by Unger, Erin;
“Yes, a woman told me he was her son and that he’d been with her most of the evening.” She flipped through some notes. “His name is Taylor Ames.”
“OK.” Another dead lead. I kept my eyes on the tall Native American.
Ava grew silent for a moment. “I can’t believe it. It’s like we’re at a movie set for Last of the Mohicans. I can’t take my eyes off them.”
I couldn’t agree more. “Wait ’til you talk to him.”
“Why do I get the feeling he’s going to make things difficult for us?”
“Right again.” The itch on my neck wouldn’t let up. Most of the time, mosquitos didn’t go after my olive-complected skin, but this bite was irritating.
He pulled a gray T-shirt over his head and caught us watching him. His gaze darkened as he moved in our direction.
Ava put out her hand. “I’m Ava Worthington. I love how your tribe has paid homage to your heritage here. What’s your name?”
He shook her hand. “Tony Slaiger. Look, the chief is busy, and you don’t have an appointment.”
“Do we need one? I’d be glad to set up one. Who’s your friend?” Ava dropped her hand to her side.
Hadn’t Ava told me a Slaiger owned the property where the fire originated? I jumped to attention and stared him down.
He looked back then hesitated. “William Hicks.”
I only imagined what information Jillian would pull up on this guy tonight. And the other man? He didn’t appear any less intimidating. There had to be juicy stuff on him too.
At least this time, Jillian didn’t run for the wall. But she kept her distance right behind me and Ava. I spread my feet, hands behind my back. I could at least appear to be at ease even if I wasn’t. “You look like you may know something about the murder on the mountain in March.”
He jerked forward, eyes boring into mine. “I do?”
Oops. Wrong thing to say. I winced. “I mean you live around here, right? You had to hear something.”
He relaxed and scanned a group of tourists exiting the village to watch the dancers. His thin lips formed a straight line. “Old man. Had his shop where it didn’t belong.”
Ava pressed her palms together. “Oh? I thought he had permission for it to be there.”
His eyes rolled. “Whatever.”
My arms tensed. If he was the man at the fire last night, why not see if he’d give himself away? “It’s interesting you were seen at Gary Newen’s house fire last night.”
The tiniest widening of his eyes spoke the truth. He didn’t turn his head but dropped his gaze to mine. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sure right. The sudden ripple of unease I noted in his stance said otherwise. Did he have something tangible against Mr. Newen? He didn’t sound very remorseful about a fellow townsman’s death either.
Ava’s own expression showed she’d noticed the subtle change as I had. “So how about that appointment?”
“What appointment?”
We all peered around him at the woman approaching.
He looked away and moved aside. “Chief Johns.”
Chief Johns was not what I expected at all. Even though I knew the chief was a woman from our briefing, the Monacan before me looked young, perhaps forty. But from our notes, her birth year was 1968. That made her fifty. Her dark hair was braided and twisted on the top of her head, showing a white streak of hair that didn’t match her youthful face. Gray eyes stared back at us. I could not stop looking at her regal features. This woman needed no makeup, and her beauty rivaled most women I knew. She set her hands on her hips.
Her slight variation on the traditional wear was becoming. Moccasins too.
Ava extended her hand once again and I followed suit. The sweet smell of suede and campfire and some unidentifiable herb met my senses as the chief drew near. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sorry I got held up with the young ones. The group had a bunch of questions. But I guess that’s a good thing, right?”
“Sharing cultures is very important.” Ava, ever the diplomatic one. If only I could learn from her.
“Please call me Queenie. Everyone does.”
“We’re Worthington Investigations, and we were hired to work the Newen case.” Gesturing to each of them, she introduced Jillian and me to the chief.
“It was a true loss to our town when he passed.”
I quirked my mouth to the side. “Yes.”
Queenie waved Tony away. He stayed right behind her for a moment but strode away when she half-turned and scowled at him. She turned to the dancing group. Drums created an offbeat as they swirled and bounced on one foot then switched to the other. The large blankets across their shoulders opened to create a winged effect.
We all watched the beauty of the dance, but then I took over the questioning. “Is it true you had a dispute with Mr. Newen over the land where his shop was? He sold locally grown fruits and vegetables there and Native American paraphernalia, right?”
“He helped some of my people make a decent living by selling their wares. Jewelry and things of that nature. Even handmade pottery.”
If that was right, then why would she want him dead?
“But you see, the original owner of the land, Stan Grayson, bequeathed the land to the Monacan tribe before he died. Gary wouldn’t relinquish his portion.”
Ava swayed to the beat of the drums. “He was given rights to it. And the courts ruled in his favor.”
“That is correct,” Queenie bit off the words.
I shot her a glance. So she was sensitive about the issue. But how sensitive…? “Why was it so important to you?”
“He owned the right of way. Without it, we can’t put anything on the land.”
I felt like I was standing in front of the president. My hands started to sweat, and I worked my voice into a tone of respect. “He wasn’t willing to share it?”
Chief Johns assessed me, and I fought the urge to look away. “No. And court didn’t help to disarm the situation. Now he’s…gone and we can’t do anything until the store and its land is released to his estate.” The chief waved her hand. “Who knows what will happen then?”
A sore spot for sure. Would Christopher turn it over to the Monacan tribe once he had the rights to it?
I took in the chief and steadied my breath. Calm reigned in spite of her retort. Now to try my hand at tact and diplomacy. Please, God, give me the ability to pull it off. More than my skills were at stake here. Ava needed to trust me to handle the case. And I needed to be able to act like I knew how to be in front of a dignitary. “You’ve done so much for your tribe. I saw the long list of achievements you’ve accomplished for your people. I can see how hard it would be to deal with someone who was making it impossible for you to use the land you owned. And you seem to work so hard here. Could you give us a rundown of your day when Mr. Newen was murdered?” Had it worked? I tried to read Chief Johns’ reaction.
She exhaled with a loud push of air. “The police already got my statement.” Her lips tightened for a moment. “But I’ll tell you what, you donate to the Monacan Tribe Fund and I’ll gladly enlighten you on what I told them.” She scanned our faces. “A gift,” she emphasized before returning her gaze to watch the drummers. “I want to help you. I do.”
Ava returned her hard-eyed stare and crossed her arms. She, for one, wasn’t having any trouble in front of someone with such great authority.
Money. Things always came back to money. Ava raised a brow at me with a slight nod. My back grew taut, and my tone didn’t stay as neutral as I’d planned. “OK. That sounds like a nice way to help your tribe.”
“I better get back to my duties. Come and see me once you’ve helped us out.” With a nod, Queenie left us to admire the dancers by ourselves.
Ava kept her eyes trained forward. “Wow. Somehow, she was not what I expected. And a land dispute is plenty of reason to have someone killed.”
What about all the online accolades for the benevolent chief? “Hmm.”
> Jillian bumped me with her elbow and directed my regard to the men. “Those guys couldn’t be less happy.”
When I turned, I melted in the glare of Tony Slaiger. His black eyes knocked me in my core like a hard hit in the gut in a game of kickball. The heat drained from my face. He might be our fire starter at both locations, and who knew what bounds he’d go to if he’d try to burn down a house with someone in it.
Better question still…Did Chief Johns order him to start both fires?
13
Christopher
This was no longer just about Dad. I needed a better plan than hoping for the best. Especially now that I’d been threatened.
The gray clouds won out over the sun that fought to shine through, and the first few drops of rain assaulted my window. Fresh linen scent permeated the room with its unique odor as I wore a hole in the rug from pacing. I looked out the window to the street. A few of my buddies at the police station agreed to keep my aunt’s place on their radar. No way was anyone going after her. I wouldn’t lose her too.
I had one more call to make before heading down to lunch. Leona Deguard’s cell number remained in my contacts list from Dad’s autopsy. She was the new ME for our area, and she’d been very helpful when everything first happened—too helpful. Her sappy jokes, touchy fingers, and too bright lipstick made me want to run for the hills. But if I got her on my side, things with the case would be much better. I hit the call button with reluctance. “Hey, Leona. This is Christo—”
“Hi.” Her bubbly voice was too perky for early morning talk. “I know who you are. It’s good to hear from you.”
“I’m glad you answered. I have a favor to ask.” I returned to pacing. Favors were dangerous things when the other person was way too interested in you, and you didn’t want anything to do with them—but Dad came first. “The investigative team I hired for my dad’s case is here, and I hoped you would partner with them on it. I know it’s your show but…” How did I say I wasn’t happy that the case had stalled? “I wanted to jumpstart things again. It doesn’t hurt to have a fresh perspective.”
Something clattered onto tile. “Oops.” More clanking reached through the phone. “Hold on a sec.”
More unidentifiable sounds paraded to my ears. Leona squealed, “Whoop.”
Please tell me she hadn’t fallen. I pressed the phone harder to my ear. “You there?”
A second later she returned. “Sorry. I slipped on—never mind, you don’t want to know what. Uh, let me see how that works. I’m still kinda new. I’ll make some calls.”
Was she really OK? “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“I’m peachy. No worries.” She modified her voice. “Happens too many times to count…”
She was a bit clumsy? That could be a little dangerous in her line of work. Add that to her quirkiness…
“You’ll let me know as soon as you get an answer?”
“Sure thing.”
I pumped the air. Was it wrong to use the fact that she showed obvious interest in me to get my team in on the action?
“What do you think about meeting for dinner?” She hurried on. “I can let you know about the clearance when I find out too.”
“Yea—” And then it hit me. Come up with an excuse fast. “I have to be available for the team. They’re already here, you see.” But if I didn’t play her game, would I be stalling the investigation? There was no option. I could invite one of the investigators—maybe Shauna—to go too… “OK.”
Leona’s voice raised in volume. “Great. I’ll text you the details later. I’m swamped at work right now and need to go.”
I groaned after I hit end call. It was one more round in her favor.
Now to conquer another beast. Aunt Eena.
14
Shauna
It was no fun when your point-man refused to accept your protection. Did Christopher want to see if the bullseye on his back was big enough? Why wouldn’t he let me do my job and guard him? Here we were standing in front of a huge, antique mini-mall, and he was alone “doing his thing.” Well, if he wanted to end up dead—and last night was a close call—then be my guest.
Americana signs and stars converged around the entrance to the taupe, metal-sided building as my team and I walked up to the cash register. I shook off my agitation and did a quick sweep of the area.
The cashier finished ringing up a customer at the rate of molasses flowing out of a jar.
After she handed the man his bag, she ripped the receipt off and gave it to him. “Thanks, Mr. Bache. I’ll tell Ned you want to see him about selling those items, and he should call you in a day or two.”
He stayed to chat another minute as if we weren’t right behind him, waiting our turn to do business.
He waved a good-bye to her and turned to us at the slow as molasses rate. What was it with small town ways? “Hi, there. Glad to see some new people in here. Like Civil War stuff?” He didn’t give us a chance to reply. “Check out my stall on row seven.” He pointed through the door and to the left. “It’s stall number 27.”
His knitted vest had me pulling at my collar. Who wore thick sweater vests this time of year?
He rocked from his heels to the balls of his feet. “Great prices.”
I raised my brows. “Thanks for the invite.”
With one last wave that encompassed all of us, Mr. Bache sauntered out the door, barely clearing the five-foot six mark on the surveillance height chart adhered to the doorframe.
I took back my last thought. Small-town friendliness couldn’t be beat. “Hello. We have a meeting scheduled with Mr. Thompson.”
Combing the hair in her blonde ponytail with her fingers, the cashier shuffled a few pamphlets on the countertop and popped her gum. Was she even old enough to be working here? “Sure, go straight through that door. At the fourth aisle, take a left. Then go straight. Zigzag to your right. Turn at the comic book booth—oh wait,” she put a finger on her chin. “No, skip the comic book booth—”
Cutting her off, I eyed Ava and Jillian. “I think we’ll manage. Thanks.”
The young woman shrugged and moved a basket of one-dollar rings. “’K.”
I passed a booth of antique guns and knives as slow as possible on our way to find the manager’s office somewhere in the labyrinth of antiques and furniture.
Ava called over her shoulder, “Keep up. This place is huge. It wouldn’t take much for you to get lost in the swell of weaponry.”
“Ha-ha. I’m coming.” But a huge army knife on display stopped me. Oh, it would be nice to add it to my arsenal.
Jillian circled back and grabbed my arm. “Come on. You can look later.”
“Fine,” I whined.
We turned in so many directions, even my super navigation radar wasn’t sure I’d find my way out. At a luan door with a bunch of license plates covering it, we stopped, knocked, and waited.
The annoyance on the other side of the door couldn’t be mistaken. “Enter.”
Ava pushed open the door. It almost smacked Jillian in the face as the retractable spring closed it. I tried not to laugh, but it wasn’t my strong suit to keep things to myself.
“Hey. That’s not funny.”
I really did try to wipe the smirk off my face. “Oh, you’re right. It wasn’t.”
Jillian gave me a quick punch in the bicep and my smile disappeared in a millisecond as she pulled the door open again.
After handing the manager a card with our logo on it, Ava sat on one of the two chairs across from his desk. The smudged name plate read Ned Thompson, manager. “Nice to meet you.”
We all shook hands. His gaze darted from one of us to the other as he bobbed in his seat like a meerkat. “H…hi.”
Jillian relaxed against the wall, arms crossed. She examined Ned Thompson before moving her gaze around the room.
Whatever had him in a dither put me at full attention. I was going to sit, but I had a better view of everything over by Jillian.
As A
va crossed her legs, she smoothed her dress pants. “I’m sure you’ve been told we’re here to investigate Mr. Newen’s death.”
He ran a hand through thinning white hair. His forehead must scrunch a lot with all the wrinkles ingrained in his flesh. “Gary and I knew each other most of our lives. I don’t understand why anyone would do this to him.”
We went through the usual niceties before getting down to real business.
I launched into the questions. “We were wondering if you’d run through the last time you saw him. Did he act out of character? Was there anything that stood out to you that day or leading up to it?”
“Nothing. He spent the morning in his office. Then around ten, he told me to finish the accounts for the month and left. He was headed out to his fruit stand. And that was normal for him. March was the beginning of season when he’d be out there six days a week selling fruits, vegetables, jellies, and souvenirs.” He brushed a hand across his forehead. “The tourists headed to the mountains love those places.”
I relaxed into the seat beside Ava. “He wasn’t moody or quiet, uneasy?”
With a shift in his seat, Mr. Thompson sat back, yet he still looked ready to spring out of the office. “I can’t really say.” He lifted a dismissive hand. “I was busy, we had several new vendors come in to sign contracts for booths that morning.”
I moved a step closer and put my hands on the only empty chair in the room. “Were there any bad deals he could’ve been involved in?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know of anything. He was meticulous in everything, and every vendor was expected to maintain their booth to the nth degree. All his record keeping was always thorough. At least until a few months before…”
Now that sounded like the kind of information we needed to dig out. Please don’t hold back now, Mr. Manager. “What happened a few months ago?”
His fingers thrummed the edge of the desk. “Well…it wasn’t anything here. But he’d started to take his work home. And he never really did that before, but…I don’t know.”
Ava stopped typing into her tablet and looked at him. “Yes?”