Double Duplicity: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #1

by Paty Jager

  “I’ll be right there after I check on the horses.” Lil swallowed the rest of her coffee in one long gulp.

  Shandra cringed inwardly and left the barn. Sheba bound across the expanse from the tree line to her. At the house, she poured out the strong coffee and refilled her cup with her own milder brew. A flutter of anticipation tickled her stomach. She could very well be sketching a murderer. This could be an integral piece of information. The notion gave her the same satisfaction and a touch more pride than when she saw a finished vase shiny with glaze.

  Grabbing up a bag she’d filled earlier with a sketch pad, pencils, and eraser, she headed out to the studio. Shandra arrived before Lil and set about taking vases out of the kiln before refilling it with the latest souvenir items she planned to take to the local stores. Sheba sprawled in her usual place under the glazing table. As the dog grew, Shandra had taught Sheba to go straight under the table when she entered the studio.

  Lil arrived, making the process of loading the small pieces go faster. Once the coasters were in the kiln and it was set, they moved to the chairs in the stream of light coming through one of the front windows. Shandra settled into her cushioned arm chair she sat in to draw or ponder what she should make next. Lil sat on an industrial folding chair.

  “What was the shape of his head?” Shandra asked to get the process started.

  “Masculine.”

  Shandra raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to?”

  “He had the squarish, manly type of head. Square chin, square jaw, flat cheeks, and block shaped head.”

  “Good.” Shandra made decisive but light lines. “Like this?” She showed the drawing to Lil.

  “Yeah, only the head’s too square and the face too wide. More of a triangle, I guess.”

  The process took two hours before Lil was satisfied with the outcome. Shandra peered into the face she’d created. Have I seen you before? He looked vaguely familiar. “But where?”

  “What?” Lil asked.

  “Nothing, I was talking to myself.” She pulled Ryan’s card out of her back jean pocket and her cell phone out of her denim shirt pocket. “I better call the detective and let him know we have a sketch ready.”

  Lil grunted and headed out the door. It was Sunday. Lil would make her pilgrimage up the mountain on her old mare, Sunshine. Shandra hadn’t asked where she went or why, but every Sunday, weather permitting, the two went up the mountain and didn’t return until an hour before dark. Just one more quirk of her stray she’d yet to figure out.

  “Detective Greer.”

  A smile tipped up the corners of Shandra’s mouth at the sound of Ryan’s voice. The minute she realized the correlation, she instantly furrowed her brows.

  “This is Shandra Higheagle. I have the sketch we talked about last night.” She used a business-like tone.

  “I’d know your voice anywhere.” The suggestiveness in his voice made her smile.

  She bit down on her lower lip to keep from slipping into the flirtatious banter he was opening up. “Are you still interested in the sketch?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  She laughed. “Do you even know where I live?”

  “I googled the address last night.” His tone indicated he took her question as an affront.

  “Where are you?” It would take him a good forty-five minutes from Huckleberry to get here He had to have spent the night in town to be able to get here even that fast.

  “At the Huckleberry police station.”

  “You must be dedicated.” She didn’t know where he lived, but she was certain it wasn’t in Huckleberry or she would have run into him before now.

  “Huckleberry is where the murder took place and where all the suspects are. I’m not leaving until this is solved.”

  “Is that a siren I hear?”

  “I told you I’d be there in thirty.” The line went dead.

  Shandra shook her head and couldn’t stop the smile that twitched at her lips.

  ~*~

  Ryan bumped up the narrow dirt road in his SUV and wondered if he’d made a wrong turn. In his haste to see the woman and get his hands on the only lead he had for this case, he’d scribbled the directions down in what his sisters called his chicken gumbo. The bouncy road made it even harder to read his scratches on the notepad. While he’d made good time on the paved county road, he had to slow down considerably to keep from dislodging the items stashed in his vehicle.

  The Tahoe eased out of the trees. In the middle of a picturesque meadow sat a log house, and two barn-red buildings. He spotted Shandra’s copper colored Wrangler and knew he was in the right place. He rolled to a stop in front of the cedar split-rail fence. A dog the size of a Shetland pony with a head the size of a mountain lion came loping around the side of the house. The markings resembled a tri-color border collie, but the body shape and shaggy hair didn’t resemble any dog he’d ever seen.

  “Hey there!” he said in his most obliging tone as he stepped out of the vehicle. Would Shandra leave a vicious dog loose knowing he was coming? He smiled. Depended on her mood.

  The dog crouched and approached in such a comical stealthy move for such a large animal that Ryan couldn’t stop the laughter that burst forth.

  “Are you laughing at my guard dog?”

  He looked up. Shandra stood on the porch, her arms crossed, but her face reflected the mirth he felt.

  “You have to admit, he/she—”

  “She. Her name is Sheba.”

  “Hi Sheba.” He scratched the fluffy ears and was rewarded with a slobbery lick. “She might look scary at first but that crawl will have any bad guy rolling on the ground yucking it up.”

  “All I need is the first impression to stop them. By the time they realize she’s a marshmallow, I’ll have my forty-five aimed at them.” Shandra pivoted. “Come on in. I have fresh coffee made.” She threw over her shoulder. “It was fresh. You said you’d be here in thirty minutes.”

  The laughter in her voice made him grin rather than toss a reply. He crossed the small green patch of grass onto the stepping stones he recognized as being something Shandra had made. There wasn’t any mistaking the color of the stones or the etching he’d learned was her handy work on the coasters at the police station.

  He’d expected the house to be sparse and hold only necessities. The first step in told him Shandra enjoyed being surrounded by art and inspirations. The woven rug on the tile entry had vivid colors and intricate geometric designs. A huge painting of horses hung on the wall at the stair landing. The furniture was dark, carved, and heavy. She led him through the living room accented with vibrant colors in throws and pillows on leather overstuffed couch and chairs. The large fireplace had a painting of an elderly Native American above the massive wood mantel.

  “I thought we’d sit in here. It’s my favorite room.” Shandra stopped at a breakfast nook with three sides wall-to-ceiling windows. The view was spectacular.

  “This has to be inspiring.” He stood with his back to the rest of the house and peered out the windows to the meadow, stretching to the trees, and towered over by a mountain. A herd of deer walked into the meadow, the grass up to their knees and colorful early summer wildflowers adding color to the swaying meadow grass.

  “It is. I do most of my drawing here in this light and with this to remind me how beautiful this earth is.” She placed two cups of coffee on the table and sat.

  Ryan took the seat across the table from her. He had his first good look at the bruise on her cheek. He reached across the table and gently ran his thumb over the purple splotches from the hand print. “You need to come to the police station and sign the formal complaint.” His gut tightened as his mind rewound the scene he’d witnessed last night. What other damage would the man have done if he hadn’t intervened?

  She sat back away from his reach. “I’ll go down later this afternoon. I have to finish a firing I’m doing before I can go anywhere. Lil could pull the coasters out, but I’m using
a new process. She won’t know the right moment to pull them. And she’s up on the mountain.”

  “What’s she doing up there?” He pulled his thoughts from the night before and back to the here and now.

  “I don’t know. She rides her horse up the mountain every Sunday. She says she gets closer to God to do her Sunday worship.” She smiled and shrugged. “With Lil, for all I know, she gets naked and dances. She is different, but I wouldn’t be able to live up here without her.”

  Shandra shoved a sketch book across the table. “This is the man she saw arguing with Paula.”

  Ryan picked up the book, opened the cover and stared. “Wow.”

  “Do you know him?” Her voice rose with excitement.

  “No. You are really good.” He glanced up and caught her blushing. Didn’t she realize the talent she had?

  “I just drew what Lil said he looked like. Will you take that to the resort and ask around?”

  “That’s where I’m headed straight from here. I’m surprised you aren’t down in the middle of all the buying frenzy that was going on this morning. I couldn’t walk down the streets all the galleries are on without running into someone carrying something.” He took a sip of the coffee and sighed. It wasn’t bitter like the stuff they were giving him at the Huckleberry P.D.

  “I did my duties on Friday and Saturday. Now, it’s back to business as usual.”

  “Does that mean holing up on your mountain?” He scanned the room and the serenity outside the windows. Not a bad place to hide away.

  “Pretty much. I don’t have another show for two months. Then I’ll take a week to pack up the merchandise going to the show and be gone for a week.” She stared out the windows. “If I could find someone to do the shows, I’d never leave my mountain.”

  “You could survive without the glitz and glamour like last night?” He had a feeling she would be happy to slip into the mountain. She dressed to catch attention but that wasn’t the real Shandra. The woman with her hair pulled up and secured with one of those plastic claw-like things, a large denim shirt over the top of a light blue t-shirt and worn-out jeans looked more comfortable than the siren that attended the event last night. He had to admit both versions were attractive.

  “I grew up on a cattle ranch in Montana. I like the solitary life, but I can glam it up now and then to help sell the craft that allows me to live the way I like.” She took a sip of her coffee and peered at him over the cup rim.

  “A couple hundred years ago we’d have been enemies.” He chuckled when she spit coffee.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Excuse me?” Shandra couldn’t believe he was that racist after proclaiming his best friend in school was Native American.

  “My family comes from a long line of sheep ranchers.”

  Ryan’s eyebrow raised as if he knew exactly where her thoughts had shot to. She’d never been this sensitive about her roots until Ella’s death and her nightly visits in Shandra’s dreams.

  “Yes, I’ve heard many tales of the wars between cattle and sheep ranchers.” She had to readjust her thoughts. Did he say that to specifically goad her?

  “My parents still dabble in the sheep industry, but all my siblings left the ranch and have made lives that have nothing to do with the field maggots.”

  Again his comment confused her. “Field maggots?”

  He laughed. “That’s the term those who don’t look on sheep favorably call them.”

  “Oh.” She stared into his dark brown eyes. He was having fun with her lack of knowledge or with the fact he’d completely rattled her with his earlier comment. Two could play that game.

  “Did you know Juan Lida was going to marry Paula Doring?”

  “He made that statement to me last night. But I’m thinking the woman wasn’t ready to get caught up in another marriage so soon. I had to go put in my final bid on your vase before I could ask him about the large sums of money entered into the ledger the beginning of every month.”

  Shandra sat up and leaned toward him. “Paula was getting large sums of money?” She settled back in her chair and thought. “It had to be from her husband. I know he was a silent partner in the gallery.”

  This time Ryan leaned forward. “With the divorce, do you think he would continue to put money into the gallery?”

  Shandra tried to pull up conversations she’d had with Paula. Her grandmother’s whispered words slipped through her mind. Greed. It is a Whiteman curse.

  “I can’t see Sidney giving her a cent once they separated. He would have wanted to use that money to lure the next conquest.”

  “So they both had roving eyes?”

  “That’s putting it mildly. I never understood why they stayed married as long as they did. From the first gallery event at Doring Gallery anyone with half a brain could see they were flirting with other people and completely ignoring one another.” She’d never understood why people married if they had a roving nature. She scowled. Like her stepfather. Her mother wouldn’t listen or refused to hear about it. That relationship had soured her on matrimony. Though watching Ted and Naomi was weakening her defenses a bit.

  Ryan pulled out his notepad and wrote, or more precisely from what she could see, scribbled.

  “What are you writing down?”

  He glanced up, his brow furrowed as though in thought. “It’s police business.”

  “You’re asking me questions to help the investigation. Maybe I can answer whatever it is you wrote down.”

  A smile twitched at his lips. “I am asking you questions as a witness. There’s a difference between that and giving away case confidentiality.”

  While he said she wasn’t a suspect, he was still withholding information. How was she going to keep Naomi clear of his investigation if he didn’t tell her what he was thinking?

  “I see. Then I guess you really don’t need my help. So I’ll just take my sketch back.” She reached across the table to grab the sketch.

  Ryan caught her hand before it landed on the paper. “No, this is now police evidence. If you want a copy, make another sketch.”

  His hand held hers gently but firmly. It was warm, strong, and slightly calloused. She glanced up into his eyes and saw he meant business. But the hardness slowly disappeared.

  She cleared her throat and tugged her hand back. The questions she’d been asking herself about this man were answered in that brief collision of gazes. Was she ready to allow a man into her life again?

  “I better get going.” Ryan stood quickly, whisking the sketch off the table.

  “Yes. You have a murderer to catch.” She couldn’t look him in the face. This revelation would take some getting used to.

  Shandra followed him to the front door.

  Ryan stopped with his hand on the door knob. “I may have more questions for you. Would you be able to come down to town…I-we could meet for a meal or something.”

  “We’ll see what you drag up that you have to question me about.” She wasn’t committing to anything where this man was concerned.

  “Okay. Thanks.” He held up the sketch and opened the door, disappearing as he shut it behind him.

  “Ella, what is going on?” Shandra leaned against the door. This was the first man since her art instructor at college to make her insides quiver and her heart race. “But look where that got you.”

  ~*~

  Ryan didn’t use the siren or race off the mountain. He had a lot to think about and not just the case. Shandra Higheagle was getting under his skin. In a good way. But he’d read something in her eyes. She’d been hurt before. Would Naomi Norton know what or who had hurt Shandra? He shook his head. It would be unprofessional to ask a suspect about a witness. But once this case was closed and whether Naomi was the killer or not, he’d ask her questions about Shandra. He could tell from the battle Shandra fought within herself that it would take a while before she was comfortable telling him about her past. As touchy as she was about her ancestry, he’d bet his ‘57’ Chevy it ha
d to do with that.

  He drove through town and straight to the resort. Rather than waste time walking from the parking lot that sat off to the side of the lodge, he parked right in front.

  The valet started to say something, but Ryan flashed his badge and kept on walking. Inside he strode to the registration desk.

  “Hello. I’m Detective Greer with the Sheriff’s office.” He held out the sketch. “Is this person staying here?”

  The older woman behind the counter stared at the drawing for a long time. “I haven’t seen anyone who looks like this. Wish I had, he’s a looker.” She glanced up and smiled. “You aren’t half bad yourself.”

  Ryan smiled back, not because he was vain but the woman appeared open to dialog. “What is your shift?”

  “Seven to three.”

  “So you would only have seen this man if he checked in during the day. Could I get the name of the person who works the evening shift at the desk?” He slid his card across the counter.

  “Now that would be sending you to a much prettier and younger woman.” The plump woman with graying brown hair, gave him a suggestive come-hither tilt of her head.

  “I assure you I’m only interested in finding this man.”

  Her bright red lips pouted, and she wrote a name and phone number on a piece of paper. “If you come back about two-thirty you can wait for her to come on shift.”

  Ryan laughed. “I’ll give her a call. Who knows, I may be back.”

  With that parting shot, he left the clerk smiling and waving.

  He called the number she’d given him and left a message.

  An hour later, Ryan sat at a computer in the Huckleberry P.D. checking the pasts of both Sidney and Paula Doring. He had his sister in the Sheriff’s department running financials on the pair. If the payments weren’t coming from Sidney, he had to find out where they were coming from. He also had Blane out picking up Juan Lida for questioning. He had more he wanted to find out from the man.

  Paula was from Seattle. Why did that city stick in his memory? Ryan flipped through the notes in his pad and stabbed the pen down on the word Seattle. Naomi Norton had visited her sister in Seattle.