Reining in Murder

by Leigh Hearon

  “Why, I sure do. He was the cutest thing. So polite, and he left a tip bigger than anything you’ve ever tossed my way, Bill.”

  Bill snorted.

  “I predicate my tips on the service received.” He sounded as if he was reciting the Gettysburg Address.

  “Hogwash. You predicate your tips on the number of quarters left on the table. But anyway, this guy was real nice. As I said, we were about to close the kitchen, but he said he’d been traveling all day and still needed to get to his destination that night. He said he’d got hung up on some road construction down south and already was behind schedule, but sure would like a real meal before he got back on the road.”

  “Apparently he charmed the shoes right off Millie here.” Bill obviously was unimpressed. Millie appeared just as unimpressed by his comment.

  “I talked him into getting our T-bone special. He must have liked it, because I remember handing the plate to our dishwasher when he was done and telling him he just might as well put it up with the dried set.”

  Annie interjected. “Did he make any phone calls while he was here?”

  “Why, yes, he did. It was right at the end of his meal. He’d just been talking to another customer when his cell phone lit up. He stepped outside to take the call. I remember that. The manager thought he was about to stiff us for the bill, but I knew he’d be back. And he was.”

  Annie’s head was swimming. “He was talking to someone in here? Did he appear to know who it was, or was it a stranger?”

  “He was a stranger to me, I know that. I’d never seen him before. He’d come in a couple of hours before this guy and had been nursing beers all evening. Then he went over to the truck driver, and I assume asked him a question. It wasn’t ten seconds later that the driver’s cell phone rang.”

  “What did he look like? The other man, I mean?”

  “Oh, now let me think. All our beer bums look alike to me by now.” Millie squinted her eyes and was silent. “He was skinny, I know that.”

  “How tall? Was he short or tall?”

  “Oh, he was lanky, all right. Not much more than five-eleven, I’d guess, but definitely not a shorty. More like a string bean.”

  That described about half of Suwana County’s farming community.

  “Anything else? Hair color, tattoos, scars, clothing?”

  Millie looked closely at Annie.

  “Are you the police or something?”

  “No, not at all. But as I was telling Bill here, the man who came in for dinner was in a highway accident after he left, and I’m taking care of the horse he was hauling. I’m just trying to figure out why he swerved in the middle of the road.”

  “Now, isn’t that too bad. I didn’t know that. I work so much here that I’m too tired to click on the TV when I get home. The only death I’ve heard about recently was that fancy-pants horse owner who lived up north. Didn’t she get hacked to death or something?”

  “Annie?” Bill’s voice sounded worried. “Is that horse you’re taking care of . . . did it belong to her?”

  Annie had the good sense not to answer but apparently her face gave the answer. Damn, she thought, I never was good at poker.

  Millie looked pale. She abruptly sat down on a stool and held one shaking arm out in front of her.

  “You mean the man sitting right at that table was hauling a horse to the woman who was murdered?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Annie was beginning to be sorry she’d told Bill so much of the story.

  “Do you think he killed her? Was I serving dinner to a . . . a homicidal killer?”

  “Not a chance. The driver was killed in a truck accident within thirty minutes of leaving the steakhouse.”

  “But Annie thinks they’re connected.” There was Bill, helpful as ever.

  “Did anyone ever talk to you? I mean, from the police?” Annie couldn’t believe that this piece of information had escaped Dan’s notice.

  “I was off the next week. My daughter’s grandchild was being born in Bellingham, and I was gone until the next weekend. Stan—that’s the manager—told me a Suwana County sheriff’s deputy had been by, but he didn’t say nothing about wanting to talk to me.”

  Suwana’s Finest at work, Annie thought sourly.

  “So what happened after the truck driver took the phone call?”

  “Well, he came in, paid his bill, and left.”

  “Did he say anything to you about the phone call?”

  “I don’t think so. Oh, wait. He did say something. What was it?” Millie tapped her fingers on her chin. “He said something about it being a ‘funny’ call. He kind of chuckled. He didn’t seem upset about it or nothing.”

  “Did he stick around, or was he done eating at that point?”

  “Hon, when he left to take his call, there wasn’t enough meat left on that steak to feed a cat. I think he took one last pull on his diet Coke and just picked up the check.”

  “What about the guy who came over to talk to him?”

  “Oh, he just went back to his stool and nursed another beer.”

  “Have you ever seen him again?”

  “Not on my watch. But I could ask the other girls.”

  Annie dug into her saddlebag and pulled out a piece of paper. She scrawled her name and phone number on it.

  “Would you mind? It may mean nothing, but if you do see him again, I expect the sheriff will want to talk to him.”

  “But you’re not a cop?”

  “Nope. I’m a friend of the sheriff’s. I’m just trying to help out in any way I can.”

  Driving home, Annie knew full well that Dan definitely did not want any more of her help, but that was his problem. And Millie had added one more piece of information as Annie was leaving that also piqued Annie’s interest. The beer bum who’d come up to Wayne had eyebrows that grew together. That definitely narrowed the field. But how to find that field was another matter. If only Dan could tap into a database that magically identified every man in Suwana County with that particular facial feature. Fat chance of that occurring.

  But the fact remained that she’d just uncovered another clue that had slid right by everyone else. How this one, along with the oiled gate, tied together escaped her for the time being. But she was sure she would figure it out.

  CHAPTER 19

  THURSDAY, MARCH 10TH

  Annie retired that night feeling thoroughly grumpy. It had started when Wolf and Max abruptly turned up their noses at Lavender’s defrosted casserole, which promptly made its way to Annie’s compost bucket. If her animals couldn’t stomach her half sister’s cooking, then she certainly couldn’t. She’d tried to spend the few hours left of her short evening making sense of what Millie had related about the mysterious man who’d approached Wayne. But even then, irritating thoughts of Lavender kept creeping into her brain. Where was the woman? She’d frankly expected to hear from her before now. And there was no one to call, unless, of course, you counted their father-in-common, who probably knew less than she did and might or might not have wanted to know more. She went to bed feeling irrationally upset at Lavender’s extreme thoughtlessness, and the gaping chasm in their respective levels of maturity.

  At 5:00 A.M., Annie arose to a gray, overcast day that belied the fact that spring was officially only ten days away. It was still pitch-dark, and looking out her kitchen door, she could discern no movement from the stable or paddock area. The horses were all probably asleep in their stalls, taking their thirty-minute lie-downs before light would slowly begin to emerge from behind the mountains. But the anger she’d felt the night before at Lavender’s disappearance was now replaced by another feeling—relief at her restored solitude.

  She padded around in her kitchen, marveling at the silence from Lavender’s absence, not to mention the two pups. Tossing Wolf and Max’s breakfasts in their respective bowls—all meat—she retreated to the kitchen sink, where she stood nearly motionless, thoughtfully sipping from her mug of coffee. An hour later, she reluctantly
gave up her post and pulled on her rain gear. It was time to feed the horses, then to ramp up the next stage of her investigation.

  * * *

  Annie had just nudged into the last parking place among the six allotted for the Suwana County Sheriff’s Office when she saw Dan and Deputy Kim Williams striding out of the building. She honked her horn.

  “Dan! Wait up!” She quickly jumped out of her truck and began running in his direction.

  “What’s up?”

  Annie halted, momentarily flummoxed. She couldn’t remember Dan’s ever greeting her so perfunctorily. True, their last conversation had not ended particularly well. Annie had been left sputtering on the phone after Dan had done his best to destroy every last doubt in her mind about Marcus’s guilt. She didn’t quite remember what she’d said before hanging up, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t nice. Still. She and Dan had been bantering and exchanging insults since the high school prom.

  Even Kim looked exceptionally serious. She stood a respectful three feet to Dan’s right, her legs slightly apart and her right hand dangling by her side, within easy grasp of her service revolver. She looks as if she was guarding an especially dangerous suspect, Annie thought, before she turned toward Dan.

  “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “Sorry, Annie. Don’t have time right now. Police business. Bound to take us the rest of the afternoon. Whatever you have to say, you can say it to the desk.”

  Astounded, Annie watched Dan and Kim resolutely walk away and get into Dan’s police vehicle. She watched the car circle around the driveway leading into the county buildings and head left, toward the highway. She noted that Dan hadn’t put on his turn signal or his seat belt, for that matter. What was it about police officers that made them scorn the laws they were sworn to uphold?

  Well, fine. Here she was, good little Ms. Citizen, but if that was how she was going to be treated, she’d just keep her new information to herself. She turned to go, but then remembered that Esther, Suwana County Sheriff’s Office’s oldest employee in both senses of the word, was probably on duty. Annie liked Esther. And Esther, when found alone, which was most of the time, was always a good source of information. Swallowing her indignation, Annie entered the department and, a few minutes later, was told to go back to the 9-1-1 operator’s command post.

  “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she said politely as she entered the eight-by-eight cubicle that served as the county’s sole office for registering residents’ complaints and crime reports.

  Esther slipped off her earpiece and gave a high, trilling laugh.

  “Hardly. Unless you count a stolen bicycle from the high school which, by the way, didn’t even have a lock on it.”

  Annie gingerly sat down on the one unused chair the cubicle could accommodate.

  “Well, you’ve probably had enough calls this past month to make up for the downtime. I’d be happy just to sit here and do the crossword puzzle.”

  Esther scowled, or attempted to. She was seventy-five years old if she was a day, Annie thought, and looked more like someone’s beloved great-aunt who’d just baked your favorite cookies whenever you turned up at the door. Her snow-white hair was short but professionally done, and her face remarkably unlined for her years and for all the horror stories she’d undoubtedly had to listen to while on watch. Esther was wearing her usual uniform: Alfred Dunner slacks and a pullover sweater. Today, her sweater sported one large yellow fuchsia on the front. Most of her sweaters were adorned with some flower or another. Annie thought it was cute.

  “What? You don’t like crossword puzzles?” Annie was trying to be diplomatic and gauge Esther’s mood. She’d decided upon entering the building that she had one very big favor to ask of her.

  “Annie, I’m so good at crossword puzzles that even the New York Times’ Saturday one doesn’t take me past my first coffee break. But that’s the problem. Haven’t you heard what they’re trying to do to me?”

  “No, I haven’t. What’s going on?”

  “In their ongoing quest to get me to retire, the commissioners are now suggesting that I be replaced by a computer.”

  “A what? Esther, you can’t be serious.”

  “I am. The idea was brought up at the last board meeting, and apparently there was quite a bit of enthusiasm for the idea.”

  “I don’t get it. How could a computer possibly do your job?”

  “Quite easily, it seems.” Esther’s voice was uncharacteristically brittle. Put her on the phone with the parent of a runaway kid and she sounded like milk and honey.

  “It’s been tried in a couple of other small communities and while the results aren’t in, nothing tragic has happened. Yet.” This was delivered in a particularly ominous tone. “You got a problem? Just log on to the sheriff’s Web site and send us an e-mail. When someone gets around to reading what you had to say, maybe you’ll get a response.”

  “That’s absurd! What about crimes in progress?”

  “Oh, they’ll go through the regular switchboard. But the bulk of the calls are supposed to go through the computer system. They want to knock my workday back to a few hours at night, when most of the calls for immediate response come in.”

  Annie snorted. Esther plowed ahead in her diatribe. Now that she’d found a ready listener, it would have been difficult to get her to stop.

  “So don’t plan on getting murdered in the middle of the day. Or pass out from lack of blood before you can reach your computer to let us know that you’ve been stabbed to death. I honestly wonder, what are they thinking? All it will take is one fiasco when the sheriff’s deputies don’t arrive in time, and this will all be on the commissioners’ heads. Not a one of them could be elected dogcatcher afterward.”

  Annie silently agreed.

  “The commissioner who made the suggestion was such a nice little boy, too. One of the best students in my class.”

  Annie had forgotten that Esther had once been an elementary-school teacher and had taught most of Suwana’s citizens now over the age of forty. But when her husband died unexpectedly of a brain hemorrhage in his late thirties, Esther had accepted the job as dispatch operator. Her excuse was that she didn’t like being alone at night, now that Walter was gone.

  “Well, it’s just ridiculous. No one could ever replace you, Esther. Why, you solve half the crimes in Suwana County before the police ever arrive on the scene. No one can get information out of people better than you.”

  Esther visibly preened. She gave Annie a smile, the first Annie realized she’d seen on anyone’s face since she had pulled into the County Sheriff’s Office.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Esther said, patting her hair. “It’s just that it’s good to be able to talk to a real person when you’re in trouble. I’ve been told that time and time again.”

  “That’s right,” Annie said authoritatively. “And no one’s going to let you retire or go sideways in the system. That commissioner may have his pet project, but it’s not going to fly when the public gets wind of it. The commissioners will back down in a heartbeat. You’ll see.”

  Esther gave Annie another smile, this one a bit tired.

  “I hope you’re right, Annie. I hope you’re right.”

  A red light lit up on the console.

  “Excuse me, Annie. Nine-one-one speaking. How can I help you?”

  Esther listened intently and her fingers quickly flew over the pocket-sized keyboard on her desk.

  “I see. How do you spell your last name? Yes, I’ll tell the sheriff. Yes, I have your phone number. If he needs to talk to you, he knows how to reach you.”

  Esther unhooked her earpiece and shook her head in disbelief.

  “They’re still coming in. It’s unbelievable.”

  “What are?”

  “Calls from psychics. I don’t know what it is about this triple-homicide, but it’s generated more phone calls from nutcases than I can ever remember. I’ve heard them all. Of course, none of them make any sense.”


  Annie inwardly winced at the way Esther so cavalierly threw “triple homicide” into her conversation—after all, Marcus hadn’t officially been declared dead yet, had he? But she kept her discomfort to herself.

  “Well, if you get a call from my sister, Lavender, let me know. I’ll take care of it personally.”

  As Esther plowed into her next pet topic, the state of Dan Stetson’s personal and professional life, Annie relaxed and waited for her opening.

  “I’m not saying it’s all Dan’s fault,” Esther had told her.

  “Dory could have her moments, too. Hair-trigger temper, that woman. And you know Dan. He wouldn’t raise his voice to an ax murderer if he knew he could get a confession otherwise.”

  Annie made a small murmur of assent although she acutely remembered Dan’s curtness to her just an hour before.

  “But after the boys left home, and Dory cut back at her hair salon, no pun intended, she started spending way too much time on the Internet. And that’s what got her in trouble. Dan would go home and find Dory glued to her computer, breakfast dishes still in the sink and dinner nowhere in sight.”

  Esther had shaken her head disapprovingly. Apparently Walter had never known a missed meal prepared by his bride, even after a long day with rambunctious first graders. Annie nodded sadly in agreement. A meal not served on time was a serious crime to Suwana’s well-nourished sheriff.

  “But when she left, and all these horrible deaths came right after the other, he changed.” Esther was emphatic. “Why, he’d come in here and practically snap my head off for no reason at all. And I wasn’t the only one. He even laid into Deputy Elizalde one day so bad that I thought that the deputy was going to resign right then and there—or slug him.”

  “Maybe slugging him would have been the right way to go,” was Annie’s thoroughly unhelpful answer. “Dan’s not exactly been sweetness and light to me, either.”

  “Well, he likes you, so you know it’ll all blow over once this case is resolved. But that’s the problem. Dan’s dying to close it out, but the prosecutor won’t let him. Says he hasn’t turned over every stone yet. The fact is, we’ve already been made a laughingstock on national TV once, and Ms. Prissy Evans isn’t about to let it happen again. So she’s sending Dan out on wild-goose chases just to make sure every lead is taken to its natural conclusion,’ according to her. It’s driving Dan nuts.”