Back of Beyond

He looked up as Larry’s flashlight bobbed along the flagstone path and eventually raised to take him in.

Larry said, “Nice raincoat. You headed to the OK Corral later tonight? You and the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday?”

“Yeah. I’ve got issues with Ike Clanton, that bastard.”

Larry actually laughed. “Suicide? Tell me it’s a suicide.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Cody said. “I’m going to go back to my truck and burn one. I’ll stay out of your way. Then I’m going to come back and listen to your initial theory. I’ve looked over the scene and I’ve got more than enough shots of it. And I’ve got a theory of my own, but I don’t want to steer you one way or the other.”

Because it was dark, Cody couldn’t tell what Larry was thinking.

“Have you been in the unburned section?” Larry asked.

“Not yet.”

“Good. Let’s do that together.”

“All right.”

“Bad fucking night for this,” Larry said. “You must really hate me to call me out on a night like this.”

“I don’t hate you, Larry. I want your opinion.”

“Have you called the coroner?”

“Not yet.”

“Jesus, Cody. You should have called him already.”

Cody shrugged.

“I’ll look things over and give you my opinion as long as you call Skeeter and the sheriff and we do this thing properly. Remember what I said. You remember, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

Cody nodded. He said, “Take as much time as you need. The scene is yours. I’ve got great photos, so you don’t need to worry about that. Just look it over, tell me what you think. And I’ll make the calls I need to.”

Larry reached up and squeegeed the beads of rain off his shaved head with his hand. “I should have brought a hat.”

“You can have mine,” Cody said, handing him his cap as he passed. It was sodden and heavy with rain.

“Keep it,” Larry said. Then: “Hey, what did you do to your unit? You’ve only got one headlight.”

“Hit an elk on the way up.”

“Yeah, I saw it on the side of the road. You must have been in a hell of a hurry.”

Cody left Larry and walked toward his Ford. He looked up at the dark sky, hoping for an opening in the rain clouds. Nope.

“Hey, Cody,” Larry called.

“What?”

“You got a cow permit?”

* * *

His cell signal had faded further, so Cody shooed Dougherty and the hiker out of his Ford. As Dougherty climbed out, Cody said, “Any discrepancies in their stories?”

“No, sir.”

“Good work. Keep them here for a while in case we have more questions, then take them back to the York Bar or wherever they’re headed. Just make sure we’ve got contact details on them if we need to get in touch later.”

The patrol officer patted his notebook. “I’ve got all that.”

“Okay then,” Cody said.

Dougherty paused. “So you aren’t going to write me up?”

“Go. Just go. But remember, never shut off an area of inquiry in any situation. Never assume anything. Always assume everybody is guilty as hell but act like they’re innocent to their face. Remember that. Everybody is guilty of something, every single one of ’em. It may not be this,” he said, chinning toward the cabin. “But it’s something. No one is clean and pure and perfect.”

Dougherty didn’t say Yes, sir. He just stood there.

“What?” Cody said.

“I hope I never get like you,” Dougherty said, and went back to his truck.

Cody said to no one in particular, “I hope you don’t, either.”

* * *

It was warm and dry in his Ford. The windows steamed on the inside of the cab due to his wet clothing. He called Edna on the radio. While he talked to her he watched Larry Olson retrace his own steps around the cabin, shooting his flashlight about, moving slow.

“Edna, please alert Skeeter and Tubby-”

“You mean Sheriff Tubman.”

“Of course,” Cody said, glad she pointed that out since there were plenty of locals who monitored the police band. “Sheriff Tubman.”

“What should I tell them?” Edna asked.

“We’ve got a body,” he said, signing off.

* * *

He gave Larry plenty of time. Dougherty and the hikers sat in Dougherty’s vehicle waiting for the word to be given for clearance to leave. As Cody waited for Larry to finish up, he glanced into the backseat. The male hiker had left his daypack, the idiot. Cody thought he may need to call Dougherty, tell him to bring the guy over to get his property.

Before he reached for the radio, he slung the pack up to the front seat and unzipped it. He kept the interior light off and the pack below the window so the deputy or hikers couldn’t see what he was doing. The contents smelled of woodsmoke. He felt sorry for the hikers, having to camp night after night in the rain. How fun could that be? Plus, the female wasn’t exactly a looker with her matted hair, hairy legs and underarms (he’d noticed), and no makeup. A typical Missoula or Bozeman bark beetle type.