Shepherd's Crook
Page 27
“So, Ray and Summer had conned Cucinelli?”
“Yep. Just like Martin and who knows how many other guys. She’d gotten Cucinelli into a hotel room in Reno where Ray had set up cameras and tried to extort a bundle out of him. Hutch was too embarrassed to tell me everything, but from what I gathered, Cucinelli liked to play dress-up games. But he didn’t extort well, and when they figured out that he wasn’t really a shoe salesman, they ran.”
“But not together.”
“Hutch thinks they may have been planning to split up and rendezvous somewhere. Cucinelli’s people were looking for a man and woman together, so that makes sense. But when Summer spotted Evan, she latched on.” I thought about how long it had taken me to feel safe after I dumped my ex, and wondered whether Evan would ever trust another woman.
Tom said, “What kind of man makes his living by blackmailing people who have sex with his wife?”
“I guess they deserved each other.”
“Do the police think she killed Ray?” asked Tom “After watching her hoist sheep onto their feet, I still say she’s strong enough—”
“No! Zola confessed. He was kind of out of it, just rattling on. He said he and Fallon didn’t mean to kill Ray. I suspect he meant not right then. Anyway, he said they just wanted to know where Summer was. I don’t know if that’s true, but anyway, they conked him on the head and dragged him into the storage room, and when he came to, they started breaking his fingers. And he died.” I thought about it for a moment. “The autopsy will probably show a heart attack. Once he was dead, they decided to hang him to scare Summer. They knew she was around, and didn’t think they’d have any trouble finding her.”
“They must have seen her during the weekend event.”
“Probably,” I said, “but again, they were looking for a thinner dark-haired woman. So my hunch is they just didn’t recognize her until they saw her with Evan’s truck that evening at Blackford’s. She was wearing a dark wig so people around here wouldn’t recognize her, and that obviously backfired.”
“Now that Zola’s telling all about his boss, Evan is probably off the hook for the money.”
We were drinking our chai when I changed the subject. “Tom, I’ve been thinking.”
“I have, too.” He looked very serious, and I felt a flutter of fear, but forged ahead.
“You know I’ve been afraid to give up my independence, but, well, I think we should give it a try, as we’ve planned. I’ll adjust. I hope you’ll still move in with me.”
“I’ve already made other arrangements,” he said, staring at his chai. “But we can still see each other.”
More ominous words have seldom been spoken.
Eighty
We can still see each other. The words cycled through my mind, and the churning in my stomach made me sorry I’d eaten so much. Tom folded his napkin and set it on the table. “Come on, I’ll show you the house I may buy.”
I was so numb that for the first ten minutes I didn’t notice where we were going. Eventually, though, familiar landmarks began to filter into my awareness, and when Tom turned onto my street, I managed to say, “I thought you were going to show me your new house?”
He just smiled and drove past my driveway and turned into the one next door. We were in front of Phil Martin’s house. Tom turned off the engine and said, “Well, what do you think?”
“About what?”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “After Martin’s wife told him to get rid of the house, I thought he might entertain an offer, so I went back to his room after everyone left the hospital.”
“Really?”
“It’s not a done deal yet. I wanted to see what you think, and see the house. But it seems like a plan, don’t you think?”
He was right. If the pet limit passed, we’d still be okay. We’d have our privacy and wouldn’t be driving back and forth all the time. We could be together, and apart, as much as we both liked.
“Martin is willing to sell at a loss and get out quickly, since his wife is on the warpath.” Tom got out and came around to open my door. He offered his arm, and I stepped forward and took it. “I have the key. Let me give you the tour.”
As we walked toward the door I was still limping, but I felt stronger with every step.
the end
About the Author
© Portrait Innovations
Sheila Webster Boneham writes fiction and nonfiction, much of it focused on animals, nature, and travel. Her first Animals in Focus mystery, Drop Dead on Recall, won the 2013 Maxwell Award for Best Fiction Book from the Dog Writers Association of American (DWAA) and was named a Top Ten Dog Book of 2012 by NBC Petside. Six of Sheila’s nonfiction books have been named best in their categories in the DWAA and the Cat Writers Association (CWA) annual competitions, and her book Rescue Matters! How to Find, Foster, and Rehome Companion Animals (Alpine, 2009) has been called a “must read” for anyone involved with animal rescue. Sheila has a PhD in folklore and MFA in creative writing, and frequently teaches writing classes and workshops. She enjoys talking to groups of all kinds about writing and animals. You can reach her through her website at www.sheilaboneham.com or her Facebook page at www.facebook.com/sheilawrites.