Horse of a Different Murder: Book 2 in The Bandit Hills Series

by Blair Merrin

  Follow all that? Good.

  Ever since then, Marla has been parading around town like she’s Sylvia Browne. To top it all off, she has this crazy wardrobe that’s chock-full of colorful head scarves, big hoop earrings, and long flowing dresses, so she looks somewhere between a hippie and a gypsy. She is singlehandedly the reason for the huge influx of tourists around here, which ordinarily thrills the rest of us, but in this case, when she actually thinks she’s going to do something about Pietro being in my shop, is just kind of annoying.

  Marla prances around the shop some more, booming in her deep voice, “Please, spirit, be gone! Do no more damage to this innocent secondhand shop. These people do not want your angry presence here!”

  I’m about to just tell Marla to go away when I suddenly get an idea. I turn to Dash. Remember when I said he’s not quite as comfortable around these sorts of things as the rest of us? Well, he’s backed up pretty much all the way to the door, with this tight expression on his face like he’s ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. My knight in shining armor, right?

  “Dash,” I whisper. “Listen. If Pietro’s ghost can do all this, maybe he can help us out! We can read off the names on the suspect list, and he can give us a sign when we say the killer’s name.”

  “Or,” Dash counters, “we can just wait for the DNA results.”

  “Don’t be such a baby—”

  “Please, be gone, spirit! Away from this pitiable shop and its solitary owner!” Marla bellows.

  “Hey, that’s not nice,” I mutter.

  “Away!” she roars.

  “Marla!” I snap. “I can’t even hear myself think—”

  Suddenly, every light bulb in the shop blows out. And I don’t mean they just lose power; no, they actually explode, all at once, raining tiny pieces of glass everywhere. I shriek. Mom gasps. Dash actually does bolt out the door. Marla’s the only one who doesn’t react. She just stands there with her hands on her hips.

  “It is done,” she says triumphantly.

  “Wait. What?” I’m still kind of in shock, so it takes me a moment to compose myself. “Marla… did you just exorcise Pietro?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I sent him away.”

  “To where?”

  “You know, I’m not entirely certain.”

  “I… I…” On the one hand, I’m furious because I thought my plan was a good one, and now we can’t do it. On the other hand, I’m actually a little impressed. I didn’t know Marla could do that.

  “It’s not a big deal,” she assures me. “Usually you just need to ask nicely.”

  Exasperated, I let out a long breath, my shoulders slumping. “I guess I’ll get a broom.”

  CHAPTER 13

  After Marla June’s little escapade, I send Mom home to relax. Dash heads to the police station to report his findings to Phil, and I get to work cleaning up the mess that is my shop. I flip the sign to closed, and by the time I finish sweeping up broken glass and replacing all the light bulbs, it’s dark out anyway.

  Just as I’m about to head upstairs and call it a night, I hear a steady clip-clop, clip-clop from outside, and a moment later I see Xander riding his horse down Main Street. I hurry toward the door, and halfway there I trip over Xerxes and go sprawling on the floor. I rub my sore elbow. Xerxes watches me patiently from atop a curio case, and I swear he winks at me. Outside, Xander has paused in his ride, looking through the glass storefront quizzically. I’m certain he saw me take that spectacular dive.

  I point accusingly at Xerxes. “Keep it up, pal, and it won’t just be curiosity that killed the cat.” I head outside.

  “Are you alright?” Xander asks. “That was some fall.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks. My cat’s a supernatural jerk.”

  I look left and right, up both sides of Main Street. There are very few people out this time of night. It’s a Bandit Hills thing; we typically don’t like to be out late, considering the kinds of things that are around in the daytime.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him.

  He sighs. “I needed a ride to clear my head.”

  I feel a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, Cassie. Whoever put that knife in my statue knew that it would be found eventually, and that I’d be blamed.” He gets down, quite literally, from his high horse. “I hear that you’re helping Dash on his investigation.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “A little birdie told me.” He says it without a change in his expression, so I can’t honestly tell if he’s joking or not. “Are the two of you… involved?”

  Sheesh. Talk about a rock and a hard place. The right thing to do would be to tell him yes, even though Dash still hasn’t answered that question for me - murder investigations have a way of sidelining relationship issues. But if I tell him no, and Dash catches wind, boy would he be mad.

  “Sort of,” I tell him. “We’re seeing where things take us.”

  He smiles at that. “He’s a lucky man just to get to spend time with you.”

  I blush furiously. “Thank you.” I stand there awkwardly for a moment, no idea what to say next, but luckily a shrill female voice breaks the silence.

  “Duke, heel! Whoa! Stop!”

  Xander and I both look as Penny Harrigan, the motel owner, is dragged toward us by the biggest dog I’ve ever seen—Duke, a massive Rottweiler. Penny tries in vain to tug back on Duke’s leash, but he easily pulls her along.

  “Duke, heel! Heel!”

  He does, eventually, but not until he reaches Xander. His strong tail whips back and forth as he happily slobbers all over Xander’s hands.

  “I’m so sorry, Xander,” Penny gushes. “He’s usually very well behaved.”

  “Oh, he is a very good dog.” Xander smiles as he pets Duke, who rubs his head all over Xander’s waist.

  The dog is easily half the size of the horse. Come on. I mean, dogs love him. Cats love him. Birds love him. Horses love him. How could this guy possibly have killed someone?

  “Penny, what are you doing out so late?” I ask.

  She stares at me blankly. “Walking the dog.” Then, to my raised eyebrow, she says, “Oh, Duke and I aren’t afraid of walking around town so late. He has a very keen sixth sense. He always warns me if something less-than-amiable is nearby.” She grins at Duke, who licks Xander’s hands liberally. “He’s also an excellent judge of character. Case in point, whenever that numbskull Applegate comes around, he growls nonstop.”

  “Can’t say I blame him,” I remark.

  With Duke reverently distracted by the presence of Xander, Penny admires the horse.

  “Palomino,” she says casually. “Beautiful.”

  “Er… is that a breed?” I’ll admit I don’t know horses.

  “No, it refers to the equine color coat genetics,” she says as she gently strokes the horse’s mane.

  “That’s exactly right,” Xander nods, with a slight smile.

  Penny shrugs. “I know a thing or two about a thing or two.”

  I don’t really get Penny. See, someone like Marla June I understand. She’s weird, but I get her. Same goes for someone like April, or Tank, or Mom, or Dash… but Penny’s still something of an enigma to me. She walks her dog down the middle of the road at night in skinny jeans, a denim jacket and a tank top underneath, stopping briefly to talk about horse genetics, while seeming to remain immune to the sheer animal magnetism of the gorgeous man in front of her.

  Headlights temporarily blind us, and we get out of the road as a car pulls up in front of my shop. Dash gets out and glances at all of us in turn curiously.

  “Well,” Penny says, “looks like a Bandit Hills powwow.”

  “I really should be going,” Xander says suddenly at the sight of Dash. “Good evening, ladies.”

  He nods to each of us, gives Duke one last pat on the head, and mounts his horse. Duke whimpers and holds a paw in the air as Xander leaves.

  “Come on, Duke,” Penn
y urges with a gentle tug on the leash. “We ought to get home too.” He hesitates, but dutifully follows his owner back the way they came. “G’night, Cass,” she says.

  “Hey, what was all that about?” Dash asks me.

  I shrug. “Just a meeting by happenstance. What’s up?”

  “I was doing some digging on Garrett Fitzwilliams. I talked to Steven at the ranch, and he said that the first day that the horses were acting odd—presumably the day after Pietro was killed—Garrett was acting real shady himself. Real jumpy, kind of nervous. Steven shrugged it off, though, on account of how strange the horses were being. The next day, Garrett called in sick, which is probably when he skipped town.”

  “So Pietro is murdered, Garrett acts funny, then he runs off,” I work out the timeline in my head. “But if he did it, when would he have stashed the knife in Xander’s statue?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Xander brought it with him to the ranch? The only way we’ll know for sure is if Garrett turns up, and so far we haven’t heard a peep.”

  “My head hurts.” I rub my temples. “It’s been a long, crazy day. I’d really love to get some sleep.”

  “Alright,” he tells me. “But… we’re going to have that conversation soon, right?”

  “Definitely,” I assure him. “Maybe after all this murder business is over.”

  “Alright. Good night, Cassie.”

  “Good night, Dash.”

  I watch him pull away from the curb. As he does, the headlights bounce over something small and gleaming in the street. I pick it up; it’s a silver ring with about twenty-five different keys on it. I recognize it as Penny’s master set to the motel, usually clipped onto a belt loop. It must have shaken loose when Duke was dragging her down the street. I tuck the keys in my pocket. I’ll return them to her tomorrow. Right now I just want to sleep for a year.

  CHAPTER 14

  The next morning, in an effort to maintain some semblance of normalcy in my life, I stick some more price stickers on some merchandise, even though tourist season might be over early, considering the murder and all. I clean the counter, dust some cabinets, and go over the books. I go through the donation boxes that have been left out front, and find a cookie jar in the shape of a rooster that I set aside, because I know Bonnie will love it. Mom comes in around ten a.m., looking very well rested despite the day she had yesterday. She apologizes for sleeping in, but I wave it off cheerfully. Only a few minutes later, Bonnie comes in.

  “Good morning, Bonnie! Glad to see you back in the shop,” I greet her warmly. “How are you?”

  “Doing better,” she says, and she looks it, even though she’s not her normal clamorous self again yet. “Trying to get back into my normal routine.”

  “Well if there’s anything we can do to help, just say so,” Mom tells her.

  “If you know where to find me a new ranch hand, we could start there,” Bonnie says with a grin. “I’m up to ears in manure.”

  Gross, I think, but instead I ask, “Where’d you find Pietro?”

  “Oh, he was through an employment agency, actually. Funny thing is, he’d never worked on a ranch before. But I gave him a shot, and he turned out to be the best hand I ever had.” She lowered her gaze to the floor and smiled sadly.

  “Is that right?” I say. “Where’d he work before?” I’m not terribly good at this type of small talk. When it comes to sarcasm, comebacks, and lame jokes, I can run with the best of them, but none of those come in handy for a subject like this.

  She thinks about it for a moment. “Oh, he was a groundskeeper somewhere in California, I think? Something like that.” She shrugs. “Anyway, what things came in this morning?”

  “Let me show you something in a rooster,” I tell her.

  ***

  Dash comes in around lunchtime.

  “Hey. What’ve you been up to?” I ask him.

  “Sitting in front of the computer all morning, digging up background information on everyone on the list,” he says. “And out of all that, I got a big steaming pile of nothing.” He rubs his eyes. “I could use a coffee. Want to run by Tank’s with me?”

  “Sure, let me grab my purse.” I head over to the counter. “By the way, Bonnie stopped in this morning. She seems a little better.”

  “Oh, good.”

  I snake my hand behind the counter and grab my purse. Beside it is the silver set of keys I found in the road the night before.

  “Oh, hey, do you mind swinging by the motel right quick? Penny dropped her keys last night.”

  “Can do.”

  “Mom,” I call out. “I’m leaving, be back in a bit!”

  She sticks her head out of the back office. “Do you even work here anymore?” she asks with a smirk.

  “Hey lady, I sign your paychecks!”

  “Go,” she shoos me away. “Tell the outside world I said hello.”

  “She’s so dramatic,” I tell Dash as we head to his car.

  A few minutes later we pull into the motel parking lot, and thankfully there’s no sign of Applegate’s rental BMW. He’s the last guy I want to see right now. In the office, Penny sits behind a desk, her nose stuck in a book and Duke napping at her feet.

  “Hey, Penny—” I start, but she holds up a finger, the international signal for “shut up a second.” She finishes her page, lowers her book, and smiles warmly. “Hey, guys, long time no see,” she jokes. “What are you two doing at a motel in the middle of the day? Hmmm?” she waggles her eyebrows in a comically suggestive fashion.

  “Funny,” I say. “You drop something?” I hand her the keys.

  “Oh, thank goodness! I thought I lost them. Now maybe I can wash the smell of creep out of that room.”

  “Huh?” Dash says.

  “Applegate checked out this morning. He’s leaving this afternoon. He said he was going back up to Bonnie’s to give her a final offer, and then he’s ‘out of this Podunk town.’ His words, not mine.” She set down her book forcefully.

  “You know what that guy said to me this morning? He said that if I came back to New York with him, I’d never have to work a day in my life. As if he could buy me or something.” She scoffs. “As if he had any clue that the revenue from my motel is diversified into seven different funds in four sectors…”

  I’m pretty sure I catch Dash sneaking a peek at Penny’s endowment. I elbow him in the ribs.

  “Well,” I tell her, “we really ought to get going. Swing by the shop sometime, huh?”

  “Bye!” Penny calls after us. “See you again soon!”

  Once we get back into the car, I’m ready to scold Dash when his cell phone rings.

  “Hello? Really? Really? Okay, I’ll meet you there.” He hangs up. “Memphis PD found Garrett Fitzwilliams at his aunt’s house. Phil is escorting him back into town as we speak.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to drop you back at the store and head down to the station.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.”

  I bat my eyelashes.

  He sighs. “Fine. But you’re not allowed in the interrogation room.”

  I bat my eyelashes and stick out my lip.

  “No!”

  I pout. We’ll see how Dash holds up.

  CHAPTER 15

  Naturally, I get stuck in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the tiny reception area of the police station while Dash gets to go back with Phil and get the lowdown. It takes the better part of an hour, during which time I develop a terrible cramp in my lower back and start pacing. But then Deputy Sharon starts eyeballing me from the desk, so I sit down again and endure it. Just when I decide that the passenger seat of the El Dorado has to be more comfortable than this chair, Bonnie comes bursting into the doors like a woman on a mission.

  “Where is he?” she exclaims. “I want to talk to him right now!”

  “Whoa, slow down, cowgirl.” I step into her path and see the look in her eyes. Not gonna lie; for a second I’m afraid of Bonnie. “Dash and Phil are back there wit
h him now.”

  “If he had anything to do with this, I swear…” Up to this point in my life, I assumed “shaking with rage” was a metaphor, but Bonnie literally trembles before me.

  “Hey, relax. Here, sit in this chair. It’s super comfortable.” She sits. I stand. “Give them a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll tell us everything.”