by Lynn Cahoon
“Okay then. I’m leaving Dom here. He can let himself out through the laundry room.” Angie didn’t know why she was explaining this, but she didn’t want to get home and have Dom wandering out in someone’s field because the woman had let him out the kitchen door and expected him to stay around. Dom liked to explore. That’s why Angie had spent so much on the stupid fence. To keep him safe.
“We’ll be fine.”
Angie could hear muttering after that but wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what Mrs. Potter was saying. She decided to ignore the fussing. “All right then. See you in a few.”
As she drove into town, she calculated the hours until Erica’s return. It was too long. When she reached the parking lot behind the County Seat, she looked up at the lighting and made a mental note to call an electrician. That could be the official reason she had to come into town. To set up an appointment. It was lame, but at least it was something.
She parked, but instead of going into the building that held her restaurant, she walked right through the alleyway, pausing at the already loose crime scene tape. She looked at the stain on the broken concrete. This must have been where they found Heather.
She was about to go into the bar through the back door when she saw something sparkling under a stack of old wooden crates. Bending down, she pulled out a broken chain with a silver logo on the bottom. She looked at the letters PF. She’d seen the logo before on the boxes she’d received Friday morning. And on the barn of Pamplona Farms. And on the chain that hung around Javier’s neck.
Chapter 6
Instead of dialing 9-1-1, Angie hit another speed dial she had set on her phone. When Ian answered, she quickly apprised him of what she found. When he didn’t say anything, she asked, “Did you hear what I said? Where are you anyway? Just come down here and you can deal with it. Sheriff Brown likes you.”
“He doesn’t not like you. Besides, I’m out at Moss Farms going over the books with Mildred. I’ll call Allen and have him meet you. Just don’t touch anything.”
“I’m not stupid,” Angie snapped back. Although she had already touched the necklace.
His chuckle made her even madder. “I won’t point out the obvious, but you are behind the bar looking for clues. Don’t they call that investigating?”
“I wasn’t investigating. I thought I saw something over here when I parked, so I walked over.” Even to her ears, Angie’s excuse sounded lame. “Fine, I was snooping. It’s not a crime.”
“You have to tell that to Allen, not me. I’m going to call him now. Just be careful.”
Angie looked around the narrow alley and decided to sit on the steps going into the back of the realty office. She didn’t want to get run over by someone stumbling out of the Red Eye. It was early for anyone to be blind drunk, but anything was possible. She tried to imagine what had happened to Heather in the alley. She hadn’t gotten far from the door before she was stabbed. And if she was walking toward the County Seat, she might have fallen facedown with her arm outstretched. Maybe she ripped the necklace off her killer?
A cold shiver ran down Angie’s back. Finding the farm’s logo on a broken necklace didn’t bode well for Javier’s innocence. However, even though it was clear Estebe didn’t have much respect for his cousin, he didn’t think he could have killed someone. Maybe that was blind faith, though. How many times did you look at someone and say, yep, that guy’s a serial killer?
“Miss Turner. I can’t say I’m surprised to find you here snooping around.” Sheriff Brown had come up the alley from the other way, surprising her. “Do I want to know why you’re here?”
“I was curious. I know, morbid, but look what I found.” She stood from the cement steps and pointed toward the box.
“Hold up, let me get in there. You didn’t touch anything, did you?” He narrowed his eyes at her.
She was tempted to tell him what she told Ian, but she knew she needed to be totally honest. “Okay, I pulled it out of the crack. When I saw what it was, I dropped it.”
“I can’t believe Clyde didn’t see this last night. Of course, it was dark and late. But if this necklace had been a snake, it would have bit him. I’m going to have to send him back to the police academy for some refresher training on murder investigations. Although in his defense, he hasn’t needed to have any skill in that area until the last few months.” Sheriff Brown narrowed his eyes and focused on her. “You’re not involved in this, are you?”
“Because I’m new in town? Seriously?”
“I wasn’t thinking about that, but from what I’ve heard, you had met the prime suspect and his victim just this week.” He took a bag out of his pocket and a pair of tweezers, and bending down with a grunt, leaned in to snag the necklace.
“Isn’t it prejudicial to call her his victim when you don’t know if he really killed her or not?”
Sheriff Brown straightened and then sealed the bag. He wrote on the outside of the tape, ignoring her question. Finally, he glanced around, trying to see if there was something else they’d missed last night. When he was done, he turned toward her. “Things aren’t looking good for Mr. Easterly. Even without this new evidence, the only person with motive to get rid of that young lady was the man she had a fight with less than three hours before she winds up dead. I’m not a genius, but the guy has a flashing red arrow pointing to him.”
Angie bit her lip, thinking of a new argument. Nothing came to her, so she decided to stall. “Then why didn’t you arrest him Saturday when you interviewed him?”
Sheriff Brown took off his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “You want the truth?”
When Angie nodded, he repeated the motion and put his hat back on.
“It doesn’t feel right.” He held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not usually a slave to my feelings. In fact, if you chatted with Maggie, she’d tell you I didn’t have any feelings at all. All the evidence adds up, yet two plus two is equaling three, and it should be four. If you get my drift.”
Somehow, she did understand his convoluted reasoning. “Then who killed her?”
Sheriff Brown put his hat back on and started walking away from her. “Beats the hell out of me.”
She stood there in the alley for a few minutes, shocked that the sheriff had cursed but even more shocked that he didn’t have a clue about who had killed Heather. Could it have been a random killing? Just someone with a new toy they wanted to play with? She watched the sheriff disappear and then decided to do what she’d come for. Go into the Red Eye and talk to the bartender.
She pushed open the red door that led to a dark hallway. The floor was sticky with spilt beer, or at least she hoped it was beer. The bathrooms were on each side of the narrow hallway, along with a pay phone. The phone hadn’t been used for a while since the metal cord that was supposed to attach the receiver to the phone was missing. She kept walking toward a muted light and all of a sudden found herself in the large bar area. Pool tables and dartboards were set up in the area closest to the bathrooms. The bar was to her right and, in front of that, a large dance floor with what looked and smelled like sawdust. A tiny woman sat at the edge of the bar. Her hair was bottle red and she wore a shirt two sizes too small that dipped down in front to show off her cleavage. She was flipping through a copy of People magazine. The cover showed a candid shot of the most recent celebrity found coming out of a hidden love nest.
The woman must have heard her approach, but she didn’t look up. “Sorry, we don’t open for lunch on Mondays. Come back after five.”
Angie spoke before she could stop herself. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
“Being a wise guy doesn’t get you a drink.”
Angie sat on the stool next to the woman. “I’m not here for a drink. Let me start again. I’m Angie Turner. I’m the owner of the County Seat down the block?”
Now the woman sat the magazine do
wn. She looked Angie over, then nodded. “Barb Travis. This trash heap is mine. Your friend Felicia is a nice girl. She sure can put back the brew, though. I don’t worry about her much since she only has to walk a few steps home.” She blew out a breath. “Of course, that didn’t help poor Heather.”
“You knew Heather?”
Barb worried her bottom lip, scraping some of the screaming red lipstick onto her yellowed teeth. “Of course I knew Heather. The girl was sweet. Way too nice for that jerk of a boyfriend. I was alternately giving her tissues Friday night and then holding her back from rushing at him to stab him in the heart with a cocktail swizzle stick.”
“Javier could be a jerk.” Angie had only met the guy once, and she knew that was a true statement. “But you don’t think he killed Heather, do you?”
“Honey, I’ve bartended here at Red Eye for thirty years. I guess I liked it so much, I bought the place.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Want some?”
“No, I’m good.” Angie didn’t think she could stay seated if she drank more caffeine. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m getting there. First, I’m going to tell you a story. There was a guy sitting right on that same barstool as you, oh, about ten years ago. It was a Saturday and he’d been here all day. Bad breakup with the love of his life—she’d caught him swimming in another pool and kicked him out. Which, according to him, made him realize he’d been a fool.” Barb got up and walked around the counter, refilling her coffee cup. “You sure you don’t want some?”
“Already over my daily limit.” Angie wasn’t sure what day, or even month, the too-dark brew had been made. It was probably just better to decline.
“Ha, if I limited myself on coffee, I’d be napping right now. Anyway, so this guy’s sitting there, whining in his beer when a woman walks in the door, pulls a pistol, and shoots off six rounds at him.” Barb walked back around and sat at the door.
“The wife or the girlfriend?”
A ghost of a smile creased Barb’s darkly tanned face. “Wife. My bouncer took the gun from her, but the weird thing was, she missed hitting the loser every time. I didn’t even think that was possible. Even a blind dog finds his dinner sometimes.”
Angie’s phone chirped. She looked down at the display and saw it was the house number. But she wanted to figure out this puzzle that Barb was setting up. “The moral of the story?”
“Love makes you do crazy things. It could have been Javier or someone else. But love is crazy.” She nodded to the ringing phone. “You might want to answer that.”
“It will just take a second.” Angie picked up the phone. “What’s going on?”
“Where do you keep the fire extinguisher?” Mrs. Potter sounded out of breath and her words squeaked out.
“Oh, my God, are you okay?” Angie stood and tucked her purse under her arm. She paused, trying to hear what was going on. “Mrs. Potter?”
“I can’t find anything in this kitchen. Margaret had it so organized. What did you do to all her stuff?”
“What’s on fire?” The phone clicked off and Angie tried to call back, but all she got was a busy signal. She turned to Barb. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. My house guest said something about a fire, now I can’t reach her.”
“Do you want me to call the fire department and have them meet you out there?” Barb headed toward her phone. “You live out at the old Turner farm, right?”
“I don’t know if there is really anything wrong or not.” Angie made a quick decision. “Call them. But let them know that it might be nothing.”
“Better safe than sorry, that’s what my grans always said.” Barb waved her hands, shooing Angie out of the bar.
Once Angie hit the alley, she ran to her car, dropping the keys as she tried to unlock the door. “Please be all right.” She said the mantra over and over during the drive home. Erica would kill her if she let something happen to Mrs. Potter on the first day she was responsible for her. It took her less than twenty minutes, and thankfully, Angie didn’t hit any cows, horses, or even sheep on the way, although there was a squirrel that she wasn’t quite sure she’d missed. All she could see was her house, Nona’s house, going up in flames. “Please let them be okay,” she whispered as a mantra as she drove.
She turned into the driveway, gravel flying behind her. It didn’t look like the house was on fire. Maybe things weren’t as dire as she’d thought. She flew out of the car and up the stairs onto the porch. Swinging the door open, she stopped short in the middle of the doorway.
Mrs. Potter sat at the table with Dom at her side. She’d been telling the dog something, and as Angie entered, they both turned to look at her.
“I didn’t realize you were so close. I wouldn’t have bothered calling you, but you didn’t say when you’d be coming back.” Mrs. Potter pushed a plate of cookies toward her. “Macaroon?”
“Where’s the fire?” Angie sniffed the air. Nothing. Confusion muddled her adrenaline-full brain. “I don’t understand. Why would you tell me there was a fire when there wasn’t one?”
“I never said there was a fire. I merely asked you where you kept your fire extinguisher. If I’m going to feel comfortable living in this house for the next week, I need to know these things. My bedroom window doesn’t open all the way either.”
Angie wanted to scream. Instead, she sank into a chair, the air going out of her faster than she could take it in. Rubbing her forehead, she tried to bring her blood pressure down by slowing her breathing. When she looked up, they were still watching her. “Why did you hang up on me?”
“Oh, the phone receiver slipped out of my hand and into the sink. I’m not sure it works anymore. I had the sink full of soapy water to clean up around here.” Mrs. Potter looked around the kitchen like she’d found the solution to cure cancer. “Don’t you think a kitchen is at its best when it shines?”
The siren on the fire truck barreling into the driveway kept Angie from telling her house guest that her kitchen had been plenty clean when she’d left that morning. She jumped out of her chair and went to the door to look out. Two fire trucks and ten pickup trucks were surrounding the house. “I need to deal with this.”
She walked out to where the men were standing, staring at the house, then the barn, then their phones. Man, she was never going to live this one down. “Sorry, guys. Misunderstanding. I have a houseguest and I didn’t understand what she was saying.”
“It’s against the law to call in a hoax fire report. Someone could have been hurt getting here.” A tall man wearing a ball cap that said Chief stepped toward her. She recognized him as Rob Harris, the guy who owned the winery. “Tell me again why you called in a fire when there clearly isn’t one? You’re not under duress, are you? Who else is in the house? Come on out, I know you’re watching.”
“No, I’m not under duress. Like I said, it was a misunderstanding. And technically, I didn’t call in the report anyway, it was Barb.” She blew out a long breath. “Look, Rob…”
He interrupted her apology. “It’s Chief, not Rob.” He leaned forward and whispered, “I’m on official River Vista Volunteer Fire Department business. I have to show my authority around the guys.”
“Oh,” Angie looked back at Mrs. Potter and Dom, who had exited the building. The woman had her hands in the air. “Put your hands down, Mrs. Potter. Everything’s okay.”
“Maybe she called in the hoax so we’d come save her from you.” Rob eyed Angie suspiciously. “Are you holding this sweet old lady hostage?”
“No, but I’m beginning to think it’s the other way around.” Angie shook her head at his confused stare. “Never mind. Look, we’re all okay. There’s no fire. See?” She pointed to the house.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to do a walk-through before I can send my guys home. This is definitely a suspicious situation.” He leaned close again. “The Idaho Fire Union came out and d
id a Saturday training for all of us on what to look for in case of a terrorist attack. They even catered lunch. And it wasn’t just sandwiches. Pizza, salad, and some sort of pasta. I tried to get them to hire the winery for the gig, but we got undercut.”
“Fine, if you need to walk through, go ahead.” She waved her arm out in welcome. “I just want to get this day over.”
“Just to be clear, I have your official permission to enter the residence?” He smiled. “When there’s not a visible active fire, I have to ask permission.”
“And what if I don’t give it to you?” Angie’s frustration level was reaching a boiling point.
He glanced around at the men, who were all watching him now. “I guess we have to stay here until you do.” He pulled a small, well-worn book out of his coat pocket. “I’ve never seen anything in the handbook about a homeowner being noncompliant.”
“If I tell you that you can go in, you’ll leave?” Angie shushed Dom, who was barking at one of the men who had walked over to pet him. He plopped on his butt and stared at her, certain she’d kept him from saving the day.
“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at her. “Unless I find some freaky stuff in there. Then we might have to talk again.”
“Just go.” She walked over and sat in the porch bench next to Dom. “It’s okay, boy, they don’t mean us harm.”
He growled lightly in his throat—apparently, he didn’t agree with her assessment—but he let Rob and a second man walk past them without a problem.
“Terry and I will be right back out. As soon as we ascertain there is no fire.” Rob held the screen door open for the man now known as Terry and disappeared into the house.
Mrs. Potter moved her walker and came to sit down by Angie. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I just don’t understand why you would have thought there was a fire.”
After Angie explained herself, again, Mrs. Potter nodded. Just to make sure she understood, Angie went on. “So, let’s promise each other for the week, we won’t say things that might be misunderstood. Does that sound like a plan?”
