Trouble in Action

by Susan Y. Tanner

  “Maisy McGuire’s death doesn’t fit in with the rest of this.” Wolf had grasped quickly enough that the attempts on Kylah had been a decoy in Grant’s plan to kill his wife. The fact that Kylah could easily have been hurt or even killed had apparently been of little consequence to the man.

  The sheriff looked dubious. “I think Grant has proven himself cold-blooded enough to put a bullet through an innocent woman’s heart to divert suspicion from himself.”

  “No doubt of that but I have a hard time believing he came up with something that complicated.” But he could be selling the man short. Again.

  “I’m not ruling out Grant, not yet, but I may have to take another look at Ella Necaise,” Les agreed reluctantly. “The security camera at the rest stop cleared her of actually pulling the trigger but there may be something I’ve missed. Some motive.”

  “You’re talking murder for hire?” Jemson looked interested at the notion.

  “Or even another three-ring circus like this one.”

  “Well, I do think we can rule out a serial killer.”

  Wolf thought the agent’s tone held a touch of disappointment. “Even though all of the weapons used were Civil War relics?” He agreed with Jemson, but that was another aspect that nagged at him. Another aspect that didn’t fit.

  Les looked thoughtful. “Grant might have been using artifacts as a statement of some sort.”

  “He might,” Jemson conceded. “Then again, this wouldn’t be the first instance of a copy-cat killer latching onto something for convenience.”

  “Convenience? Like just happen to be lying around?”

  “No, more of a useful camouflage which would suit Mr. Edmunds’ purposes. I suggest the first thing you do is determine if he has an alibi for the morning Ms. McGuire was murdered.”

  Kylah, who’d been silent through their discussion to that point, said, “I think you’ll find he does.” They all turned to look at her. “He admitted to murdering his wife and her unborn child with her. All but admitted he intended to kill me. I didn’t plan to make it easy for him but that was his intent. But he denied killing Maisy. Said her death was convenient.”

  “Which falls in with Jemson’s thoughts,” Wolf said. “But Ella Necaise doesn’t push that button for me.”

  * * *

  As these humans ponder the same ground over and over in their conversation, I do the same with the mental images stored from the first murder scene. The rifle placed upon the crudely constructed table. Footprints that simply turn away and disappear into the tree line. Something about these pieces still do not add up for me.

  I must convince Wolf to let me study those photos he took. Oh, for a human with a cat’s understanding. Yet, I do what I must.

  First, the cell phone. He placed it on the table after calling his immediate superior once the not-so-good dean was carted away. Such a nice phrase, carted. Brings to mind gaolers of old transporting prisoners in open-sided carts along cobbled roads as decent citizens flung animal droppings and rotted vegetables. Satisfying image. But, back to the phone and photographs.

  I bat the device to Wolf and he glances at me quizzingly. When he does not take phone in hand, I nudge it a bit closer, but carefully as I don’t want it to slide off the edge and hit the floor.

  Good man! I give an appreciative rumble deep in my throat as he picks it up.

  “He wants you to call someone?” Kylah asks.

  Oh, no, no, no. Surely, now that the conversation has turned to the unsolved murder of Maisy McGuire, Wolf must be thinking along the same lines as I. The scene. The investigators report. His photographs. We’ve missed something and he knows it as well as I.

  Ah, yes, after another moment of thought, he has tapped an app image and photos light his screen. It appears the last he took are of the murder scene. How fortunate he’s not one of those people who take idle photos of every tree and sunset that catches the eye.

  Wolf scrolls through each slowly, allowing me to take my time studying them. The series ends with the panoramic scan of footprints and there it is, the damning evidence I failed to identify earlier. I can only hope Wolf’s quick mind captures it as well.

  “Les.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think we need to talk with Mr. Latimer again.”

  Ah, yes, my good man. You are a smart human indeed.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next morning, Wolf headed into the woods with a pair of binoculars slung around his neck and a thermos filled with coffee in his backpack. He had some thinking to do. He’d never considered leaving these hills, never wanted to, but he was considering it now. And that startled him as much as his feelings for Kylah, which were too strong, too soon but more real than anything he’d felt in his life.

  He knew he was going to ask her to stay, to see where they could take this thing they’d started. What he didn’t know was what he’d say if she countered by asking him to go with her. He’d never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. He knew every inch of the Qualla Boundary and the land around it.

  He hiked to Albrecht Creek and gazed at the slopes around him. Other than trampled grass, there was little remnant of the interrupted reenactment. This part of his home stomping grounds wasn’t the prettiest, but he’d spent hours here as a boy. He and Logan.

  He couldn’t think of the boys they’d been without thinking of the men they’d become. Looking back, he could see that Logan had never given himself a chance with any woman after Audra. He’d dated here and there and some had been lengthy relationships, but Wolf couldn’t ever recall Logan looking at one of them with the longing and heat his gaze had always held for Audra.

  And, that, Wolf realized, was where he was with Kylah. These hills, Logan’s home, his friends had never healed Logan’s heartbreak over losing the one woman he could love. Wolf knew they’d never be enough to heal his heart if he let Kylah walk away without him.

  Taking a deep breath, he let his gaze trace the rolling terrain in front of him with slow appreciation, then he turned around and headed for home and the questioning Les had set up with Raymond Latimer.

  * * *

  When Latimer walked into the sheriff’s office, he didn’t seem nearly as nervous this time as last. Nor was he dressed in Civil War clothing. Instead he wore khakis that appeared clean but could have used ironing and a plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow.

  “We appreciate you coming back to talk with us,” Wolf said. He waved him toward a chair on the opposite side of the desk. Les sat in a chair and rocked it back against the wall.

  “I don’t mind if it will help wrap things up. Most of us need to get back to our homes.”

  “It’s a shame that won’t happen for Maisy McGuire.”

  “Heard y’all caught the killer.”

  “News travels as fast here as anywhere,” Les nodded. “And about as accurate.”

  Latimer looked uncertain, as if he suspected a hidden meaning. The man wasn’t stupid. He might or might not be guilty, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “We do have someone in custody for Audra Edmunds’ murder,” Les allowed.

  Latimer stayed quiet but Wolf noted a slight frown creased his forehead.

  “You said Maisy McGuire was stirring something in a pot when you reached her camp,” Wolf reminded him. “Are you sure she wasn’t already seated? Already eating?”

  He could feel Latimer’s mind racing, trying to decide what answer to give. And why he’d been asked. Wolf didn’t let him stew over it for long.

  “You see, Raymond, Ms. McGuire had already started eating when she was shot through the heart. The autopsy gave us that. Whoever murdered her carried the rifle when they walked out of the woods. They stopped in front of her table and shot her. Then they walked up, laid the rifle on the table and walked at an angle back the way they’d come. Your footprints gave us that.” Trouble had given him that.

  The lawmen watched as Raymond Latimer absorbed the words, as his face crumpled. “It wasn’t murde
r, I swear to God, I never meant her harm. I loaded that rifle with blanks. Loaded it myself. Shouldn’t have been no bullet in it. Only wanted to scare her. She was such a bitch about the rifle, couldn’t I see she was infantry and didn’t I know Burnsides were issued to cavalry only. Made me out to be stupid.” He stopped then said again, “I wanted to scare her. Take that smug look off her face.”

  “I guess you accomplished what you wanted then,” Les said flatly. “The look on her face as she lay soaked in her own blood wasn’t smug at all.”

  * * *

  Les had only a few more points to clear up after that. Latimer answered without hesitation, never calling for an attorney although Les reminded him more than once of his rights. As he was led from the room, Wolf looked at Les and sighed. “So, Fagan sent the wrong rifle with Latimer and a woman dies.”

  “That was mistake one,” Les agreed. “Mistake two was Latimer not knowing what was in that carbine.”

  “Said he loaded blanks,” Wolf reminded.

  “He may have. I did a little reading on that particular rifle once forensics confirmed it as the murder weapon. It has a documented flaw as far back as the war. An odd-shaped cartridge that occasionally got stuck in the breech after firing. Latimer may well have loaded a blank – behind a live cartridge he didn’t know was there.”

  “So, he may not be charged with murder.”

  Les nodded, looking grim. “I’m glad the rest of this is on the DA to sort through but I’ll tell you it would’ve been better if Latimer had called for help. If he hadn’t given that cash to Fagan, pretending it came from Maisy.”

  There was that, Wolf thought. He picked up his hat to go. “I suppose we could toss in a couple more mistakes. Maisy McGuire had a choice in how she reacted to Latimer bringing the Burnside rather than the gun she was expecting. And Latimer had a choice in how he reacted to her harping.”

  Les nodded. “They both chose wrong.”

  * * *

  There was one last conversation Wolf needed to have about the particulars of the morning Maisy McGuire was murdered. He found Case dribbling the basketball on the sidewalk outside of the gym where he waited for Wolf and the others who habitually played after school.

  The boy looked up with a quick smile, a lock of too-long hair falling across his forehead. He brushed it aside with quick movement. “What’s up, Wolf?”

  Wolf returned the smile. He liked this kid, liked that he didn’t quit, liked that he looked after his siblings. “We solved a murder today.”

  “That’s cool, then.” Something in Wolf’s expression must have caught Case’s attention. He gave the ball one last bounce then secured it under his arm and added, “Right?”

  “That’s cool,” Wolf assured, “but I’m left with a question.”

  Case didn’t tense but he did look suddenly cautious. “Sir?”

  “The morning you found Maisy McGuire in the woods, you were hiding something or flat out lying to Sheriff Mitchell. Which was it and why?” He used his no-nonsense voice but there was no harshness in it.

  Wolf watched as Case fought the look of belligerence that had once been his go to with every adult. But not with Wolf, not anymore. Case won and the look faded but his shoulders dropped. “I told the sheriff I was alone when I found her. I wasn’t. Cash was with me.”

  Wolf took a deep breath. Case’s kid brother. What the hell …

  “We were hungry. Daddy said he didn’t have money for food so we took his rifle and went squirrel hunting. Cash is a better shot than me. He got a couple squirrels and missed a couple. I was afraid one of those missed shots hit that woman. I sent Cash home with the squirrels and the gun. I wasn’t going to let him get caught up in the system.” Every single one of the kids Wolf worked with knew what that meant.

  “I’d never let that happen, Case.” But Wolf couldn’t blame the kid. Case had come a long way in the trust department, further even than some of the others, but the man fate had decreed he call a father kept sending Case back a step. Wolf hated knowing that. “You’ve been worrying ever since, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You don’t have to worry anymore. It’s over, Case. No one’s going to be looking at you or Cash for anything to do with her death. I promise.”

  Case slowly nodded. “Okay.”

  “Now, how about we get a little practice time in before the others show up. And, don’t be bouncing that ball on the sidewalk. It’s not good for it.”

  Case grinned. “Yes, sir.” This time he spoke the two words in a very different tone.

  * * *

  Wolf didn’t reach the fairgrounds until nearly dusk. Jake stood in his usual spot at the side entrance of the arena, watching as Kylah put one of the horses through his paces. Although the event wouldn’t take place, Wolf had learned enough to know how important it was to hold to their exercise hours and that just riding circles around the arena was boring for them. Light maneuvers both entertained and kept them sharp.

  Wolf leaned against a post on the opposite side of the opening and studied Jake across the short distance that separated them. “You saved her life.”

  “We all did,” Jake said.

  “If you hadn’t been smart enough to position yourself where you did, if you hadn’t reacted as you did, slamming the door in Grant’s face and separating her from the gun aimed at her back …” Wolf’s words faded as a chill traced down his spine.

  “That might be so, but it put you in greater danger.”

  “Not something I care about.” Wolf hesitated not knowing how to go about what he wanted to say. And ask. “You’ve been with her a long time.”

  “A while.” Jake was looking at him more closely now. Wolf sensed the shift in intensity in Jake’s scrutiny.

  “I’m going to ask her to stay. I honestly have no idea what she’ll say. But I do know how much she depends on you. How much you mean to her. I don’t think she’d want to be here without you.”

  At his words, Jake turned his gaze back to Kylah and her horse. For a moment, Wolf thought he wasn’t going to get a response. And he’d be left wondering.

  “Rodeo taught me that life is a bitch. You’re ridin’ high and a fall brings you to rock bottom. Rodeo also taught me that home is where you make it. I make mine wherever K.T. goes.”

  The silence after that was lengthy, then Jake spoke again. “That boy – Case – seems to me he’d be a good hand with a horse. Asked if I thought he could learn to ride. I expect I could help with that.”

  Wolf nodded and his heart eased. “I expect you could.” If Kylah agreed to stay.

  * * *

  Kylah was content. Jake had brought out the propane heater and served hamburgers complete with buns, lettuce, tomatoes, and anything else they could think to put on them. Spring had turned indecisive and the air held a winter chill, but the night was pretty and clear.

  She and Wolf sat close but not touching. Their canvas folding chairs, with Jake’s, were arranged in a semi-circle, the better to hear Wolf’s depiction of the meeting with Raymond Latimer and how Trouble had led him there. The fourth chair stayed empty as Trouble had chosen her lap over the canvas bottom, she suspected in response to the unexpected cold.

  “So, Trouble turned the tide, again,” Kylah murmured and the cat rumbled a purr against her ribs.

  “I like to think I would eventually have figured it out.” Wolf chuckled as the cat’s gaze swung his way, “But I suspect Trouble knows better.”

  “I guess he’ll be leaving us now that the murders are solved.” Kylah felt more than a little sad at the thought. She’d grown fond of his sassy self. She’d never considered owning a cat before – or allowing one to own her – with her nomadic lifestyle, yet she was giving it some real thought now. Trouble seemed to adapt to his surroundings without difficulty. So, maybe.

  “What do you think, Trouble?” Wolf asked. “Are you ready to strike out on your own? Shall I call your Tammy Lynn to come get you? Or would you rather hang with us for a wh
ile longer?”

  Jake got to his feet. “Y’all carry on with that conversation. I’m going to feed.”

  Kylah smiled as he walked away. “He’s as much in awe of Trouble as we are. Not that he’s going to admit to it.” But even she was impressed when Trouble stepped nimbly from her lap to Wolf’s and patted the pocket of his jeans where he typically carried his phone.

  Wolf pulled it free and rubbed Trouble’s neck. “So, it’s call Tammy Lynn, is it?”

  Trouble touched the phone lightly and accompanied it with a solid meow.

  Kylah only half listened as Wolf made the call. Trouble would be leaving soon and so would she. She’d already begun to accept that saying good-bye to Wolf wouldn’t be easy but the wrench she felt as that moment drew closer was so much more than not easy. Apparently, she wasn’t a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of gal, she thought with a forced flippancy that soon faded. The truth was, she’d never expected to feel this way. Not again.

  Wolf stood up as he ended the connection with Tammy Lynn and looked at Kylah. “Take a walk?”

  “Sure.” She stood and took the hand he held out to her.

  Trouble declined to follow, settling into the warmth of the chair Wolf had vacated.

  They walked slowly, ambled really, hand in hand with no particular destination.

  Neither spoke for several minutes, but Kylah wasn’t one to wait for the inevitable. She’d always found it better to meet facts head on. “I guess the sheriff is going to let us all disband now.”

  “Pretty much. He’ll want contact information to be able to reach out to key witnesses, of course.”

  “Of course,” she murmured.

  The silence between them was so complete she could hear the crunch of gravel beneath their feet louder than the beat of her own heart.

  “I’m hoping he won’t have to worry about that where you’re concerned.”