by Kieran York
“Tell me what?” Royce stood, trying to decipher what was bothering Carrie.
“I thought someone would have mentioned it. If not Gwen and Nadine, surely your mother. And certainly Hertha.”
“Mentioned what?”
“Hertha’s going to be moving back here. Back to Timber City.”
Royce closed her eyes a moment. Her face was red with anger. “No. No one told me.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned it. The situation, both hers and mine, have changed. I’m getting married in a couple weeks. Don and I bought a little place between here and Crystal. On the outskirts of Timber City. I’ll only be working a couple days a week here because I’m helping Don with his construction business in Crystal. I couldn’t take over here, and Hertha had already decided to move back. It is her business.”
“But what about her lover, the professor?”
“I guess the kids didn’t get along with the professor. Ingrid is her name. I guess Hertha didn’t get along with Ingrid either.” Carrie’s eyes glimmered with the glee of reporting the news. “I didn’t get the entire story. Only that she wasn’t happy there, and the kids weren’t happy there. The kids hated Ingrid. Hertha only moved there for the kid’s happiness.”
With a quiet, pensive shake of her head, Royce went to the door. “I had no idea. Thanks for taking care of Chance for me.”
Royce and Chance crossed the street, with nearly synchronized steps. Royce’s thoughts were racing. It had been a stressful day of danger. Now, she was even more upset. Her best friends didn’t tell her. Her own mother didn’t tell her about Hertha’s impending return.
Royce mumbled down to Chance. “You’re the only one in this universe I can trust.”
***
With a sense of betrayal, Royce entered Molly’s Pantry. Her mother, Molly Madison, was back in the kitchen of her small bakery. Royce nodded to Pearl, Molly’s youthful assistant and trainee baker, as she continued walking through the bakery. When she saw Molly kneading bread, Royce closed her eyes a moment. Short and stocky, with beige-gray streaked hair, and blue eyes, Molly was jovial. Her face was round, rosy, and beginning to wrinkle. Like her daughter, her expression was dimpled when the woman smiled.
“Royce, I’ve been worried about you all day long. Up there in that fire,” Molly said with concern. “Well, I was glad that Gwen called. She told me Hertha had given her a report. You know, for the paper. Anyway, I was happy. And you and Hertha saved those horses.”
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me Hertha was planning to return?”
“Gwen said until it was certain we shouldn’t concern you.” Molly’s face expressed contrition. “I know I should have mentioned it.”
“Danged straight you should have. It shouldn’t have been kept from me. I have no intentions of Hertha ever being a part of my life again. None.”
“Well, I know that you wouldn’t be interested since she’s got the children. No one said anything because Gwen thought maybe since it was up in the air, it was best not to say. Well, maybe Hertha didn’t want anyone knowing.”
“I’m not interested in anything to do with Hertha because she walked out on me for another woman. She left the relationship I’d treasured. She didn’t give me a chance to get to know the children. Maybe I would have gotten used to them.”
“Children are not to be gotten used to, Royce. Hertha stayed in the children’s lives so that they wouldn’t be disrupted. Guess that didn’t turn out so great. But you’ve never wanted children, and she knew that. She also knew her responsibility was to care for her dead brother’s kids. No one else was there after Hertha’s mother died.”
“So it was my fault,” Royce huffed. “I could have been a parent, if I would have had time to change.”
“She loved you too much to want you changed.”
Tears formed in Royce’s eyes. “So she went back to her professor ex. They could play happy family. I couldn’t have been there for her. And that broke my heart. That changed me, Mom.”
Royce stormed out of the bakery, with more confusion and contempt than when she’d entered. Chance was sprawled on the sidewalk. She wasn’t allowed in the bakery. She stood when she saw the sheriff. Together they walked to the Timber County Courthouse. Royce was glad that most of the court employees had gone home for the evening. She could catch up on reports without interruptions.
Inside, Royce made her way to the Sheriff’s Department that was housed in the courthouse. Her desk was a mound of reports, notes, and a package from her recent ex, Lyn. Every month since she met Lyn Evans, she had received a box of chocolates with her favorite butterscotch flavored truffles.
When she picked up the package, she saw a note under it. Undersheriff Nick Hogan had hastily written the afternoon news. Royce groaned. Even butterscotch chocolates wouldn’t make up for the day. Nearly burning to death, or succumbing to smoke inhalation. Horseback riding through a dense forest. Finding out she’d been betrayed by family and friends. And now this.
She slapped the desktop.
Dispatcher Wanda Thurlow entered Royce’s office. Tall and commanding, the woman put her hands on her hips. “Glad you’re back, Sheriff. I heard you got into the thick of the fire.”
“It was a little dicey,” Royce admitted. She picked up Nick’s note. “And I get back to this news. Luther Sumner is still in town.”
“Yes. He came around to check in. Nick said he was sure Luther would return for Yancy’s funeral last week. Nick told Luther to behave. Luther being a felon, Nick tells him enforcers are going to be watching him.”
“And we shall,” Royce grimaced. “Luther and his brother Yancy were bad actors.”
“Yancy killed your father, and Luther helped?”
“Right. Yancy was in prison for life. Luther was charged as an accomplice because he provided an alibi, and a few other things. I haven’t seen Luther for over fifteen years. After his release a few years back, he moved to Dallas,”
Wanda turned to leave. Then she stopped, looking back over her shoulder. “You okay, Sheriff?”
“Fine,” Royce lied. Royce hated both of the Sumner brothers. Even when Royce heard her father’s killer had died in prison, she felt anger at the perpetrator. Sheriff Grady Madison was a legend in the area, and he had been gunned down right after Royce entered college. Her dad was her legend.
Returning to the desk, Wanda questioned, “Are you sure?”
Royce ripped opened the shipping package, pulled out the box of candy, and then carefully took the top off. Extending the fragrant candies, she asked. “How about a little sampling of Evans Candy?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Sheriff.” She plucked out a chocolate. “I love these. You’ve got me hooked on butterscotch. I don’t much care for the little hard disks of butterscotch you carry around, but this chocolate is great.”
That triggered an additional detriment about the day. She had run out of the butterscotch disks of hard candy earlier.
“Wanda, take a handful so you can brighten your family’s evening.”
After Wanda had gathered several chocolate pieces onto a paper plate, she said her good evenings and left.
Looking back into the box of chocolates, Royce mumbled, “After finishing an entire evening of reports, and indulging in a couple of chocolates from my favorite chocolatier, I might love humanity once again.”
She pulled out a sack of Chance’s dog treats. Chance watched every move as soon as she saw the desk drawer open. She sat at attention. Royce gave her a couple of cookies. Chance was eating them pensively. Even her dog knew of her sadness. Or maybe Chance missed her as much as she’d missed the German shepherd.
Two people she hadn’t wanted to return to Timber County were doing just that. Luther Sumner – the man she had despised for his part in the murder of her father. And perhaps even more difficult for Royce’s emotions to navigate – the return of Dr. Hertha White, DVM – the woman she had loved. If she were honest, perhaps she still did. Hertha would be back in Timb
er to manage her veterinary practice, High Country Animal Hospital. She would be moving back into the cottage with her two newly acquired children.
They would be moving into the home that she and Royce had shared for a decade and a half. It was where Royce left behind a portion of her heart. The sheriff stuffed another butterscotch chocolate nougat between her lips.
Chance’s whine was a plea not to be forgotten. Royce tossed a dog treat into the air. “Good dog!” she praised when Chance caught it midair.
Chapter 3
Gran’s cabin had become Royce’s home. She’d stayed there when she’d first become a Timber County sheriff’s deputy years ago. From there she’d moved to the vet’s cottage. Then again after Hertha moved away, leaving the relationship, Royce returned to stay with her grandmother.
The cabin had always been a cozy retreat for Royce. The remote acreage, with a rustic and tranquil cabin in the center of a clearing, was surrounded by immense mountain beauty. A stack of split wood rested against one outer wall. Behind the cabin was a porch that had been built by Royce several years ago. It was screened in, and was Gran’s favorite summer place to relax.
Gran, Dora Madison, was in her early eighties, and was blessed with a spry energetic fortitude, and plenty of spunk. Her spindly, slight frame had slowed somewhat over the years. Her mind was blessed with intellect, and her wit was constant. Gray hair surrounded her time-touched face of smile wrinkles. Intense blue eyes snapped to display her pleasure or displeasure. Her mouth was usually set into a smile.
The morning started the same as most mornings that summer. It was with one of Gran’s delicious breakfasts. Gran had warmed a breakfast that she’d prepared last evening, and baked when she woke. She called it her Overnight Egg Casserole.
After Royce had showered and dressed, she fed Chance. Then she sat at the kitchen’s round oak table. “Gran, breakfast smells great.” She took a sip of coffee.
“Fixed it last night so that we could yak about what was going on with that danged fire. Molly said you and Hertha saved some horses.”
“Yes.” Her jaw clamped tightly for a moment. “Mom failed to mention to me that Hertha was planning on returning to Timber.”
“She said something about Hertha returning, but it was up in the air.” Gran scooped a helping of the casserole onto Royce’s plate. “Is it for sure?”
“Yes. I felt like an outsider because I was the last to know.” Her speech was stilted. Tension covered her face. “I felt betrayed that it was hidden.”
“Your mother mentioned that you were none too happy about that.” A moment fled. “Nobody wants to see you hurt. Get your hopes up, and then if Hertha wouldn’t have decided to return, you might be blue.”
“I don’t care what Hertha does.” Royce wanted to change the subject. “Looks like Tanner will be leaving the force. He’s always been interested in being part of the fire department. They were impressed. So I think we’ll lose him to Elk Ridge.”
“How you feeling about that?”
“Gran, it’s a good thing. Naturally, we’ll miss him. He’s a terrific deputy.” Royce looked away. She knew the real reason. It was because he wasn’t handling gunfire without flinching. He was still thinking of his deployments overseas. The fire department would have danger, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult for the young man. “I just want him happy. He was a brave soldier.”
“Now tell me about escaping the fire with Hertha.” Gran insisted on firsthand reports from Royce.
As Royce began the sentence, her phone rang. She listened intently for a moment, then replied, “I’ll be there in five minutes. Set up a parameter with tape. Get ahold of the coroner’s office. And don’t allow anyone near the scene.” Standing, the sheriff said, “Got to go, Gran.”
“What’s got you in such a hurry?”
“Someone shot Calvin Wagner.”
“Calvin! Wagner Gun Shop?”
“Yes.”
“An accident?”
“No it wasn’t an accident. I’ll call you later, Gran. Stay in and don’t answer the door. We’ve got a killer loose.” Royce commanded, “Come on, Chance. We’ve got work to do.”
***
Royce ducked under the police tape that was strung across the storefront. Located on Main Street, Wagner Gun Shop was decorated with a knotty pine wooden exterior to replicate the old west. It even had a horse-tying post in front.
She walked past the deputy guarding the entry. The store was empty but she heard the muffled sounds of voices from the back office of the Wagner Gun Shop. The back area was divided with an office housing desks and files in one part. The adjoining room was the gunsmith repair and maintenance area. On the counters were several guns. Walls, with hooks, housed a small artillery of firearms that either hadn’t been picked up, or perhaps hadn’t been repaired. Nearly everyone in the county used Calvin Wagner’s gun expertise. The Sheriff’s Department had depended on Calvin to make certain their weaponry was in perfect working order.
A night shift deputy stood guard over the slumped body of Calvin Wagner. The victim had been seated, and his head, shoulders and upper torso rested on the desk’s top. To the side, leaning against the wall was Calvin’s daughter, Emma. Emma Wagner Dixon had moved back to Timber City several months ago after the split up of her marriage. The deputy quickly explained to Royce that Emma had found the body less than half an hour ago.
Royce approached her. “Emma, could you wait outside. There is a squad car back in the alley. We need to keep the area as uncontaminated as possible.” Royce escorted the shocked woman through the backdoor to the car.
“I understand,” Emma murmured. As she sat in the backseat, she moaned. “I can’t believe this. I’m usually first to arrive in the morning. I didn’t touch anything,” she mumbled. Her face was angrier than usual. Her frown was deeper. Eyes so dark that they looked black with anger, were tearless. She suddenly stood on the ground. Her stocky build, and her large bones made her appear confrontational when she leaned toward Royce. With obvious restraint, she questioned, “What’s going on in there?”
“We’ve dispatched the coroner and his team. I’ll look around. First,” Royce carefully asked, “what about enemies? Did anyone dislike your father enough to kill him?”
“My good-for-nothing, lazy brother, Tony, was always after Dad for money.” Her words unbuckled. Her eyes squinted. Her tone was sharp with resentment and anger. “He’s staying out there on the ranch. He has a motive. So does our stepmother. Father’s second wife, Nita. She has a huge motive for killing him. My dad’s prenuptial states that if she stayed with him three years, she’d get the ranch, and some money. It’s just over the three years. They had an anniversary party recently.” Emma’s heavy eyebrows suspiciously lifted.
Royce recalled reading about Calvin and Nita Wagner’s wedding three years ago. Nita was a snow bunny enjoying the ski resort, Crystal Village. Twenty-five years younger than the mid-sixties Calvin, she was an attractive socialite, and according to some – a gold digger.
“Were you and your brother in his will?”
“Yes. But Tony is to receive far more. Dad set my brother up with his own mail order business. My father was upset when I married and left Timber. When I returned, divorced, he believed that I was a failure. Dad wouldn’t see a thing Tony did as wrong. He’d say Tony was just being a boy. He’s a twenty-eight-year-old playboy.” She was agitated, she cleared her throat. “If he did wrong, my Dad could always buy him out of trouble.”
“But you’re the daughter. Surely your father hadn’t excluded you.”
“I sided with my mother throughout the problems and their breakup. When I came to Timber and began working here, Nita saw me as a threat. My stepmother was constantly on me about losing weight. She’d say things like if I’d lost weight, I could have kept my husband. Hurtful.” Emma’s rigid posture eased. Her shoulders slumped.
Royce mentally noted the additional motive Emma might have had. Hatred for her father’s selection of a
bride. Her father’s favoring her brother. The sheriff understood her low-esteem. “Because you were the first on the murder scene, you might have something that would be of help to us. So if you could just stay here in the car.”
As Royce reentered the backroom of the gun shop, she heard the hysterical screams of Grace Wagner. Medical Examiner Ben Prichard had arrived. When he saw the sheriff, they traded glances. He pointed, shrugging toward Grace as he whispered to Royce, “We can talk after you calm the emotions.”
Knowing the feisty, belligerent first wife of Calvin, Royce wasn’t certain there would be any chance of calming Grace Wagner. The slight woman was pulling away from the deputy. “Grace,” Royce spoke with condolences, “I’m so sorry. We can’t let you back there now. We’ve cordoned off the area.” She gently turned in the woman’s direction.
“He’s dead. That’s all they told me,” Grace’s shrill voice screamed. Her display of grief was shock, and some degree of what Royce considered theatrics. Grace’s pinched expression actually reflected annoyance.
Royce moved the woman back into the store area. Counter after counter stored guns that were visible through heavy glass. Rifles were attached to bolted gun racks. Each wall contained hundreds of various long guns and pistol firearms. The front corner housed a seating area with chairs for guests.
“Have a seat, Grace.” Royce’s phone was ringing. “I’ll be right back. I have to get this.”
Royce stepped away. It was Undersheriff Nick Hogan calling from Crystal. “Nick, can you get out to the Wagner ranch to inform Nita and Tony of Calvin’s death?”
“Sure. So it was murder?”
“Two bullets directly to the back of the head. It couldn’t have been two errant bullets. The first shot was from a few feet away. The second was delivered after Cal’s body had slumped forward and his head and upper body had fallen against the desk. The killer made certain the victim was dead. Had to have been murder. No report from Ben, but I’d say it happened several hours ago. Doc will check the lividity and give us a more exact timeline. His daughter Emma found him this morning.”