Born To Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

Alvarez glared at her partner. “It was a mistake, okay? I get that now. I only told you so that if the sheriff said anything, you wouldn’t be blindsided.” She jabbed her fork into a bit of lettuce. “So, what did you do?”

To her surprise, Pescoli actually blushed as she grabbed her Reuben and dredged it through the ketchup before taking a bite.

“Thought so.” Alvarez tried not to sound envious.

“So, you find anything interesting at the neighbor’s besides the cat?” she asked as she swallowed and washed the bite down with Diet Coke.

“Could be that we’re on the lookout for a dark pickup.”

Pescoli sent her a glance. “When aren’t we on the lookout for one?”

Alvarez lifted a shoulder.

“So does this pickup have plates? Distinguishing marks? Maybe a camper or toolbox?”

“Possibly, but Lois didn’t see or remember.”

“Lois is the dachshund-walking, sweater-matching, tea-leaf-reading, charter-member-of-PETA neighbor?”

“Yes,” Alvarez answered patiently.

“Huh. Not exactly the most credible witness.” Pescoli drained her soda, and before she could decline, Sandi, the waitress and owner of the establishment, slid another drink in front of her. “Thanks. That’s enough.”

“Free refills.” Sandi, tall and a little on the gaunt side, grinned widely. She never stopped selling. She’d ended up with the establishment in a bitter divorce from her husband, William Aldridge, for whom the restaurant, had been named, and she’d poured her heart and soul into the place changing up the once-boring menu with local fare that included huckleberries, venison, and trout, then redecorating the restaurant to look like a hunting lodge. The chandeliers were wagon wheels with lanterns affixed to their rims. Mounted on the rough plank walls, high overhead, the stuffed heads of bighorn sheep, antelope, deer, and even a moose stared through glassy eyes at those who occupied the tables and booths below. It was eerie, weird, and kind of macabre to Alvarez’s way of thinking, but totally in step with the Grizzly Falls way of life.

With a wink of an overly shadowed eye, Sandi hurried off to a table where a couple were trying to deal with three loud kids who looked as if they ranged in age from two to six. Mom and Dad were obviously frazzled as they tried to sort out drinks, juggle their bags, and answer questions from the squirming trio of sons. Sandi whipped out tiny coloring books from her apron, found a glass filled with crayons on a nearby table, and, once the kiddies were into their newfound art, took the couple’s order.

?

?So tell me again about the poison.” Pescoli took another bite as Alvarez repeated what she’d discovered in Jocelyn Wallis’s apartment and how it all added up to murder.

They discussed the case and, after paying the bill, put on their jackets and headed through the front doors and past Grizz, the stuffed grizzly bear that greeted customers as they entered Wild Will’s. Grizz, frozen in time, his mouth a perpetual snarl that bared his long teeth, was usually dressed for the season. Today was no exception, as he wore a white bonnet and collar over his shaggy coat, as if he were a Pilgrim woman. Gourds, squash, and an overflowing cornucopia were situated at his long, clawed feet, and a stuffed turkey peeked around the dry stalks of corn that surrounded him.

“Cute,” Pescoli muttered under her breath.

Alvarez shouldered open the glass doors, and a blast of winter air hit her full in the face. The sidewalk had been shoveled and salted, concrete peeking through, and the roar of the falls was audible over the traffic rolling along the street. The pedestrians were bundled in a variety of jackets and coats, most with scarves wound around their necks, boots covering their feet and stocking caps pulled over their ears. Some juggled packages, while others held tight on to the mitten-clad hands of their children. A few idled and smoked while huddled in doorways of the shops already decorated with cedar wreaths, red bows, and glittering lights, all heralding the Christmas season. The snow had quit for the day, but the cloud cover hung low, hugging the earth, blocking the sun.

They had arrived in this part of town in different vehicles. Alvarez had been at the department’s offices before daylight. She’d called Pescoli, who had agreed to meet her. “You know this is supposed to be my day off,” Pescoli said as they reached her Jeep.

“Just thought you’d want to be kept up to speed.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Lucky’s got the kids, so it isn’t a big deal. It’s Black Friday, you know. Michelle’s taking Bianca shopping.”

“I thought you said she was fighting some bug.”

“Did you not hear me? It’s Black Friday, the sacred day of holy shopping. There’ll be no stopping of the laying down of the credit cards.” Pausing before she unlocked the Jeep’s door, she said, “I suppose you’re going to make a workday of it.”

“Yeah.”

“And probably a night.”

“The holidays, always more domestic issues.” That was a trend that seemed to have no end. Get a few relatives together, offer them food and drink, and pretty soon all the old wounds were opened again. Fueled by a little booze and a handy weapon, things could get out of control pretty fast. Hadn’t she witnessed it often enough in her own family? “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.”

Pescoli opened the door, then hesitated. “Keep me in the loop.”

“Will do.”

As Pescoli pulled out of the parking spot and drove off, Alvarez walked to a side street near the river where her own vehicle was parked. Even in the cold, there were fishermen leaning against the railing, their lines disappearing into the dark, swirling water far below, while a few pedestrians bustled along the sidewalk. Moving away from the river, she turned a full one-eighty and stared upward, over the facades and rooftops of the storefronts, to the crest of Boxer Bluff. Without really understanding her motives, she forced her gaze along the darkened hillside and the railing to the park. Unwittingly she focused on the crumbling wall where Jocelyn Wallis had fallen to her death.