I knew that Smithson would be long occupied with the police while they performed their investigation. I remembered guys like him from my crime scene days in San Francisco. He would insist that the police dust everything in the garage for fingerprints and then inspect the grounds for clues. If the police weren’t sufficiently fastidious, Smithson would threaten to call his lawyers, the chief and the mayor. I felt sorry for the officers on the scene. While I was confident that Smithson didn’t see my face, he might have guessed at my identity based on my height. If so, he’d fuss about it to the cops and that would use up more time.
I decided it would be a good moment to time the drive up to Mount Rose. I could take up surveillance of Smithson later.
I turned north on the Mount Rose Highway. The road winds up and over the shoulder of Mount Rose, cresting at 9,000 feet before it plunges nearly a mile down to Reno. As I gained altitude I could see lights sprinkling the far shoreline of Tahoe. The gibbous moon was low in the southern sky, hanging over the lake like a big Jack-o’-lantern. It glinted off the snowy mountains and its reflection in the water was a swath of light twenty miles long. The road climbed up into forest and then onto the big snow-covered meadow under Mount Rose. I pulled over where the trailhead starts up to the summit and noted the time. I turned off the headlights and got out into the full glare of the moon on the snow. The air was cold, with a brisk breeze out of the north. Cross-country ski tracks criss-crossed the meadow, looking in the moonlight like strange giant calligraphy.
The summit loomed above, dark and foreboding. I knew roughly where the trail went, but I decided that nighttime on an icy mountain was not a safe time to go up, even though night was when I suspected Smithson had done the climb with his wife’s body over his shoulders. But he would have gone in August when the snow was gone.
I now knew how long it would take to make the boat trip and the car trip. Because of the snow I realized it would be easiest to estimate the time it would take for the hikes on both ends. Then I would know if the trip could be done in one night. From my knowledge of the area around Emerald Bay, I figured he could hike from the water up to the rock slide and back in less than two hours. As I thought about it, I realized that I could probably get an accurate idea of the time it would take to make the climb on Mount Rose by studying my topographic maps. I also wanted to get back down to his house and follow him for the next few days.
I pulled back onto the highway and had just run the Jeep up to fifty when flashing lights appeared behind me. I slowed to let them race by, but the lights slowed and stayed behind me. I pulled over, stopped and got out, keeping my hands in clear view.
“Evening, officer,” I said to the dark figure getting out of the patrol car. I wondered why the officer had not turned on the spotlight. The officer reached back in the car, turned off the headlights, then shut the door. Something was wrong.
The man spoke. “They’re taking your name in vain on the radio,” he said. He had a slight Mexican accent.
“Diamond, aren’t you out of your jurisdiction? Douglas County line is way south of here.” We shook hands in the dark.
“That’s why I ain’t arresting you. That’s why I ain’t bringing you in for questioning on a B & E they had down in Incline an hour ago. When I recognized your car I thought I might let you know how easily confused these Incline cops are.”
“Wonder why they’re looking for me?” I said.
“Apparently a man named Smithson, the one you called me about, had a burglar bust into his garage. Saw the suspect as he ran out. Said the suspect was very tall. Said he thought the suspect was a man named Owen McKenna who has been harassing him.” Diamond leaned back against the side of my Jeep and crossed his arms. His skin was dark in the yellow moonlight. “But of course you’ve been up on this mountain snow-shoeing or something with friends and so you have an alibi.” He turned and looked at me. “Am I right?”
“What if I can’t remember their names?”
“Then you might be in deep doo-doo.”
“The cops got prints or something?”
“No.” Diamond shook his head. “The suspect didn’t leave any. Probably some pro who’s done B & Es before. But the Incline Village boys will want to question you just the same.”
“Thanks for the warning.” I turned to my Jeep.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Diamond said. “Mrs. Salazar called nine-one-one right about the time of Smithson’s burglary. Wanted to report a runaway granddaughter. Said the girl called her and said she wasn’t coming home until the man who was stalking her was caught. The old lady thinks the girl said the man’s name was John Smithson. Now, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Gosh, Diamond. Stumped me there.”
“Trouble is,” Diamond continued, “if any adult knows where the girl is staying, then that adult could be brought in on a variety of charges. With her money, old lady Salazar could make them stick, too.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “If I find out anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Good.”
“You get the Medical Examiner’s report on the body, yet?”
“Just got it an hour ago. I forget some of the details of what he said. Something about the character of the bone around the entry wounds being consistent with the victim being alive at the time. But there are no marks on the inside of the skull from bullets bouncing around, so maybe the soft lead mushroomed on initial impact and didn’t carry much inertia. He also found scrapes on bones that happened long after death which suggests the corpse was moved when it was already mostly decomposed. That could also explain the loss of the bullets. They could have fallen out of the skull.”
“There weren’t even any tiny bullet fragments?” I asked.
“No. The M.E. said the inside of the skull was totally cleaned out by bugs. So I called Street and she said it is possible that hide beetles could have removed the bullet fragments, although she didn’t think it was likely.”
“Any idea how the body was moved?”
“No. Could be coyotes, dogs maybe,” Diamond said.
“Did the Medical Examiner say anything about what the corpse would have weighed when it was moved?”
“He guessed around forty pounds or less. It would have been down to mostly bones and the ligaments holding them together.”
“Any word on a TV tape of Maria when she was rescued at Kirkwood?”
“No. Got a deputy on it full time. One of the TV station people said it wasn’t likely any tape was saved. But they’re looking.” Diamond turned back toward the patrol unit. “Let me know when you decide what you’re going to do with your little kidnapping problem,” Diamond said over his shoulder. “I have to tell the sheriff what I’m doing about the rich girl who ran away. I’ll wait two days to hear from you. After that, I’ll have to do a little checking around. Being that Jennifer was recently seen with both you and Street, the Sheriff will want to know if I’ve looked at the McKenna and Casey residences. I gotta tell him something.” He got in his car, pulled out around my Jeep and drove away.
TWENTY-ONE