“Access.” Again, I wrote.
“Something to gain.” I wrote.
“Now let’s look at the list,” Harry said. “Do we know anyone who matches five out of five?”
“Holy shit.” Nick said it; I thought it.
Harry grinned. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
What we had all concluded was the name of the person who had access to horseshoes and the cunning to figure out how to use one as a weapon. A farrier who was also a taxidermist. Tucker Potkotter. For him, a simple matter of attaching a horseshoe matching Game Boy’s to the leg a taxidermist would use for constructing a full-body horse mount. Trigger.
“Harry,” I said. “Are you sure? I thought you and Tucker were friends.”
“Tucker’s just a guy I know from the gym. He’s friendly enough, but most psychopaths are, and I don’t know a lot about him. Maybe he’s not the guy, but he’s sure sitting in a sweet spot if Seamus dies and Keely inherits.” Something to gain.
“But don’t forget,” Nick said. “Echo’s unborn kid is considered Seamus’s under law, since she was married to him when she got pregnant. That means she still has plenty of leverage when it comes to a battle over the estate.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I said. “Remember Keely’s suspicions about Tucker and Echo? We already have reason to believe he’s the baby’s father.”
“What a soap opera,” Harry said.
“Tucker’s engaged to Keely, and he’s probably the father of Echo’s baby.” I looked from Harry to Nick. “That’s a sticky situation. Which woman is he going to latch on to if Seamus dies?”
“The one who gets the biggest piece of the pie,” Nick said. “Looks like he’s been playing them against each other.”
“But were either of them involved in Cody’s murder?” I had trouble imagining a woman capable of something that cold-blooded.
Harry waved a hand in the air. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have five reasons to suspect Tucker’s involved, but we have no proof.”
We brainstormed for over an hour about how to build evidence against Tucker, but nothing short of his fingerprints on a murder weapon seemed likely to convince law enforcement that he was guilty. Or that there even was a murder.
“Remind me,” Harry said. “How long ago was Cody found in the trailer?”
“It was a Monday, so it’s been two weeks and two days. Why?”
“Any word on a coroner’s report?”
“Not yet. Quinn told me some time ago that the coroner was taking his time because Cody was considered a high-profile case.”
“But the coroner hasn’t referred the case to law enforcement, has he?”
“No. Quinn said he would have been notified. I would have heard if that had happened.”
“Then it’s probably going to be considered an accident.” He looked to Nick for confirmation.
“I think you’re right. If the coroner thought the autopsy findings were suspicious, he would have alerted the sheriff right away.”
“Then let’s get back to Tucker,” Harry said. “If he did use part of a full-body horse mount, it’s probably on its way to Texas or Montana by now.”
“Wait!” I raised my hand like a school kid. “Harry, remember that night you brought Keely by Amah and Jack’s for dinner?”
Nick’s eyebrows went up, but I quickly explained that it wasn’t a date. Harry was driving her to the airport to meet James’s plane as a favor to Tucker.
“What about it?” Harry said.
“That was two weeks ago, right? And we’ve all heard Jack talk about how long it takes to get a simple head mount done. He’s waited months for some of his trophy heads. Imagine how long it would take to do a whole horse—especially with Seamus ill and trying to teach Tucker.”
“She’s right,” Harry nodded at Nick. “If the horse isn’t one of the jobs they’re doing for the Safari Club International Convention in January, I’ll bet it’s been set aside.”
“So you’re suggesting Tucker followed Cody up I-5 that night and clubbed him over the head with a taxidermist’s model of a horse’s hind leg? How far would we get taking that to the sheriff?”
When Nick said it like that, it sounded worse than implausible, but what else would explain the horseshoe-shaped contusion on Cody’s forehead?
“I agree with Nick,” Harry said. “We’d be laughed out of the county if we went to law enforcement with a story like that. But for the sake of argument, let’s say that’s what happened. Was Cody’s wound closed, or did it bleed?”
I reached for my purse and pulled out the enlarged morgue photo that I was still carrying around. “I don’t think it bled. See for yourself.” I handed it to Nick. He scrutinized it and handed it to Harry, who did the same.
Harry gave it back to me. “I don’t know, Sis. That could be a photo of the surface of Mars.” He turned to Nick. “What do you think?”
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Aimee, but those marks you’re attributing to horseshoe nails could be random blood clots under the skin.”
“I’ll admit that, but I’ve searched several databases and found dozens of images of trauma caused by horse kicks to the head, and not one of them looks like this photo. I’ve also looked at scalp contusions of all kinds, and many of them show a certain amount of recognizable detail.”
“Sis, assuming you’re right, Tucker would have ditched the weapon. Why keep it around? He’s no genius, but he’s not stupid, either.”
“Maybe not,” I pointed to the photo, “but is he smart enough to realize that no blood doesn’t mean no DNA? The horseshoe could have picked up some of Cody’s skin cells when it made contact. Or at least a few strands of his hair.”
Nick exchanged a look with Harry. “Our forensic whiz at work.”
“Give me a break.” I put the photo back in my purse. “Anyone who watches TV would know that, but here’s my point. If he used an essential part of one of Seamus’s high-priced full-body mounts to kill Cody, he didn’t dare ditch it or he would have been called on the carpet by Seamus. If he is Cody’s killer, he couldn’t risk drawing that kind of attention to himself.”
Nick walked over to the coffee pot and refilled his cup. “Anyone else?”
Harry and I both waved him off. Nick came back to the table looking at me with apprehension before he spoke.
“There’s something none of us have considered, but I think we have to put it on the table.”
“If you have a theory, let’s hear it,” Harry said.
“Suppose Tucker is James O’Brien’s hired hit man.”
“To what end?” Harry asked.
“A bigger piece of the estate when his father dies.”
I couldn’t deny James had a motive, but I offered another possibility. “What about Phyllis Poole? She’s the first person we suspected of being involved. Maybe she hired a hit man herself.”
“Anything’s possible,” Nick said. “Can you give her a motive that sounds plausible?”
“To borrow your inheritance theory, maybe Phyllis Poole and her alleged niece are accomplices. Maybe Poole wanted both Cody and Seamus dead before anyone found out about the paternity of Echo’s baby. Maybe Echo and Dr. Poole would love to inherit the multi-million dollar O’Brien estate and split the booty.” Another thought came to me. “What about her missing lover, Tobias Fausset? Doesn’t that make you wonder what was going on between the two of them?”
“Are you suggesting she talked Dr. Fausset into killing the cowboy and then killed Fausset herself?”
“It sounds crazy, I know, but he’s missing and no one seems to know where he is.”
“Hold it,” Harry said. “This is starting to sound more like a pulp fiction plot than a brainstorming session. It’s after ten o’clock. Why don’t we break it up for now? Let’s go to our corners, sleep on it, and touch base again tomorrow.”
“We’re running out of time,” I said. “Seamus could die at any moment, and if he does, whoever inherit
s his estate may get away with murder. We have to pursue this horseshoe idea. What else have we got?”
“Sis, we’ll get together again tomorrow. We’ll get this figured out. Right, Nick?”
“Right. How about we meet here tomorrow at noon? Can you both get away from work?”
Harry agreed and so did I, but I wouldn’t look either of them in the eye, which made Nick suspicious.
“You’re up to something, Aimee.” He turned to Harry. “She’s your sister. Talk to her.”
Harry frowned. “Don’t even think of snooping around Tucker or the women. You’d be safer in a den of rattlesnakes.”
He wasn’t playing fair. I’d killed a rattlesnake with a pitchfork a couple of months earlier, and the sight of a length of coiled rope or a garden hose could still throw me off balance.
We agreed to call it a night and Harry headed out, mentioning that he had a late date. I drove down the lane to my apartment, mulling over the possibility that Tucker Potkotter was Cody O’Brien’s killer. How would we prove it? I had been in bed trying to read myself to sleep for half an hour when my phone rang. Nick.
“Hi, what’s going on?”
“I’m going to have to make a run to the vet. Ginger mixed it up good with a coyote that found its way into Jack’s backyard. She’s lost a lot of blood and needs stitches.”
“I’m sorry. I hope she’ll be okay.”
“She will once I take care of this, but I don’t like leaving you alone. I think you should come with me.”
“Really? It’s past eleven. I’m already in bed. How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. Dr. Goodell is meeting me there. I’ll be leaving the dog overnight, so once the doc evaluates the injuries and gets to work, I’ll be back.”
“Then you won’t be too long. Creekside is only a few minutes away. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of your dog. If anything remotely alarming happens here, I’ll call your cell.”
“All right. That should work. Where’s your gun?”
“Within reach. Go. Take care of Ginger.”
Nick had fallen in love with that sweet dog. I knew how much it must bother him to see her injured. I watched out my kitchen window until he drove away a few minutes later.
That’s when Cleo called.
Chapter 30
“Aimee. Thank heaven you answered. Have you heard what’s going on?” Cleo’s voice was an octave higher than usual. Her panic set my left eyelid twitching.
“What more could be going on? We’re already up to our—”
“It’s Seamus. He’s sinking fast and the whole clan is gathered around his bed in ICU.”
I pressed a finger against my jerking eyelid. “How do you know this? Are you at work?” As part of her job, Cleo was sometimes called in after hours for special circumstances involving hospital privileges.
“Yes. I’m in my office. Dr. Poole requested a consult by an infectious disease specialist who isn’t on the TMC medical staff. Dr. Beardsley’s supposed to sign off on temporary privileges, but he isn’t available, so I called Quinn. He can sign off if the chief of staff isn’t around.”
“Is Quinn still there?”
“No, he just left. He signed a few blank temporary privilege forms and said to call him at home for an approval if Poole requests anyone else who isn’t on staff. That means I’m staying here until O’Brien either improves or expires.”
“Why is Dr. Poole Seamus’s primary? Doesn’t he have an internist?”
“He did, but Seamus’s wife fired him, so when the ER doc diagnosed renal failure, he called Dr. Fausset.”
“Then why isn’t Fausset there? Couldn’t they reach him?”
“No, that’s why Poole’s in charge. She did the admit to ICU. Fausset’s still absent and no one is saying why. The rumors have already started. Take your pick. He’s either eloped or he’s in rehab.”
Or possibly dead.
Cleo went on, “Aimee, do you realize what this means? Poole is in a perfect position to make sure Seamus won’t live to divorce her niece. If he dies, Echo O’Brien will use that baby she’s carrying to cheat the remaining O’Briens out of their inheritance.” Cleo choked back a sob. “We have to stop Poole. She’s a cold-blooded killer and she’s going to operate on Siggy Thursday morning.”
“I thought you were going to talk him into canceling.”
“He won’t.” Cleo sniffled and cleared her throat. “It’s like he’s bewitched. No matter what I say, he’s going ahead with it. He claims he knows several men she’s treated successfully. He says I’ve developed a paranoid obsession about her. He even accused me of being jealous.” I heard her suck in a breath. “We have to prove she’s treacherous, but there’s no time.”
“Maybe there’s something I can do.” I gave her a quick version of what Harry and Nick and I had come up with, including Tucker as a suspect and the possible weapon. “The only way to find it is to search the O’Brien compound. I promised Nick and Harry I wouldn’t do anything reckless, but that doesn’t matter now. If everyone who lives at the compound is at the hospital, there’s no risk.”
“You’d better take Nick with you. He’s staying right there in your grandparents’ house, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but he isn’t here. His dog got injured and he had to take her to the vet. I don’t know how long he’s going to be gone.”
“Then what about Harry?”
“Harry’s off on a late date somewhere. I don’t really need anyone to go along if everyone from the O’Brien compound is at the hospital. You can monitor that for me, but the sooner I get started, the better. If I can find what I’m looking for, I’ll need to collect DNA from the horseshoe.”
“How?”
“I have a kit. I ordered it for an in-service I gave last month up in Modoc County.”
“Then why just the DNA? If you find a weapon, why not take it, if it isn’t already attached to the rest of the fake horse?”
“If we remove the weapon, we can’t prove where it came from. It needs to be left where it is. We’re wasting time talking, Cleo. If I’m going to get this done, I need to get ready. You did say Tucker and all three O’Briens are there at the hospital?”
“Yes. James and Keely got here first. Then Echo and Tucker. As far as I can tell, none of the vultures wants to miss his last gasp. Then they can start picking his bones.”
Cleo agreed to keep tabs on the O’Brien drama playing out in ICU. By eleven thirty I had changed into boots, dark jeans, and a black turtleneck. I put my phone in a small day pack with everything else I needed, including my pistol, and grabbed a lightweight fleece jacket.
The O’Brien compound was eight miles east of Coyote Creek. If we were right about the weapon, it had to be a section of a full-body horse mount. I hoped Tucker had decided his best option was to put it back where it belonged.
At the compound, I pulled my car around and parked a hundred feet from the gate. The moonlight made my flashlight unnecessary, so I dropped it in my pack and walked along the three-rail paddock fencing until I reached a spot where I could slip under the lowest rail.
The layout of the compound had not changed since I’d visited Keely there when we were children. There were three dwellings. Echo and Seamus obviously lived in the large main house, so I guessed Keely and Tucker shared one of the cottages and assumed James would be staying in the third cottage that would have been Cody’s. The taxidermy shop, stables and barn were all set apart from the residences by about half an acre of cross-fenced corrals.
In a crouch, I followed the long gravel driveway to the taxidermy shop, stopping at any bush or shrub that offered cover. The closer I got, the more I worried about motion-sensor lights or other deterrents against prowlers or predators—attack dogs being high on the list. My pockets were stuffed with jerky just in case, but I wasn’t sure guard dogs could be bribed.
Stress sweat had already soaked my turtleneck, and my fleece jacket held the moisture in, creating a sauna effect. My tense mu
scles and rapid heartbeat added to the mix, causing even more perspiration. I wiped a sleeve across my face to clear sweat from my eyes and called Cleo’s cellphone for an update. She reported that Tucker and the family were all still there in ICU. I told her to text me if anything changed.
A few minutes later, I reached the taxidermy shop and worked my way to the outer wall that faced away from the houses. No lights or alarms so far, and no dogs, but the next problem was how to get inside. The entrance door was bound to be locked, and maybe alarmed. And it was visible from the main house. The only access on the side of the building where I crouched was a small window two feet above my head. I looked around for something to stand on and spotted a rototiller parked at the edge of a large plot of turned-up soil. A defunct garden was my first thought; then I spotted an incinerator surrounded by a chain-link fence and realized something had to be done with the offal and other detritus involved in taxidermy. Cremation. Burn and then bury the ashes was my guess.
Rototillers are heavy when they’re running and almost immoveable when they’re not. The process of dragging it the few feet to the window took ten minutes and more strength than I knew I possessed. Every muscle in my back and arms screamed for mercy by time it was in place. I had to sit on the ground and lean against the shop wall for a few moments to rest and catch my breath. I didn’t make another call. Timbergate Medical Center was situated on the far side of Timbergate—easily a thirty minute drive, if not more.
Still no lights, no alarms, no dogs. Seamus would have been horrified. Where was his security? The mounts under construction in his shop had to be worth at least six figures. I could only guess that Tucker and the two women had either ignored or forgotten the usual security routines in their rush to go to the hospital. James was an outsider, so he wasn’t likely to know whether security measures were in place.
I managed to find a few flat inches on the tiller’s motor casing, enough for only one foot. It raised me up a good two feet. Moonlight glinted off the vicious inch-wide blades just below where I perched on tiptoe. The blades protruded on either side of the tiller. One slip and I stood a good chance of carving all the meat off my leg and probably bleeding to death. While I tugged at the window, my leg began to tremble. There wasn’t enough space on the tiller to change feet and rest my right leg. I gave the window a desperate shove, and it slid open.
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