Free Avalanche: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) by Patrick F. McManus Page B

boomed into the phone. “Bo, how are you!”
    Tully held the phone up so Janice could hear. “I’m great, Guv. How are you?”
    “Fair to middling, fair to middling. I’d be a lot better if I was up hunting quail with you.”
    “Me too,” Tully said. “But I’ve got a favor to ask.”
    He explained about the missing man and the avalanche and his need for Lurch. “So do you suppose you could have one of your National Guard helicopters haul him up to the West Branch Lodge?”
    “Good as done, Bo. He’ll be up there in an hour. The chopper can land in that meadow next to the lodge. I’ve landed there a few times myself. Give me a call when you get that mess straightened out.”
    “Will do, Guv. Thanks.” He pushed the off button.
    “Well!” Janice said. “I’ve never before known anyone who could pick up the phone and call the governor. And have him answer! Don’t tell me he owes you a political favor.”
    “Naw, politics don’t count for much around here. The guv’s a hunting buddy, and I know the best quail hunting in the state.”
    “That explains it!”
    Tully phoned the office. Daisy answered, “Sheriff’s Department.”
    “Hi, Daisy. What’s happening?”
    “Oh, Bo! It’s so good to hear from you so soon. When are you coming back?”
    Tully had long ago guessed that Daisy was madly in love with him, even though both of them tried not to let on, particularly now that she was in the middle of a divorce from Albert the Awful.
    “Yeah, I hate being stuck here, but we still haven’t found Mike Wilson dead or alive. Is Lurch around?”
    “Byron just got back from Horace Baker’s office. I’ll put him on.” Daisy never referred to Lurch by his nickname for fear of hurting his feelings. Tully couldn’t care less about his feelings, and Lurch seemed to appreciate it.
    “Hi, boss!”
    “You find any clues, Lurch?”
    “Not much. Only Mr. Baker’s prints on the whiskey glasses. Weapon was probably a .22 pistol. One shot to the back of the head. No exit wound. Looks like a professional hit. The bullet ricochets around inside the skull and does a lot of bad stuff to the brain.”
    “Old Man Baker would never let somebody he didn’t know get behind him,” Tully said. “I doubt he ever knew a hit man. The killer must be somebody he knew pretty well. Anyway, Lurch, I need you up here pronto. Along with your usual kit of potions and the like, bring something that will let you take impressions of boot prints in the snow.”
    “I thought the avalanche had closed the road.”
    “It has. A helicopter will pick you up at the Air National Guard station in about half an hour. Be there.”
    “But you know I’m terrified of flying!”
    “What’s your point, Lurch?”

14
    JANICE DROPPED HIM OFF AT the maintenance shed, then took the rowdy pups back to their pen. Tully looked around the shed for Grady Brister and finally found him in an enclosed workshop at one end of the building. Grady had something in a vise and was pounding on it with a ball-peen hammer.
    “I didn’t know you also worked on delicate machinery, Grady.”
    The handyman blew out some sunflower-seed husks and gave the object a few more whacks. He turned around, frowning. “Oh, it’s you, Sheriff. What can I do for you?”
    “I’ve got my Crime Scene Investigations unit flying in by helicopter in a few moments. I’d like you to haul us out to the Pout House in the Sno-Cat.”
    “Yes sir, I could do that. But there’s not a lot of room in Bessie.”
    “There will only be you, me, and my CSI unit, three of us altogether.”
    “Your CSI unit is only one person?”
    “Yeah, we’re a small department without that many murders. I don’t count friendly killings as murders.”
    Grady and Tully rode the Sno-Cat out to the field next to the lodge and waited. Grady didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist, so Tully drove his hands deep into his pockets and watched the sky in silence. He heard the helicopter before he saw it,