At sunrise Marquez was up behind the old diner, studying the vehicle tracks the county had left, deep gouges where wide heavy vehicles had started the steep ascent. Kendall had bragged that they had made it look like a break-in when they’d torn the door from the hunting shack, claimed Nyland would read it as one of his buddies ripping him off. But whatever else Nyland was, he was also a hunter and his eye would read the multiple tracks, what looked more like a troop movement than a couple of guys in a four-wheel drive. Staring at it made him angry. He walked back to his truck, flipped open his phone, and got a groggy Kendall on the other end.
“Nyland will turn around when he sees this,” Marquez said.
“Are you an expert on him now that you’ve known him a week?”
“What happened to reinterviewing Sophie and telling her Nyland’s in the clear? You were going to give him a chance to come back up here.”
ld;I already explained this and we did reinterview her. She wanted to talk about Petroni. She told me she’s never been in love with him. He was a sugar daddy except the sugar went away when the ex-wife cut off the credit cards and froze the bank accounts- excuse me, the bank account. She was very candid with us, and I mean way too candid for church.”
“Don’t blow smoke at me this morning. You didn’t do what you told me you would and it’s cost us.”
“Sophie’s been with Nyland a long time and what I told you the other day about her being damaged goods is true. A woman hurt that way when she is young will never really be with anyone.
They build an emotional inside they can never get over the top of. Self-esteem takes a permanent hit and the emotional circuitry never runs correctly afterwards. The old-timers on the force say she would run away as a kid and hide up there in the Crystal Basin because if she went into town the cops would drop her back at the house. It’s why she hates law enforcement. That’s why no one around here believed she really had anything going with Petroni.”
“What does any of that have to do with you taking an army up to the hunting shack?”
“I’m getting to it. She also told us she and Petroni routinely went up to that shack during the early days of their relationship. The first blush of love among the empty Freon containers, going at it on the cot. She also said she told Petroni that Nyland used the shack for bear baiting. Which means Petroni has known about it and done nothing. He’s probably seen the bait pile you showed me.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’m trying to tell you that Sophie has ridden around all those mountains with Petroni. I didn’t bring up that hunting shack, she brought it up.”
“Why’d she bring it up?”
“Listen, I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.”
The disjointed conversation left Marquez agitated all morning, and he couldn’t reach Petroni when he tried to get a hold of him.
Shortly before noon he pulled the team together at the TreeSearch office. An hour later Alvarez went into a second meeting at Sierra Guides, where Durham explained that a guide such as Eric Nyland was billed on a daily basis, a thousand dollars a day plus expenses.
“That’s the best I can do,” Durham said, parsing his words, his voice dry, the words pinched. He wore a plaid shirt today, tucked into designer jeans, snakeskin boots and belt. The rate was extremely high for the area, and Alvarez didn’t know how to react without offending him.
“We’ll guarantee you a shot at a bear,” Durham said. “You’re a good shot, aren’t you?”
“It’s a lot of money for me.”
“You may need someone cheaper.”
“I was hoping to work it out with you.”
“Those are our rates.” Durham smiled. “You’re from Mexico, you say. There’s really not much bear down there, is there?”
“I grew up in the States.”
“You know what I mean, I think.”
Marquez knew what he meant. Durham meant to unsettle and possibly anger Alvarez. Durham suspected him and was going to kill the deal.
“No, what do you mean?” Alvarez asked.
“There’s no cultural tradition of bear hunting or big game for you Mexican guys.”
Alvarez got the picture out of his wallet, handed it over. “Taken in Vancouver. I shot the bear in the photo.”
Durham barely glanced at the photo, handed it back.
“Let’s talk about other costs,” Alvarez said. “What are they?”
“Vehicle. Support. Dressing the meat.”
“I don’t have any problem with that, but I want to know I’m going get a bear. I know you can’t guarantee it, but do you ever do any kind of enhanced hunt?”
Marquez winced as he heard that. Alvarez had sounded like he was going to recover and get the conversation on track and now he’d rushed into this. Durham folded his arms over his chest and stared hard this time.
“I’ve heard of enhanced penises,” Durham said without any trace of humor. “But I don’t know what an enhanced hunt would be. Some of our tight-eyed friends come in here and ask that question. I usually throw them out as soon as I hear it and the offer of extra money.”
“I’m not asking for anything illegal.”
“Then what do you want? You’ve already got a bear tag. What are you asking?”
“A longer trip, out farther where there are more bear.” Come on, Brad, Marquez thought, you’re only getting in deeper. He could see only part of Alvarez, his hand gesturing. “I don’t know when I’ll get a bear tag again. I did some hunting last fall in Ontario and got three bear. Wasn’t an issue there, but that’s different.”
“Tell us again how you got into bear hunting.”
“I’ve got a better idea, I’ll meet you this afternoon and show you how Mexicans shoot. Where’s a range?”
Nyland laughed, enjoying Alvarez’s coming back at his boss.
Durham forced a smile, said, “No offense, Mr. Gutierrez, but no thanks.”
Alvarez came out a few minutes later. He looked shaken and angry, and Durham followed him out, called to him, walked down the sidewalk, and offered his hand. Marquez watched the effort Alvarez made at being friendly. He shook hands with Durham and walked toward Main Street, starting the route they’d planned past Rexall Drugs and Pyramid Outfitters before crossing the street and going into Hidden Passage Books. Then Durham got in his car, and Marquez swung onto the highway behind him, talking to Alvarez as he drove.
“I’ve got him in view. He’s on his way down the highway.
Seemed like he got under your skin, but do you think he’s onto us?”
“He was definitely taking a good look at me.”
“Yeah, I could see that from where I was. We could hear him trying to rattle you.”
“He didn’t get to me, but do you think I overdid it?”
“You were fine.”
“Where is he now?”
“I’d guess he’s headed back to Sacramento. I’m turning around.”
Marquez got off at the next overpass and started back toward Placerville. He was still thinking about Durham when he took a call from Petroni.
“I need to talk to you,” Petroni said.
“What’s up?”
“I’ve got to talk to you about this whole thing.”
Twenty minutes later Marquez pulled into a 7-Eleven parking lot on the east side of Placerville.