Montana Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  “A hard lesson. Guns are part of life around here.”

  “And Montana gun laws are practically nonexistent,” she said. “That makes me wonder why Misty’s mystery shooter wasn’t armed. Why did he need to use Misty’s rifle.”

  “It was an opportunity. He saw the gun and figured he could frame my sister.” Once Aiden accepted Misty’s story, it made all kinds of sense. “The mystery shooter and David must have come there together, probably following Misty.”

  “Because David had a crush,” she said.

  “I hope that’s all it was.” He didn’t like to think about Misty being targeted for a darker reason. “After the murder, the shooter used the vehicle for his getaway.”

  “Find the car, and we find the killer,” she said.

  “It’s not that simple,” he said. “Like the mystery shooter, this vehicle is invisible…and silent. Neither you nor Misty heard an engine starting up.”

  “The rush of the river could have covered the engine noise.”

  “When I flew over, I didn’t see a vehicle.”

  “He made a quick escape,” she said. “There had to be a car for David to get to the site, and it was pretty clever of Clinton to focus on that. It wouldn’t hurt for you to tell him he was helpful. Whether you like it or not, he’s going to be a permanent part of your family.”

  “It’ll take more than a single flash of intelligence for me to change my mind about him.”

  “You have an opportunity to mend fences. Don’t build a wall instead.” Unexpectedly, she chuckled. “I can’t believe I said that. I’m starting to sound like Grandma Yoda.”

  Her laughter drew him closer. It had been a while since he’d had a pretty woman riding in the passenger seat of his truck. When he was still in his long-distance relationship, he hadn’t gone out with anyone else, and it wasn’t only because he was being faithful. None of the local women interested him. Not until Tab arrived.

  Today, she wore her hair pulled back in a low ponytail fastened with an orange-and-blue beaded barrette. She looked fresh and young. The unbraided length of her blue-black hair shimmered in the sunlight, and he longed to tangle his fingers in the silky strands.

  “When we get to town,” she said, “you can drop me off at the café on the corner of Main and Grant. That’s where I’m meeting with my client.”

  “At the café?”

  “She’s a waitress, nine months pregnant. She called this morning and said the baby wasn’t kicking as much, maybe only once or twice an hour. Sometimes, that’s a sign that the mom is about to go into labor.”

  Aiden had participated in the delivery of cows, horses and other livestock, but it was hard for him to imagine a human woman giving birth. “I know who you’re talking about. Her name is Connie, right? If she thinks she’s going to have the baby, why did she go to work?”

  “I told her to stay home, but she wanted to pick up the morning shift. She said her tips have been phenomenal since she started showing.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been slipping an extra couple of bucks under the plate when she’s my waitress. And I’ve been feeling like I ought to help her carry something.”

  “Anyway, this is just a quick checkup. I’ll pop in and say hi. Then I’ll catch up with you at the gas station.”

  Aiden hesitated before replying. He wanted to draw the line about how involved she should be. Though he had no particular reason to suspect Bert, he didn’t want Tab associated with his investigating. “I’d rather have you wait for me at the café.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll meet you there for coffee. I’ve got a taste for one of their sweet rolls.”

  “I don’t believe that. You just had breakfast,” she said. “Why are you trying to keep me away from the gas station?”

  “For your own safety.” He could have made up a lie, but he knew she’d see through him. “I don’t want any focus on you. We could be dealing with a serial killer, somebody who brutalizes and rapes his victims.”

  “Are you talking about Bert Welling? The man who runs the tidiest gas station in the state?”

  “I don’t know where the danger is coming from. That’s the problem.”

  “Is it?” Her tone was frosty. “It seems to me that all you’re doing is asking questions, which is exactly what I did with Clinton. I can help. That’s why Grandma wants us to stay at your house. To help. To find the real killer so Misty won’t be accused.”

  They drove past the scattered houses at the outskirts of town. The bad economy had taken a toll in this area. Some of these homes were boarded up and abandoned. Families were leaving Henley and moving to Billings where they’d have a better chance of finding steady work. Aiden feared that the small-town way of life he’d always cherished was coming to an end.

  His world was changing before his eyes. He shouldn’t be looking for a serial killer. Those kinds of crimes belonged in the big city, not in his sleepy little town. It used to be that Gabriel ranch commanded so much respect that nobody would dare to drive by and shoot off their guns, much less to accuse Misty of murder. Changes. Everything was turning upside down, and the worst part was how these changes struck close to home. His baby sister was about to become a single mother. His churchgoing mom seemed content to sleep with Blake and not marry him.

  His idea of shielding Tab from the dangers of an investigation might be part of a bygone era when the menfolk did the protecting and the womenfolk stayed home and baked pies. Tab sure as hell didn’t fit that mold. If she had, he probably wouldn’t have found her so appealing.

  “Fine,” he said. “Meet me at the gas station when you’re done.”

  “I intend to.” The chill in her voice turned crisp and professional. “And I’m coming along this afternoon when you take off in the chopper.”

  That suited him just fine. In the chopper with him, she’d be safe. “Glad to have you along.”

  “Good, because I need to stop by Grandma’s house and pick up some clothes and basic supplies. Also, I want to bring Shua over here to the ranch. I know the neighbors are taking care of her, but I worry she’s not getting enough exercise.”

  He suppressed an urge to warn her about riding all across the countryside by herself. Yesterday, he’d sent her off without being worried. But that was before they’d found Ellen, the second victim of the serial killer.

  They drove down Main Street, a wide two-lane road with angled parking on both sides. Like the outlying area, the shops along the sidewalk showed signs of deterioration although most of the storefronts were occupied. At the far end of the street, two churches faced each other. Half a mile beyond was Henley High, home of the Bobcats.

  Aiden drove past the gas station with a green neon open sign in the front window. Apparently, Bert Welling wasn’t taking off any time to mourn his murdered nephew. Two blocks away at the café, he dropped Tab off.

  She waved. “See you in a few.”

  Circling back, he drove up to the gas pump where the price for regular was a whole lot higher than he liked to pay. Aiden climbed down from the cab as Bert emerged from the office. Dressed in the gray jumpsuit with his name stitched over the breast pocket, Bert looked much too neat and tidy to be a car mechanic, but that was his way.

  Ever since he took over the gas station, more than a dozen years ago, he’d adhered to a standard of cleanliness more typical of a tea parlor than a garage. From the spotless windows to the array of tools neatly hung on pegs, Bert’s station showed a compulsive attention to order and detail.

  Aiden took off his hat and extended his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Bert acknowledged his words with a nod. His clean-shaven face was without expression. Not a single strand of his thinning black hair dared to slip out of place. “Fill ’er up?”

  “Yes, sir. And I’m due for an oil change, if you’ve got the time.”

  “Drive ’er into the first bay.”

  Aiden followed Bert’s instruction, figuring that while the two of them were inside th
e garage together, he might be more prone to conversation. Or maybe not. Bert was never the talkative sort.

  As Bert moved efficiently through his routine for getting the truck up on the lift, Aiden decided to forego subtlety. “There’s been talk that my sister was somehow responsible for David’s death. I want you to know it’s not true.”

  “I don’t blame Misty,” Bert said. “David always spoke highly of her. She was a cut above most of the girls he dated.”

  “I expect you’ve heard about Chuck and Woody.”

  “They’re not bad kids. They’ve worked for me. It takes a lot of effort to keep this place in good repair.”

  Aiden imagined the teenagers scrubbing the concrete floor in the auto bays with a toothbrush to meet Bert’s standards. The image didn’t fit into the sheriff’s idea of a gang. “You hire a lot of local kids. That’s a damn good thing. They need the jobs.”

  “I’m not a do-gooder,” he said as he pulled on a pair of gloves. “I hire people to do a job.”

  “Have you met this new guy they call Aspen Jim?”

  “David brought him. I didn’t bother getting to know him. A handsome devil like Jim won’t stick around Henley too long. He’s a skier. He’ll be heading for snow country.”

  The sheriff had suggested that Aspen Jim was a ringleader. “He’s a little older than the high school boys you usually hire.”

  “Never noticed.”

  Aspen Jim was an anomaly. A good-looking, mature ski bum didn’t fit into the fabric of Henley. This wasn’t a glamorous place. The skiing industry in Montana was nothing compared to Jackson Hole in Wyoming or Park City in Utah or any of the Colorado resorts. “Why would a guy like that want to live here? A girlfriend?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

  “Yoo-hoo.” Tab’s voice echoed against the concrete walls of the garage.

  “Back here,” Bert called out.

  She marched up to him and took both his gloved hands in hers. Her blue eyes welled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry about David, Mr. Welling. Can I drop by later with one of Grandma’s sweet potato pies?”

  Much to Aiden’s surprise, Bert cracked a smile. “I’d never say no to one of Maria Spotted Bear’s pies.”

  “Will you be having the funeral here?”

  “That’s his dad’s problem. He lives in Billings.” Bert dropped her hands. His thin face became a blank. “My brother, David’s dad, did a bad job in raising the boy after his mom left. The least he can do is to arrange for a proper burial.”

  Tab tilted her head. Her lovely face glowed with kindness, and Aiden knew it wasn’t an act. She was able to sincerely look past Bert’s natural hostility and see the sadness within. More important, Bert responded to her.

  “You spent a lot of time with David,” she said. “Showed him the right way to do things.”

  “But he still ended up dead. David had a weak character, just like his dad. My brother is nothing but a self-pitying, sloppy alcoholic.” His gaze lifted, and he frowned as though he’d spotted a spider’s web in the corner of the ceiling. “At least David stayed off the booze.”

  “I’m sure you’ll miss him.”

  “He wasn’t good at following instructions. Couldn’t remember to clean up after himself. His van was filthy.”

  Aiden pounced on the possible lead. “What kind of van?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I might be in the market to buy a van for Misty to use after she has the baby.”

  “Go ahead and take a look. The thing looks like crud, but it runs just fine.” Bert shrugged. “It’s parked in back of the garage. I told David that until he got a paint job, he couldn’t park at the house.”

  As Aiden walked to the front of the garage, Tab patted the sleeve of Bert’s clean jumpsuit. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. Grandma and I are staying at the Gabriel Ranch.”

  “I didn’t know you were all that close.”

  “Family friends,” Tab said.

  “Somebody told me you were there when David got shot. But you didn’t see who did it.”

  “I was too late,” she said, “but don’t you worry. The sheriff is investigating. He’ll find the killer.”

  She joined him. Together, they circled the whitewashed side of the garage. The back side where the trash cans were kept was slightly less tidy than the front. A beat-up van with a dinged front fender was parked with the nose facing to a light pole.

  “I have a change of plans,” Tab said. “My client’s water broke about a half hour ago, and her husband just got to the café to pick her up. I think she’s ready to go into labor, so I need to go back to the ranch, get my stuff and meet her at her house.”

  He couldn’t have been more pleased. Tab was off the case. “A real shame,” he drawled, “you won’t be able to do any more investigating today.”

  “Babies come first.”

  “Do you need to hurry? Is this an emergency?”

  “Not really,” she said. “It’s a first baby. I’d expect her to be in labor for hours.”

  Turning back to the van, he squatted to check out the tires and the tire wells. Dried weeds were stuck in the treads and wedged behind the mud flaps. “This van was driven off the road. It might be the vehicle David used yesterday.”

  “And the shooter drove it back,” she said. “He might have left his fingerprints on the car keys.”

  “Even if he did, the prints can be explained if it’s one of David’s friends.”

  “How can we find out who he was with yesterday?”

  “We can’t go around asking those kinds of questions.” Aiden rose to his feet. “I’ll suggest to the sheriff that he might want to talk to David’s buddies about their whereabouts yesterday. Woody and Chuck are already in custody. Maybe they’ll say something useful, instead of being twin jackasses.”

  She dragged her fingertip through the dust on the back window. “Apparently, David didn’t inherit his uncle’s obsessive neatness.”

  He circled around to the front of the van. There was a bike rack mounted on the hood. Two mountain bikes with heavy-duty tires were locked in place. If Misty’s mystery shooter hopped onto a bike and rode through the foliage at the river bank, they wouldn’t have heard a car engine starting. Hiding a bike would have been far easier than ditching a car or a van.

  “Take a look at this,” he called to her. “These are really nice bikes. Expensive.”

  Another voice intruded, “And I’ve got first dibs.”

  The man who sauntered toward them had a tanned complexion and sun-streaked hair that flopped casually over his forehead. He wore wraparound sunglasses and a lightweight parka with the hood zipped into the collar. His super-whitened smile flashed as he came even with Tab. This had to be Aspen Jim.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tab looked at dual reflections of herself in a pair of gleaming sunglasses. The man wearing them took her hand and raised it to his lips. “They call me Aspen Jim.”

  “I’m Tab Willows.” When meeting new people, she tried to keep an open mind, but this guy creeped her out. He reminded her of a lounge lizard without the lounge.

  He whipped off his sunglasses, revealing bloodshot brown eyes. “Why haven’t I met you before?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.” She snatched her hand from his grasp. “This is Aiden Gabriel.”

  “I know who you are. Misty’s brother.” Aspen Jim replaced his sunglasses on the narrow bridge of his nose. “I’m pleased to meet you, Aiden. How’s your sister doing?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Aiden said, “after watching David die in her arms.”

  “He liked her a lot, even after she ballooned up.”

  “That’s a nasty thing to say.” Tab hated men who made snide comments about pregnant women. “Women are at their most beautiful when they’re carrying new life. Artists have always celebrated the pregnant form as a symbol of fertility.”

  “Not me,” Aspen Jim said. “I like my ladies slim and sexy. Kind of li
ke you, darling.”

  “Have you ever made love to a pregnant woman?”

  “No way.”

  “Then you’re missing something spectacular. Several men have told me that it’s the most exciting sex they ever had.”

  “Why would they tell you?”

  “I’m a midwife.” She looked at her wristwatch. “And I need to get going.”

  “Hold on a sec.” Aiden stepped forward. She noticed that his lips barely moved when he spoke, and she suspected he was gritting his teeth to keep from snarling. “Mind if I ask you a couple of questions, Aspen Jim?”

  “No prob.” Blinded by arrogance, Aspen Jim didn’t realize that he ought to be nervous about Aiden’s questions. “I’m glad for the chance to talk to you.”

  “First, tell me about these bikes.”

  “They’re top of the line.” Aspen Jim turned away from her and went to the bikes and lovingly caressed the handlebars. “Titanium frame, dual suspension and hydraulic disc brakes, these bikes have it all.”

  “Did they both belong to David?”

  “Yeah, and he never really appreciated these super-fine machines, the little dipstick.” He winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. ‘Dipstick’ was kind of a nickname.”

  Tab didn’t believe that for a minute. Aspen Jim was the kind of guy who used his friends and bad-mouthed them behind their backs. She was beginning to feel sorry for David Welling with his alcoholic father, his cold-as-ice uncle and a friend like Aspen Jim.

  “The bikes must have been expensive,” Aiden said.

  “David got them in trade for doing mechanical work on a Ferrari for some rich dude in Billings. We used to take them out and ride all over. It’s important for me to stay in good condition for skiing.”

  “Were you out riding yesterday?”

  “The weather’s been great—didn’t want to miss it.” Aspen Jim hesitated, perhaps realizing that he’d stepped into what might be a stinky alibi situation. “It was early, like ten in the morning.”

  Smoothly, Aiden asked, “Where did you go? There’s a lot of nice, wide open land on the rez.”