Guns and Ammo and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  Dan looked sick, though Jill was quick to admit he was with her the last half hour, being questioned. So it wasn’t him. But what about the rest of them?

  Ryan. Eddie. Caleb. Adrian. All unaccounted for.

  I stayed near Bill and Moose as we went looking for the suspects, wishing I could hold the big man’s hand and have a good excuse for it. No, wishing Crew was there, damn it. I was still shaken and likely shaking when we entered the kitchen and found Mom and Ryan arguing in tense, quiet voices.

  Mom took one look at me and abandoned her argument, hurrying to me to hug me while Jill confronted my ex with the kind of furiously contained insistence that got answers even from the most hardened criminals. And Ryan was anything but.

  “I was here.” He spluttered and gestured at Mom who grudgingly nodded. “Talking to Mrs. Fleming.” Talking, yeah, right. He better not have been mean to my mother. Now that I was safe and had a Mom hug under my belt? You better believe I was rip roaring mad to have been almost shot.

  Except, of course, I wasn’t the target. Frieda was. Right?

  Jill rounded up my ex and my mother, dragging them off to the foyer. We found Caleb in the study, tending the fire, the hearths the only source of heat for the building. He seemed startled by our appearance, then horrified by the accusation.

  “I was out getting wood from the shed,” he said, gesturing at the pile by the fireplace.

  “I saw him come in,” Barry said from where he huddled on the sofa. “Five minutes ago.”

  Was that time for him to shoot at us then run back and fetch wood? Maybe.

  We found Adrian in his room, reading, equally as shocked by the attempt on Frieda’s life. Or mine. Or Bill’s? Who knew?

  Jill corralled everyone in the study, Grayson’s body long moved to the walk-in freezer for storage, her gaze counting us even as I realized one was missing. At the same moment the front doors opened and Eddie walked in.

  Carrying a rifle over one arm.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Four

  I paced the foyer, Petunia padding next to me, my constant companion. But her soft counterpoint to my own pacing was comforting, despite the fact I still trembled just a little at the memory of the gunshot, being thrown to the ground, and subsequently hustling back to the retreat proper with the knowledge a gunman or woman prowled the woods.

  Jill wasted no time when Eddie appeared, confiscating his weapon and locking up every other gun she could locate, Bill assisting. Part of me wanted to ask her why she hadn’t done so in the first place, but the furious way she stomped around the lodge told me she was already furious with herself for her oversight and didn’t need me giving her a hard time over such a rookie mistake.

  Mind you, I hadn’t thought about it, either, not that I was actually in law enforcement, so poking at Jill wasn’t entirely fair.

  While the rest of the gathering moped around the seating area just outside the study, the mood in the entry and great room about as cheerful as that of a pending funeral, I found, as usual, sitting still had zero appeal. Cleaning rooms tackled with the jittery efficiency of too much energy, I then found myself striding the length of the foyer over and over again while waiting for Jill to return.

  Which she finally did, slipping through the front door to join me, the walkie in one hand, a grim expression on her face.

  I stopped my endless back and forth to whisper to her while her red-cheeked guilt and shame told me volumes. “This wasn’t your fault,” I said, launching immediately into the speech I’d been planning the last little while. “There was no indication the killer had any other targets, nor that guns were even an issue.” I shrugged. “It’s a big step from cold, calculated neck snapping to shooting at someone from a distance, right? It could be the shot had nothing to do with the murder.”

  Yeah, she wasn’t buying it. “Could be,” she grunted. “Doesn’t absolve me, Fee.” She swallowed hard, looked away. How much did she tell Crew? Everything, knowing Jill. And he likely gave her hell for it. Well, he wasn’t up here, was he? Despite her slip in judgment, we were doing the best we could with what we had, so he could just stuff it. “I don’t deserve the sheriff’s job.”

  Ah, that’s what this was really about. “Jill.” I struggled with what to say next, knowing now her guilt was just as much about her oversight as it was Olivia’s suggestion. “Crew will understand. And yes, you do. You’re all we have.”

  Her eyes met mine, a little wild. “I’m going to question Eddie.” She hesitated, head down. “Will you come with me? I want to make sure I don’t screw this up.”

  Jeeze, what a blow to her confidence. I settled one hand on her shoulder, knowing it made no difference, but having to try anyway. “We all make mistakes,” I said. “You’re trying too hard and now you have all this pressure on you to deliver.” She shrugged, but didn’t argue. “Jill, just do what do you best and I’m here for you. Okay?”

  She bobbed a nod, squared herself, face stern. But the fear, the slightly crazed and nervous anxiety behind her eyes, didn’t completely fade. “Let’s go talk to your old friend.”

  That term really was stretching it, but I didn’t correct her, following as she led me into the study where Eddie paced in front of the hearth. He’d had less ground to work with than I did, and looked like he’d riled himself up into quite a froth, Ryan scowling at me as we entered.

  “He’s not answering any questions.” I was getting tired of the lawyer’s company line on repeat.

  “Shut up, Ryan.” Eddie stopped pacing, rubbing at his face with both hands, looking tired and, honestly, afraid. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Ryan muttered something, a garbled mess of anger and frustration, before stalking from the room. I stayed out of his way, Petunia hovering at my feet, her usual kindhearted excitement about strangers missing entirely. Ever since Robert kicked her into the harbor in August, she’d taken on a disquieting level of nervousness with angry men. Though, instead of growling at them like she had with him that day, she instead used me as a leaning post/shield. Well, not that I was opposed to protecting her. But I hated that my cousin’s horrible action had robbed her of even that little bit of the utter happy-go-lucky attitude she’d had since the day I’d met her.

  “Where were you when the shot was fired?” Jill didn’t waste any time. It had been over an hour since I’d returned, so her question was kind of ambiguous, but Eddie didn’t seem to doubt his statement as he spoke.

  “I was nowhere near Frieda’s camp,” he said. “I swear it.” Maybe I was a terrible judge of character—I had failed to identify certain murderers in the past, so fair enough—but he seemed genuine to me. “We’re running low on fresh meat. We only brought in enough food for the duration of the hunt and we meant to bag game to flesh out the menu.” Ew. No pun intended, I hoped. “I was hunting lunch. Thanks to Frieda’s efforts, all the game is gone.” He sounded more pissed about that than the fact we’d been shot at.

  “You sound bitter, Mr. Mauer,” Jill said.

  His face flashed in anger and he seemed ready to lunge toward her until I realized he wasn’t looking at Jill. I half turned to find Frieda standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, glaring right back at him.

  “You bet I’m bitter,” he snarled, jabbing an index finger in her direction. “That woman is a menace and purposely sabotaged my business. I want her arrested.”

  “Enough to put a bullet in me, you pathetic loser?” Frieda wasn’t helping any.

  Eddie snorted, pulled back. “You wish,” he snapped. “I wouldn’t waste a shot on you, you decrepit old washout.”

  Crimson crept up her neck from her collar, heating her cheeks and I had to turn the rest of the way around and hold out both hands to keep her from coming after him.

  “I was hunting game on this mountain before your parents were gleams, you city-born poser!” She wasn’t opposed to her own finger pointing, apparently.

  “Enough!” I know it would have gone on much longe
r, the name calling and accusations. And, I guess, so did Jill. But her just loud enough bellow caught their attention and silenced them both nicely. At least, for the moment. She scowled back and forth between them while they settled, though from their closed expressions and continuing simmer of mutual anger nothing she said was going to get through to either of them. “Mr. Mauer, you have no alibi and your gun’s been fired. Care to explain that?”

  I didn’t know she’d found evidence his rifle had been used.

  He shrugged, looked away. “I found one small boar,” he said. “I missed. So sue me.”

  “You missed, all right,” Frieda said. “I ducked.”

  “That’s right,” Eddie snarled, “call yourself a pig, you old sow.”

  Yikes. Jill inhaled, ready to yell again, when Dan pushed through the doorway, his face creased in concern.

  “Eddie had no reason to shoot anyone,” he said. Because his word counted for anything.

  Frieda apparently felt the same way I did about what he had to say. She looked up at him with the level of disdain one usually reserves for the utterly imbecilic and snorted.

  “Mind your own damned business, traitor,” she said.

  I’d like to be able to say Jill handled the three of them with smooth efficiency and relative ease, that her echoing voice carried the weight required to shut them down when the shouting started.

  Yeah, I’d like to. Sigh.

  I backed out of the room when Frieda entered further, Dan yelling, the older woman shrieking, Eddie’s voice warbling and cracking as he fought to be heard over the other two until I was out in the main sitting area again, Petunia shivering and whining at my feet. Jill’s utter despair wasn’t lost on me and it wasn’t that I was abandoning her, per se. It was just that there was nothing to be done with the three of them until they shouted themselves out and I was already getting a headache.

  One thing was certain. This most recent disaster? Wasn’t going to do much to boost my friend’s confidence. If Olivia wanted Jill to take over as sheriff, we had to get the hell off this mountain.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Five

  There’s something about the offering of food when life’s going down the drain that seems to unify people, no matter how much they seem to hate each other. Mom, being the expert parent and retired principal/child wrangler she was, understood that and, shortly after I exited the exploding argument, my amazing mother appeared with a giant tray of fragrant, fresh bread and a determined look on her face.

  “Breakfast!”

  Funny, she only had to say it once.

  I hid in the kitchen to eat, Bill staying with the others to keep them in line, though he left Moose with us. Jill appeared a few minutes later, collapsing onto a stool and waving off Mom’s first attempt at feeding her, only accepting when my mother—who always gets her way—plunked a heavy plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of her.

  “No arguing,” she said in her best Lucy Fleming voice. Maybe she should have handled the interrogations. “Eat, miss.”

  Jill dug in, following orders while I ate mine without a word of protest, though I did so fast enough I could be the first to the short wave when I was done. Jill didn’t all that eager to talk to Crew, so I took control and made the call.

  He didn’t speak directly to her, so he was likely still upset with her over her lack of foresight with the whole gun issue. I didn’t ask and he didn’t say, though, his deep voice crackling over the line. I told myself it was the radio itself that lent such depth and gravel to his tone despite knowing he was likely grinding his teeth to nubs over the fact he was on the other side of the river. At this point, though, coming here meant leaving Robert in charge and I knew there was zero way Crew would ever let that happen.

  “So, Eddie’s time in the military was as short as he claimed,” Crew said. “One summer in the reserves as a way to pay for school. Then he washed out.” Good to have that confirmed. “It’s possible but unlikely he would have learned such an advanced technique during his training. It’s more likely special forces than anything. There’s only one guest who has that experience, and he’s retired. Senator Winterton not only has the training but a motive.” So Jill filled him in on the affair? Good to know. “I like him for it, but we need proof. He’s a popular politician and a hero.” Agreed there.

  “What about Dan Robles?” He, like Frieda, was a lifelong hunter. Surely he’d have the skill to break Grayson’s neck?

  “Turns out he has a motive as well,” Crew said. “His father, namely their family company. Grayson Gallinger undermined them to the point they went bankrupt before sweeping up the crumbs and folding it into his own operation.” Definitely motive. And something Dan failed to mention. “His father never did recover from the loss and, from all reports, died broke and bitter about the whole thing.”

  “And Caleb Wells?” Two steady suspects, though were either of them tied to the shooting earlier?

  “Basic training,” Crew said, “a step up from Eddie. Put himself through college in the army.” He paused, the sound of papers rustling in the background. “He quit, though, when his mother got breast cancer, both the military and school. He’s been drifting ever since, working hospitality at a variety of businesses to pay for her treatments.”

  “Father’s out of the picture?” Had to be hard, trying to help his mother and make his own way, poor kid.

  “No record of him,” Crew said. “The mom chose to leave him off the birth certificate, likely to prevent the dad from claiming custody down the road. It’s pretty common.”

  Sad, but true. “Okay, so Adrian and Dan are our best bets?” Though, Eddie seemed to be the only one without an alibi for the shooting. Did that mean it was unconnected? I hated to bring it up to Crew.

  “The only other suspect listed is Ryan Richards.” Crew’s voice cracked, his anger no longer explainable by the crackle of the CB. “Fee, is he…?”

  Oops. “Yeah,” I sighed into the handset.

  “Why didn’t you tell me your ex was there?” Was he upset because Ryan hurt me or because I’d failed to tell him? I glanced at Mom, at Jill. They both seemed intent on ignoring the fact I was having this very personal conversation suddenly. Bless them.

  “There’s nothing you can do about it,” I said. “Is there?”

  His pause was long enough I knew he was either a) teeth grinding again or b) inhaling and exhaling heavily to pull himself together or c) both of the above. When he finally spoke, he sounded calm, to his credit.

  “He’s clean,” Crew said, “at least, when it comes to any kind of military training. I doubt he’s our murderer. Though, how he managed to squirm out of jail time after what he pulled on you I have no idea. Fee.” Crew stopped again, then blurted the rest. “He’s tied to Blackstone. I just thought you should know.”

  Well, that wasn’t shocking. But it did raise certain questions. How long had Blackstone had their fingers in pies in Reading? What was their end goal and who was behind them? So much to figure out, so little time.

  “One more thing.” Crew sounded less than happy again. “It’s going to take a bit longer than we thought to fix the bridge.” Of course it was. Because that was how my life worked, right?

  “How long?” I didn’t groan the question out. Kudos to me.

  “Not sure,” he said, now sounding frustrated himself. “I’ll keep you posted. But the damage is a lot more extensive than they first thought and a second chunk of rubble actually hit the submerged supports. The river is clearer, so we can send boats—”

  “Just get the bridge fixed.” If we let the gathered suspects leave the lodge, there was an excellent chance one or more of them would be boosted with help from Blackstone. I’d seen it happen before, when Philip was liberated by a collection of high priced lawyers and, as far as I know, was never held accountable for the part he played in the Zip It! debacle.

  “Fee, promise me you’ll be more careful.” Okay, here it was finally. The “be a good girl an
d just stay put and don’t jump into trouble” talk we seemed to have every time I found a body. Not that I blamed him for the attempt, because I had a terrible track record. But still. “Don’t put yourself in danger like that. Just stay where you are and let Jill do her job.”

  “Yeah, with the house full of murder suspects,” I countered. I could almost see his jaw jumping.

  His last statement startled me so much I actually caught my breath. “Please, don’t argue with me, don’t be a smart ass and listen for once. Okay? I love you too much to lose you now.”

  Jill was grinning, Mom pointedly looking everywhere but at me while I cleared my throat of the lump in it.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said. “I’m sure Mom and Jill are thrilled to hear you say it, though.” As much as I was, actually.

  He laughed, then, as if only now realizing what he’d just said on an open line.

  “I’m sure they were,” he growled low and deep and delicious. “They’ll just have to get used to it. And so will you, Fleming.”

  No arguments from me.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Jill wasn’t taking any chances this time and I found myself smirking as Ryan glared while she locked his door personally, him trapped inside. Hey, he had an en suite, right? And Mom fed him, so he’d be fine for now. And yes, I did have to be standing behind her, arms crossed and a grin on my face, as she treated him like a naughty toddler who should go stand in a corner for the rest of the day.

  Because. I said so.

  He was the last of the guests to be thus confined, leaving me, Mom, Bill and Jill out and about. Barry begged off, hiding in his room, the whiner. Fine, let him. The sight of him was starting to irritate me anyway, as was his annoying attitude. If he complained one more time about being in the wilderness and not having internet access I was going to do him serious harm. Yes, I was as unhappy as he was about being cut off from the world, but he hadn’t been shot at, had he? And he thought he had things hard because he couldn’t check social media.