Double Duplicity: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #1

by Paty Jager

  “I wanted to.” His eyes glistened with moisture. He cleared his throat. “I could not take it from the gallery.”

  “I’m sorry. This must be hard for you after…” She gave Juan her full attention. “I know how closely gallery owners work with their assistants.”

  “We were more. We were to be married.” He choked out the last few words and turned, hurrying through the crowd.

  Married? Had Juan realized Paula was seeing someone else and killed her in a jealous rage? She’d not witnessed him angry but had heard stories from other artists about his temper. Juan didn’t fit the description of the man Lil saw with Paula right before she was killed. Did that person find out she was marrying Juan and kill her out of jealousy? The vision of Paula having more than one man fighting for her affections was laughable. What did men see in her? She was a bully, average looks and body, and her husband had all the money. Of course if the divorce had gone Paula’s way…

  The master of ceremonies began reading the top bidders on the ten items for silent bids. The vase she’d donated was the fifth item.

  “The top bid of two thousand and ten dollars goes to Ryan Greer.”

  Shandra shook her head. She couldn’t have heard that right. Whether she heard right or not, the detective walked toward her vase.

  A volunteer hurried toward her. “We need a photo of you and the winner,” the white-haired, older woman said, grasping Shandra’s hand in her small boney one and tugging her toward the grinning detective.

  Shandra stood on the opposite side of her vase smiling at the camera as her mind raced. How could a detective afford to buy expensive art? And why would he want her vase? When the camera person moved on to the next item, winner, and artist, she turned to Detective Greer.

  “It’s a good cause your money is going to, but why my vase?”

  His hand slid over the curve of the vase. His eyes held warmth and a bit of awe in their brown depths. “It’s beautiful and I need a wedding gift for my older brother and my ex-girlfriend.”

  That statement shocked her. Not that he had a girlfriend. That he had an ex and she was marrying his brother. Also the warmth in his statement about the two marrying. She blinked and his grin grew.

  “I guess there aren’t many men who could be happy the girl they planned to marry the moment he met her in seventh grade was marrying their brother instead.”

  Shandra had trouble finding her voice. “N-no, I guess not…Seventh grade? You fell in love with this woman in seventh grade and let your brother swipe her?” Her first impression of this man had been his doggedness. Surely someone with his tenacity wouldn’t let a woman he loved be taken away.

  “It’s a long story I’d be willing to share if you’d care to sit and have a drink with me.”

  The invitation in his voice and eyes were so unlike the sharpness she’d witnessed as he questioned people. She couldn’t help but smile back. “Are you talking about tonight or—”

  “Excuse me.” The same bird-like older woman who drug her over for a photo shoved between them with a clipboard. “We need either a check, credit card, or information on where to send a bill before you leave.”

  He shrugged apologetically and pulled out his wallet and spoke to the woman. “How are you taking credit cards?”

  “We write it down—”

  “Then give me the clip board. I’ll send you a check. I don’t allow my credit information to be out in the open and neither should you.” He took the paperwork and began writing.

  Shandra grinned. That was the cop mode she’d witnessed. She was intrigued by the charming man who’d asked her out for a drink and let his first love get away. She’d had a first love but that was a teenage crush. Somehow she didn’t think his had been a crush. It sounded like it had lasted. So why had the woman ditched him for his brother? Could his brother be even more handsome and dedicated than Detective Greer?

  He handed the paperwork and pen back to the woman and turned to her, his face sliding from business-like to charming again. “Do you have any reason you need to stay any longer?”

  “Not really.”

  “The bar here is open.” He motioned for her to go ahead of him through the crowd of art lovers.

  Shandra smiled and headed toward the bar. She knew eventually most of this crowd would end up in the bar. By then she hoped to be headed home. The last month had worn her out. Between deadlines for this event, her aunt calling to make sure she came to her grandmother’s funeral, and then the dreams filled with her grandmother… It’s a wonder she didn’t have black bags under her eyes.

  She glanced over her shoulder and found the detective right behind her. He reached out a hand, placing it on her lower back. The contact surprised her. He smiled as he navigated her forward and out of the crowd. They walked in silence down the short hall to the bar entrance, his hand still pressed against her as he moved to her side.

  “Isn’t it bad form for you to be in a bar while on duty?” she asked as he pulled out a chair at a table in the far corner where they could see everyone who entered. There was only a scattering of customers.

  “I’m no longer on duty.” He smiled as the waitress approached.

  “What can I get you two?” The woman asked.

  “I’ll have the house white wine,” Shandra said.

  “I’ll have iced tea,” Detective Greer added and the waitress headed to the bar.

  “I thought you weren’t on duty?”

  “I’m not, but if you’re drinking, one of us has to be sober to drive the other home.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Do you plan to get me drunk?” She’d only been drunk once in her life. The memory kept her from overindulging.

  “No.”

  “Then you don’t have to worry about driving me home. I only have one drink. I don’t like to be out of control and more than one drink can make a person say and do stupid things.”

  He studied her a moment. “I gathered that you don’t like to be out of control the first time we met.” He leaned forward. “Care to share why?”

  “No. You invited me to explain your brother marrying your ex-girlfriend.”

  “Touché!”

  The waitress returned with their drinks. He pulled out his wallet, paid, and slipped it back in his pocket.

  Shandra sipped her wine and waited. It was his story, and she had enough Nez Perce blood in her to know a storyteller will tell their story in their own time and in their own way. Her easy patience had annoyed her mother and stepfather. Shandra learned she’d inherited patience the summer she lived with her grandmother.

  Detective Greer took a drink of his tea, cleared his throat, and looked at her. “In the seventh grade I fell for Lissa Chambers the minute she walked into English class. I caught her eye, and we were a couple until our high school graduation. At the time I didn’t realize I’d lost her to my brother. Looking back now, I see it all clearly.”

  “So you haven’t been a couple, just high school sweethearts?” That didn’t make it so bad. That had to have been ten or twelve years ago.

  The grimace on his face said there was more.

  “Come on, Detective, you can’t make a face like that and not tell me more.” She laughed.

  “Only if you call me Ryan.”

  She studied his face. Was that a plea in his eyes to forget how they met? “Okay, Ryan. Now tell me the “rest of the story.”

  “The Christmas break of our senior year my brother was home from college. Lissa and I hung on his every word. At the time I thought her infatuation was because he was telling us what our lives would be like soon. Now, I see that was when she started losing interest in me. When it came time to go to college, she headed to New York to become a model. In anger, I enlisted in the Army. I came back after my enlistment, flew to New York to see her, and she was cold. Acted like I wasn’t good enough for her. I used my military background and got on the Chicago police force.” He took several swallows of tea and peered over her head. His brow furrowed. She c
ould tell he wasn’t seeing anything in the room, but something in his mind.

  What could he be seeing? Heart break? Violence? She sipped her wine and waited.

  Chapter Twelve

  A roar went up in the lobby. The sound was like a slap to Ryan’s brain. He pulled out of the memories of that night in the alley and peered into the waiting face of Shandra Higheagle.

  “You’re very patient,” he commented to stall.

  “It’s an inherited trait.” She sipped her wine and peered at him over the glass.

  Was that a challenge to ask her about herself? “From your last name I take it you have Native American in your ancestry.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  Ah, a touchy subject. “Nope. One of my best friends in school was Coeur d’Alene.”

  Her posture relaxed, and she took another sip.

  “What happened in Chicago?” Her voice was low and husky, the tone inquisitive.

  Even though she asked an innocent question, the answer was so loaded, he wasn’t sure he could answer. Ryan rubbed his hand over the muscles tightening at the base of his neck. The shrink said it would take time for him to be able to talk about what happened. But the more he did, the easier it would be for him to let go of the anger and remorse.

  “If it’s too much, I don’t need to know. After all, I’m a suspect and—”

  “No. You’re not a suspect.”

  Her eyes widened, and she set her glass down. “Really? You believe me?”

  A grin spread across his face at her incredulous disbelief. “Yes. I ruled you out when I saw the wound. There was no way you could have cleaned every bit of blood off your hands before Officer Blane arrived.”

  “But Naomi is still a suspect.”

  The finality in her statement caused him to study her. What made her care so much for the other woman?

  “You’re an eyewitness to seeing her cross the street right after the murder was committed. Why do you believe she’s innocent?”

  “Because I know Naomi.” Her golden eyes sparked with defiance.

  “People don’t always show you all their sides.” He’d witnessed this on many occasions in his profession. It was his trust in a young man that had put him in the hospital and rehab.

  “I was by Naomi’s side as she helped her sister recover and after she was found dead. If she had wanted to lash out at someone, that would have been the time. She was beside herself with grief, but she never once threatened or accused anyone. Even knowing the hell the boyfriend had put Joyce through, Naomi didn’t vent about hoping he rotted in jail or anything. Not like I did. I couldn’t believe the scumbag received such a light sentence.”

  Ryan snagged onto that bit of information. “What do you mean?”

  “He was caught red-handed with enough drugs and weapons violations that he should have been in jail for a long time. But he received a sentence of eighteen months.” Shandra took a swallow of her wine and stared daggers at the glass.

  Ryan pulled out his notepad and wrote, Informant? next to Dale Young’s name. He doubted it had anything to do with this case, but he liked to cover all unanswered questions. Glancing at Shandra, he could tell she’d appreciate whatever information he came up with.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m not convinced Naomi killed Paula. The wound that was inflicted would have required more strength than I think your friend would have even if in a rage when adrenaline can make a body stronger than usual.”

  He smiled as her expressive face took on a calmer appearance. Her lips twitched into a smile.

  “So, you didn’t finish telling me how your brother nabbed your girlfriend.” She raised an eyebrow quizzically.

  He couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled in his chest and up his throat. “Our first meeting I had the feeling you had the determination of a bull dog.”

  “Thank you. I take homage to our four-legged friends.”

  “You like dogs?”

  “Ahh, you’re changing the subject. I won’t tell you anything about me until you finish your story.”

  Ryan’s cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out and noted the Huckleberry Police Chief’s number. He pushed the button and leaned back in his chair.

  “Greer.”

  “Doring is ranting and raving and shouting legal jargon. You need to get over here and finalize the arrest papers.” Chief Sandberg’s usually jovial tone wasn’t apparent.

  “On my way.” Ryan pushed the off button and stared at Shandra.

  “I have to go write up the paperwork on Doring. Anything you want to charge him with besides assault?

  “I wish I could say he murdered his wife, but we don’t have proof.” Shandra’s gaze held his.

  This was the first time in a long time that Ryan was reluctant to hurry off to do his job. He would much prefer to stay here gazing into Shandra’s eyes and toss barbs back and forth than write up the paperwork on the assault. But he also had a suspect where he could interrogate him.

  He stood. “I really have to go. It would be a good idea if you could get the sketch done of the man your housekeeper saw arguing with the victim.”

  Shandra nodded. “I’ll go home and as soon as Lil gets up tomorrow I’ll have her describe the man to me.” She stepped in front of him. “How do I contact you when I have the sketch done?”

  Looking down into her upturned face, he wanted to kiss that smart mouth, but instead he pulled a card out of his jacket pocket and waved it under her nose. He would have preferred sliding the card under the bow on the front of her blouse, but that would have been unprofessional.

  He jerked his thoughts away from that image and smiled. “Call when you have the sketch. I’ll come get it.”

  Shandra snatched the card. “Good. I’ve wasted enough time off my mountain.” She spun and headed for the door.

  “Your mountain?” He stood, staring after her as she disappeared through the door. He turned to the cocktail waitress picking up their glasses. “What does she mean by ‘her mountain’?”

  “She owns a thousand acres of the backside of Huckleberry Mountain.”

  Ryan tucked the information away and walked down the hallway and into the lobby. He spotted the Nortons and altered his direction.

  Ted had an arm around his wife’s shoulder, their heads bent together talking quietly.

  Standing in front of the couple, he felt like an interloper but had a question the two could answer. “What happens to the art in the Doring Gallery?” Ryan wondered when the artists would come to collect their work. He’d like to size each one up. When he’d talked with Juan earlier the man had refused to answer any questions. Ryan thought a good scare might do the man some good. Haul him into the station and threaten to call INS.

  “Sidney will either keep it open or have the artists come pick up their pieces.” Ted turned to the door.

  “Mr. Doring was a part owner in the gallery?” He hadn’t noted anything about a partnership in the papers and files he’d read.

  Ted looked puzzled. “He was married to Paula so I assumed he was.”

  One more thing to look into. “Good night.” Ryan pulled out his notepad and scribbled as he headed for the door. He was getting more questions than answers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As soon as the sun filtered through the pines, Shandra headed to the barn. Lil’s morning routine was the same, rain, snow, or sunshine. At this time of day, she made coffee in an old aluminum pot on a one-burner hot plate and ate a bowl of oatmeal in the tack room where she slept. Shandra had offered the woman a room in the house or one above the studio, but Lil had been sleeping in the tack room for most of her adult life and that was where she wanted to stay.

  Shandra opened the small door on the barn and slipped in, making Sheba wait for her outside. The interior was dark, but the light shining from the open door of the tack room guided her way. She stood a moment outside the room watching Lil pour a cup of coffee and pet the fluffy cat, Lewis. What made a per
son live such a solitary life with only a cat and spend seventy percent of her time caring for animals?

  She knocked on the door frame. “Can I come in?”

  Lil spun, spilling her coffee over her hand. “Shit and corn cobs. Why did you scare me like that?” The woman scolded as she wiped at the spill with a towel.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Shandra felt like she had the time she came across her mother and stepfather in a passionate embrace. Embarrassed and regretting coming into Lil’s space. The woman would have been at the studio in an hour, and Shandra could have talked to her then. But she was anxious to get started on the drawing. It could prove to be the murderer. While Detective Greer, Ryan said he didn’t believe Naomi could have committed the murder, she didn’t doubt he still had her on the list of suspects.

  “What brings you to the barn so early? You going on a morning ride?” Lil picked up the pot and motioned to an extra cup that hung from one of the two pegs on the wall above her makeshift counter.

  After startling the woman, having a cup of coffee with her was the least she could do. “That sounds good. I didn’t get to coffee yet.” Shandra sat in one of the chairs alongside a small wooden table that looked like it could have been a wedding gift to Lil’s grandparents.

  Lil handed her the full cup and took the only other chair in the small room. A single bed stood along the opposite wall. “So what brought you out here so early?”

  “I told Detective Greer that you had witnessed Paula arguing with a man. He asked me to do a sketch from how you describe the man.” Shandra didn’t want to pin too much hope on this being the man who killed Paula, but it was the only thing they had.

  Lil bobbed her head. “I can tell you what he looked like. They were there for long enough I got a good look.”

  Shandra sipped the coffee, remembering how strong the older woman liked to make it. The one sip was strong, bitter, and curled her nose hairs. “I’ll go get my drawing supplies and meet you in the studio.” She stood with the cup in her hand. “I’ll bring this to the studio with me.”