Jocko paused and watched him go. “I don’t care what anybody says, and I don’t care about our pasts. Regardless of his youth, Bernie didn’t have one reason to stick a knife into Lawrence’s back. Not one.”
I gulped. Actually, Bernie had a couple of reasons. “Your pasts?” I asked, following him through a neatly arranged storage room holding everything from Celtic crosses to Irish literature to an office at the very back.
He slipped around a worn leather chair to sit behind his old fake wooden desk. “Well, yeah. Isn’t that why he was arrested?”
Chapter 25
Isat at the edge of the seat, trying not to sneeze from the dust. While the storage area had been pristine, the office didn’t look like it had been cleaned, really cleaned, in quite some time. The carpet was a short-cropped red weave that had turned pink in some areas. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” I asked, tossing aside my line of questions for a moment.
He looked up at Bud, who filled out the doorway, leaning against the jam. “I’d like to speak privately.”
“No,” Bud said.
I sighed. “Bud. I’m fine here. Go find your wife something nice for Christmas, would you?”
Jocko perked up. “I just got in a new shipment of white gold jewelry. Have Bree show you the necklaces. They’re lovely.”
Muttering something I couldn’t decipher, Bud turned and stomped back into the main area of the store.
Jocko seemed to relax when Bud left. “Why do you need an Idaho cop covering your back?”
“Long story but nothing to do with Bernie,” I said. Well, probably. Somebody had shot at us the other day, and I still thought they were aiming for Bernie and not for me. “So. Tell me about this past.”
Jocko reached for a mug half-full with coffee and took a deep drink. “The statute of limitations has expired on any crimes we might’ve committed.”
I set my purse on the floor, finding a somewhat clean area, my breath stopping. That statement had not been what I had been expecting. Not at all. A warning itch flared between my shoulder blades. “I’m not with the prosecuting attorney’s office. I represent Bernie and am trying to help him.”
“I understand,” Jocko said. “Just wanted you to know that you have no leverage over me.”
I frowned. Why would I need leverage? “All right.”
He took another gulp and then grimaced. “Coffee sucks cold, but I never seem to get time to drink it hot.” He put the lime green mug on the desk. “Did Bernie tell you how the Kringle Club got started?”
I sat back. “Not how but why.”
Jocko’s smile revealed a gap between his bottom front teeth that I hadn’t noticed before. “The how is the fun part. Bernie, Lawrence, Earl, Donny, Micky, and I were hard rock miners back in the sixties. The rest of the guys joined the Kringle Club later once we’d retired from mining and were just doing the Santa gig, including Doc Springfield. He has no clue how we originally made the money.”
I had several relatives who were hard rock miners. It was a tough job that had the potential to pay very well if one struck a vein. Or ten. “So you worked together?”
“Yes. We made enough money that we each started our own businesses. This shop for me, the jewelry store for Earl, the bait and tackle shop for Lawrence, the leather goods shop for Micky, and the insurance agency for Bernie.” Jocko flicked a feather off the side of his desk. “Oh. Duke Wells was also one of us, and he opened Duke’s Jewelry in Timber City, but he didn’t want to be a Kringle later on. Good guy, though.”
Duke’s Jewelry was right next to my office, and Duke had always seemed like a nice older man.
I studied Jocko, the facts clicking into place for me. “Mining pays well.”
“Yep.”
But he’d mentioned crimes. “You mined where you weren’t supposed to mine, now didn’t you, Jocko?” I asked quietly.
He lifted one shoulder. “We found silver, sold silver, and started our lives.”
Well, he was probably correct that the statute of limitations had run out years ago. “Who did you steal from?” I had mining in my blood, and I wasn’t going to mince words with him.
“Nobody big,” he admitted. “We mainly went deep in abandoned mines.”
That was still trespassing and stealing from the owners of those mineral rights. “Did you steal from anybody who’d be mad about it?”
“After all this time?” He snorted. “No. Of course, not. In fact, most people never found out. Flo is one of the few who did, and we paid her a fee, so we’re all good.”
