Deputy Defender

by Cindi Myers

  He quickly crossed the room and placed his hand over hers. “I thought you were going to trust me.”

  Yes. She wanted to trust him. But the encounter with Robert Brownley had shaken her, reminding her of how vulnerable trusting made her.

  But this was Dwight, not an angry stranger. Dwight, who had loved her so fiercely and held her so tenderly and stayed by her side even when she pushed him away. “He said he wanted to bid on the book. He said he was a collector and he was anxious to complete his collection. He promised to outbid anyone else.”

  “Did he give you a name?” Dwight asked.

  “Robert Brownley.”

  “I’ll try to verify that. So you told him he’d have to bid online or at the auction Saturday?”

  “Yes. But he asked to see the book. I told him it was being kept at a secure location—not here. He didn’t like that.”

  “Did he threaten you?” The words were almost a growl.

  “No.” She smiled weakly, recalling Brownley’s reaction. “He said that was no way to run a business, or something to that effect—as if that would make me give in to his demands. It was ridiculous, really.”

  “And then he left?” Dwight asked.

  “Then I picked up my phone and told him to leave. I would have dialed nine-one-one if he hadn’t headed for the door. I’m sure he knew that.”

  “He lit out of here fast enough,” Dwight said. “I would have stopped him for speeding if I hadn’t been concerned about you.”

  “You didn’t have to worry about me.” Though she had been relieved to see him when he walked in. “I think he was just a rich businessman who’s used to always getting his way. When I dared tell him no, he stormed off in a fit of temper. If he wants the book as badly as he said he did, I’m sure he’ll come back Saturday.”

  “If you see him before then, let me know,” Dwight said. “In the meantime, I’ll see what I can find out about him.”

  “I invited him to the auction reception Friday evening,” she said. “I hope he shows up. If he’s as wealthy as he appeared to be, and a collector, maybe he’ll see a few more items he can’t live without.”

  She closed her laptop and slipped it into her bag. “I’m leaving now. What about you?”

  “I’m headed home, too. I’ll follow you out to the ranch.”

  “I really need to find somewhere else to stay,” she said as she walked with him out of the museum. “I can’t keep imposing on your parents, and it’s going to be months before my house can be lived in again.”

  “My parents are happy to have you.” Dwight waited while she locked the door.

  “I need my own place.”

  “Fair enough. But where? Eagle Mountain doesn’t have much in the way of affordable rentals. That’s why Lacy ended up in your garage apartment, and one reason Maya and Casey are living with Gage.”

  Brenda thought he would suggest she move in with him and was grateful when he didn’t. “It may take me a while to find something,” she said. “So I should start looking now.”

  “Then let me help,” he said. “I’ll put the word out and let you know if anything comes up. We can put Adelaide to work on it, too. She knows everyone and everything—at least to hear her tell it.”

  “All right. I’d appreciate that.”

  Dwight walked her to her car. “Where’s your security guard tonight?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She looked around, half expecting to see Eddie lurking in the shadows. “I don’t know what kind of schedule he and the mayor worked out. They haven’t bothered to inform me.”

  Dwight switched on his flashlight and played the beam over the darkened lot. He stopped with the light shining down the alley. “Isn’t that Eddie’s Jeep?” he asked. He shifted the light and Brenda gasped at the sight of a figure slumped over the steering wheel.

  “Call an ambulance,” Dwight said, and took off running for the Jeep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dread filled Dwight as he raced toward the Jeep, but when he reached the open driver’s-side window he realized Eddie wasn’t dead. The figure slumped over the steering wheel snored softly and mumbled when Dwight shook his shoulder. Dwight leaned in closer and spotted a half-eaten pizza on the passenger seat. He sniffed, but didn’t smell alcohol—only sausage and pepperoni. He shook the security guard again. “Come on, Eddie, wake up.”

  But Eddie only leaned sideways, mouth open, snoring away.

  “The ambulance is on its way.” Brenda joined him and stared in at Eddie. “Is he drunk?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Dwight said. “I think he’s drugged.”

  “Drugged? By who?”

  “I don’t know. But he was eating a pizza.”

  Brenda frowned at the pizza, in its cardboard box with Peggy’s Pizza on the front. “Do you think someone put something in his pizza?”

  “I think we’d better have it tested, just in case.”

  “Has anyone else been to the museum—or in the parking lot—in the last half hour or so?” he asked.

  “No one’s been inside except Mr. Brownley,” she said. “When I answered his knock, his was the only vehicle I saw. But why half an hour? Couldn’t someone have done this earlier?”

  “I’m just guessing, but the pizza is still warm.” He frowned at Eddie’s slumped figure. “I’ll find out from the mayor what time Eddie was supposed to start his shift.”

  A wailing siren announced the arrival of the ambulance. The paramedics parked and jogged up to the Jeep. “What have we got?” Merrily Rayford, one of the squad’s senior paramedics, asked.

  Dwight nodded to Eddie. “I think he’s been drugged. No idea with what.”

  She and her partner donned gloves and opened the door of the Jeep. While they examined Eddie, Dwight retrieved an evidence bag from his cruiser and bagged the pizza, box and all. Brenda moved in beside him. “You don’t think Parker had anything to do with this, do you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Dwight said. They watched as the paramedics shifted Eddie onto a stretcher.

  “His vitals are good,” Merrily said. “I don’t think he’s in any danger, but we’ll take him in for a closer look.”

  “I’ll want to question him about what happened,” Dwight said.

  “From the looks of him, it might be a while,” Merrily said. “Maybe in the morning.”

  “I’ll check with the hospital later.” He held up the evidence bag. “Meanwhile, I’ll get this to the lab.”

  Brenda waited by her car, arms hugging her stomach, as the ambulance left the lot. “I need to take this in and file a report,” Dwight said. “I probably won’t be in until late.”

  She nodded. “Eddie isn’t my favorite person, but I hope he’s all right.”

  “I’ll let you know.” He wanted to kiss her, but settled for squeezing her shoulder. “Go home and try to get some rest. Try not to worry about this.”

  “It’s been so long since I didn’t have anything to worry about, I’ve forgotten what that’s like,” she said.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Dwight and Gage faced a sullen Parker Riddell in the sheriff’s department interview room. Gage had picked up the young man at his sister’s house, where he and Paige were eating breakfast. Paige had argued against him going to the sheriff’s department and had wanted to call a lawyer, but Gage had persuaded her that wasn’t necessary. All they wanted was for Parker to answer a few questions. The young man had agreed, as much, Dwight suspected, to get his sister off his back as to placate the cops. He sat now, clothes rumpled and the dark shadow of a beard across his jaw, tattooed forearms crossed over a faded black T-shirt advertising a metal band that had been old when Dwight was a teen.

  “I didn’t deliver a pizza to Eddie,” Parker said in answer to Dwight’s first question.

 
“You were working last night,” Dwight said. He had verified this with Peggy at her home earlier this morning.

  “Yeah. But I didn’t deliver a pizza to that jerk. If he says I did, he’s lying.”

  Eddie wasn’t saying anything yet—he was still out of it at the hospital in Montrose. When Dwight had called to check on him, the nurse on duty had reported that he was sleeping well and not in danger, but they didn’t expect him to wake before midmorning.

  “He had a pizza from Peggy’s on the seat beside him when we found him last night,” Dwight said. “He was unconscious.”

  Parker only looked more sullen. “I don’t know anything about that. He must have picked up the pizza at the store.”

  “Peggy says Eddie didn’t pick up a pizza, and he didn’t order one delivered, either.”

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you,” Parker said.

  “Maybe you made up this pizza special and delivered it between your regular orders,” Gage said.

  “Why would I do that?” Parker’s voice rose. “The guy hates me. I wouldn’t want to give him a free pizza.”

  “Maybe you told him it was a peace offering,” Dwight suggested. “You were trying to get him to see you aren’t a bad guy.”

  “I don’t have any reason to want to impress him.”

  “What do you know about zolpidem?” Dwight asked.

  “It’s a sleeping pill, right?”

  “So you have heard of it.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve heard of lots of things. I mean, I read books, and I watch movies.”

  “Do you have any zolpidem?” Gage asked. The lab report had come in that morning, showing that the pizza was loaded with the stuff—probably in the form of ground pills sprinkled on top. “Know where to get any?”

  “No!” Parker uncrossed his arms and sat up straighter. “I don’t have anything to do with drugs anymore. Even when I did, I didn’t use downers.”

  “But they might be a good way to get back at somebody,” Gage said. “Load a pizza up with them, put them out of commission for a while.”

  “Is that what happened to Eddie? I didn’t do it. Why would I?”

  “Revenge?” Dwight asked. “Or maybe you wanted to break into the museum and didn’t want him around.”

  “I don’t want to rob the museum. And it would have been stupid to pull that kind of thing last night—Brenda was working late at the museum.”

  “How do you know that?” Dwight leaned over him. Was this kid stalking Brenda?

  Parker shifted in his chair. “I drove by there on the way to one of my deliveries and saw her car.”

  Dwight sat back. “I’ll bet that disappointed you,” he said. “Here you’d gone to all the trouble to make that special pizza for Eddie, and Brenda was foiling your plans.”

  “No! I told you, I didn’t have anything to do with that pizza. Ask Peggy. She would know if I made a pizza.”

  “She said she left the kitchen to use the bathroom for a few minutes,” Dwight said. “You could have slipped in and thrown one together then.”

  “And she would have noticed if the ingredients were missing. Not to mention it takes more than a few minutes to put together a pizza.”

  Dwight tried another tack. “When you drove by the museum and saw Brenda’s car, did you see Eddie or his truck?”

  “No.”

  “Anyone else?” Gage asked.

  “No one else was there—just Brenda’s Subaru.”

  “What time was this?” Dwight asked.

  Parker paused, as if considering the question. “I was delivering a Mountain Man special to Mr. Wilbur over on Sixth Street. So that was about seven. A little after.”

  When Dwight and Brenda found Eddie, it was after nine.

  Parker held Dwight’s gaze, defiant. “Are you going to charge me with something, or can I go? I have class this morning.”

  “You’re not being charged with anything.” Dwight stood. “We appreciate you coming in for questioning.”

  Parker said nothing, but left in a hurry. Dwight and Gage returned to Gage’s office. “Peggy was pretty insistent that Parker didn’t make an extra pizza,” Dwight said.

  “Her place is pretty small,” Gage said. “Even from the bathroom, I think she’d have heard someone messing around in her kitchen.”

  “She’s also positive Eddie didn’t order or pick up a pizza,” Dwight said.

  “Maybe someone else ordered it, added the sleeping pills and took it to Eddie,” Gage said. “It’s not hard to imagine he’s made other enemies.”

  Dwight grunted in assent. He reviewed their conversation with Parker, searching for any inconsistencies and finding none. “What’s a Mountain Man special?” he asked.

  “Pork carnitas, green chili and onions,” Gage said. “A personal favorite.”

  Dwight let this pass. “Parker is the most obvious suspect,” he said. “But maybe that’s just what someone wants us to think.”

  “Yeah,” Gage agreed. “The kid strikes me as smarter than that.”

  “Drugs can make even smart people do dumb things,” Dwight said. “But I think you’re right. So, who else had it in for Eddie?”

  “Or for Parker,” Gage said. “Whoever did this wasn’t trying to kill Eddie—just put him out of commission for a while and make it look as if Parker did it.”

  “So—somebody who wanted to get into the museum?” Dwight shook his head. “Brenda was there until the two of us found Eddie.”

  “Nobody else was there with her?”

  Dwight sat up straight. He’d almost forgotten about Robert Brownley. “A man stopped by to ask about bidding on that book she has up for auction,” he said. “He was just leaving when I showed up—in a black Land Rover. Said his name was Robert Brownley. He wasn’t too happy when she told him he couldn’t see the book.”

  “So—before he goes in to see Brenda, he delivers a doctored pizza to Eddie?” Gage shook his head. “Why?”

  “To get him out of the way? Maybe he planned to try to take the book if Brenda wouldn’t sell it to him.”

  “I’m definitely going to do a little more checking into Brownley.”

  “We should be able to interview Eddie in a few hours,” Gage said. “Maybe he can solve this whole puzzle.”

  “Or he’ll just throw in another piece that doesn’t fit,” Dwight said. Every new development only made this case more frustrating.

  * * *

  BRENDA HAD INTENDED to work through lunch the day after her encounter with Robert Brownley and all the excitement with Eddie, but Lacy showed up and insisted she take a break. “You have to eat,” Lacy said. Fresh from the hair salon, she looked young and happy—looking at her, Brenda felt old and exhausted.

  “I have so much to do,” Brenda said, indicating her full desk. “I don’t think I can spare the time.”

  “The work will be here when you get back,” Lacy said. “Besides, we need to catch up. We don’t see each other as much, now that I’m not living next door.”

  Brenda did miss her friend. “All right,” she said. “You’ve convinced me.”

  They walked to Kate’s Kitchen on the town’s main street. A brisk breeze made a jacket necessary, but the sun shone brightly, and the aspens in people’s yards and on the mountainsides above town glowed gold.

  “How do you like living at the ranch?” Lacy asked when they were settled into a booth at the café.

  “It’s very comfortable, but...” Brenda didn’t finish the sentence, pretending to study the menu.

  “But it’s not your place,” Lacy said. “You’re a guest.”

  Brenda should have known her friend would understand. “I need to find a place of my own,” she said.

  “What’s the word on your house? Are you going to rebuild?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I
have a meeting with someone from my insurance company this afternoon. I hope that will give me an idea of how much money I have to work with. I’ll probably rebuild, though something different.” Something that would be just hers—not the grand house Andy had convinced her she wanted. “Whatever I do, I’ll need someplace to live for the foreseeable future. But you know how scarce housing is around here.”

  “I wasn’t thrilled about moving back in with Mom and Dad, but it’s only until the wedding,” Lacy said.

  “I wondered if you would move in with Travis.”

  “I considered it, but I guess I’m a little old-fashioned. I want to wait until we’re married to live together.”

  The waitress arrived to take their orders. Brenda opted for the chicken salad, while Lacy chose a burger. As soon as they were alone again, Lacy resumed the conversation.

  “Another reason I’m waiting to move in with Travis is that once we’re husband and wife, I’ll have free rein to redecorate his bachelor pad,” she said. She made a face. “It definitely needs some changes.”

  Brenda thought of Dwight’s cabin. There wasn’t much about it she would change.

  “Dwight has a cabin out at the ranch, doesn’t he?” Lacy asked as though reading Brenda’s mind. “Have you seen it? What’s it like?”

  Brenda cursed the blush that heated her face, but she tried to play it cool. “It’s really nice,” she said. “Comfortable. He has better taste than I expected.”

  “I’d say he has excellent taste.”

  Brenda ignored the knowing look in her friend’s eyes, and was saved from having to answer by the arrival of their iced teas.

  “I’m dying to know the scoop on what happened with Eddie Carstairs,” Lacy said. “Travis mentioned he was in the hospital after someone tried to poison him or something. He said you and Dwight found him.”

  “We found him as we were leaving the museum last night.” Brenda added a packet of sweetener to her tea and stirred. “He was slumped over the steering wheel of his Jeep. I thought he was dead.”

  “That must have given you a turn,” Lacy said. “Especially after what happened with Henry Hake.”