Double Duplicity: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #1

by Paty Jager

  “You’ll never guess what it was.” Ryan slipped the base into one of his plastic evidence bags and wrote on it.

  “Knowing Paula, it was probably evocative.”

  He stared at the women next to him. “What do you know about Paula’s past?”

  Her eyes widened and she peered into his. “Nothing. I was talking about the amount of men I’ve seen fawning all over her. She seemed to ooze something that drew the men to her.” Shandra took a step back from him and crossed her arms. “I always thought she and Sidney made a fitting couple the way they cheated on each other.” She narrowed her golden eyes giving the appearance of a wild cat zoning in on prey. “What is in her past?”

  Ryan exhaled a huge sigh, releasing exasperation at himself for bringing up the subject with the woman staring him down like a pro. “I’m not at liberty to tell you.”

  Fisted hands jammed onto her hips. “Then you shouldn’t drop interesting comments like that if you don’t want me to dig deeper.”

  “I know. I’ll censure myself from now on.” He stuffed all the evidence in his bag and took several quick photos of the area. “Let’s get the information we came for.” He handed Shandra a pair of gloves. If for some reason they had to reprint something, he didn’t want her prints to end up on things.

  Ryan turned the computer on, waited for it to boot up and discovered that it required a password. “While I try to discover her password, you want to see if you can find any information about Oscar Rowan in her file cabinet?”

  “Oscar Rowan…” Shandra repeated the name again. Her fingers snapped. “That’s who he is?”

  “What?” Ryan faced the woman. Her mind ran faster than a jackrabbit. “Who?”

  “The guy you sent with Officer Blane is Oscar Rowan, the artist who made the statue.” Her eyes sparkled, and her lips turned up at the corners in a conspiratorial smile.

  This case was making less and less sense. “I thought you didn’t know the artist?”

  “The name didn’t click until I heard his voice and saw his face. He was in an animated conversation with Paula at the last art council meeting setting up this weekend event.”

  “Why was he smashing a fragile piece of art when the murder weapon was on his statue?” Ryan dug his fingers into the knot forming at the base of his neck.

  “You haven’t confirmed that was the murder weapon.”

  Ryan stared at Shandra. How could she have so little faith in herself? He believed her dream revealed the weapon. Now, if she could just dream about the man in the sketch, they could have more to go on.

  “We’ll know for certain tonight.” He motioned for her to head back to the door. Once he deposited her in her Jeep, he was heading to the police station and questioning Rowan. He wouldn’t have anything concrete to ask him until the spear made it to Coeur d’Alene and the test proved it was Paula’s blood in the crevices.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shandra’s mind wandered as she drove down Main Street to the gas station and Jiffy Mart. Elbert, the same elderly gentleman who manned the two gas pumps since she’d moved to Huckleberry, shuffled out of the store.

  “Afternoon, Miss. Need it filled up?”

  “Yes, please.” She’d planned to stay in the vehicle until an idea struck. Shandra dug into her leather fringed bag and pulled out a copy of the sketch she’d given Ryan. She exited the Jeep and walked over to Elbert, who stood with one hand resting on the nozzle filling her car.

  “Have you seen this man around here?”

  Elbert grasped the paper in a gnarled hand and shoved his glasses tighter against his head with the other. “Don’t think so. I can tell you he isn’t a local. At least not one that comes to this gas station.”

  “He was seen behind the—” She stopped as his words registered. There were two gas stations. This one had a Jiffy Mart and the one, on the way to the lodge, had a Quik Mart. Lil had said Quik Mart. She’d been at the gas station on the other side of town.

  Shandra impatiently waited for the tank to fill. When Elbert finally twisted the cap on and she handed him her debit card, he shuffled into the store with her on his heels. She had figured this was the gas station and Quik Mart Lil frequented because it was on the way to the mountain.

  With her gas purchased, she slid behind the wheel of her Jeep and headed across town to the Quik Mart, taking Fir Street to drive by the police station. Ryan’s Tahoe was parked in front of the building. She hoped that meant he was interrogating Oscar and not out showing the sketch around. If she ran into him, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t think twice about detaining her for obstruction of something. Even though he had let her slip by with several of her indiscretions with this murder, his tolerance had to be getting thin.

  At the Quik Mart station a young man jogged between four pumps. The location at the intersection of Highway 90 and the road to Huckleberry Lodge and Ski Resort made this the busier of the two stations.

  Shandra parked the Jeep and walked inside. A woman with gray hair bobbed to her earlobes and a younger woman in her mid-twenties with tattoos, a nose stud, and magenta spiked hair stood behind the counter ringing up items and asking for pump numbers. Shandra stood in line, waiting her turn to speak to the older woman.

  “What pump?” The clerk asked when it was Shandra’s turn.

  “No gas. Have you seen this man?” She spread the sketch out on the counter in front of the woman.

  “I already told you police, there are too many come through that door for me to remember them all.” The clerk peered over Shandra’s shoulder and scowled.

  Shandra peeked behind her. There wasn’t anyone in line so she persisted. “Look at that face. You can’t tell me a woman wouldn’t notice him.”

  The younger woman leaned over and stared at the paper.

  “That man is a hunk. If he came in here I would have noticed him.” The younger woman licked her lips and smiled. “Yeah, he would have been eye candy if he’d wandered in here.”

  “So you’re saying you haven’t seen him?” The man was like a ghost. “He was behind this store four days ago arguing with a woman.”

  The older woman perked up. “Arguing? I might have heard that quarrel. I was sitting just inside the back door on my break when a man and woman were going at it.”

  Shandra couldn’t believe the woman would sit and listen and not peek. “You didn’t look out to see who was arguing?”

  “Oh, I knew who the woman was. You couldn’t miss that attitude and shrieking voice. It was Paula Doring.” The woman nodded, and her gray hair bounced around her face.

  “You knew Paula Doring?” This was better than she’d expected.

  “Sure. Her husband keeps an account with us. Pays monthly for their gas and anything else they purchase here.” The woman waved Shandra to the side.

  Shandra stepped over but didn’t leave the counter. Once the customer left, she returned to her position directly in front of the woman. “What were the two arguing about?”

  “Paula said his showing up was poor timing. He said, her husband asked him to visit.”

  “Why?” Shandra couldn’t believe Sidney knew the person they were looking for. Had Ryan shown the sketch to him?

  “I don’t know. That’s when they started arguing. All I heard was her shrieking. His voice was real low and hard.” The woman shivered. “I couldn’t hear his words but the way he was saying them they didn’t sound none to friendly.” Her eyes widened. “Did he kill Paula?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Thank you.” Shandra folded the copy of the sketch and slid it into her sketch book in her purse and exited the building.

  Ryan stood beside the gas attendant, the paper with her sketch in his hand. What would he say if he went in and found out she’d already asked a bunch of questions? But the woman had said the police had already been there. Why was Ryan back?

  She sauntered up to the two. “Are you following me, detective?” she asked in as playful a tone as she could muster knowing she
’d been encroaching on his business.

  “Thank you,” he said to the young man and faced her. “I found it odd that you were headed the opposite direction from your home as you drove by the police station.”

  “I needed gas.”

  “According to the attendant you didn’t fill your Jeep. You were harassing the women inside.” He raised an eyebrow as if waiting for her to come up with another lie.

  Shandra threw up her hands. “Okay, when I realized that Lil meant this Quik Mart and not the Jiffy Mart as I’d thought, I came over here to see if anyone had seen the man in the sketch.”

  “Blane has already been here.” Ryan crossed his arms and peered at her with his unemotional cop expression.

  “Well, he didn’t ask the right questions.” She hid the smirk quirking her lips when he uncrossed his arms and took a step toward her.

  “You found out something about the mystery man?”

  “Buy me lunch and I’ll spill everything I found out.”

  “You know I shouldn’t reward you for butting into police business.” He crossed his arms again, but the expression on his face had softened.

  “Fine, then let me buy you lunch, and I’ll still give you all I found out.” Shandra walked toward her Jeep.

  “Let’s walk.” Ryan put a hand on her elbow and turned her toward Huckleberry Street. “I’ve become partial to eating at Ruthie’s.”

  She knew the restaurant he meant. It was only two blocks from the gas station. “I don’t mind walking this time of year. But don’t expect me to do this in January or February. I prefer the indoors in the winter time.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The way he said it made her think he locked the information up in a place for safekeeping. And that he might just be around when wintertime came. After this investigation was over she was pretty sure she’d not see the detective again. Huckleberry was usually a very peaceful place.

  Ryan waved to Ruthie who was still in the kitchen cooking as he and Shandra entered the restaurant. He’d been five feet from stepping into the interrogation room and questioning Oscar Rowan when he spotted Shandra heading toward the lodge and not home. He couldn’t shake the feeling if he didn’t keep an eye on her she was going to find trouble.

  “Find a seat anywhere. You missed the lunch crowd so there’s plenty of room,” Ruthie said as she waved her waitress, who was eating a salad at the counter, to stay seated.

  Ryan escorted Shandra to the booth in the corner farthest from the kitchen and the resting waitress.

  “Shandra, you gonna have your usual?” Ruthie handed Ryan a menu.

  “Yes, and the bill is on me.” Shandra settled into the padded bench seat as if she planned to stay a while.

  “I’ll have an iced tea, cheese burger, fries, and salad.” Ryan closed the menu and handed it to the cook.

  She beamed down at him and nodded her head. “I’ll have that up in no time.” When Ruthie passed her waitress she spoke to her and went on into the kitchen.

  “It appears you come here often.” He’d become a bit of a regular himself since taking on this investigation.

  “Best burgers and shakes in town.” Shandra leaned forward. “No one at the Quik Mart saw our man, but the older clerk heard him arguing with Paula Doring out back on the day Lil said she saw the argument.”

  Ryan pulled out his notepad and pencil. “What did she hear?”

  “Paula said something about poor timing for the man to show up. The man replied her husband called him.”

  Ryan glanced up from his notepad and stared at Shandra. “That was exactly what the woman heard?”

  She bobbed her head. “She said after that Paula did a bunch of shrieking and the man’s voice became threatening, but she couldn’t hear what was being said.”

  Ryan slammed the notepad down on the table. “I showed that sketch all around the lodge and everyone said they’d never seen the man.”

  “Did you show it to Sidney?”

  “He was released by the time I had the sketch, and he wasn’t at the lodge when I was there. Or at least that’s what I was told.” Ryan flipped through his pages. “This bit of information gives me more to go after Doring with.”

  The waitress arrived with his tea and a large milk shake.

  “Thank you, Rae Ann,” Shandra said, pulling the paper off a straw and pushing it into the creamy drink in front of her. She drew on the straw and her eyes closed.

  What he wouldn’t give to see that contentment on her face after they’d spent a night together. He snatched back that thought. Those kinds of thoughts would only mess with his investigation and get him mixed up with a woman. He’d sworn off them until he determined if this was where he wanted to stay or if he would regroup here and then head back to the city.

  He cleared his throat and his thoughts. “What flavor is that you’re enjoying?”

  “Caramel.” She slid the malt glass that was now a quarter empty to the middle of the table. “Do you think Sidney killed Paula?”

  “I can’t see him getting his hands dirty that way, but I could see him paying someone to do it.” Ryan tapped the pocket holding the sketch. “I’d really like to get my hands on this guy. If he was paid by Doring, I might be able to get him to roll.”

  “But how would he know about the statue coming apart?”

  Her logic was attractive.

  “He could have been in the gallery when the statue arrived and was uncrated. Lida saw him at the gallery arguing with Paula once.” He was keeping a running tally of the suspects and so far few were getting marked off the list.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ryan sat across the interrogation table from Oscar Rowan. The man was twitchy as a meth user.

  “What were you really doing in the office at Doring Gallery?”

  Rowan picked at the edge of the vinyl table. “I needed money and figured I’d take back my art pieces.”

  “Why did you smash this?” Ryan pulled out a photo he’d taken of the entwined sticks on his initial investigation.

  A shaky finger shoved the photo back at him. “That Mexican gave it to her. I saw the significance of the piece.”

  “What was the significance?” Ryan pushed the photo back to the middle of the table.

  “That spic thought she’d marry him. She might have been sleeping with him, but she’d never marry a worthless shit like him.” Rowan snorted and laughed. “No, she didn’t marry unless it meant money, and she didn’t sleep with someone unless she planned to use them.”

  “It sounds like you knew the murder victim well. How is that?”

  Rowan’s eyes widened, and he stared at Ryan. “Got any water. My throat’s dry.”

  Sweat popped out on his forehead, and his fingers started tapping on the table top. The man was a user. From Ryan’s first observation he’d guess meth.

  “Hold on.” Ryan moved to the door opened it and waved his hand. Jolene the dispatcher hurried over. “Could you please bring a bottle or cup of water for my guest?”

  “Yes, sir.” The woman hurried over to the break room and returned with a paper cup of water.

  “Thank you.” Ryan took the cup and placed it in front of Rowan on the table. The man tossed it back like the elixir of life.

  “Now, how well did you know Paula Doring?”

  Rowan licked his lips drawing in the drops of water that remained. “We go back to when she was hooking in the Fremont District of Seattle. I was new to the art scene, and she had connections with every gallery owner and studio.”

  “You knew her before she married Doring?”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t believe it when she announced she was cleaning up and moving up in the world. Didn’t see her for nearly a year. Then one night at a big art event here she comes strutting in on Doring’s arm and flashing a big diamond ring.” He smirked. “I had her that night before she went home with her soon-to-be-husband.”

  Hearing all about the murdered woman soured Ryan’s stomach. While he had to
find her killer, her lifestyle was less than favorable. He needed a change of subject.

  “What made you think you could carry that huge statue of yours out of the gallery tonight?” Ryan studied the man. His eyes flicked back and forth as if his brain was scanning files to figure out what lie he’d told. Taking pity on him, Ryan helped. “You said you were in the gallery to get your pieces because Paula owed you money.”

  “Oh, right.” Rowan wiped a shaky hand over his face. His legs started bouncing under the table. One was next to a table leg and made the furniture bounce.

  Ryan moved the table to the right six inches. “What did you have in the gallery besides the warrior holding a spear?”

  “I couldn’t carry that. It weighs three-hundred-fifty pounds. I had a couple of smaller pieces I was going to take.” The man smiled like he’d given a winning answer.

  “Why were you in the office if you wanted to pick up your artwork?”

  Rowan didn’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t know where they were in the gallery and was looking for paperwork to find them.”

  “It would have been faster to just walk around the gallery and pick them up.”

  Sweat glistened his forehead again. Rowan swiped at it with his shirt sleeve. “I guess I wasn’t thinking clear.”

  “Could that be because you’re on something?” Ryan leaned over the table toward the jittery suspect. “Who uncrated your warrior and set it up in the gallery?”

  “I don’t know. The foundry sent it straight to Paula.” He swiped a hand across his face again.

  Ryan leaned back in his chair. The man was strung out on something. If he were the murderer why was he digging through the papers and things on the desk? It would have made more sense if he’d gone for the incriminating spearhead.

  “You weren’t at the gallery for your art. What were you really doing there?” Ryan flipped open a file Blane had put together on the artist after bringing him in. “It looks like you’ve been arrested for using several times. Did Paula have something on you?”

  Rowan slapped his back against the chair, crossed his arms, and twitched. But his mouth remained firmly shut.