Dangerous Refuge by Elizabeth Lowell Page B

afford much more than a free dog to worship him. Tanner also had no doubt that he was looking at a man who was like his new captain back in L.A.—huge ambition but no real talent to back it up.
    Must be real good at ass-kissing, Tanner thought in disgust. When it comes to promotions, that beats good work almost every time.
    If Sheriff Conrad recognized Tanner, he didn’t show it. He nodded curtly to Shaye before he stalked through the open area to his office and closed the door. Hard.
    “Never saw a man wearing a Do Not Disturb sign that big,” Tanner said into the silence.
    “You’d think somebody would be happy he’s the bookies’ favorite in the next election,” August said.
    The corner of Tanner’s mouth kicked up. Under other circumstances, he probably would have liked August. But right now the deputy stood between Tanner and the answers he wanted.
    He leaned over and said very softly to Shaye, “Am I the only one who looks at the sheriff and sees a kid playing dress-up?”
    She tried not to laugh, and settled for not being loud about it.
    “FELDT!” The window-rattling yell came from behind the closed door. “Where in the sainted name of Jesus H. Christ is that final inquest? It’s supposed to be on my desk!”
    “I’ve got it right here, Sheriff. All ready for your signature.”
    The door opened and Conrad stalked toward them.
    Tanner knew that Conrad was trying to project someone-is-going-to-die, but he just didn’t have the right stuff.
    Probably why Conrad hired Feldt. Somebody he could intimidate.
    “Damn it! That was supposed to be put to bed already!” He stood so close to Feldt that the edge of his hat brushed the deputy’s eyebrows.
    That’s got to tickle, Tanner thought in disgust. He’d known too many fear-biters like Conrad. Give them a little power and they were hell on the half shell.
    In Refuge, the sheriff had more than a little power.
    “Uh, sorry, sir,” Feldt said. “I was just—”
    Tanner interrupted. “That has to rank as the fastest inquiry ever spit out by a county bureaucracy.”
    “Who the hell are you?” The older man’s voice had an unfortunate tendency to squeak under pressure.
    “Sheriff, you’ll be pleased to meet Tanner Davis, nephew to the deceased in question,” August said, deadpan. “He has some questions and observations to share with you.”
    Conrad looked at Tanner like he was boot scrapings. Then the name seemed to register. “Kin to Lorne Davis?”
    Tanner nodded impassively. “Sheriff.”
    Conrad’s mouth tried for sympathetic and settled for harried. “Look, I’m sorry for your loss. But what we have here is a natural death. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
    “What about the gold?”
    Shaye made a startled sound. She hadn’t expected Tanner to mention anything about gold.
    August watched the sheriff like a man interested in what he would say next.
    “What gold?” Conrad asked before turning to the deputies and asking the same question, only louder because it was much more important right now. “WHAT GOLD?”
    “I—I—I—” stuttered Feldt.
    “Never heard of it,” August said calmly.
    “No damn good, either one of you!” He exhaled a curse and turned to Tanner. “What gold?”
    Since the sheriff had dropped his voice, Tanner answered. “At least one roll of pre-Depression gold twenties.”
    “What?” Conrad’s voice was rising again.
    “He kept them in a family hiding place in the house. A place you could only find with a wrecking crew. The house wasn’t wrecked. Wasn’t even messy, so nobody conducted a search before or after Lorne died.”
    “Son,” Conrad said. “You’ve been away too long to know how hard times have been. Lorne probably spent any gold he had long ago. Doesn’t change the fact that he died a natural death at eighty-plus years.”
    “He wasn’t wearing a jacket or—” Shaye began.
    “Hello, Ms. Townsend,” the sheriff interrupted. “Looks like the Conservancy has bagged another ranch. Which