by Paty Jager
Shandra stared at her friend. While she knew, and had impressed upon Ryan, that Naomi wasn’t a killer, she saw there was a point in which Naomi would sever her relationship if it became unbearable.
She looked deep inside herself. A person could also revert to the fight-or-flight instinct if pushed too far. She had. Repressing memories of her last night with Carl Landers, she pulled her thoughts back to the present.
“But the key is: do you think Vivian capable of murder?” Shandra asked.
“How was he killed?” Ted asked.
“A shot to the heart.”
“Ouch.” Ted rubbed his chest.
“That sounds like a crime of passion.” Naomi shook her head. “I can’t see Vivian using a gun. I could see her poisoning J.W., but not a gun.”
Shandra had the same thought while sitting in the Randal home. While the decorating was that of a hunting lodge, she could tell the woman wasn’t comfortable in the setting. “I wonder how long before all the hunting-lodge décor disappears from that house,” she mused out loud.
Chapter Twelve
Ryan had located George Takagi. He was willing to have a conference call with his lawyer present from his office in Seattle, Washington.
Chief Marlow had given Ryan permission to use his office and phone to do the interview.
“Want me to make you a pot of coffee in case this goes long?” the chief asked.
“No, I’m fine.” If he had to drink the battery acid the chief called coffee, he’d never make it through the interview.
“Ok, I’ll go do some PR work.” The chief donned a ball cap with the initials HPD and slipped into a military looking jacket.
“Where do you go to do Public Relations work?” Ryan couldn’t imagine in a community this size that the man had to do anything to get re-elected.
“Ruthie’s and Daily Donut.” The man grinned and headed out the door.
“Have fun.” Ryan sat down behind the desk. He picked up the phone and dialed the number written in his notepad.
“Takagi and Sons. How may I direct your call?” answered a mature female voice.
“George Takagi, please.” Ryan waited while elevator-type music floated out of the phone receiver.
“Takagi.” The strong, confident voice that answered didn’t surprise Ryan.
“Mr. Takagi, this is Detective Greer. Is your lawyer there so we can do the interview?”
“One minute. I’ll dial him in.”
Silence and a click.
“Detective Greer, I have Clint Deaver, my attorney on the other line,” Takagi said.
“Mr. Deaver, I’m questioning your client about his interactions with J.W. Randal.” A deep inhale on the other end made Ryan hastily add, “I’m not gathering any information for the illegal tag allegations.”
“Why are you interested in my client’s interactions with Randal?” The voice was not as deep as Takagi but sounded near the same age with a bit of a smoker’s rasp.
“J.W. Randal was found on the property adjoining his two days ago. He’d been mauled by animals.” Ryan wasn’t going to give away everything. He heard an intake of air and a slight chuckle. He’d bet the chuckle was from Takagi.
“Good heavens! What does this have to do with my client?” The attorney must have been the one who’d gasped.
“I need Mr. Takagi to tell me the last time he saw the deceased and under what circumstances.” Ryan tapped his pen on his notepad. Doing an interview like this over the phone only gave you half the answers. Watching the interviewees as they are being questioned filled in blanks and gave openings for deeper questions. “Keep in mind we know you called Sunday night and asked Randal to meet you.”
“You don’t have to answer these questions, George,” Deaver suggested.
“I didn’t meet with J.W. And I didn’t call him, he called me. At the advice of Deaver, I was staying away from the man. It wasn’t until I went hunting with J.W. that I discovered how reprehensible he was. When we’d met before I thought he was too cocky and full of himself, but when he gave his word I could bag a large bull elk on his property and the cost was cheaper than going to Montana, I thought, why not?” The sound of swallowing and thunk of a coffee cup being set down echoed in the phone.
“What did you discover while hunting with him?” Ryan was getting a pretty good picture of the deceased. From what he’d learned so far it was a miracle the man had lived as long as he had.
“He had no regard for any form of life. Once I’d bagged the bull, he shot every living thing we came across. It was ridiculous how trigger happy he was. And the way he treated his wife…she’s probably glad he’s dead.”
“Did he physically abuse her in front of you?” Ryan reran his encounter with Mrs. Randal and hadn’t noticed any bruising.
“Not physically. He called her names and belittled her at the one meal we all shared. It was as if he thought it made him look like more of a man. He was definitely overcompensating for something. Then to find out the tag he gave me wasn’t in my name but that of his niece…getting eaten by the animals seems like justice.”
“Did Mrs. Randal do or say anything to stand up for herself?” He couldn’t believe the woman he’d met would sit there and take the verbal abuse.
“She smiled and said nothing.” Takagi paused. “His death wasn’t an accident. That’s why you’re asking all these questions.”
“He was shot before the animals made a meal of him.” Ryan had already determined Takagi wasn’t the one to kill Randal. He was following his attorney’s orders.
“Shot. You might want to look into their hired help. Red glared at Randal when he wasn’t looking. Another suspect might be the niece. I looked out my bedroom window before going to bed and Randal had his hands all over her out back of the house. It didn’t look like she was enjoying it.” The disgust in Takagi’s voice mirrored Ryan’s thoughts.
He’d felt Red’s animosity and figured Randal was fooling around with other women. But the niece? He hadn’t seen that. I’ll go back and interview the niece alone and see if the incident was before or after Mrs. Randal threatened her husband. “Thank you for your time.”
“You’re welcome. I hope his killer doesn’t turn out to be Vivian.”
The phone clicked twice, and Ryan hung up the receiver.
~*~
Shandra stepped out of Dimensions and spotted Cicely entering the beauty shop down the street. She didn’t normally stalk people, but her curiosity got the better of her and her hair could use the split ends trimmed.
With a determined stride, she hurried to the beauty shop and stepped inside to the jingling of tiny bells.
“Be with you in a minute!” called out a female voice from behind a partition.
Shandra usually trimmed her ends herself. This was her first time inside the tiny shop. The colors pink, white, and black exploded from every nook and cranny in the place. Even most of the product bottles on the floor to ceiling shelves to her left were black, white, or pink. The smell of chemicals and a sweet perfume hung heavy in the air.
A short, plump, young woman with spiked, pink hair emerged from behind the partition. “Hello. Welcome to Peggy’s Hair Salon. I’m Tammy. How may we help you today?”
“Tammy, I just need to get my ends trimmed. Do you have an opening?” Shandra held back from trying to peek around the partition.
“I can do that. Follow me.”
Shandra followed the woman around the partition and was rewarded with a seat right next to Cecily.
The young woman stopped mid-sentence and stared at her. “Are you following me?” she asked, scrunching her brows.
“No. I had getting my hair trimmed on my list of things to do today.” She hated lying, but sometimes a little fib was better than saying, yes, I saw you come in here and wanted to see what you were like away from your aunt.
Tammy floated the big cape over Shandra’s body.
“I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Tammy said, spritzing the ends of Sh
andra’s hair.
“You may have seen my photo in the paper. I’m Shandra Higheagle. I live on the old Whitmire place.”
“Yeah! And you dug up a body there a couple months ago. Turned out to be Crazy Lil’s long lost boyfriend.” Tammy smiled and picked up a pair of scissors.
“She is also the person who found my uncle’s body,” Cecily added.
The tall, thin lady dressed all in black, with long black hair and one wide band of pink hair stopped her scissors and stared at Cecily in the mirror. “I’m sorry to hear that. Did he die of a heart attack?”
“No. Someone shot him,” Cecily said matter-of-factly. She peered straight at Shandra in the mirror. “She and a detective think it was my aunt.”
“No, Detective Greer and I don’t think it was your aunt. He is talking to everyone who knew your uncle and may have had a grudge.” Shandra didn’t want to get linked with digging for clues, even though she was.
“A grudge?” The tall stylist questioned. “June Hasting was in here the other day. She wasn’t happy with Mrs. Randal. She went on and on about how Mrs. Randal expected one person to do the work of three and then she started crying. Right here in my chair.”
“That’s ridiculous. She hasn’t been given any extra chores. In fact, my uncle told my aunt to find another person to help June.” Cecily pointed to her hair. “Take a little more off that side.”
“Why would your uncle care if June’s load was lightened?” Shandra asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe because he was sleeping with her. He was an asshole most of the time but every once in a while he’d do something that made you think he might be human after all.” Cecily peered at her reflection in the mirror.
“You didn’t care for your uncle?” Witnessing her lack of emotion earlier in the day, Shandra had took it for shock. Now she saw it was the fact Cecily hadn’t cared for her uncle.
“He treated my aunt despicably, did illegal things, and he put his hands down every female’s pants he could.” The disgust oozed off her words.
“Did your aunt know about the women?” Shandra was finding more evidence against Vivian. Her gut didn’t like it, but her mind could see how a woman could snap when she’d had enough.
“She knew and as long as he didn’t come to her for what he was getting elsewhere she was content.”
The stylist picked up a blow dryer and flipped the switch. There wasn’t a chance to talk any more until she finished styling Cecily’s hair.
Shandra glanced at her image in the mirror. “That’s good! Don’t take off any more.” She’d been so caught up in her conversation she’d forgotten Tammy, who, was a little too scissor happy. Her hair was now three inches shorter than when she walked in.
“Thank you. How much do I owe you?” She stood, removing the cape.
“I haven’t evened it out completely,” objected Tammy.
“I’ll do it myself. I didn’t want this much cut off.”
“But the split ends were up that high.” Tammy shoved her fisted hands onto her ample hips.
“What do I owe?” Shandra wanted out before she lost any more length on her wavy dark hair.
“That’s twenty dollars for a trim.” Tammy held out her hand.
Shandra dug in her purse and pulled out a twenty. The blow drier shut off. She faced Cecily. “Let me know if there is anything your aunt needs help with.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. Her legs couldn’t carry her fast enough out of the salon. Standing on the street, she spotted a Huckleberry police car cruise by. She’d look up Ryan and see if he wanted to have dinner. She could tell him what she’d learned today.
Walking down Second Street toward the police station, she noticed a woman hurrying toward the back of the medical clinic. There was something familiar about her. The woman glanced up and down the street before entering the building. It was June Hasting.
Chapter Thirteen
What would June be doing slipping in the back door of a medical clinic? It didn’t make sense. She stuck that at the back of her mind and continued to the police station. Ryan’s Tahoe was parked in front of the building.
The last time she’d set foot in this building, Ryan had placed her in a chair inside the door like a child in time out. She understood now why he’d been upset. She’d barged in on his investigation and he’d nearly shot her. At the time, she’d just thought he was being bossy.
She stepped in the building. A gray-haired woman looked up from a station with phones and radios. She smiled and waved Shandra over.
“You looking for Ryan?”
“Yes, I am.” She held out her hand. “Shandra Higheagle.”
The woman shook hands. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Hazel Wells.”
“Should I take a seat?” Shandra waved a hand toward the chairs by the door.
“I’ll buzz him up, no need to sit unless you’ve got tired dogs.” She picked up the phone and punched in a number. “Ryan, there’s someone here for you.” She listened and grinned. “He’ll be right out.”
“Thank you.” She’d barely said the words and Ryan appeared in the hallway behind Hazel.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking through the half door separating the reception area from the rest of the building.
“I thought we could have dinner before I go home.” She didn’t want to let the woman know she’d been digging into the murder. It might not look good for Ryan if others knew they worked together.
“I happen to know he skipped lunch,” Hazel said. Her eyes twinkled behind the wire-rimmed glasses.
“I’m starving. I didn’t have much for breakfast either.” Ryan motioned to the door. “Where did you want to go? Ruthie’s?”
“No, I was thinking Rigatoni’s.”
“That’s an excellent choice,” Hazel said, raising her voice for them to hear as they walked out the door.
“Hazel seems like a nice lady,” Shandra said, falling into step beside Ryan.
“She is. She knows a lot about people who live in Huckleberry.” Ryan stopped. “Walk or ride?”
“There won’t be many more days to be able to walk without freezing. I say walk.” Shandra headed back toward Second Street and stopped at the corner. She stared at the medical clinic.
“Why are you staring at the clinic so hard?” Ryan asked.
“I saw June Hasting go in through a back door when I walked to the police station.” She studied Ryan. “Why would she go in the back door? As far as I know she doesn’t work there.”
“That’s the Hasting’s pickup. We could wait and ask her.” Ryan pointed to an older Chevy pickup parked across the street from the clinic. “It could have something to do with the fact she’s pregnant.”
Shandra faced Ryan. “How do you know that?”
“Red told me. And it isn’t his.”
The frown marring Ryan’s good looks made her even more curious. “Why did he tell you?”
“He knew his wife and Randal were fooling around. Turns out the deceased gave June something she’s wanted for a long time—a baby.”
Shandra wrapped her mind around the information. “Just her sleeping around would be motive enough for Red to want to kill J.W. Knowing his wife carried another man’s—a rich other man’s baby…” She grabbed his sleeve. “Red has to have killed J.W. to keep the man from claiming the child.”
“But Red has a solid alibi. He was working in the house. Vivian and Cecily both vouched for his being in the house.” Ryan tugged on her arm, turning her down Second Street.
Shandra linked her arm in his. “But they could both be covering for him. We don’t know that he didn’t sneak out and shoot him at night.”
They turned left on Huckleberry.
“I’ve got a deputy gathering the wildlife cameras. I don’t think the ones from the other spots will tell us much, but we’ll know the makes and models and know when we find the one that was removed from the murder site.”
They continued to the end of the block. R
igatoni’s sat on the corner of the last block of town. It was the first restaurant tourists staying at the resort or the motels between town and the ski area saw when driving into Huckleberry.
Ryan held the door, allowing Shandra to enter first.
“Shandra! You haven’t been in here in ages.” Miranda Adduci, the daughter of the couple who owned the restaurant, gave her a hug.
“Hi Miranda. How are your folks?” The first time Shandra ate at the restaurant the whole family came out of the kitchen to meet her. She’d discovered since, they greet all newcomers to Huckleberry the same way. And from then on treated them like family.
“They are well. Both are in the kitchen tonight. My brother is at the school for a parent’s night.” Miranda’s gaze landed on Ryan. “And I see you have a handsome guest tonight.”
“Ryan Greer, this is Miranda Adduci. Her family owns Rigatoni’s.” Shandra stepped back so Miranda could go in for her usual hug.
Shandra giggled at Ryan’s stiffness. Miranda was what some considered a plus size. She was a tall, voluptuous package with a beautiful face and angelic smile. Shandra had bonded with the woman the first time she entered the restaurant.
“Come, I have the prefect table for you two. Quiet, dark, intimate.” She winked at Shandra over her shoulder.
Ryan touched her arm. “Are you this friendly with everyone in Huckleberry?”
“It’s a small place with friendly people.”
Miranda stopped at a small table set for two. It had a view of Huckleberry Mountain.
“This is nice. Thank you.” Shandra started to remove her jacket.
Ryan stepped behind her, taking her jacket and pulling her chair out.
She tried to remember the last time she’d been treated like this. Senior prom. Hard to believe the starry-eyed date nearly fifteen years ago was the last time a male she’d dated had treated her with respect.