I needed to fill him in on what Jennifer and I had been doing before his call, but I was too tired to do it tonight—or, technically, this morning.
“Not much that you don’t already know. Heather said she grabbed Cas’ rope by accident.”
“Ah, jealousy. I bet that was her in Cas’ bag Wednesday night. That’s when she found a receipt for the birthday flowers for Blue—uh, Pauline. She’s rooting around in the bag, sees Cas coming, grabs up her stuff, mistaking his rope for one of hers, and gets out of there.”
Mike’s thoughts seemed to be on a different track. “He has a point—Richard—about this being dangerous. You and Diana were nearly killed last time. Murderers are nothing to fool around with. Maybe you shouldn’t—”
“Stop that. You’re feeling guilty again, and you have no reason to. What happened was not your responsibility, not mine or Diana’s either. I refuse to feel guilty or have anyone else feel guilty because of what a murderer did.”
I doubted I’d persuaded him, but he didn’t argue it now. Instead, he said, “Where the pieces were found is consistent with Landry pulling out his phone to use it after Heather lassoed him, but why’d you ask for phone records when we already have them?”
“Richard doesn’t know that. He’d wonder if we didn’t ask. Besides, we don’t have the phone records I’d really like. Jennifer got pictures of the list of calls made with the bulls stomping on the phone. But what matters is the last call before the bull calls. We can’t know that until we see earlier calls—the ones that went through. With the complete list, we could narrow who he might have called to meet him or get him loose from the rope Heather threw.”
I SWUNG MY front door open and stifled a gasp.
I’d forgotten about leaving Jennifer there. And apparently she’d forgotten about leaving.
She had found the cookies. Also the chips, pretzels, popcorn, bread, and peanut butter. All were scattered over the coffee table that would have cost a fortune in Manhattan as reclaimed wood, but was actually just old. In the center were her laptop and a legal pad with pages flipped back.
Jennifer sat on the couch, hunched over the laptop. It took me a long moment to realize she was sound asleep.
DAY SIX
TUESDAY
Chapter Twenty-Six
I TOSSED SHADOW a piece of popcorn.
Having popcorn for breakfast was my rebellion against being awake far earlier than I would like. The popcorn was a little stale, but it had other things going for it. It was made and had been sitting on the coffee table, waiting for me to grab the basket and walk outside with it.
Jennifer was still asleep on the couch. Which said something about her ability to sleep anywhere. She’d barely stirred the night before when I’d brought a pillow and comforter and nudged her to lie down.
Shadow plucked the popcorn out of the air with greater aplomb than a number of outfielders the Cubs have employed, and swallowed.
“Good job.”
His ears flickered, but he stayed back. I sent him a few more high fly popcorns, and he was errorless. Gradually, I brought them in closer, until I was down to the last few, and he was swallowing infield flies.
I’d called KWMT while still in bed and let them know I’d be in after lunch, but was reachable by cell. I figured measuring by stress-per-minute, I’d put in a week’s worth of time yesterday in preventing the Live at Five news hour from imploding. The day-shift assignment editor who’d answered said the phones had been busy because word had gotten out that the sheriff’s department believed Landry was murdered, most likely by hanging, and it looked like it would be another all-Thurston day on-air.
Next, I’d called Matt Lester and told him I was taking all the fun out of his search by giving him a first name—Pauline.
I’d also called Mike and told him to come over because we had things to talk about.
“Oh, yes, we do,” he said, all mysterious. Which miffed me. Not only had he already been awake and cheerful, but he’d expressed no interest in my mysteriousness.
So I didn’t tell him on the phone what Jennifer and I had been working on the night before when interrupted by the Heather-Cas drama. That would teach him.
I tossed another piece of popcorn to Shadow. This one overshot. When he lifted his head to try to grab it, it slid down the back of his head and nestled in the fur at the top of his back.
I reached out, snagged it, and presented it in my open palm. He slurped it up, with an additional, delicate slurp of my palm for any residual popcorn atoms.
We stared at each other.
It had all been so quick and automatic, it was only then that I remembered my decision to be careful around this dog. Because I had no idea of his past, which meant I had no idea how he would react to unfamiliar movements, especially quick ones.
Apparently he reacted fine to quick, unfamiliar movements, as long as they ended with popcorn in his mouth. Or, perhaps he’d reacted as unthinkingly as I had, with his caution forgotten for that instant. His big, dark eyes looked more surprised than cautious.
Not looking at him directly, I put another piece of popcorn on my palm and held my hand out. Not under his nose as I had unthinkingly a second ago, but within reach.
Caution came back into his eyes. His focus went to the popcorn. He licked his lips. His gaze flicked to my face, to the side, back, away again.
I could put it on the ground partway between us, let him come that half step. No, not unless he refused this.
My hand started to bob from the double effort of keeping it steady and not thinking about his teeth.
He took one step forward, did the face-gaze flicking again. He stretched his neck toward me until I began to think he was part giraffe.
He didn’t so much eat the popcorn as put his muzzle near my hand and suck it in without making contact. He retracted his neck, stepped back, and swallowed.
Two pieces left. I could repeat that maneuver, but I wasn’t sure either of us could take the tension. I flipped the first piece to the side. He had to move for it, while cutting the distance between us. The last one was closer to me than him.
With that one swallowed, he looked at the basket.
I raised my hands. “All gone. You can have more another time.” He started trotting away. “See you later, Shadow.”
He stopped, looking over his shoulder in my direction, his head tipped, as if contemplating my words.
“I know. Crazy human. But you’ve got to admit, I’ve got good eats.” He licked his chops, gave one wag of his tail and headed away again.
The wag might have been the movement of his tail from turning and trotting off. But I don’t think so. I really don’t think so.
NO ONE EVER said Mike Paycik is all stupid. He brought coffee and pastries. He also brought Thomas David Burrell, so not all smart, either.
I discovered this when I came into the living room after taking a quick shower and putting on jeans and a plain white shirt.
From behind them, Jennifer ostentatiously looked from Mike’s back to Tom’s, sent her eyebrows toward the ceiling, and popped her eyes out at me. To tamp down the gossip speculation I saw going on behind her eyes like a pinball machine gone wild, I began introducing her to Burrell.
“Oh, I know Tom,” she said. “My Uncle Rob—that’s Dad’s youngest brother—has been his best friend since, what? Middle school?”
“Before that,” he said, taking the comforter that had been more mashed than folded from her hands. “I’ve known Jen since she was less than a day old.”
“Jennifer,” I corrected.
They both looked at me blankly. I wasn’t fool enough to try to explain. “Don’t you need to get to KWMT? You said you were working early today, right?”
She dug her phone from her pocket to check the time. “Yikes. Gotta go. I’ll see if I can
get those final dates and names and get back to you.”
“Thanks for everything, uh, Jennifer.” I held the door and waved her off.
“Good thing she has the early shift. I only got three coffees,” Mike said, seated on the couch and pulling containers from a bag. In the same tone he added, “Tom’s got something to say.”
I sat on the wooden chair across from the couch and selected a bear claw. I needed to get in there fast, because Mike had already consumed one and was trolling for a second choice. “Okay.”
Tom placed the comforter, now contained in a well-folded bundle, on the scarred table between the front door and short hall with doors leading off to the bathroom and two tiny bedrooms. He took his time getting back to the couch and taking a seat.
“Stan Newton accepted a bribe from Keith Landry. I got it confirmed this morning. I had a strong suspicion yesterday, but—”
“What?” I stood, three-quarters of a bear claw in hand. “That’s what you wanted to tell us yesterday? You said it would keep.”
“You and Mike had to leave.” He calmly sipped coffee.
“We could have waited another minute to hear that. And all that time you were here with the ropes and the door, and you never said a word.”
“I told you I had something I thought you’d want to know.”
“I thought you were going to come clean about the phone calls.”
Comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Ah.” He looked at Mike. “You knew, too?”
“Yeah.” Though why Mike should sound abashed, I didn’t know. He wasn’t the one who’d withheld information.
“I applied my judgment to the situation based on what I knew then,” Burrell said.
“Your judgment has been crap on this,” I said. “First, in lying by omission. Worse, because you indicated you were giving us the full info. Second, by not telling us about Landry bribing Newton. No, this isn’t working. Burrell’s out of this investigation. We shouldn’t have included him at all.”
I crossed my arms—the gesture somewhat hampered because I still held the bear claw—and waited for him to leave.
Slowly, he stood.
But instead of leaving, he took off his cowboy hat, hooked it on the wooden knob that decorated the top left corner of the couch, and sat again. “First, I acted based on the information I had, which did not include that Landry had been murdered. Second, you need me in this investigation. You wouldn’t be so fired up at me not telling you about the bribe yesterday if it wasn’t important, and there’s more to tell.”
“He has you there,” Mike said, unhelpfully telling me what I already knew.
“And,” Burrell added, a glint in his eyes I didn’t like, “you won’t know what else I have found out, or could find out, if you don’t keep me in.”
So, Thomas David Burrell was willing to play dirty. “What’s the more you have to tell us?” I asked.
“You’ll tell me what you know?”
“I’ll tell you as much as I tell Mike.”
“Hey!” protested Mike.
“Deal,” said Burrell.
“You don’t tell me everything?” Mike demanded.
“Have you told me everything?”
“Haven’t had a chance to yet.”
I shook my head. “Not just this morning. You don’t tell me everything. Certainly not what Ms. Blue Hair said to you and—”
“Not word-for-word, but I told you the important stuff.”
“—not what you saw in those photos you took that made you feel it was worthwhile working Lloyd Sampson as a source after you told me there wasn’t anything there.”
A flush rose above his collar and into his face. “It was a hunch. Nothing solid. I wanted to see—”
“Exactly. We each have bits and pieces we hold back, waiting to see if they develop or fade into nothingness.”
“I’m not holding anything back on purpose,” he insisted. “And to prove it, I’ll tell you that I had another chat with Ms. Blue Hair and heard all about how her parents don’t understand her, never have. That her father is particularly heinous, and she will never reconcile with a monster who delights in torturing her by being a carnivore and indulging in brutal practices—not against her. I did get her to confirm that. From what she said, her family’s in the cattle business, and she’s been in full-blown teen rebellion since age six. I’ll also tell you Aunt Gee called and said the big shots are at a retreat in the mountains. They wanted to keep it quiet to talk about how to repair the county’s image—especially the justice system—without anybody knowing what they’re doing.”
“Where are they?”
He shook his head. “Nobody knows. Not even Aunt Gee can get a line on it. Richard’s been trying, too.”
I turned to Burrell. “And what about you?”
“Like I said, I’ve heard from two people I trust, and one I don’t, that Newton took a bribe from Landry.”
“Gives Newton motive for murder—to keep the bribe quiet,” Mike said.
I added, “And that means Cas has motive—to protect his father. Heather, too.”
“To protect Cas’ father? Isn’t that stretching it?” Mike said.
“How about to protect Cas? Along with the possibility of protecting herself. Remember that rodeo scholarship. She said Landry threatened to yank it. Well, what would happen to the rodeo—and the funding for her scholarship—if word got out that Landry bribed his way into getting that contract with all the lucrative bonuses. It was as important for her that a bribe be kept secret—”
“Hold on there,” interrupted Tom. “Couple things. First, the bribe wasn’t kept secret. I found out. Others would have, too.”
“No one with a motive to keep the bribe secret could know that for sure. Even if word does come out, it could still have been a motive.” I finally took the next bite of my slightly mangled bear claw.
Tom stretched his fingers and rested the edge of his hand on his leg, gesturing to put that aside for now. “The second thing is that what I’ve been told isn’t all about Landry bribing Newton to get the last-minute contract.”
“He bribed Newton for his vote last year, when the contract went to Sweet Meadows?” Mike asked.
“It’s not that clear-cut. Sounds like money changed hands late last year, but I can’t pin down what it was for.” Tom frowned. “There’re conflicts in what I’ve got. I’ll go back to the first person and see if I can get it clearer.”
“What about the third source? The one you don’t trust.”
He raised his open hands, let them fall. “He says there were two bribes. He got cagey about what the recent one was about, but talked free about the first one. But, then, he wasn’t entirely sober.”
“Getting sources drunk isn’t—”
Tom interrupted me. “Wasn’t a matter of getting him drunk, it was a matter of finding him in that condition.”
“Great. Real reliable.”
He shrugged.
“Your turn, Elizabeth,” Mike said.
I hesitated, then told them what Jennifer found, and what I’d learned from talking to the women.
“The sonovabitch did the same thing over and over—sounds like all those women had a motive,” Tom said grimly.
Mike took another pastry. “Maybe motive, but not opportunity. Has to be someone who was here. Unless we find out one of those women was visiting Sherman . . .”
“That’s another thing.” I made a note. “Why the murder was committed here can tell us something, as well as why now. Both good questions to pursue.”
“Tell Tom—”
I cut off Mike. “You tell him. If we want any shot at another pastry, we need to keep your mouth otherwise occupied.”
Both men grinned, but I noticed Tom did grab a bismarck as Mike gave the gi
st of Dex’s points about there being a reason a murder is committed at a certain time. I’m no fool, I took a raspberry Danish.
“Let’s see where we are.” I pulled over a legal pad and pen to list the names we’d discussed. “Who should we start with?”
“Remember what Jenks said about seeing a woman that morning?” Mike asked.
I countered, “Vague memory, off to the side, and that was when Landry was found. He’d been dead a while.”
“We don’t know for sure when he died.”
“Had to be early enough for the bulls to do their worst before Jenks and Thurston arrived. Why would the killer stick around?”
“Retrieve evidence,” he said promptly.
“No evidence was found that was worth retrieving.”
“Maybe. But the murderer couldn’t be sure of that without checking. I think Vicky’s the top suspect. Keeping Landry away from her daughter permanently is a strong motive. And that fits with why the murder happened now. Landry’s sexual advances on Heather had to be her worst nightmare. After Heather ropes him, he calls Vicky—”
“Why would Landry call her after all the years of silence?” I asked.
“Because Heather told him he was her father,” Tom said. “He calls Vicky and demands to know what that was about. And her second-worst nightmare would be if he tried to take Heather away.”
Mike and I exchanged a look. Tom’s personal history skewed his view on this. “Maybe.” Now I met Tom’s gaze. “But did Landry strike you as somebody who’d embrace fatherhood?”
He tipped his head in half a nod, conceding.
“But what about this?” Mike said. “What if Vicky followed Heather there and saw what happened?”
I kept going with my devil’s advocate role. “And didn’t do anything but watch it unfold while her daughter’s father made lewd proposals?”
Mike grimaced. “So, she got there in time to hear the end of it, enough to get the gist, but didn’t need to intervene because Heather temporarily neutralized Landry with her rope. After Heather ran off, Vicky decided permanently neutralizing him would be a lot better than temporary.”
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