‘Stuart Campbell,’ Alice said, ‘no question, you are the best assistant editor that ever hired me.’
‘Also the only one. Is Lorraine locked up good and tight?’
‘Yes. Lorraine is, and Harley is, and lamentably, so is Steve Navarro.’
‘Are you sure he’s worth a lament?’
‘Maybe not, but it’s hard on his dad. Let’s show this picture to him, so he can quit confessing to murder. And then to Tasker, so we can all go home.’
The picture confirmed what the sheriff expected – that Lorraine murdered Dooley Davis and Harley put his body in the pickup. Mrs Dahlgren had grown tired of waiting for the money Dooley owed, and when she saw him in a fight behind their store she decided he was going to make trouble for her business and he had to go. Steve didn’t even know the body was under the tarp when he drove the truck home. He was going back to prison now, on trafficking charges, and the Dahlgrens were facing a long list of criminal complaints.
They did finally persuade Frank Navarro to look at the picture and acknowledge that his son was not wanted for murder. Before dark, he was out of the building and on his way to the ranch with his brother, Tony, a sad man coming to terms with the truth about his son. Watching them drive away, two handsome older dudes in their beat-up but capable pickup, Stuart said, ‘It isn’t easy, is it? Being a … what would you call them? Western wrangler? In this day and age.’
‘I guess. I don’t think the Navarros would want to be anybody else, though. You want to feel sorry for somebody, save it for that poor guy still signing papers back there in the jail.’
Through the glass in the door, they could see the sheriff at his desk, talking to the deputy, handing her a document to file.
‘Are you joking?’ Stuart said. ‘Tasker wouldn’t trade places with anybody. Tasker’s The Man.’
‘What?’ Alice was three feet ahead of him in the echoing hall, so she didn’t quite hear him say, ‘Be careful when you open the door.’
When she stepped outside, the wind grabbed the door out of her hands and slammed it against the outside wall. Stuart helped her wrestle it back and slam it shut. They stood together on the front step of the jail, squinting into a gritty haze of snow and dirt sweeping across town, obscuring the lower streets.
‘Oh, Jesus, here comes the next blizzard,’ Stuart said, buttoning his coat. ‘Why are the snow-shoveling gods punishing me this way?’
‘Just to keep you on your toes, kid,’ Alice said. She turned her back to the gale, dug her watch cap out of her pocket and pulled it on. She turned up her collar and buttoned it snug. ‘Comes right down to it,’ she said as she wrapped her scarf around her upright collar, ‘I haven’t ever seriously considered living anywhere else, though. Have you?’
‘What? Who said anything about moving?’ Stuart said. ‘Montana’s the only place for a reasonable person to live.’
At least, she thought that’s what he said. The last part was lost in the wind as they both ran for their cars.
Burning Meredith Page 21
