by Kieran York
“Look, I don’t know who the fuck killed him. For all I know, it could have been my sister or my mother.” Tony’s eye contact was directly with Royce’s. He was scrutinizing her facial expressions.
“Both of them had a motive,” Royce quickly replied.
“My mother never got over Dad leaving her. Like most women, she didn’t want him, but she didn’t want anyone else to have him.”
As Royce processed his words, she rubbed her chin. “Why do you say that?”
“My dad and I had talks. My mother withheld her wifely duties when he messed with other women. Maybe he wouldn’t have chased women if she’d given him what men need.”
“Maybe she wouldn’t have turned him down if he wouldn’t have been unfaithful. And wifely duties. I don’t want lovemaking to be a duty for me or for anyone else.”
“I’d expected you to say something like that. You’d stick up for her. Emma is always on her side.”
“I’m not on a side. Believe it or not, I’m impartial.”
“Then get really impartial and arrest Otis. That old codger killed my father. He didn’t take the gun because he figured after he got rid of Dad, he would be awarded the gun. But there were papers he’d signed. If he didn’t pay the bill for the repairs on his guns, my dad would repro the gun. It belongs to me.”
“To you?”
“It’s in the will. My father’s will is ironclad. I’ve seen where it’s there. All collectible firearms belong to me.”
“I’ll bet I can show you the codicil where it has an exclusion. Anyone implicated in your father’s demise won’t get squat.” Royce put her Stetson on slowly. With a steady stare and a wave, she said, “Have a great day, Tony.”
Royce recognized Tony’s body collapsing in on itself. He then threw back his shoulders. With an arrogant stance of his legs spread wide, he gave the sheriff a return wave.
Before Royce’s vehicle rolled to a stop at the end of the driveway, she could swear she heard his booming scream. He would be doing a line item search of his father’s will.
***
Tony Wagner was difficult to read. Royce was never certain if he might be straining the truth. Before returning to Timber, she drove west to the Rasp. There was never a time when she hadn’t known two emotions when she passed the Crossing and saw the meadow. The remembrances of Hertha never strayed from her mental album of memories.
Yet beyond the meadow, a body had been buried. Left behind. A killer might have tucked another human being into the soil for many reasons. To hide the body – that was a given. Was the life taken for money, sex or any absurd reason? To place the remains in a beautiful area, might be because of love. That wouldn’t be known until the killer was found – if the killer could be found.
Bittersweet. Royce had often analyzed her own feelings of life. Life was such a wonderful expression of love. The fact that there was life – it had to do with affection. She believed that. The theft of the life never made sense to her.
Royce and Chance walked for nearly half a mile. It felt good to be enjoying even such a slight part of the day out in the wilderness.
It was a helpful intermission to keep her thoughts from a young woman who was murdered. Royce knew nothing about her. She wanted to shut down her own mental chatter concerning murder. She wouldn’t think of a man disliked for his brash character, for his infidelity, and his greed. He had been murdered. He’d sold weapons of death. To Calvin, there was an adoration – a worship of firearms. There was a vanity about his profession.
Royce could still see his image on the day his newly minted special assault rifles arrived in the store. It was a day that Royce had delivered two of the department’s rifles for a service check. Cal had called the sheriff over. He waved the new super rifle in the air. He’d thrust out his huge barrel chest. Rocking back on his heels, he bragged that with couple mega clips, that automatic gun could kill off everyone sitting in the county bleachers. His sneer dared the world to touch him while he had that assault rifle in his hand.
Two bullets in the back of his skull were all that was needed. No assault rifle was competition for a revolver with only six bullets. That revolver had downed him with two shots.
Royce was glad for the sounds of the stream that coiled down the mountainside. Golden eagles, two of them, had been lifted through the air. Against a backdrop of the meadow of aspen trees, the eagles flew perfectly together. Royce smiled. She recalled her father telling her that the settlers called aspens groves of quackies.
Chance was following closely behind her. Royce realized the dog would have loved to scout rabbits, foxes, chipmunks, or other wildlife. The meadow spires held violet-green swallows and assortments of other chirping birds. Dots of Indian paintbrush reddened a section of the landscape. Larkspur, gray sage, and the radiant colors of various wildflowers never ceased to thrill the sheriff.
The trek back to her vehicle was taken contemplatively. Both Royce and Chance seemed to understand this place and its majesty, as well as its morose history.
***
On the way down through the bush, Chance had slid, bruising the pad of her paw. Her slight limp didn’t seem serious, but Royce vowed to get it checked on their return to Timber City. When they arrived, Royce drove to the emergency parking in front of the High Country Animal Hospital.
Although she hadn’t wanted to see Hertha, she knew the importance of having Chance’s paw checked. Behind the counter Hertha was giving instructions to a client. On the counter was a bulldog that had a patch on its upper neck.
“He’ll be fine. If there seems to be infection or you see redness around the stitches, bring him back and I’ll give you something to put on it.” Hertha’s smile reassured him. “He’s tough, he’ll recover quickly.”
The man gathered in the dog. “We love this little guy. He was trying to dig under some bricks. Thanks, Doc. Good to have you back here.”
“It’s nice to be back.” Her eyes met with the sheriff’s. She shifted her glance. “And make certain to give the meds with his food. If he won’t take them, wrap them in a little cheese.”
When the man left, Hertha walked around the counter. She leaned down to Chance. “I see by her gait that she’s got a little ouchie with her left back paw.”
Chuckling, Royce repeated, “Ouchie.”
“When you have children, your vocabulary is rearranged. Enhanced.” She joined in the laughter. After thoroughly examining Chance’s foot, she touched the paws and toes. “A little tender on the paw. I think she’s just bruised it.” She tickled the dog’s head. Chance pressed her face toward Hertha’s and kissed her. “You’re going to be fine, beautiful girl.” Pressing the various pads again, she saw Chance pulling her leg slightly. “Yep, definitely a bruise.”
“A bruise?”
“Yes,” She added, “Well, she’ll be fine if she watches her step for a couple days.” Standing she looked into the sheriff’s concerned face. “It isn’t severe. You might try placing a damp cloth on it. Maybe a little soaking. If she attempts to gnaw at it, I’ll give you a salve that will keep her from bothering it. No running for two or three days. Keep her off her foot as much as you can.”
“Thanks,” Royce said. “What do I owe you?”
Their gaze met. It was silent for a moment. “Nothing.”
“I’d like to pay.”
“No need. She’s the county’s dog. She belongs to us all.”
As Royce left, and they stepped onto the street, Royce noticed Chance was getting back some of her swagger. She smiled. “Nothing like kissing up to your vet.”
Royce experienced a slight stab of melancholy. When she turned back, she could see Hertha through the window. A smile she had worn only minutes ago had now faded completely.
Chapter 15
“Not so fast,” Royce’s Gran insisted. Although her body was taking on a frailty, her energy was spirited. She inhaled deeply before scolding her granddaughter. “These days you just go up to your bedroom, sleep a few hours, get up
in the morning, gulp down your breakfast, and then rush out.”
Royce’s smile was benign. “Gran, I’m sorry. I’ll sit back down while you finish your breakfast. I’m sorry for being so withdrawn. I give my sociable side to the citizens and ignore my family.” She sat, contritely, and watched her grandmother sipping tea.
Gran’s conversation lightened. “I’m mighty glad you’re going to be leaving Chance here today.” She slathered jam over muffins. “That dog is a joy.”
“Remember, leash her when you take her out. Please don’t let her get into anything. I don’t trust Luther. He and his brother once tried to kill Smoky.” Her memory slid her back to when Luther had placed poison on Gran’s property. Smoky, her little schnauzer, had nearly died. It was also that visit to the animal hospital when she met Hertha. “I worry about Chance.”
“I’ll keep her at my side, Royce.” Dora Madison’s forehead shrunk into a frown. “She’ll be safe with me watching her every minute. But I worry that she won’t be watching after you.”
“Gran, I’ll be fine. It will only be for a couple days until her paw heals up. She’s standing on it fine now, but I can see her paw is still tender. I just want to make certain she’s okay.”
“You think Luther killed Cal?” Gran dug her hands into her apron pockets.
“I think he might have been an accomplice. But he could have done it alone, for his own reasons. That’s the problem. Grace hated Cal for his philandering ways, and the bitterness of the divorce. Emma abhorred him for favoring her brother, and treating her badly for being a woman. Nita and her stepson Tony have shaky alibis – swearing they were at the ranch. Both had monetary motives. Otis was an unhappy customer. He was being threatened that he might lose a very expensive gun. Luther is a sneaky, cruel, and cunning man. So the list is long. I’m trying to find the killer by excluding possible suspects.”
“Funny about that. Lotsa men around town jawed with him, and were buddies. But his family mostly hated him. I don’t know much about his new wife. She keeps herself out on the horse ranch and shops in Crystal.”
“I’m going up to Crystal this morning to talk with a fashionista named Marion. You remember her. She has a shop in Timber, too. She knows Nita through her new boutique in Crystal. She claimed the horse ranch was having money problems. She also asserted that Nita and Cal had feuds about that.”
With a deeply weighted sigh, Gran asked, “You say that Nita and the stepson alibied each other?”
“In my estimation, they’re both unreliable.”
“Your dad used to always say he had to go with his gut. He was a great lawman.” When Gran talked about her son, the remembrances of that heartache covered her face. She had lost her only child when he was about Royce’s age.
“He was also a great father,” Royce agreed. Grady Madison was her hero. Although she’d lost him, she knew he’d have expected her to solve Cal’s murder. For whatever reason Royce also knew he’d have expected her to attempt to solve the murder of Jane Doe.
Two homicides. One murder solution was becoming more difficult by the day. The other was becoming more impossible. Royce kissed her grandmother’s cheek, and gave Chance’s head a tickle.
Gran called after Royce, “I’ll watch Chance, don’t you worry. Please take care.”
Royce waved as she got into her vehicle. She gave a quick glimpse at the empty seat beside her.
***
Crystal was a newer city than Timber. When Crystal Ski Resort began, the city grew up around it. Lush, exotic, and rich, the community was an assortment of expensive restaurants and lavish, extravagant shops.
Royce walked the decorative streets until she reached the Crystal Boutique storefront. It had the look of aristocratic elegance. Inside, she approached a stylish woman in her mid-forties.
“Marion?”
“That’s right,” Marion spoke with her voice an octave lower than one would expect. She was tall, with body so thin it looked emaciated. Her face seemed to have been frozen into place. It was heavily painted. “May I help you?” She extended her hand with its well-manicured nails.
“I’m Sheriff Royce Madison.” Royce politely shook her hand. “I have a few questions about a friend of yours. Nita Wagner.”
“Yes, come back to my office where we can chat without interruption.”
Royce followed the polished, refined woman through the store to an opulent office. “Your boutique is very luxurious,” Royce commented.
“I certainly make every effort to keep it up to the standards of my clientele.” As they sat at a desk, Marion asked, “Is this pertaining to poor Calvin?” Her slightly pouty bottom lip munched words. “Terrible, just terrible what happened.”
“Yes, I have a few questions. I’ve been told you’ve been taken into the confidence of Nita. I want to eliminate suspects. Are you aware that their ranch was a matter of contention between Calvin and Nita?” Royce had immediately pegged Marion’s personality as wanting to be authoritarian. She wanted to know more than the sheriff about the situation. Royce needed to phrase her question to her advantage. Royce was giving Marion the opportunity to spill her knowledge. “I think you probably know the inside story.”
“I do, of course. Nita confides in me. As you might not be aware, it hadn’t been a happy marriage since Nita’s purchase of some exquisite horse for breeding. She spent far too much money, according to Calvin. That proved out when the bills came in. She’d spent a fortune. He hit the roof.” Marion leaned near. “I don’t think she really cared about his tantrum. She was set for life. If he tried to divorce her it would cost him.” She leaned into a huddle’s whisper. “Nita is a crafty woman when it comes to knowing men’s ego requirements.”
“The prenuptial was for three years, wasn’t it?”
Marion’s expression was serious a moment, then suddenly playful. Her eyes sparkled. “Nita had been counting down the years. She kept the massive spending hidden from him until after she was assured of getting half the ranch. She used to comment that Calvin’s prick was in a wringer,” Marion spoke with an abrupt giggle. “He didn’t know what hit him. He kept screaming that he was going to need to extort money from the gun shop. Siphon it into the horse business. And if his first wife, Grace, found out about it, she’d kill him.” Realizing what she’d said, Marion corrected, “So she may not have killed him, but probably would have wanted to do just that.”
Glumly, Royce asked, “So Grace is high on the suspect list. But this information also lifts Nita up a rung or two. She was quarreling with Cal. Nita might have been told by Cal to sell off her prized horses and put her business down.”
“I hadn’t considered that.” Marion shrug was accompanied with a conciliatory grin. Her lips curled. “I suppose it could implicate Nita. The fact that they fought.”
“Did you know if Tony and Nita got on well together?”
“Lord no. She called me immediately after she heard the news of Calvin’s death. She said she couldn’t wait to get Tony moved off the ranch. Her ranch. There’s nothing going on there except hatred. Tony is a louse.” Marion fumbled for words. “The hatred was mutual.”
“He might be called handsome by some. I’ve heard that he’s a playboy. Do you know anything about that?” Royce prodded.
“I only know Nita despised him. She told me a story about Calvin and Tony getting into a huge battle about his women. When Calvin went to work, Nita confronted Tony. She said that Tony should be careful. Some spurned women stalk playboys. What if one of the women chased him, Nita asked.”
“And Tony said?”
“According to Tony if any woman bugged him, his father would either buy them off or bump them off.” Marion disclosed, “Nita said she almost vomited when he said that. So just guessing, but I’d say Nita would have killed Tony before killing Calvin.” Marion smiled. “Tony would have been her victim of choice. He drives her crazy. And not in a good way.”
Royce stood. “Thank you for your time. Your information has been very revealin
g.”
“Please don’t mention you spoke with me. Nita is a very good customer.”
Royce exited the store without having eliminated any suspects. She did mentally revise the rankings in her list of suspects.
***
Royce had originally planned to backtrack so that she might drop in on Nita. After talking with Marion, she determined it would be better to make a plan of attack. She had felt the hatred between Nita and Tony, yet why had either of them covered for the other? Until she had a better feel for the situation, she’d wait. An old cowpoke saying of holding back until the powder dried, then taking another shot, was her quotation for the day.
Passing by the undersheriff’s office, she decided to drop in to see how Nick was doing. Royce found it helpful to bat ideas around with him. She parked in front of the small building adjoining a strip mall.
Terry Doyle was exiting, “Sheriff, parking in front will get you a ticket,” she teased.
Royce’s head sprung back as she laughed. “Law and order. I’m only going to be a minute. Is Nick in?”
“Nope, he radioed that he’s backup for one of the deputies trying to talk a drugged up kid from shooting himself. I said I’d follow. The kid is only twenty.”
“You aren’t much older,” Royce reminded her.
“True. Sometimes I feel middle aged.” When her phone rang, the message was to also be relayed to Royce. “Shooting averted. They’re bringing him in. Thankfully no blazing guns for now.”
“Terry, I hope you aren’t letting the job age you. If you ever need to talk let us know. Nick and I both have gone through battle fatigue. Cop burnout is normal. I remember my first year on the streets. I think that year was the most difficult for me. It’s so easy to become jaded. An enforcer needs to feel empowered without being an overpowering force. There are obstacles to overcome. Tough to build confidence when we’re wearing a target. Just remember, we’re here for you.”