“Hanging around old cemeteries. Strikes me as kinda morbid.” Wolf could tell he didn’t expect much of a response as he added, “Don’t leave town, Latimer,” and turned and walked away.
Wolf spoke to a few of the deputies then stopped at the door to Les’ office. The sheriff was on his feet, staring out his window, but sensed or heard Wolf. He turned around.
“I didn’t get much out of that.”
“No,” Wolf agreed.
“But something’s off.”
And Wolf had to agree with that as well. “I’ll take Rita your request this afternoon. I don’t think you’ll get much out of that either.”
“No.” The sheriff looked morose. “I expect not.” He reached for his hat. “Come on. I’ll take you back to your truck.” He looked down. “You and the cat.”
* * *
Without a doubt, something is dodgy and I can’t quite put my paw on it. Something nagged at the back of my mind as I visualized the scene evolving as Raymond Latimer described it. Something I can’t quite grasp as yet. I shall, of course. I must hope it’s in time to help nail the murderer before he can strike again.
Now, it’s decision time again. Do I visit the ex-wife with Wolf or watch Kylah and her clever equine back at the fairgrounds? Choices, choices.
And isn’t it interesting that Wolf checks out the arena before heading to see the sheriff’s sister?
* * *
Kylah felt his gaze on her. She couldn’t have said how she knew it was Wolf as there had been a sprinkling of people throughout the afternoon, climbing up into the bleachers to watch for a few minutes, some hanging around longer, as she put her horses through a series of maneuvers. But she knew, and when she stepped down from the final workout, she glanced around to prove it to herself.
Wolf met her at the roll-up door of the arena. “Things been quiet here this afternoon?”
She smiled. “Haven’t had to dodge a single bullet.” As his eyes darkened, she regretted making the comment. He was still far more disturbed about the incident than she was. She had relegated it to the back of her mind and it had begun to seem more surreal than real to her. “I’m fine.”
“I like what you’re wearing.”
She glanced down. Jeans and long-sleeve tee. Her favorite attire. When she brought her gaze back up to his, one brow lifted, he shrugged.
“The sheriff asked me to run an errand. I thought you might want to ride with me and see a bit of the countryside. It’s a pretty drive.”
She thought of all the reasons she shouldn’t, why it wasn’t a good idea, but when she opened her mouth she said, “That sounds nice. Thank you.”
The wary side of her reminded she’d be in his world no more than another week or two, cautioned that things were moving in a direction they didn’t need to go, said too soon for her, too fast. They’d known each other two days, had dinner together two evenings. To appease that side of her, she waved Jake away, unsaddled the horse, then told Wolf she was ready. Dressed as she was and dusty from riding. But I like what you’re wearing he’d said.
Jake groomed a different horse in the next stall and Kylah stopped to let him know she was leaving.
“She’ll be with me,” Wolf told him and Kylah couldn’t tell if it was meant as a challenge or a reassurance. Judging by the look on Jake’s face, she suspected he was no more certain than she. Either way, it sounded … possessive.
She should say something about it, she thought, but she didn’t want to make more of it than was warranted. Liar, a little voice whispered from deep inside and she knew at least a part of her was ready and wanted to see where this could go. When had she lost her courage? Had it died with Marty? Had she scattered it with his ashes?
They got into the truck, the three of them, and she thought how odd that she’d gotten used to a black cat accompanying their every move, one that didn’t belong to either of them and whose owner seemed to think he was a feline detective capable of solving mysteries and saving lives. Odder still that it felt right to be with Wolf, to be accompanying him on some errand for the sheriff.
Wolf was watching her and she realized she’d fallen into a thoughtful silence. She tugged her seatbelt across. As it clicked into place, he started the truck.
“What’s our mission?”
“To ask the key organizer to abort this event. Or at least delay it.”
Ugh. “We’re going to talk to Dean Edmunds?”
He gave her a wry look and put the truck in drive. “Hardly. Though Grant would like everyone to think that about him.”
“At the meeting earlier, he said he was head of the history department for the college, that the reenactment was under his leadership.”
“Rita chairs the department and Grant implements what she decides regarding the program and this event.”
“Rita?”
“The sheriff’s sister. And my ex-wife.”
“Um …” She stopped, trying to decide how to respond before she said something dumb.
“Don’t overthink it,” Wolf said. “We’ve been divorced longer than we were married.”
“Still.”
He laid his arm across the console and opened his hand. She sat looking at it a moment, then placed her own in it.
“I won’t say you’ll like Rita, but I’m confident you won’t dislike her.”
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response to that so she didn’t try. “Why would the sheriff send you to ask her instead of going himself? Do they not get along?”
“Because he thinks it needs to be said and he knows she’s going to refuse, which will make him mad. He doesn’t want to deal with it.”
“And you do?”
“No, but he was willing to bring me in on this investigation. Communication with Rita is a small price for that. Besides, he gets emotionally invested in their arguments. I don’t.”
She thought about that, about whether he was sending her a different, deeper message. Don’t overthink it, she told herself, mimicking his suggestion.
She made herself relax and found she was enjoying the ride. The hillsides unfolded with the varying colors of spring. Wildflowers dotted the slopes in places. In others, the carpet of brown winter leaves remained. The sun was a larger than life orb of deep orange as it sank close to the horizon. Once or twice, she glanced back at Trouble who snoozed in the back seat. That seemed to be his usual response to a drive of any length.
Wolf’s ex-wife lived far enough from town that the older homes in the quaint neighborhood were not right on top of one another. Kylah judged there to be several acres of well-maintained trees sprinkled across the manicured grass of her lawn. Wolf pulled into the drive and parked behind a low-slung sports car.
When he looked across at her, she lifted a brow. “And you’re sure this was a good idea?”
“Seeing Rita is never a good idea, trust me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Having me tag along,” she said, although she was confident that he knew what she meant without the clarification.
“Trust me.”
Biting back a smart-ass retort, she unbuckled her seatbelt then waited again for him to walk around and open her door. Though it wasn’t what she was used to, a tiny part of her admitted it was nice. Just a tiny part, she told herself.
As she stepped down, Wolf glanced into the back seat. “Sorry, Trouble. Rita’s not a cat person.” Kylah was confident she wasn’t imagining the look of affront in that green gaze. It surprised her to realize the level of her own curiosity, how interested she was to know what kind of person the woman Wolf had married and then divorced would prove to be.
From the affluent look of the house and neighborhood, it wouldn’t have surprised her to see a servant open the front door but that was not the case. The very pretty redhead welcomed them with a pleasant tone. Her smile was faint, almost non-existent, but neither did she look displeased at their appearance.
“You’re lucky to find me home. I had a late meeting at the college but I
decided to cancel at the last minute.”
Wolf introduced Kylah.
“I’m happy to meet you,” Rita said. “Please do come in.” She led them into a cozy sitting room opposite what appeared to be her office. Both rooms had wide doorways and at least one wall that was all windows.
Rita dispensed with pleasantries in short order, offering them tea, adding, “Or perhaps you’d rather a glass of wine?” which they declined. She gave Wolf a look that was direct and intelligent and, to Kylah’s mind, amused. “I’m sure you’re here to tell me about the latest incident because my brother declines to grow a pair and face me himself.”
Rather than acerbic, her tone was droll and her hazel eyes were filled with wicked humor. Kylah liked her.
“I gather the grapevine is in excellent working order,” Wolf commented.
Kylah noticed he was careful not to respond to the insult to her brother. She wondered if that was because he agreed with it.
The gleam of wit faded from Rita’s eyes. “In fairness, the conversation that was brought to me had less to do with the incident than about the scene Grant caused soon after.”
Wolf’s face reflected Kylah’s own surprise. She couldn’t imagine Grant making a scene, at least not one that would reach the ear of people who counted. And clearly Rita counted. Annoying someone else to that point, yes, displaying that behavior himself, not so much. A solid half-dozen questions came to Kylah’s mind while Wolf waited for Rita to continue.
“It would seem the shooting, which may well have been random and accidental, rattled Grant so much that he demanded Audra,” she glanced at Kylah, “his wife, not participate in the reenactment.”
“And she refused,” Wolf guessed.
“So, I gather. As vehemently as he insisted. Unfortunately, they were in a public setting.”
“Has Grant, or anyone, suggested you cancel the event since we now have a murder followed by a second shooting?”
“Grant made some noises about it, but that hardly seems warranted. I’m sure Les will capture the person who killed that poor woman. I think the members of the historical society have the same confidence in our law enforcement that I do.”
“Les is concerned despite your confidence in him. And so am I.” He paused before asking, “Why do you think the shots fired this morning might be random? Or accidental?”
Kylah found that odd as well, in light of the all too recent murder.
Rita crossed her legs and leaned back in the oversized chair she’d selected.
“Well, think about it. The murder appears to have been a very skilled shot to the heart. This morning’s shots were off target.”
“Not so far off.” Kylah spoke for the first time. “The first went through the knapsack on my back.”
Rita’s eyes widened. “I’m so very sorry. I didn’t realize you were there, that the shots came close to you. How frightening that must have been.”
Her words made Kylah pause. The whole thing had happened with such speed. She’d been startled, reacting on instinct when she dropped to the ground in self-preservation. And her knees had been shaky afterward. But more than fear, she’d felt a flash of anger. Felt it still.
“It wasn’t fun.”
Turning her attention back to Wolf, Rita said, “As much as I love company, I do feel bad that Les sent you out here to tell me something I already knew. He forgets how fast bad news travels in academia.”
Wolf cleared his throat. “That wasn’t his primary reason for asking me to talk with you. With one murder and another attempt, which neither he nor I think was random, Les is concerned about being able to provide enough manpower to cover this event.”
“You think Ms. West was a failed murder target?” Rita didn’t wait for his answer but shifted her gaze to Kylah. “Do you think that?”
“Please, call me Kylah. And I don’t know what to think. I’m not from around here. I’ve never been in a reenactment and I don’t know any of the people who are. I never met Maisy McGuire.” She shrugged. “None of this makes sense.”
She could feel Wolf’s gaze on her face before he shifted his attention back to his ex-wife. “Les wants you to shut down the event,” Wolf told her bluntly. “And that’s my advice as well. Before someone else dies.”
Rita studied his expression a moment as if she found it unexpectedly intriguing then looked back at Kylah. “Will you pull out, go home, if I move forward?”
Kylah hadn’t thought about that but it didn’t take her long. “No. I won’t do that.”
“What about others? What do you think they’ll do?”
“I can’t say. I have a contract and won’t walk away from it. The reenactors have their enthusiasm for the event. It may well depend on whether they think the event itself triggered what has happened and will escalate from here. Or if the event is a good cover for a different plan.”
She watched as Rita tapped her finger against her forehead as if the motion would help her think.
“Wolf, if we shut the event down, Les may never find the murderer. He may fade away to surface at another reenactment and kill again.”
Kylah could tell by Wolf’s expression he’d already thought of that.
He admitted as much adding, “It’s a concern, sure, but I have to think about this community first. I agree with Les. For once. There’s no way even our combined teams can provide security across several hundred acres and thousands of participants and spectators.”
Rita took a deep breath. “I’ll consider the request but we’re just days away from the first scenario. Dozens upon dozens of participants have spent God knows how much money getting here, on hotels, restaurants. All significant boosts to the local and state economy and the prestige of our campus. Some of the audience have even made a week-long vacation before this first weekend. To turn them all away with no more than an apology and an expectation – or even a hope – they’ll trust us when we advertise again next year, hoping they’ll forgive and return? I don’t know. I have to think this through.”
Kylah sensed none of this was supposition for Rita. She was a woman who had done her homework and knew her facts, knew the impact to local businesses and what cancellation could mean for future plans for the event.
“How about an apology coupled with ‘we don’t want you to be a murder victim’?” Wolf suggested.
“Truly, I’ll think about it,” Rita said again. “And I’ll talk with the other organizers, including the historical society members. That’s the best I can tell you.” There was a finality to her voice as she turned her attention from Wolf to Kylah. “You’re going back to the fairgrounds? For the barbeque and dance this evening? The group we’re bringing in is local but did have a country hit on the charts last year.”
Kylah had forgotten the organizers within the college and historical society had planned a festive evening for the reenactors who cared to attend. She’d hoped to slip away before it got started but it might be an opportunity to take a hard look at the people around her. Not everyone would be there but would the guilty party be able to resist the urge to mingle and hear what was being said about him? And, after the scare she had this afternoon, she’d be damned if she’d give any appearance of hiding.
Chapter Twelve
Trouble greeted their return to the truck with a grumble, not quite a growl but definitely not a purr. Clearly, he thought they’d been with Rita longer than necessary.
“I’d hoped to have another evening alone with you,” Wolf said as he pulled out of Rita’s drive, “but I hear Rita’s team went all out for this evening’s entertainment.”
When she didn’t answer, he glanced her way.
She smiled at his expression. “Are you going to tell me not to overthink again?”
“Do I need to?” He sounded more curious than concerned.
She flashed him a quick, rueful smile. “No. Already working on that.” And she was but it didn’t come easy although she could remember a time that it had. Before Marty had ended his life and rip
ped hers apart.
“At least you can promise to dance with me. The band is as good as Rita said.”
“I’ll dance with you.” She glanced down at her pants still dusty from the arena though she’d done her best to brush them off earlier. “After I shower and change.”
“How about I drop you off at the hotel and pick you up when you’re ready?”
There were a dozen reasons why that was not the best idea, why she should get her truck from the fairgrounds and be her own transportation, but all she said was, “Okay.”
* * *
Well, this is interesting to say the least. We have a woman murdered and another who dodged – literally dodged – a bullet and the masses party on. The entire affair seems a trifle incongruous in light of recent events. I won’t use the word inappropriate but that would be close.
From my perch at the top of the stadium seating, I watch as the band plays and couples dance. I’m astounded at the speed with which a temporary flooring and platform for the band was set up in the center of the arena but it serves its purpose well. The performers are versatile, offering an eclectic mix, everything from big band to pop rock to country. I don’t prefer country but find myself amazed at the skill of those able to dance to those tunes.
The crowd is equally varied. I note diamonds and rhinestones, denim with cowboy hats, pressed khaki and polos, a sprinkle of flirty dresses, and what I’m finding to be the inevitable Confederate gray and Union blue of authentic garb.
Even Wolf and Kylah have stayed more on than off the dance floor. Wolf’s attention seems divided, half focused on the woman he swirls around in time to the music, half wary and watchful on the crowd around them.
My own scan of our surroundings is continual. Although I’ve seen nothing untoward, I can’t help prickles of concern. My training won’t ignore how easy it would be for a marksman hidden above to pick off someone on that dance floor then slip through one of several exits that lead to the fairground proper. With the scattering of barns and outbuildings, there are far too many places to hide beyond those doors.
The Trouble with Horses Page 52