Double Duplicity: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #1

by Paty Jager

  “Naomi, this isn’t good for your health. Joyce wouldn’t want you to get sick.” Ted reached out to shut the computer off.

  “No! I’m finally getting into the records that have Paula’s maiden name on them.”

  Shandra motioned to the computer monitor, “Naomi, why don’t you go make me a cup of tea and let me take a look at these for you. Sometimes fresh eyes see things that might have been missed.” She gently maneuvered Naomi away from the desk and took the warm seat.

  As Ted navigated his wife to the back room, Shandra began scanning the information Naomi had accessed. The woman must have majored in computer science because she had gotten into information the public wouldn’t normally have access to.

  There were not only documents stating Paula was helping the DEA, she found a reference to plastic surgery and vocation of artist under Young’s information. He’d turned evidence against the cartel and had been given a new life complete with a face lift.

  Knowing the degradation he’d put Joyce through and the fact he sold drugs, Shandra had a feeling he wasn’t using his new life to become a model citizen. He could be anyone who moved into the community in the last six months.

  “Have you found anything of interest?” Naomi set a cup of tea on the corner of the desk for Shandra and kept one for herself.

  “Yes.” Shandra filled Naomi in on all she read about Dale Young.

  “That’s the worst case of justice being screwed I’ve ever heard!” Naomi clanked her cup and saucer together as she placed them on the desk.

  “It does make you wonder about the system.” Shandra clicked the screen away and looked at the clock. “I have to scoot. I have a lunch date at the lodge.”

  “Please tell me it isn’t with Sidney Doring.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s with Detective Greer.”

  “Does he still suspect me?” Naomi’s voice shook with worry.

  “I don’t believe he does.” Shandra couldn’t help the singsong tone in her voice.

  Naomi’s face brightened. “You like him! He must be liking you back for you to be this excited.” Naomi hugged her. “I’m so happy for you. You haven’t had a man in your life since you moved here.”

  “You don’t mind he once thought of you as a suspect?”

  “Not if he makes you this happy.” Naomi waved her hands. “Go enjoy your lunch.”

  “Thanks! I plan on it.”

  Shandra said good-bye to Ted and untied Sheba. Out in the Jeep, she took one more look at the activity behind the gallery and wondered if they weren’t also checking each piece on display. It wouldn’t take two days to clear the back room out with all the people they had milling around.

  Shifting into gear, she sailed out of the alley and down the street toward Huckleberry Highway and the lodge. The clock on her dash read twelve-twenty. She’d roll in right on time.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Shandra gave the valet instructions for Sheba and entered the lobby of the Huckleberry Lodge. She wasn’t clear if she was to wait in the lobby for Ryan or get them a table in the restaurant. Indecision kept her rooted to the side of the entrance. It proved to be a good spot to watch all the comings and goings of the lodge. The vantage point showed a clear view of who got on and off the elevators. Who went down which hall and who came in the front door.

  She sat on an overstuffed ottoman and took in the show. Staff moved about doing chores and errands. Guests went up and down the elevators and in and out the entrance. Oscar Rowan entered the lodge. She leaned back, to make herself blend into the fichus behind her. Something about his clothing was familiar. What was it? He entered an elevator, and she watched the numbers. All the way to the top floor.

  Was he staying in the lodge? It seemed a bit expensive for an artist who had yet to make a big sale.

  The familiar sound of cowboy boots caught her attention and she smiled. Ryan paused in the lobby, scanning the area. She stood and walked over to him.

  “Are you looking for someone?” she asked just as she came up behind his shoulder.

  His alert, stiff posture relaxed before he pivoted and smiled. “Yes. You.”

  The welcome in his eyes made her heart thump loudly in her ears.

  He motioned toward the restaurant, and she walked beside him. His hand settled warm and secure on her lower back as he followed her. At the restaurant entrance, she looked over her shoulder to smile at Ryan.

  She caught a glimpse of a man walking away. An envelope stuck out of his back pocket and the image of her dream popped into her head. He was the man with the spearhead in his pocket. It was the same type of pants, same body shape, even the back of the head was a match.

  She clutched Ryan’s shirt sleeve.

  “What is it?” Ryan peered down into Shandra’s face, drained of color. She stared over his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist and spun them both around. A man was exiting the lodge.

  “That man was in my dream.”

  He barely heard her whispered statement.

  The waitress walked up. “Two?”

  “Yes. In a private corner, please.” Ryan ignored the knowing smile on the older woman’s face and led Shandra to a table in the far corner of the establishment. “This will do, thank you.”

  The corner, padded booth was cozy. He nudged Shandra in, and sat down, scooting her over until they sat side by side, watching the activity of the restaurant. The waitress took their drink orders and left.

  “Tell me about your dream.” Ryan grasped Shandra’s hand and laced his fingers with hers under the table as she told him about two men in her dream.

  “That man who just walked out of here was one of them. He had on the same type of pants and the envelope sticking out of his pocket reminded me of the spearhead that was in his back pocket.” She added, “In my dream, there were twigs scattered around when the two met.”

  “Twigs and Oscar Rowan. Remember when we caught him in the office and there were pieces of white sticks all over the floor?” Ryan asked.

  “Yes. Do you think the twigs are referring to those sticks?”

  “Could be. The sculpture those sticks made was of a man and woman having sex. Do you remember the saying on the base?”

  “Yes. ‘My love twines around you like a clinging vine, giving you nourishment.’ It’s sweet and corny at the same time.” She wrinkled her nose.

  He wanted to lean over and kiss the tip of her nose but refrained from any such display in public. He was still working a case and it did involve the woman sitting beside him.

  “If Rowan found out about any of Paula’s other lovers, he might have become enraged and killed her in a fit of jealousy. From my interviews with him, he came across as a man with a lot of rage.” At the time Ryan had thought it was genuine but now he wondered if it wasn’t an act.

  “When you questioned him, did he give you a reason to consider he was the murderer?”

  The waitress returned with their drinks. “Have you decided what to order?”

  Shandra shook her head and dutifully picked up the menu. He did the same. They both ended up selecting the day’s special of tomato soup and a grilled turkey sandwich. The waitress left, and they both watched her walk across the restaurant.

  “I had a feeling he wasn’t being truthful, but I couldn’t catch him up in anything.” If the man was the murderer he was an accomplished liar, and that would make it harder to get the truth from him. “I wonder where he was coming from.”

  “He went up to the top floor when he came in.” Shandra extracted her hand from his as the waitress returned with their soup.

  “Doring lives on the top floor.” Ryan put his napkin on the table and slid out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.”

  Shandra nodded, but her eyes reflected she didn’t believe he’d be back in a minute.

  Ryan hurried out to the front desk. The older clerk was on duty.

  “Are there any rooms on the top floor for guests to reserve?” He forced his face to remain friendly and
not show the adrenaline that pumped through him. This may finally be the break they needed to find the murderer.

  “Only the two honeymoon suites and Mr. Doring’s rooms are on the top floor.” She replied and aimed her attention to the ringing phone.

  “Thank you.” He hurried back to Shandra. “Unless Rowan recently married or was visiting a newlywed couple the only other person on the top floor is Sidney Doring.”

  Shandra twirled her spoon around in the soup. “That envelope wasn’t in his pocket when he went up. I bet he was paid for something.” She took a bite of soup and pointed her spoon at him. “I bet it was murder.”

  ~*~

  Thirty minutes later, Ryan rode the elevator to the top floor with Shandra. He’d prefer to question Sidney alone, but she had a point. She was the witness to Rowan traveling to the top floor.

  The elevator lunged to a stop. “Remember, you are to get the hell out of here if he gets violent.” The doors swished open.

  “Yes. But he won’t.”

  “How can you be so confident?”

  “Because other than the little incident at the art event, Sidney knows how to control his emotions.” Shandra’s smile was a bit wobbly.

  He didn’t have time to tell her about the way the man broke down the last time he was questioned.

  Ryan knocked on the door to Doring’s suite.

  “Just a minute. I had to wait for—” Doring answered the door. “Oh, I thought you were room service. I called down my order thirty minutes ago.” He held his hand on the door and stood in the opening, barring entrance. “What do you want?”

  “I have some questions for you.” Ryan took a step to enter, but the man stood steadfast.

  “I don’t want her in here. She’ll probably come up with some lie and get me arrested again.” Doring glared at Shandra.

  Ryan stepped between the two. “This is official police business having to do with the death of your wife.”

  “Then why is that bitch here?” Doring pointed his chin at Shandra.

  This was the reason why Ryan hadn’t wanted Shandra to come along. “If she leaves will you allow me to question you?”

  “Wait a minute, you can’t—” Shandra put her hand on his arm and tried to push him out from in front of her.

  He spun. “I can and I will,” Ryan said the words firm and with force. Then as she started to sputter, he mouthed the words, “Just go. Please.”

  “I have information you need while questioning him.” Shandra spun on her heel and marched to the elevator.

  Damn! Ryan’s gut soured at her words. Her parting remark was sure to get her in Doring’s crosshairs if he was the one who murdered Paula.

  He erased any expression and faced Doring. “Can we talk now?”

  The man moved out of the doorway and headed straight for the bar. He raised a glass. “You want anything?”

  “No.” Ryan pulled out his notepad. “Could you tell me what kind of business you and Oscar Rowan have together?”

  Doring’s hands stopped pouring liquor into a glass for only a split second before he looked up and smiled. “I purchased one of his bronze statues.”

  “Is that why he left here with an envelope of money today?”

  Doring raised the glass to his lips, took a swallow, and smiled. “Yes. It was a payment for the statue he is having delivered next week.”

  “I’d like to see the paperwork.” This line of questioning was getting him nowhere. He’d have to check the man’s financials and see where the money came from and then talk with Rowan and see if a statue really was purchased.

  “Are you now part of the law group that polices art transactions? I’ve never had to prove my art purchases to anyone but my accountant.” Doring’s face hosted a smarmy smile.

  Realizing this was a waste of time, Ryan turned to the door. He stopped and spun around. “Now that your wife is dead who is in charge of the gallery?”

  “I am as her next of kin.”

  “Is that why you’re buying art from Rowan? To add to the gallery?”

  “You should be out hunting down my wife’s murderer not harassing me about my art purchases.” Doring waved his hand toward the door and splashed his drink on his hand and cuff.

  Good. His question flustered the man. He’d bet his collection of old T.V. shows that Doring had a part in his wife’s death. He may not have driven the spear into her chest, but he paid the man who did.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Shandra drove home, grumbling about men. Ryan hadn’t wanted her to be there while he questioned Sidney. But tossing her out after the man threw his tantrum, irked. There was a reason Sidney didn’t want her there. She made him angry just like his wife.

  Sheba whined from the back seat when they turned up the driveway.

  “Yeah, me too. I’m happy to be home.” Shandra patted the big head that nudged her shoulder. “I wish Ella would stop putting dreams in my head and let me get back to my peaceful life.”

  She parked the Jeep and headed to the studio intent on working on the souvenir pieces. Her inventory was low and there were still two more months of summer tourists headed to Huckleberry.

  Dipping the coasters in glaze didn’t require a lot of thought. Her mind wandered to Oscar Rowan. Very little was known about the artist. The only work of his on his website were pieces that showed an artist still looking for his style or an artist who was inconsistent. Not good traits for someone wanting to make a living off their work. Artistry and emotion twined as one in the warrior statue. The diversity on his site didn’t show the same connection.

  Placing the lid on the bucket of glaze, she washed her hands and headed to the house. Once she sat in front of the computer with a cup of tea, she started googling bronze warrior statues. Two hours later she had printed pages that proved Oscar Rowan did not sculpt the warrior statue. It was part of a collection made by a western artist who had passed away ten years earlier. Only collectors of western art would know the artist name on the statue was forged.

  Paula had to know the statue was worth far more than the price set on it. She had to have done the research and discovered it wasn’t an original of Oscar Rowan. “Was that why he killed you?”

  Shandra dialed Ryan, but his phone went straight to voice mail. She left a message that she had incriminating evidence against Oscar Rowan. Her stomach growled, and she wandered into the kitchen to make a salad for dinner.

  After she’d eaten, she paced the living room. When would Ryan call? She had patience when it came to molding clay or being part of a creative process, but in everything else, she lacked her grandmother’s easy-going tolerance to wait out life’s hiccups.

  If she could get photos of the statue and find a foundry stamp or date on the statue or base, she could further incriminate the imposter artist. But how was she to get into the gallery? Ryan took away Naomi’s key. Juan was locked up.

  “Why aren’t you calling me back?” She peered at Ryan’s name on her phone.

  The phone rang. She tossed it up before juggling it into her hands. “I’m glad you—”

  “Ms. Higheagle, this is Liz Perry with the DEA. We’re allowing the artists with work in the Doring Gallery to pick up their pieces tonight. After tonight the building will be locked up, and you’ll have to go through the local authorities to gain custody of your property.”

  The business-like, bored tone didn’t set off any alarms. “I can be there in an hour.”

  “Come in the back door. We don’t want civilians thinking the gallery is open for business.” Agent Perry hung up.

  Shandra collected her thoughts. She’d not heard of Agent Liz Perry, but the voice souned a bit like the no-nonsense woman who’d stopped her from walking through the alley when the DEA were taking the evidence from the back of Doring Gallery. The vase was a fifteen-hundred-dollar piece. It wouldn’t be practical to have it tied up in a bureaucratic nightmare.

  She grabbed a sweatshirt off the coat tree, picked up her purse, and headed to the
barn.

  Strains of an old western tune floated from inside. Her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, and she spotted Lil cleaning Oliver’s stall. The old gelding had been Shandra’s horse at the ranch in Montana. He was the only thing she’d brought with her of her childhood.

  Shandra walked over and scratched the sorrel between the ears. “I’m headed back to town. A DEA agent called and said if I want the vase that was in the Doring Gallery I need to pick it up tonight before it gets caught up in legalities.”

  Lil stopped scooping and leaned on the manure fork. “You sure that’s a good idea? Seems strange they’d call you there in the middle of the night.”

  Shandra faced Lil. “They have probably discovered the same thing I did about Oscar Rowan. I bet he was tied up with the drugs and killed Paula. I’m sure they want to get this all wrapped up and move on.”

  Lil shook her head. “I don’t like it. You call that detective?”

  “I left a message telling him about Oscar. When he calls me back, I’ll tell him where I am.” Shandra gave Oliver one last scratch before walking out of the barn. All her bases were covered between telling Lil and leaving the message for Ryan.

  ~*~

  Ryan sat in Ruthie’s Diner waiting for Oscar Rowan to show. He’d discovered from a conversation with Ruthie that the man came in for dinner every night at seven. Since he’d been unable to locate where the man was staying, this seemed like the best way to confront him about his visit to Doring earlier.

  He patted his empty phone holster and grimaced. His phone went dead while he was on the computer trying to discover Rowan’s whereabouts. The phone was in his vehicle charging. He felt as naked and vulnerable without his phone as he did without his gun.

  Baylor entered the diner. He scanned the booths. His brow started to furrow then smoothed out when he spotted Ryan. He nodded then sat at the end of the counter farthest from him. Ryan peeked at his watch. Five till seven.