Murderous Secrets: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #4

by Paty Jager

  “Are most of your dreams with your grandmother scary?” He picked up her hand, holding it gently.

  “No. This is the first one that made me feel threatened. The others she usually shows me where to find something or points a finger at someone.” Shandra sat up straight. “Do you think she’s telling me that I’m bringing danger to myself with my questions?” It scared her but it also meant her father was murdered if someone was worried about her questions.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, Shandra ate her breakfast with gusto as she and Ryan sat a small café between the motel and the nursing home. She knew Melody would help her discover the truth. This was the day she’d piece together the details of the day her father died.

  Shandra glanced over at Ryan as they drove the last few blocks to the nursing home. “Do you feel Melody will have the answers?” she asked Ryan, hoping he’d be as optimistic.

  “I think you wouldn’t be digging this hard for the truth if your father’s death had been an accident. As for what we find out today…” He shrugged. “We won’t know until we talk to Mrs. Harmond.”

  They pulled into the nursing home at nine.

  “I hope they’ve finished with their morning meal. I’d hate to interrupt her routine too much.” Shandra shouldered her leather-fringed bag and walked beside Ryan into the one-story facility.

  “May I help you?” a woman sitting at a reception desk asked.

  “We’d like to visit with Melody Dean Harmond,” Shandra said, not sure what name the woman went by.

  “She’s in one-twenty. Down the hall, make a right, and then a left, and you’ll find her in the Alzheimer’s wing.” The woman smiled.

  Ryan grasped Shandra’s elbow and led her down the hall.

  She stopped. “Alzheimers. She may not even remember being a secretary for the rodeo association.” Disappointment lodged in her throat. All this work and they may not learn a thing.

  “We won’t know that until we talk with the woman.” Ryan tugged on her arm. “You can’t give up that easy.”

  Ryan was right. She wasn’t giving up. They made the turns and stopped at a locked door. A small sign said to type in the year. Ryan did and the doors opened.

  Inside the doors, sat another woman in a nurse’s uniform. “May I help you?” she asked.

  “We’re here to see Melody Dean Harmond in room one-twenty,” Shandra said.

  The woman smiled. “You’re in luck. She’s having a good day and should remember you.”

  Shandra smiled at Ryan.

  They continued down the hall and found the room. Shandra knocked on the door of one-twenty. A name plaque to the side said Melody Dean.

  “Looks like she doesn’t go by Harmond,” Ryan said as a voice called out, “Come in.”

  Shandra nodded and entered the room. The sight made her smile. There were rodeo posters and photos papering one wall of the small room. Melody sat in a wooden rocking chair beside a hospital bed with a western print quilt. The woman appeared to be able-bodied. She glanced up from her knitting as they walked into the room.

  “Hello? Do I know you?” she asked, adjusting her glasses.

  “No, Ms. Dean, you don’t know us.” Shandra snatched the wood chair sitting at a small table with puzzle pieces and sat in front of the rocking chair. “I’m Shandra Higheagle and this is my friend, Ryan Greer.”

  Ryan had pulled a foot stool up beside Shandra and sat.

  “Higheagle?” The woman stared at her. “I remember a Higheagle on the rodeo circuit.”

  Shandra couldn’t hide the grin ticking at her lips. “That was my father. Edward Higheagle. He rode bareback broncs.”

  “Yes. I remember. He was good. Rarely landed in the dirt.” Melody smiled, then frowned. “But he did land in the dirt and that old Loco stomped him…” She raised a tissue to her mouth and her eyes watered. “That was a terrible day. Terrible.”

  “Try to forget about the ride. Do you remember earlier that day, when the horses and riders were drawn?” Shandra asked.

  Melody lowered the tissue and stared at Shandra. “The drawing? It went as usual. Myself, the president at the time, Harold Lymen, and Mr. Malcom. It was his stock we used that day.”

  Shandra nodded. “Mr. Malcolm, do you mean the father, Walter, or the son, Adam?”

  Melody had dropped her knitting into her lap. Now, she held the yarn between two fingers on her right hand, moving her hand up and down the yarn six inches. “There were two Mr. Malcolms.” She became agitated. “Harold said it was fine. But we’d never had more than the three of us in the office drawing before. Harold pulled out the cowboy names and Mr. Malcolm the animal.”

  “I understand that’s how it worked. Was there anything different that day besides the two Mr. Malcolms?” Shandra asked.

  “Dicky hit me.” Melody flinched as if she’d been struck.

  “Why did he hit you?” Shandra asked, sorry to have brought up painful memories. But if it had to do with her father’s death she needed to know.

  “Because I said we should tell someone.” Her fingers moved faster up and down the yarn.

  “Tell them what?” Shandra persisted.

  “That the drawing had been different.” Melody didn’t look at her.

  “Different how?” Shandra leaned forward, urging the woman to remember.

  “Both Mr. Malcolms drew the animals, and I saw a piece of paper fall on the floor. After the drawing, when the Malcolms and Harold left to post the rides, I picked it up. It was one of the bareback horses.”

  “Who are you?” a woman’s voice demanded.

  Shandra shot to her feet.

  Ryan stood slower and extended his hand. “Ryan Greer and this is Shandra Higheagle.” He’d let Shandra do the questioning. The woman had seemed more at ease with her. He could tell Shandra was still stunned and processing what she’d heard. He’d deal with the woman who had arrived.

  He waited for the woman to put her hand in his. “And you are?”

  “Marsha Smith, Melody’s niece.” She bypassed his extended hand and stood by her aunt.

  “What do you want with my aunt?” she asked, putting a protective hand on the older woman’s shoulder.

  “We were asking her about her days as a rodeo secretary.” Ryan put his hand on Shandra’s lower back, leading her to the exit. “Good day, Ms. Dean,” he said.

  Shandra stopped. She walked away from him and back to the woman in the chair. “Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful day.” She patted the woman’s hand and returned to the door.

  Ryan ushered her out and down the hall. He didn’t start a conversation until they were inside his pickup.

  “That is pretty damning information against your stepfather. She’d have to tell a prosecutor, and I don’t think her memory will hold up in court.” He didn’t want to hit Shandra with the reality of what they’d discovered, but he had to before she thought they could run to officials.

  “I understand. What I don’t understand is why would Dicky hit her because she told him she suspected something was amiss? I’m pretty sure Adam had Loco’s name up his sleeve to pretend to pick when father’s name came up. But who drugged my father? There had to be more than one person involved for this to have gone off as easily as it did.”

  Ryan didn’t want to say the obvious person who drugged her father was her mother. “I guess we have another question to ask your stepfather next Saturday.” Ryan started the engine and backed out of the parking lot.

  Shandra sat silently on the passenger side for nearly an hour. Ryan wasn’t sure if he should intrude on her thoughts or let her be.

  She finally turned toward him. “Dicky had to be the one who gave father the drugs. Why else would he want Melody to keep quiet? But what I don’t get is why she didn’t say anything all these years after leaving Dicky?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe after he beat her up, she repressed the information and then hearing the name triggered it.” Ryan was grasping at reasons just as much as
Shandra was. He was an officer of the law and as such felt he needed to follow up on this new information. Unfortunately, without proof and only Shandra’s dreams to go on, his superior wasn’t going to give him work hours to dig for information.

  “That could be. It’s as good a reason as any I guess.” Shandra stared out the window for another twenty minutes.

  “Do you think Dicky and Adam killed my father because of my mother?” Shandra’s voice was barely above a whisper. As if she didn’t want to state the vile thoughts she was having.

  He reached across the cab, grasping Shandra’s hand. “There is a possibility your mother could be involved in your father’s death.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be here for you whatever you need.”

  She studied his face. Tears sparkled in the corners of her eyes. “I’ve had a feeling for years that I hadn’t been wanted. Then talking with Father’s side of the family I learned Father and Ella wanted me, my mother would have snuffed out my life had she been allowed to do what she wanted.”

  Ryan saw a wide spot in the road and pulled over. This was a conversation that needed all his attention. Once the vehicle was in park, he pulled Shandra into his arms. “Your father and grandmother were right to fight for you. Your mother raised you when she could have sent you to the Higheagles. In her own way, I think she came to love you.” Ryan smoothed Shandra’s hair as she snuggled into his chest.

  She sniffed and lifted her head. “I don’t think she loves me. She has raised me to spite the Higheagles and her mother. And maybe even Adam.” She shook her head. “I’m just a pawn.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shandra remained in Ryan’s arms, battling with the rage swirling inside. There was one more person who could have drugged father. The woman who had ran her life like a drill sergeant then introduced her to Professor Landers who tried to stomp out her self-worth and dignity.

  “Thank you,” Shandra said as she moved out of Ryan’s arms. She had learned to stand on your own two feet and if it meant finding out her mother was an accomplice to her father’s death, so be it.

  “You okay?” Ryan asked, one hand still holding her arm.

  “Yes. I realized there is another person who could have drugged my father.” As she said the words and stared into Ryan’s eyes, she saw that he’d come to the same conclusion.

  “What do you plan to do about it?” he asked, studying her face.

  “I plan to make a list of questions to ask both Mother and Adam on Saturday. I also plan to have it all recorded.” Shandra settled back on her side of the seat.

  Ryan put the pickup into drive and moved back onto the road.

  Shandra was thankful Ryan drove and didn’t ask questions. She had a lot to process in her mind. So many times over the years she’d tried to talk about Father or how he died and was always silenced. Either by her mother or Adam. Their actions were proof of guilty consciences.

  About thirty minutes past Warner on Hwy 9 to Huckleberry, Ryan sat up straighter and started cussing.

  “What—? Before Shandra could get the question out, a large truck jack-knifed in front of them on the highway.

  “Hold on,” Ryan swerved the pickup, missing the back end of the semi-truck’s trailer by inches. The pickup shot off the road and slammed hard into the snow. The air bag deployed, slamming into Shandra’s face and upper chest. As quickly as it inflated, the bag deflated.

  Shandra wanted to take a deep breath but refrained with the white powder drifting in the air. Cold air stood the hair on her arms up. Ryan had shoved his door open.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, stepping out of the vehicle.

  “Yes. I don’t feel like anything is broke.” She moved her arms and unbuckled her seatbelt.

  “I’m going to see what that truck driver thought he was doing. Call nine-one-one.” Ryan disappeared back toward the highway.

  The white dust was floating out the open door. She pulled on her coat and dialed 9-1-1.

  “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” a female voice asked.

  “A semi jack-knifed on Hwy 9 thirty minutes east of Warner. We were run off the road by the truck. An off duty Sheriff’s deputy is checking on the driver.”

  “We’ll send emergency vehicles. Please stay on the line.”

  Shandra put her phone on speaker and set it on the dash. The snow looked to be three feet deep outside the vehicle. “Do I dare try to get up to the highway or just stay put?” She wanted to check on Ryan but didn’t want to cause him concern if she injured herself trying to climb up the small embankment they’d sailed down.

  A tree not three feet in front of them started her heart racing all over again. They could have hit that tree and been injured much worse.

  The phone crackled. “Help is ten minutes away.”

  “Thank you.”

  ***

  Ryan used his anger to forge his way up the embankment. That truck driver had been in their lane for no reason. He’d slammed on his brakes and skidded sideways leaving Ryan no choice but to bail off the interstate. That driver had damn well better have a good reason for his actions. Shandra could have been injured or killed. When the bag had deployed and he’d seen the large pine tree not three feet in front of the truck, his heart had stopped beating. Shandra moving and not showing any signs of injuries had squashed his concern and sent him after the cause of the crash.

  He lunged onto the road, sucking air. The cold air stung his lungs, but he didn’t care. The jack-knifed rig spouted smoke from the pipes. Cars had stopped on either side of the semi. Ryan strode toward the cab of the semi. The door stood open and the cab was empty. He climbed up the steps and shoved the curtain to the sleeping bunk back and an empty compartment. The bastard had run!

  Ryan stepped down and headed to the first car in line. He motioned for the driver to roll his window down.

  “Did you see where the driver went?” Ryan asked, pulling his badge out of his shirt pocket.

  “Nope. The door was standing open when I came up to the truck.” The man shivered. “Any idea how soon this will get cleared?”

  Ryan glared at him. “No one will move until every car in this line has been questioned.”

  Sirens grew near. Ryan walked back to the edge of the road. His pickup was thirty yards down the embankment. It wasn’t in harm of moving. The nose was planted firmly in the deep snow. But Shandra was down there.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

  “Did you get him?” she asked.

  “No the truck was empty. Are you doing okay down there? I hear the emergency vehicles coming. Once I get them caught up on what happened I’ll come down and get you.” He saw the driver’s side door close.

  “I’ll be fine. Do what you need to do.” Her voice was strong.

  She was strong.

  A trait he admired in Shandra.

  “I’ll hurry.”

  Deputy Gerald Speaks walked around the end of the semi along with two paramedics.

  “Greer, I thought today was your day off,” Speaks said.

  “It is. I was on my way back from Sunnyside with a friend and this semi was driving down my lane. When it jack-knifed, I swerved off the road, barely missing the back end.” He nodded to the embankment. “We ended up about thirty yards down there.” He glanced at the paramedics. He’d worked with both Paul Moore and Evelyn Cates before. “My passenger said she wasn’t hurt, but if you could bring her up, I’d appreciate it.”

  They nodded and headed to the embankment.

  “Where’s the semi driver?” Speaks asked, walking toward the semi cab.

  “Rabbited.” Ryan spit the word out. “He must have a record or something to have left his rig running and the door standing open.”

  They walked to the side of the road at the front of the semi. Foot prints took off into the woods.

  “I’ll call in a State K-9 unit.”

  “I’m going to start questioning the people in the cars. You’ll need to get a hold of someone to m
ove the truck.” Ryan left Speaks making calls on his radio and headed to the second car in line on the west side of the semi.

  He’d questioned the occupants of the first five vehicles when he spotted the paramedics and Shandra appear at the top of the embankment.

  “I didn’t know anyone was down there,” the woman driving the sixth car in the line said.

  “What did you see when you pulled up to the stopped cars?” Ryan asked.

  “The semi across the road and the cars ahead of me. That’s it.” She looked perplexed. “Should I have seen more?”

  “No.” Ryan folded his book up and headed to Shandra. She was limping and using Evelyn to help her walk.

  “I thought you said you didn’t hurt yourself?” he questioned, stepping to Shandra’s side and taking over from Evelyn.

  “It must have been the shock or adrenaline from the crash. I didn’t realize I’d sprained my ankle until we started up the embankment.” She raised the fancy cowboy boot dangling in her hand. “They say I can’t wear my boot until the swelling goes down.”

  Ryan caught Evelyn smiling with a look on her face his sisters and mother got every time Shandra’s name came up.

  “Can you sit her down in your rig until I get a tow truck and someone to pick us up?” Ryan asked Evelyn and Paul.

  “We can take her to Warner,” Paul said.

  “No. I want to go home.” Shandra peered up at Ryan. “Call Hazel. She can leave Lil long enough to come get me. You can get a ride back to Warner.”

  He didn’t like sending her off with anyone when he wasn’t sure how hurt she was physically, and mentally after the information they received today.

  “I’ll get another set of wheels and take you home.” He walked her to the ambulance.

  Evelyn opened the back for Shandra to sit.

  “Keep her here until I get back,” Ryan placed Shandra on the floor of the ambulance.