"If it didn't kill him, would that have been intentional--trying to spook us rather than assassinate Brady? Or would it have missed because our shooter isn't a crack shot? We could just be looking at a decent shooter with an overinflated sense of his--or her--skills. So . . . Ty?"
Tyrone Cypher was sheriff of Rockton before Dalton's father. When the demotion to deputy rankled too much, he'd gone to live in the forest.
"Are you looking at Ty for this?" The wrinkle in Dalton's nose tells me what he thinks of that. He doesn't say it, though, just keeps making coffee in our French press.
"I'm looking at everyone for this. He was a professional assassin, though."
Dalton snorts. "Hit man. There's a difference."
Which is true. "Assassin" conjures up an image that is not Tyrone Cypher.
"What's his firearm prowess?" I ask.
"On a scale of one to ten? Negative three."
I give him a look.
"I'm serious," Dalton says. "The guy prides himself on not using guns. You know that."
"So when he says he worked with his hands . . ."
"If Ty says it, it's true. He's serious about that, too. I've never actually caught the guy in a lie. Which, like you said, might not mean he never lies--just that he saves the falsehoods for the big stuff."
"Has he ever said he can't shoot? His comments about the military make Will think he served."
"Tyrone doesn't volunteer information. He's never said he can't shoot--he just chooses not to. The problem is motive."
I rub my fingers together and then I realize the gesture means nothing in Dalton's world.
"Money," I say. "Ty killed for money before, and he doesn't seem to have any moral qualms about doing it again."
Dalton shakes his head. "I see where you're going, but Tyrone doesn't give a shit about money. Now, if they offered him a barrel of coffee creamer, maybe. But even then, it'd mean working for the council, and you know how he feels about that."
"So you trust Ty."
He makes a face as he passes me a filled mug. "I wouldn't say trust . . ."
"We've been trading with him since last winter."
"The man works for coffee and powdered creamer. Can't beat the price. But trust him? He's . . . What's the scientific term? Loony tunes."
I have to laugh at that. "True. He has his own special brand of crazy. But you trust him enough to trade with him, send him on scouting missions, and let him into Rockton."
"As long as he's escorted."
"Only because you don't want to freak out the locals."
"Yeah, okay, sure. I trust . . ." He stops. "Fuck. I just stepped into it, didn't I?" He sighs. "Where is this leading?"
"I'd like you to deputize Ty for a few days. I need information I can only get from the internet, and the only person who can fly out of here is you. It's a lousy time for you to leave, but I think the need outweighs the danger. I'd like you to take an overnight trip to Dawson City, with a list of what I need researched. I'll stay here and Ty can help guard Brady."
Dalton snorts. "Because he'll scare the ever-loving shit out of Brady?"
"Possibly." I smile. "Ty won't buy Brady's stories. He might even be able to give us some insight into how likely it is that he committed these murders. Mathias knows one side of killers. Tyrone knows another."
"It'll take a day or two to find Ty. By then, Brady's permanent residence will be done so I won't mind leaving. What do you want online?"
"Everything you can get on these crimes he supposedly committed. Including whether they actually exist."