The Dinosaur Hunter(93)

Actually, none of that happened. Tanya and I just gazed at each other, realizing that we were always going to be together from that moment on. It didn’t matter if three hundred million years passed, our part in the timeline would be there, affecting everything that was to come. Time, at that moment, was in our hands. Deep time never seemed quite so real.

Edith appeared, breaking our little spell. “Mike, could I have a word?”

I was willing to provide a word. She had, after all, brought the beer. I demurely pecked Tanya on the cheek and followed Edith to the base of Blackie. I sat down on a sandstone boulder and she sat on another. “Tanya is a beautiful girl,” she said.

“She is,” I replied and left it at that. Talking about a new lover with a past lover, I suspected, was not real intelligent.

Edith studied me. “You look beat,” she said. “Maybe you should take a break. Why don’t you take a few days off, go back to your trailer, get cleaned up, and get some sleep?”

I thought she was kidding so I chuckled and said, “Thanks, but I’ll stick it out.”

Even though the temperature was still in the low 90s, she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Get away from this place, Mike,” she said.

I realized she was serious. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Jeanette has no loyalty to you. She just wants to work you like a dog.”

My shrug was one of those what else is new? gestures.

“You owe her nothing. Why work so hard? She’s just being greedy Jeanette as usual.” She nodded toward the field of jacketed bones. “Everything belongs to her. Even these damn bones. Nobody gets anything but Jeanette.”

“It’s her land,” I reminded the mayor.

“That’s right.” Her tone turned hard and sarcastic. “She owns the land. She owns everything. All these ranchers own everything. What’s left for the rest of us?”

“Edith, you’re losing me. What are we talking about?”

She gave me a disgusted look. “Well, I tried,” she said.

I’d had stranger conversations but I couldn’t recall when. Anyway, she just sat there, looking all defeated, and I said, “The night Toby was killed…”

“Don’t ask me about that. Don’t ask me about anything.”

“The last person seen with Toby was Ted.”

“How do you know that?”

“Somebody saw them.”

Edith seemed to be studying her boots, then she shook her head. “What do you want from me?”

“Do you think it’s possible Ted killed Toby?”

Her laugh was harsh and bitter. “Ted doesn’t kill men. He loves them.”

I wasn’t too surprised that she knew this. “Maybe a lover’s quarrel?”

“Just don’t go there, Mike.” When I opened my mouth to say something more, she waved me off and said, “I’m just not going to talk about this.” Then she stood up and walked back to camp.

I watched her go until she went inside her tent. Ted’s truck was parked on the other side of the field of bones and a thought occurred to me. I strolled nonchalantly to it and took a look in the back. Besides some rope and a shovel, there was a tool box. Just about every truck in Fillmore County has one so this was no surprise. I opened it and examined its contents, finding the usual dirty wrenches and screw drivers. There was also a hammer. In fact, it was a ball-peen hammer. When I took it out to examine, I saw it wasn’t dirty like the other tools but clean. In fact, it was so clean, it gleamed in the light of the setting sun. I put it back and considered the ramifications of a clean tool in a box of dirty ones.

I went back to the fire pit where all the chairs were empty. I chose my favorite one, sat down, and tried to make sense of what I had discovered. Ted had driven his truck to the marina the night of Toby’s death. His tool box was available to lots of people while it was parked there but if his hammer was the murder weapon, it was another nod toward Ted being Toby’s killer. Unfortunately, before I could think too deeply about this, I dozed off. When I woke, I saw someone moving in the direction of the bones. Quietly, I sneaked through the shadows and saw it was Edith. She walked a little outside camp, a telephone to her ear. It was news to me that a cell phone would work this far from Jericho but I’m not up on the technology. Although I couldn’t hear her, she talked for a few minutes, then walked back to her tent and went inside.

So who was she talking to? And did it matter? I had no idea about that or much else. I went to my tent and crawled inside. A hand covered mine, then arms took me in. “Hello, cowboy,” Tanya said.