Chasing a Blond Moon(51)
Ficorelli didn’t wait for Service to react. “Okay, Randy, let’s talk a different matter. State law does not allow the discharge of an arrow within one hundred and fifty yards of an occupied dwelling. This is called the safety zone rule.”
“I know the law,” Gage replied. “It applies only to hunting and we are not a hunt club. We are an archery shooting range.”
“Did you or did you not complain to the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department about someone who shot a deer on this so-called range?”
“I did, but I did not file a complaint. We took care of that through club rules.”
“Where did this happen?”
Gage pointed to a side of the long range.
“There?” Ficorelli asked, seeking confirmation.
“Yes, I just said there.”
“What happened to the member?” Service asked.
“As a consequence, you dumped him?” Ficorelli said.
“Our members are very serious about rules.” Gage looked confident. “He was dismissed.”
“A club rule was broken,” Ficorelli said.
“Yes,” Gage said. “What point are you so ineptly trying to make?”
“This,” the little warden said. “A rule was broken on your property. In breaking your rule, two state laws were also violated. A deer was killed out of season and an arrow was discharged within the safety zone.”
“I never filed a complaint,” Gage said, his eyes beginning to dart.
“I’m filing the complaint. You’ve just confirmed the violations.”
“It was not inside the safety zone,” Gage insisted.
Ficorelli pointed to a tree and a fence behind it to the east. “See the green roof beyond the fence? It’s fifteen yards from the house to the tree, and from that tree to your first target is one hundred and twenty yards, meaning you’re fifteen yards short of the required safety requirement. I am going to ask the prosecutor to close you down for safety violations.”
“We’re a range,” Gage said.
“You admitted to the killing and to the distance. I have no choice but to act.”
“You little bastard.”
“As a matter of fact,” Ficorelli said. “I am a bastard. My mom never married my dad. I don’t consider that a negative.”
“I am going to call my attorney,” Gage said.
“Good. I’ll call the prosecutor and we can get the both of them out here, and while we’re at it, we’ll need your membership list in order to talk to those involved. Once they’re under oath we’ll be asking them about night shooting of rabbits and cats.”
“You think you’re pretty smart,” Gage said, holding his cell phone.
“C’mon,” Ficorelli purred. “You do, too. Your ass is against the wall. My colleagues from Michigan want to confirm the names of some of your members. Is that too much to ask in return for looking past your transgressions?”
“What are the names?” Gage asked.
“They want to read them on the list for themselves,” Ficorelli said.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No,” the warden said. “I’m trying to save you from lying. If you don’t show them the list, I’m gonna go forward on charges and then we’ll get the list and then we’ll charge your ass with perjury and conspiracy.”
Gage pivoted and went quickly into the building.
Ficorelli stood calmly.
Gage returned and held out a folder. Ficorelli nodded at Service.
Service took the folder, went to an outdoor table and sat down with Pyykkonen standing beside him. Both Pungs were members. There was a line drawn through Terry’s name. The Masonetskys were both members; Rafe Masonetsky’s name also had a line drawn through it. The elder Masonetsky was a member of the club’s board of governors. His kid had been suspended in college and kicked out of the club. He was undoubtedly an unhappy parent.
“Rafe Masonetsky shot the deer,” Service said.
“I don’t have to disclose that,” Gage said, trying to maintain some dignity.
“Terry Pung’s name is crossed out.”
“At his father’s request,” Gage said.
“Is there a record of that?” Service asked.
“No, it was a personal conversation.”
“When?”
“Early August.”
“Why?”
“That’s between father and son,” Gage said.
Which was not long before the elder Pung turned up dead. Cause and effect? “Thank you, Mr. Gage.”
“Shove it,” Gage said, snatching the folder back and stalking away sullenly from the three officers.
Service looked at Ficorelli and smiled. “You nailed that one.”