‘I’m fine with the ruling out if I’ve got lots of ruling in going on too,’ said Ren. ‘I’m like, “What the fuck happened to you, Jean?”’
‘Ren – you’ll answer that yourself. If you start thinking that you won’t, it’ll be reflected in your work. Begin every day like it’s the first day of the investigation.’
‘That’s good advice. Thanks.’
‘So, give me updates.’
‘It seems to be just me getting hunches about people. This guy who drinks at the Brockton Filly – creepy. Caroline Quaintance – lying, even though the animal shelter people had only glowing reports on her; her bosses the same.’
I won’t mention Misty.
‘Ren, your hunches are usually very good,’ said Gary.
I hope so. ‘I feel bad because, in a fucked-up way, I wish Jean Transom had had more going on in her life to give us a wider scope. She lived in a tiny little world and I still can’t seem to navigate my way around it.’
‘Ren, it’s not all about you,’ said Gary. His voice was kind. ‘You’re having a day of doubt. So put that aside and turn this all outwards, OK?’
‘Ugh. You’re right.’
‘Go, do it. OK?’
‘Thanks, Gary.’
She went to the kitchen to make coffee and eat cookies she didn’t like or want. She was alone. She sat at the table and closed her eyes. I need to separate the part of Billy Waites that is under my skin from the part of Billy Waites that should be under investigation. I need to take a little step back right now – I am too close. And personal.
She grabbed her coffee, went back to her desk and opened the Mark Wilson file again. Wilson had stayed in the hostel part of The Cheapshot Inn the month before he died. Why does The Cheapshot Inn sound familiar? She remembered. The Welcome Center.
The Welcome Center had barely opened for the day, but the manager let Ren in. She went quickly to the display she was looking for: the photo montage of Ridge Street through the decades. In one of the photos, a sign swung from the branch of a stooping oak, most of its letters hidden by the leaves: The Cheapshot Inn. And in smaller print, Est. 1962. Except that it was no longer an inn. Ren knew what someone would find now if they walked through the door – the dark, narrow hallway that led to Dr Charlie Barger.
The manager came over to her. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘Yes, there is, as a matter of fact,’ said Ren.
She pointed to the photo. ‘I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about The Cheapshot Inn.’
‘Charlie Barger’s place? Well, it’s closed now. He closed it last December.’
Who closes an inn in Breckenridge during peak season?
‘And it’s been an inn since 1962?’ said Ren.
He nodded. ‘His father set it up – Emil Barger. He was part of a small group that ended up owning a big part of Breckenridge, but I guess instead of steamrollering his way in, he kind of rode in on a white horse.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, this would have been in the sixties, when the town was going through a slump. The economy needed these guys – and they knew it. The difference with Barger was that he gave back. He lobbied for affordable housing, he paid his workers well, he took care of people …’
‘How did he end up owning part of Breckenridge?’ said Ren.
‘Barger was a 10th Mountain vet. And, like all the others, when he came back from the war, he was looking for something to do. These guys had trained for years before they were sent to Europe, so these were some skilled mountain men. They fought well in the war and, when they came back, a lot of them ended up working at resorts in Colorado in one way or another.’
‘When would that have been?’
‘Oh, quite a while after the war. We would be talking late fifties when it started to kick in. Developers knew when they were on to a good thing, so they were hiring these 10th Mountain guys left and right.’
‘So Emil Barger was hired by developers?’
‘Not so much hired – he had family money, so he was right up there with the best of them. He was a developer himself. And, I guess, his own technical advisor. He made some clever choices.’
Ren thought of Salem Swade and how, twenty years later, the mountains welcomed him back from his war. ‘I guess it worked out well for Emil Barger,’ she said.
‘And The Cheapshot Inn was one of the ways he said thank you …’
‘Ah,’ said Ren.
‘For most of the year, he got one of the trainee managers from the resorts to take care of it. Then his son, Charlie, took over every time he was back from medical school on vacation.’
‘Right.’
‘Why the interest in all this?’ said the manager.
I get sidetracked. ‘I just like the town,’ said Ren. She smiled. ‘This place is great. You’ve done a really good job.’
‘Thank you. Call back again if there’s anything else you need.’
* * *
Ren checked her watch and decided enough time had passed that she could call Helen without waking her up.
‘Helen? Hi. It’s Ren.’
‘Hi. I’m just with someone right now. Can I call you back in two minutes?’
‘Like, two minutes or five or ten?’ said Ren.
‘Two.’
‘OK.’
‘Are you OK? You sound –’
‘No, no. I’m fine,’ said Ren. ‘I don’t want to bother you.’
‘You’re not. I’ll speak to you in a little while.’
Ren breathed out. She looked around the quiet streets of Breckenridge and helped herself to calm down. She stayed, suspended in a silent, baseless panic, until the phone rang.
‘How are you doing?’ said Helen.
‘I’m good, I’m good,’ said Ren. ‘Well, I’m kind of freaked out. Which is, I guess, why I called.’ Her laugh was nervous.
‘Why are you freaked out?’
‘Well, I just had this thought,’ said Ren. ‘You know the way I’ve been spending time with Billy? In the bar…’
‘Yes.’
Ren’s pause stretched for half a minute, time that Helen still didn’t break into.
‘I know this sounds stupid, OK?’ said Ren eventually. ‘But I’m like, oh my God, what if they’ve bugged the bar? What if Billy and I are sitting there or, you know … and they’re listening in to everything?’ Her voice sped up, the sentences rushing out of her, riding a wave of panic. ‘I’m screwed. My career’s ruined. My life is over. I love my job I –’
‘Ren, whoa, whoa. Think about all this logically. What would Billy be under suspicion for?’
‘Anything! The murder, drugs, UFAP …’
‘What is you-fap?’
‘Unlawful Flight to Avoid Prosecution.’
‘And