Shadow Canyon (A Coyote Wells Mystery Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Yep. Michael was six feet. Look at the driver’s seat. It’s pulled up all the way for a much shorter person. See. It’s locked in the forwardmost position. Someone else other than a tall person was behind the wheel when the vehicle crashed.”

  “Let me see that.” Gemma stared at the image. She rifled through the rest, taking the time to study each frame, wincing at the ones that showed her father’s face bloodied and damaged. “Where’s the vodka bottle that was supposed to be on the front seat? Whoever took these missed that. It’s gotta be here somewhere, right?”

  “Take a look at this. The accelerator is jammed. What on earth was Caulfield thinking to let the medical examiner rule this an accident?”

  Gemma studied what looked like nothing more than a picture of dirty, metal car parts. “What am I looking at?”

  “That’s the pedal assembly that shows the throttle. Someone bent the support bracket so that it remained in the forward position. This was no accident, Gemma. Any idiot who knows anything about cars recognizes a stuck gas pedal. I’d bet money that Michael was probably already dead before he went flying into the ravine.”

  Gemma slid into a chair. “But why?”

  “Maybe the answer lies with how Michael’s best friend met the same fate eighteen months earlier.”

  “You might want to add Lindsay Bishop to that. Tonight at the book club, Rima told me Lindsay married Aaron Barkley that spring before she died in August. Four months of wedded bliss is a short time to end up dead in a car accident.”

  Lando looked surprised. “I had no idea Fleet’s father was a widower. The Barkleys were always shoving their wealth in everyone’s face, including Fleet’s mother, Trina. It never occurred to me that Trina wasn’t the first Mrs. Barkley. Do you remember what Fleet got for his sixteenth birthday?”

  “A Porsche, and so she wouldn’t feel left out, Aaron gave Trina a brand-new Mercedes.”

  “Back then, I never questioned where they got their money. Is it wrong to do it now?”

  “Not if we think Lindsay’s death was to collect an insurance payout. Do you have access to her police report? Or Hank Montoya’s?”

  “I found Michael’s file in the basement. I’m sure theirs is in the same file cabinet.”

  Gemma scooped up the photos and put them back in Michael’s file folder. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go compare car accidents.”

  At the station, one of Zeb’s men was working dispatch, a greenhorn recruit named Cody Chato. Cody greeted them with a cheerful smile as bright as his brand-new badge.

  “Only a naïve rookie with an eagerness for the job would still be smiling like that as midnight approached,” Lando muttered.

  Gemma poked him in the ribs. “Be glad. At least he’s willing.”

  “Zeb didn’t give him a choice.”

  “You guys are out late? Working on a case?” Cody wanted to know.

  Lando returned the smile with a little less wattage. “Just doing some research through old files. You working a twelve-hour shift?”

  “Yes, sir. Not much happening tonight. But I have coffee to keep me going until Jacob Culross relieves me at four.”

  “You get sleepy, call someone. That’s why we stuck the list of emergency numbers right there on the side panel. Seriously. Twelve hours is a long time to stay in the same spot.”

  “So far, so good,” Cody said, his sunny disposition shining through. “And I’m good with the late hours.”

  “So nothing’s happened at all?”

  “Other than Ms. Rawlins calling about an hour ago to report that someone had turned over her trash cans, it’s been a fairly quiet night.”

  “Great. Then we’ll be down in the basement if there’s anything urgent,” Gemma told him as she tugged Lando down the back staircase. “How old would you say Cody is?”

  “Twenty-one, right out of basic training.”

  “He looks more like he’s sixteen.”

  The records room was little more than a corner of the basement. They delved into the file cabinet hunting for what they needed.

  While Michael had been driving an older model Camaro he’d restored himself, they discovered Hank had been equally adept at fixing up a vintage SS Chevelle. Lindsay was the only one who’d owned a late model Mazda RX-7.

  “Different vehicles, all with defective accelerators,” Lando concluded. “I could see the throttle on the older model cars maybe sticking, but the Mazda with less than twelve thousand miles on it? That’s a leap. But then again cars do have sensors that sometimes cause the problem. Faulty systems from the factory.”

  “So you’re saying that’s how they got away with it, killing three people, making it look like an accident and there’s nothing we can do about it because it’s perfectly reasonable that cars have sticky throttles?”

  “I’m saying one car on the same hairpin turn experiencing the issue might be reasonable. Three is a pattern.”

  “That means we aren’t imagining this? We can prove it, right? Using the photos from the accident scene.”

  “These photos were taken in the impound lot once they brought the cars up. But it means more than that. We have a killer who knows how a pedal assembly works.” Lando’s eyes lasered in on Gemma. “I hate to remind you but our suspect, Aaron Barkley, is dead. Besides, Aaron might’ve sabotaged his first wife’s car, but why would he kill Hank first, and then Michael eighteen months later?”

  “Maybe Aaron had insurance policies on them.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “There’s one way to find out. I’m calling Paloma.”

  “Gemma, it’s after midnight. It’s waited three decades, it can wait until morning.”

  “How about we drive by her house and if there’s a light on, we stop and ring the doorbell.”

  Lando shook his head. “And scare her half to death? No one wants to answer the door in the middle of the night.”

  “We’ll play it by ear.”

  They got into Lando’s police cruiser and drove slowly down Dolphin Way to the Mediterranean-style bungalow belonging to Paloma.

  When she spotted a light on in the living room, Gemma punched Lando’s arm. “Told you she’d be up.”

  “You’re just getting her hopes up. I’m not even sure we should be telling her about this. I’m not even sure we can prove anything.”

  “Not yet,” Gemma countered as she took out her cell phone. “So what if we give her a little slice of hope? What’s wrong with hope after all these years of nothing? I’ll send her a text. If she replies we’ll go in, if not we’ll head home.”

  They waited outside in the car for what seemed like an eternity before the front door opened.

  Paloma shouted, “What are you two doing out there lurking around in the dark?”

  “I sent you a text to see if you were up.”

  “I’m up. At my age insomnia is a fact of life. And I don’t fiddle with that texting thing.”

  “We hate to bother you at this late hour, but I have a couple of questions about Michael.”

  “Michael? You want to talk about Michael at this hour? Come on in. What do you want to know?”

  “First, did Michael ever say what he thought happened to Hank Montoya, his best friend?”

  “I know who Hank is,” Paloma chided as she led them into her brightly lit living room. “Was. Hank’s accident put Michael in a dark place. That’s when he started fooling around on Katie, acting stupid, doing really crazy things, taking risks.”

  “Like what?”

  Paloma plopped onto the sofa. “I loved my son, but during that time he’d started hanging around with some questionable characters at the casino. I knew he was missing Hank. Mind you, I’m not making excuses for my boy. But for a grown man, he was behaving in a reckless manner. With two little kids and a wife, I tried to knock some sense into his stubborn head. It seemed to me he was bound and determined to get himself into a bad situation.”

  Lando took a seat across from Paloma. “Did these questio
nable characters ever come to your house?”

  “Not mine. But Katie complained a lot during that time about them hanging around her kids.”

  “So you have no idea who they were?”

  “Not a clue. You could ask Katie, but I doubt she’d be able to give you a single name. You have to understand how busy she was with two little babies. And Michael didn’t help her out much.”

  “Did Michael have a life insurance policy?”

  “He did. Katie was the beneficiary. I think it was for a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Did anyone else benefit from Michael’s death?”

  “Not that I know of. I’m pretty sure, no. What’s this all about, Gemma? Have you found something?”

  Lando cleared his throat. “Let’s just say we reopened the case. We’re working on a theory.”

  Paloma began to sob. “I’ve questioned that car accident ever since Reiner knocked on my door that night and told me Michael lost control of his vehicle. He tried to make me believe it might’ve been on purpose. He said Michael had been drinking and went over the guardrail at a high rate of speed. I should’ve done more about it back then.”

  Gemma wrapped her arms around Paloma’s shoulders. “You were in pain and grieving. You couldn’t have done a thing to change the outcome. I’m sorry I brought all this hurt back up again.”

  “Don’t be. I need to know the truth. You and Van need to know what happened. Then maybe we can all rest easier about the past.”

  20

  “The past seems to keep haunting everyone around here,” Gemma complained the next morning over breakfast.

  “If you’re still stewing about those car accidents, Lindsay Bishop’s is the only one where we might have a motive and a suspect. But since Aaron Barkley is five years in the grave, that won’t help us much with the other two or finding the connection.”

  “Yours is a frustrating way to make a living. I see why solving a cold case is so difficult. It’s almost impossible to get at the truth when decades have gone by. Ronald Reagan was president when this happened.”

  “Contrary to public perception, cold cases are not solved by DNA, but by old witnesses stepping forward. Never underestimate a guilty conscience. That’s not to say I wouldn’t say no to cracking this case by DNA.”

  “I doubt you’ll discover DNA. In Mallory’s maybe. Do you find it odd that murder brings us together so much?”

  He laid a hand over hers. “Is it the foundation of our relationship?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say that.”

  “There you go.”

  They cleaned up the dishes together and then went their separate ways.

  But halfway to work, Gemma texted Lianne that she’d be a little late, advising her one employee to sell the inventory on hand until she got there.

  She swung back to the house to pick up Rufus. The dog would enjoy fresh air and the ride out to the stables. Owning Gypsy gave her a ready-made excuse to go out there any time she felt like it. Today, she used that reason in hopes of persuading Rima to talk about that summer of ’84 again.

  Willow was happy to see her with Rufus, welcoming them from the bottom step of the front porch. Rufus all but knocked her down.

  “Such a beautiful boy,” Willow said, giving the pooch a rubdown.

  “He’s sweet, but he loves it when he’s the center of attention. Is your mom in?”

  “Sure. How about if I take this sweet guy for a walk around the barn?”

  “I’m sure he’d love it. Thanks.”

  “Go on in, Mom’s in the study going over the feed bill. About this time I’m sure she could use a distraction.”

  Gemma let herself into the house and was admiring the tasteful furnishings when Rima strolled out of the office.

  “What brings you out here?”

  “I came to see Gypsy. At least that’s the excuse I intended to use. I wanted to talk to you again about your brother.”

  Rima huffed out a sigh. “I was just about to get another cup of coffee. Let’s go into the kitchen.”

  Even though Rima seemed annoyed, Gemma sensed a part of her didn’t mind being bothered. “I know you don’t like dredging up the past, but you loved your brother. What if I told you that I didn’t think his death was alcohol-related at all or that it was even an accident?”

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “Did you ever wonder why Michael Coyote ended up the same way?”

  Rima lifted a shoulder. “Sure I did. Paloma’s son losing his life on that same stretch of road so soon after Hank raised all kinds of red flags. They knew each other, worked at the same casino as blackjack dealers. Why anyone would think the accidents weren’t connected is beyond me.”

  “Exactly. I need to know how deep the connection was between your brother and my…Michael.”

  “It goes back years to when they were kids. You see, Hank and I came from a large family. Seven kids. Hank was the oldest. After my father died Hank became the head of the family. The pressure was on him to get a good enough job so he could support a bunch of hungry mouths. Times were tough without my dad. But to help out, as soon as I turned thirteen I started trying to find babysitting jobs. At first, I didn’t make much money because no one on the reservation had a job. They didn’t need a sitter. Then I started looking around in town for couples with kids. I put a card up on the bulletin board at the supermarket. One day, Katie called.”

  “Is that how you came to know Michael and Katie Coyote?”

  “They were my regulars. Katie needed help with Van and Silby, taking care of two little babies so close together was a chore, so I began showing up like a nanny, especially on weekends. Before I go on, let me ask you something. Why do you want to know about Michael and Katie?”

  “Not many people know this, but Michael is my biological father. It seems he had an affair with my mother, Genevieve Sarrazin. You probably don’t know her. She’s been gone from Coyote Wells a long time.”

  Rima hung her head for a moment before looking up again. “I think I always suspected Michael had someone on the side, several someones. Your mother wasn’t the only one he fooled around with. Even a young girl picks up on those kinds of things. There was a great deal of tension in that house between him and Katie. But those are very old memories, Gemma. I’m not sure what exactly you’re looking for from me.”

  “Anything really. I just want to know what you saw when you were there inside the house. Did you ever see people hanging around that looked shady?”

  “I don’t even know what that means. They had friends who’d drop by now and again. They were really a very typical couple that way. I’m still not sure what you’re wanting to know.”

  Her answer made Gemma smile. “Neither am I. Paloma’s been great about trying to tell me little things about Michael. I guess I just wanted to know what you’d witnessed firsthand from him. Was he a good father? A good husband? Or was he the proverbial asshole cheater who was never going to stop fooling around?”

  “I see. So Paloma knows we’re talking? Is that how you knew I was their babysitter? From Paloma?”

  “Paloma knows about me, but it was Van who mentioned it. You see, I’m trying to get to know my brother in all this, too. Although he isn’t much help. Van was very small when Michael was alive. A baby. Michael didn’t live long enough for any of his children to get to know him, least of all Van or me. And Silby was barely three years older so even if she’d lived I doubt she’d have a good enough memory of him to be worthwhile. The truth is Michael died young, too young.”

  Rima bit her lip before saying what was on her mind. “I suppose I can admit it now. I had a bit of a crush on him. Michael. He was such a handsome man. He used to stop by the house to see Hank. He and Hank would hang out, do all kinds of things together---shoot hoops, go to the arcade, play video games like a couple of little boys. They even played on the same softball team sponsored by the casino. Hank played shortstop, Michael first base. He could really hit that ball, Mich
ael. But both of them had a wild side we all knew about that started in middle school. They wasted a lot of nights drinking. My mother thought Hank would settle down once he met Donna and started having kids. Mom thought marriage would miraculously keep Hank home at night. And for a while it did. But once the babies came, Hank got bored coming home from work every night to a couple of squalling kids. It wasn’t Hank’s idea of married life. Then I guess because Hank and Michael worked together and saw each other every day, they kept up their wild ways right up until Hank drove his car into that ravine.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t think he did. I don’t think Michael’s wreck was an accident either. I think it was cleverly staged to look like one. But I think Hank was probably dead before he ever reached that hairpin curve.”

  “But why? What makes you so sure?”

  “Well, I’m not what I’d call sure…yet. But I’m working on that theory and I intend to prove it using Lando’s help and Zeb’s. That’s why I don’t want you mentioning this conversation to anyone, Rima. Not a soul can know what we’re up to, not even Theo.”

  “You don’t want me to tell Theo? Okay. You can count on me. If, after all this time, I find out Hank died because someone wanted him dead, I want the person responsible to pay.”

  “Then we have that in common.”

  She dropped by the station to take Lando to lunch, one of the perks of living in a small town where the nearest restaurant was just around the corner. She picked up Philly cheesesteaks and ice-cold drinks from Captain Jack’s.

  They made their way along Water Street to the park at the end of Lighthouse Landing. The beautiful summer day had brought out a host of others picnicking near the beach. The benches were all taken, so they detoured around to the pier and found a place to sit near the rocks.

  “Remember when we used to dig for clams right down there? We should have a clambake some night before fall gets here.”

  Lando dug into his sandwich, eating while Gemma told him about what she’d learned from Rima. “Again, I’m not sure you should’ve given her that kind of hope.”