Chapter 10

Guy was standing at Edith's desk when Cal and Kelly returned from lunch.

"So, did my two least favorite gumshoes crack this case?" Guy demanded.

Cal looked at the mug Guy clutched with both hands. He wondered just how many cups Guy had to get that cranky by lunchtime. "Uh, no, but Kelly has a theory?"

"A theory? What is this? CSI? We run a newspaper here. We deal in facts. What facts do you have that we can report in our paper without getting us sued, without getting me chewed out by the publisher, and without making Hunter Jones look like the fool that he is?"

In the course of 15 seconds, Kelly lost her confidence - and her courage.

"We've got nothing yet, but as soon as we do, I'll let you know," she said.

Guy muttered another biting comment about Cal and Kelly's intelligence and stormed back to his office.

Kelly looked sheepishly at Cal, who was boring a hole in her with his stare.

"What? What did you want me to say?"

"Look, let's each make a phone call to warn the other two people in the story and get back out there. I want to talk with a few people who might know something about these kids."

Cal returned to his desk and began dialing the number for Brady Perkins, the farmer who sold the land to BCH Homes. In Guy's article, Perkins complained that he thought he was selling the land to another farmer and argued that BCH Homes posed as a buyer under false pretenses. He also expressed his disappointment that precious Idaho topsoil would be covered with pavement.

From reading Brady's comments, Cal wasn't sure if the old farmer was sincere or simply trying to stave off the growing disdain locals felt toward him for selling the property to an outsider.

Brady picked up his phone.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Perkins?"

"Speaking."

"This is Cal Murphy from The Register. How are you today, sir?"

"Well, I'm happy with my subscription. Thank you very much. Now, I've got to get back to plowing."

"Wait, Mr. Perkins, I wasn't calling about your subscription."

"Is this a survey? Cause I don't have time for that either."

"No, Mr. Perkins. This isn't a survey. I just wanted to warn you that your life might be in danger."

"In danger? What in the world are you talking about?"

"Mr. Perkins, are you aware that three teenage boys have died in the last 24 hours and authorities suspect foul play?"

"Yeah, I heard. What's that got to do with me?"

"Well, sir, in some of our investigating, we discovered that in one of our articles each of those boys' parents lashed out against BCH Homes during the city council meeting a few weeks ago. And the same article quoted you."

"So what, you think I'm next?" Brady said in a mocking tone.

"Well, we don't know if there's a connection, but we thought we'd at least warn you and your family."

"What family? I've only got myself to look after. You don't need to worry about me. Me and my Smith and Wesson are pretty good at taking care of me."

"OK, Mr. Perkins. I wanted to give you a heads up just in case."

Click. The line went dead.

For a second, Cal wondered if Kelly's theory was right and maybe some cloak-and-dagger hit man had just offed Brady Perkins. But then he decided it was much more likely that Mr. Perkins simply hung up on a crazy reporter. Cal didn't give it another thought.

He spun around to watch Kelly hang up.

"So, did Mrs. Washburn sound concerned?"

Kelly rolled her eyes. "No. She laughed at me and said she didn't have teenage boys. Then she started telling me the rumor she heard about how the boys died."

"I'll bet that was interesting."

"Yeah, it actually was quite entertaining. She said the prevailing rumor is that a deranged mountain lion wandered down from the Sawtooths and mauled those three boys. And it's still roaming around Brooks County looking for its next victim."

Cal started chuckling at Mrs. Washburn's theory and the idea that a mountain lion could roam freely in any Idaho town for more than 10 minutes without getting put down by a high-powered rifle.

"What about Mr. Perkins? What did he say?"

"He said he wasn't concerned - and then he hung up on me."

"Nice."

"OK, so you ready to hit the road again?"

"Sure. Where to now, Sherlock?"

"Statenville High School. Coach Mike Miller's office."