Page 38 of Ultimate Justice

Ignoring her, he retrieved the tub, which was about the size of a small microwave.

“Stop! You can’t look in there.”

He flipped off the lid. The tub was packed to the brim with irregularly shaped, green-and-amber colored marijuana trichomes—flower buds. Most likely, she sold it out the back door without paying license or vendor fees, or a penny of taxes on the sales. He wasn’t about to waste time dealing with a regulatory licensing issue. She, however, didn’t know that.

“Do you have a valid retail license from the Colorado Department of Revenue?” Not a chance.

Her lips pinched. Momentarily, she closed her eyes. “No.”

He pressed the lid back on. “Then you need to start talking. I’ll ask you again. What are the names of the people you bought this from?”

She took a deep breath. “I only know them as John and Margaret.”

Bingo. “John and Margaret what?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know their last names. Nobody does.”

So there were other buyers they sold to. “Do you have a phone number for them?”

Again, she shook her head. “No. They just show up here every Saturday.”

“Where are they from?”

“I don’t know.”

Chances were, she hadn’t asked and didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was making a tax-free buck. No wonder her tent was so popular.

“What else can you tell me about them? Where do they work? What kind of vehicle do they drive?”

“I don’t know.” This time, her gaze was rock steady, and Evan believed her.

“Does anyone else at this market buy from them?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

“Get out your driver’s license.” He set the bin on the table, being careful to touch it as little possible.

When the woman handed him her DL, he snapped a photo of it, then handed it back to her. “If you’re lying about anything, your next visitors will be Department of Revenue agents who won’t be nearly as forgiving as I am. Understood?” She nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation.” Carefully, he tucked the bin under his arm.

“Hey!” She pointed to the bin. “You can’t take that!”

“Actually, I can.” Mostly, he didn’t give a crap about the contents, just the latent prints John and Margaret may have left on the bin. Still, he’d heard about DNA markers used to determine the geographic origin of marijuana plants. Anything that might give them a lead on this case was worth pursuing. “Did I mention the Department of Revenue is about to commence annual audits?” He had no idea if that was true but, as expected, the woman snapped her mouth shut faster than a giant clam. He’d bet she barely reported any of her legal produce income on her tax returns, and she sure as hell wasn’t entering anything into METRC—the state’s seed-to-sale, track-and-trace regulatory system for the cannabis industry. “I’ll mail you a property receipt.”

He and Blue headed back to the Yukon. He’d have Sammie run a check on the woman, but he was reasonably certain this was a dead end. Unless they could pull something off those cameras or get prints off the tub.

Blue stopped at a Halloween tent to sniff a skeleton skull. When his nose touched the decoration, a disembodied voice started singing “I Ain’t Got Nobody.” Blue backed off, curling his lip at the offending decoration and making a few kids laugh.

“C’mon, buddy.” He tugged his dog away just as a large black-and-orange monarch butterfly descended out of nowhere, flapping its wings, frantically searching for a landing zone. It settled on Blue’s head, in the furry comfort between his ears.

“Hey, look at that!” A woman pointed as she tugged out her phone to snap some shots.

“Playtime’s over.” That’s all he needed, for him and Blue to go viral on social media. Again, he tugged on Blue’s leash to get him out of the woman’s line of sight. What she couldn’t possibly know was that butterflies landed on Blue all the time. One of Mother Nature’s weird and inexplicable things.

Blue snorted, but the butterfly had settled in for the ride. Probably on walkabout—make that flyabout—from the Butterfly Pavilion at the nearby Denver Botanic Gardens.

When they made it back to the Yukon, the butterfly was gone. He could make out Marlie’s blond head behind the wheel, but he couldn’t see Noah. He jogged the rest of the way to the SUV. Finally, Noah’s head popped up in the front passenger seat, and Evan breathed a little easier. He tapped gently on the driver’s side window.

Both Marlie and Noah flinched. The doors clicked as Marlie unlocked them. He loaded Blue into the back, while Noah clambered over the front seat to sit next to him.