Page 19 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
“He’s been traveling through Montana for the last couple of weeks to hike the national parks. Spent his first week in Glacier and was on his way to Yellowstone. Been camping out of his car by the river.”
Poor John Doe. He was on vacation and had gotten beaten within an inch of his life.
“Monday night after dinner at the Dollar, he figures it was around eight or eight-thirty, a guy jumped him on the way to the bathroom. Dragged him out to the alley. The attacker started beating him, then found a broken bottle and stabbed him in the leg. He blacked out after that. Can’t remember much about his attacker. Just that he was wearing a hat, sunglasses and a gray hoodie. He figured it was all for the eighty bucks in his pocket.”
Maisy muttered, “Huh.” I remained quiet.
“He’s got holes in his story,” Jess said. “We both think he knows more than he’s letting on. Maybe he’s lying altogether. A beating of that severity would have taken at least five minutes. Maybe ten. And it’s still light out at eight o’clock. Seems strange there were no witnesses when downtown Prescott is crawling with people during the summer.”
“Yeah. And the Silver Dollar isn’t that big of a bar,” Maisy said. “If he was jumped by the bathroom and dragged out back, he probably would have yelled or screamed for help. In a place that small, someone would have heard him. Right?”
“Right,” Jess said. “My guess is he was doing something illegal and didn’t want to tell us. We didn’t push too hard because he’s got a week or so left here before he can leave the hospital. We’ll let him get some rest for a day or two. Then Sam’s gonna come back and start pushing harder.”
Jess turned to Sam. “When you get back to the station, get this written up. Then pull the files for the three unsolved cases we’ve had this summer and put them on my desk. I’d like to go over them again this afternoon.”
“Sure thing, boss. You think they’re related?” Sam asked, flicking his head toward the stairs.
“Don’t know, but my gut’s unsettled. Never had this many cases in such a short time period. And I hate that we’re struggling to close them up. Feels like we’re missing something bigger at play here.”
“What other cases?” I asked. “Is there anything I should be concerned about?”
Both men turned to me and shook their heads but Maisy spoke up before they could.
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, Gigi,” she said. “Last month, someone broke into one of Jack Drummond’s barns and stole a bunch of fertilizer. Then there was a theft at the jewelry store downtown. Someone smashed through the back window and stole, like, a bunch of silver. Most of the expensive stuff was locked up, thank goodness, but their silver was left out in the open. Oh . . . and a couple of weeks ago, Silas Grant reported trespassers on his ranch. So totally sad. Whoever it was drove through one of his pastures and hit one of his baby calves and killed it.”
Before I could absorb it all, she kept going.
?
?I’m guessing the Drummond break-in was someone cooking meth up in the mountains and needed the chemicals. It would be pretty hard to resell stolen fertilizer. The jewelry has totally been pawned for cash. And the trespassing could have just been stupid kids driving around but I seriously doubt it. Local kids would never mess with Silas Grant. He’s ex-military and, like, terrifying.”
When she was finished, I swallowed a laugh at the look on Jess’s and Sam’s faces. Sam was wide-eyed, whereas Jess looked pissed.
Maisy had either missed her calling as a police detective or one of the deputies, probably Milo, had been a bit too forthcoming with information that should have stayed within the walls of the sheriff’s department
I was thinking Deputy Milo Phillips was about to have a not-so-fun conversation with his boss about what was and was not appropriate to share with Maisy Holt.
“All right, I’m heading out. Gonna drive up and take a look at Mr. Benson’s car. Make sure it’s still at the campground. Might be able to spot something from a window to give us a lead. Meet you back at the station, Sheriff.” Sam left with a two-finger wave.
Before I could excuse myself and run away from Jess—I mean, get back to work, Maisy asked, “Jess, you still eat at the café every Friday night, don’t you?”
He opened his mouth but she talked right over him.
“Because Gigi was telling me earlier that she’s planning on going there for dinner tonight. You know, as a celebration for making it through her first week. And, like, a break from cooking. Oh, and I told her she definitely needed to check out the homemade desserts. You guys should eat together.”
My mouth fell open and I stared at her, unblinking.
Was she trying to set me up with Jackass Jess?
Yes. Yes, she was.
Maisy and I had developed a fast friendship this week, and despite our age difference, we had a lot in common. But we hadn’t gotten around to discussing past relationships. She didn’t know enough about me or the previous men in my life to start playing matchmaker.
Plus, she knew how I felt about Jess. The day after he wrote me that ticket, I ranted to her for a good twenty minutes about how much of an asshole I thought he was.
I shook my head. “I’m not eating with him. I’m eating with my daughter.”
“I can babysit Rowen,” she said. “It would give you a chance to eat with another adult. And I’ve been dying to meet her anyway and check out the farmhouse.”
