat, but I will look into it."

AT THE HOSPITAL, he found Jan Washington had been moved to Duluth.

"When did this happen?" he asked the nurse.

"About an hour ago. They think she might be bleeding again, inside, and they need better imaging equipment. They're probably going back in."

"Is she… how serious is this?"

"Serious, but nobody thinks she'll die. I mean, she might-but it's mostly getting inside to see what's happening. She's pretty strong."

VIRGIL STOPPED AND KNOCKED on Zoe's door, but nobody was home. He called the sheriff's department, identified himself, and asked for an address and directions. He got them, found Zoe's business office at the end of a strip mall, ZOE TULL, CPA.

Inside, he found a waiting room, with a half-dozen comfortable chairs with business magazines, two people waiting, and a secretary-receptionist who said Zoe was with a client, behind one of three closed office doors down a short hallway. A bigger operation than Virgil had expected.

Virgil identified himself and asked, "Could you break in, tell her that I need to talk to her for a minute? It's somewhat urgent."

The secretary was reluctant, knocked on the last door, then went in; a moment later, she came back out and said, "Just one minute."

Zoe came out a minute later, and Virgil tipped his head toward the door, and they stepped outside.

"What happened?" Zoe said.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were competing with McDill on the purchase of the Eagle Nest?"

Zoe pulled back a bit, watching him, judging, then said, "Because it had nothing to do with the murder, and it was a complicating factor. Besides, she wasn't serious. When Margery told her that she might sell out, she said something like, 'I could be interested in something like that.' But she never came back to it. Never asked any serious questions."

"I needed to know, Zoe."

"Why? It's a distraction. It has nothing to do with these killings," she said.

"Because there's a few million dollars in play there. That's enough for a murder," Virgil said. "Her daughter, and her husband, want Margery to stay on, because they think the resort'll bring a better price once we get out of this market slowdown. And the reason they want that is because they'll probably inherit, eventually. So it's not just you."

"You don't really think Iris and Earl would kill somebody to stop a sale?"

"How would I know? I don't know Earl. Or Iris," Virgil said. "I do know that McDill was shot and somebody broke into your house. I have to look at them-and I have to know about them before I can look at them."

She nodded. "Okay, okay. So, I was dumb. But it didn't seem related. Erica wasn't serious… I'm sorry."

"Is there anything else that you don't think is important, that maybe I should know?"

"No. No, there's nothing. Jeez. I thought for a minute that I might be back on the suspect list."

"You never really left it," Virgil said, shaking his head at her.

MAPES CALLED: the rifle was on the way to Grand Rapids with a highway patrolman. "He left here ten minutes ago, but it'll be better'n an hour before he's down there. He'll leave it with the sheriff 's office."

"Thanks, man. I'm gonna use it as an invitation to get back into a place."

"Piece of shit, I can tell you. Been shot a lot. Our gun guy put it on a bench out at the range and couldn't keep it inside four inches at a hundred yards," Mapes said. "Suppose it'd be a good self-defense weapon."