by Cindi Myers
He had traded in his uniform for a dark gray Western-cut suit and polished python boots, though he was technically on the job, his service weapon in a holster beneath the jacket. Travis and Gage were in attendance as well, to beef up the security provided by Eddie. They would keep an eye on the valuable auction items, but Dwight’s main focus was on protecting Brenda.
“I don’t think Eddie did it,” she said. “I don’t see how he would have had time. We were talking to him in the lobby of the restaurant right up until we walked out to the car.”
“What about his friend?” Dwight asked. “The man he was having dinner with. You said he left the restaurant ahead of Eddie.”
“Maybe.” She frowned. “But why? Neither Lacy nor I recognized him. We really didn’t get a good look at him. His face was in shadow in the restaurant.”
“I wish you had seen him. I’d love to know who he is.”
“Do you think he’s the same person who brought Eddie the doctored pizza?” she asked.
“Maybe.” Dwight had already considered this—whoever had dosed that pizza with sleeping pills had been someone Eddie either wanted to protect, or didn’t want to admit to knowing. “But then, why would Eddie go out to dinner with him a few nights later?”
“Maybe Eddie set up the meeting to confront the guy about the pizza. He wanted to do it away from Eagle Mountain, where someone might see them together. That would explain why he was so upset to run into us.”
“Maybe.” He looked around the crowd. At least eighty people were in attendance, drifting through the rooms of the museum, sipping cocktails and nibbling canapés, admiring the items on display and checking out the auction items arrayed on tables in the front rooms. Attire ranged from business suits and cocktail dresses to jeans and T-shirts. He didn’t recognize a dozen or more of the guests, though he spotted the mayor across the room, in conversation with the woman who headed up the local beautification committee. “Is Robert Brownley here?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen him. Why?”
“I tried to find out some background information on him, but I couldn’t come up with anything.”
“I did an online search, too,” she admitted. “But nothing I came up with sounded like him. But if he’s as wealthy as he seemed, maybe he purposely keeps a low profile.”
“Maybe.” There were too many maybes involved in this case.
“Oh look, there’s Professor Gibson.” She touched Dwight’s arm. “Excuse me, I want to speak to him.”
“Of course.” Dwight watched her cross the room and greet the professor. She smiled at the older man, and Dwight felt a now-familiar catch in his chest. He would never get tired of looking at that smile, of watching the play of emotions on her face. He could imagine himself looking at her this way when they were both twenty or forty or sixty years older. The problem was—how could he persuade her to see that kind of future? She had been hurt so much in the past, he had the sense that she was afraid to look too far ahead.
Patience, he told himself. That was the key to dealing with Brenda—and the key to investigating any case. He went to join Travis by the auction display. The sheriff wore a black Western jacket, black jeans and a black Stetson, with a white shirt and string tie. Lacy, in a sleeveless red cocktail dress trimmed with fringe, stood beside him. They made a striking couple.
“Hello, Lacy.” Dwight touched the brim of his hat and nodded to her.
“Don’t you look handsome.” She turned to Travis. “All of you clean up so well.”
Travis’s answer was a grunt. Lacy laughed. “You’d rather be in uniform, wouldn’t you?” She kissed his cheek. “Dwight has a look in his eye like he wants to talk shop, so I’m going to visit with Paige.” She smiled at Dwight and left them.
“Anyone particularly interested in the book?” Dwight asked.
“Nope.” Travis glanced toward where the book sat on a raised platform in the very center of the table to their left. “A couple of people have looked at it, but no one has lingered.” He shifted toward his deputy. “How’s Brenda doing?”
“She seems calm. I think the whole episode with the tire annoyed her more than it frightened her.”
Travis nodded. “She doesn’t frighten easily.”
“She said Robert Brownley hasn’t shown up.”
“Anybody else here who shouldn’t be?”
“Brenda didn’t mention anyone.” Laughter rose from a knot of people near the door to the hallway and he turned to look toward them. “There are quite a few people from out of town.”
“Let’s hope they bid high and the museum makes some money,” Travis said. He looked toward the auction items again. “Lacy has her heart set on that quilt. I put in a bid on it—thought it might make a good wedding present.”
“I imagine it would.” This brought to mind the question of what he should give the happy couple as a gift—something that hadn’t occurred to him until this moment.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to wrestle with this question for long. The arrival of Eddie Carstairs interrupted him. Unlike the dressed-up sheriff and deputies, he wore khaki pants and shirt that looked very much like the Rayford County Sheriff’s Department uniforms, though in place of the sheriff’s department patch, his shirt had a dark blue star with the word Security embroidered in gold lettering across it. “What are you two doing hovering around the auction items?” Eddie asked.
“Just keeping an eye on them,” Travis said.
“That’s my job.” Eddie rested his hand at his hip, very near the holster for a pistol. He had a permit for the weapon, and his sheriff’s department training would have ensured he knew how to use it safely, but the sight of it still made Dwight uncomfortable. Maybe that was behind Dwight’s decision to make Eddie uncomfortable in turn.
“Who were you having dinner with last night?” Dwight asked.
Eddie’s cheeks flushed. “We already went over all that,” he said. “It’s none of your business.”
“It’s my business if he slashed the tires on the car Brenda and her friends were in.” Dwight could feel Travis’s steady gaze on him. Was the sheriff going to reprimand him for interrogating a witness in a public place like this? Or was Travis merely waiting to see what Eddie would say?
“Maybe Parker slashed the tires himself to make me look bad,” Eddie said. “Did you ever think of that?”
Dwight looked over Eddie’s shoulder to where Parker Riddell, in black pants and a white long-sleeved shirt that hid his many tattoos, offered a group of silver-haired women a tray of bacon-wrapped shrimp. He had considered the idea that Parker had slashed the tires, either to frighten the women or to call attention to himself for some reason. But everything he had learned from the people who knew and worked with him confirmed that Parker was staying on the straight and narrow. Brenda certainly thought so, and her opinion carried more and more weight with Dwight.
“What is he doing here, anyway?” Eddie asked. “He doesn’t have any business being around all these valuable items. If anything disappears, he’s my number one suspect.”
Travis and Dwight both ignored the comment. Dwight could almost hear Eddie’s teeth grinding in frustration at his failure to elicit a response.
“Who is that man Brenda is talking to?” Eddie asked.
Dwight followed Eddie’s gaze to where Brenda stood with Professor Gibson, their heads inclined toward each other, deep in conversation. He was tempted to tell Eddie the man’s identity was none of his business, but Travis answered, “That’s Professor Gibson. He owned that book—The Secret History of Rayford County—before Andy Stenson got hold of it.”
Eddie studied the couple. “He and Brenda certainly look cozy,” he said. He turned to Dwight. “You might have some competition, Prentice.”
Dwight glared at him. He could either deny anything was going on between him and Brenda—which would be a lie—or remain s
ilent and confirm Eddie’s suspicions. The man was a worse gossip than Adelaide, and in Eddie’s case, Dwight always had the sense Eddie was searching for any scrap of information he could use to his own advantage. He decided to play it cool. “I wasn’t aware we were running a race. Excuse me. I see someone I’d like to speak with.” The mayor had just entered the room, and as long as he was here, Dwight wanted to find out where Brenda’s boss—and Eddie’s, for that matter—had been when Brenda’s tires were being slashed.
* * *
“PROFESSOR, I’D LIKE you to meet Parker Riddell. He’s one of my best volunteers—and he’s studying history at the community college.” Brenda had waylaid the young man as he hurried past with yet another tray or hors d’oeuvres.
“Always good to meet a young person who’s interested in history.” Professor Gibson offered his hand. “Is there a particular period you’d like to focus on?”
Parker shifted the serving tray and shook the professor’s hand. “I’m not sure, sir. American history. The West. And I’m really interested in World War II.”
Gibson nodded and asked a few more questions about the classes Parker was currently enrolled in, and made some recommendations of books he should read. “History isn’t the most lucrative field these days,” he said. “But it can be a very rewarding one.”
“I hope so, sir.” Parker shifted the tray again. “I’d better go pass these out before they get cold. It was nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, young man.”
When Parker had left them, the professor turned back to Brenda. “You’ve done a wonderful job with this place,” he said. “It’s a real gem.”
“We think so,” Brenda said. Now seemed as good a time as any to bring up what was, after all, an awkward subject. “I want to thank you for being so understanding about The Secret History of Rayford County, Colorado. I truly had no idea my late husband had borrowed it from you when I listed it for auction.”
“If I thought you had, I might not have been so understanding,” Gibson said. “As it is, proving my claim would have been difficult, and I’m pleased to have the sale go to support a worthy cause. I’m curious, though—did you read the book?”
“I did. More than once. And I made quite a few notes.”
He nodded. “At one time I tried very hard to determine where the secret lab might have been located. My theory is the government destroyed it once the project ended. Otherwise someone would have found it by now.”
“The sheriff’s department found what looked like a laboratory up at Eagle Mountain Resort, but it apparently wasn’t nearly old enough to have been used during the war.”
“Government documents are being declassified all the time,” Gibson said. “I imagine before too many more years, someone will find out the location. In the meantime, that book attracts attention from everyone from conspiracy theorists to serious collectors. I hope it brings a high price to help support the museum.”
She looked around, past the well-dressed guests to the photos and displays on the walls. To many people, the items in these rooms were just old junk, relics of a time long past. But to Brenda and other history lovers, they were links to the past—a look at how the people who had settled this part of the country had once lived. She believed those people still had lessons to teach. “I love this place,” she said. “And I’m determined to do everything I can to keep it going.”
“I have some ideas about that I’d love to talk to you about,” the professor said. “I know—”
But a terrified scream cut off his words and silenced the conversations of those around them. A man Brenda didn’t know, face blanched paper-white, staggered into the room. “Upstairs...a body...hanging,” he gasped.
Chapter Fourteen
Dwight pushed through the crowd toward the stairs, Travis close behind him. “Police! Let us through!” he shouted, over the panicked voices of those rushing down the narrow staircase. Men and women turned sideways to let him pass, their frightened faces a blur as he mounted the steps two at a time. At the top, he paused and looked around.
“In there!” A man motioned toward a room to the left. Travis moved up beside Dwight, his gun drawn. “You take right. I’ll go in on the left.”
Dwight nodded. They had no reason to believe anyone dangerous was inside the room, but best to be prepared. Heart hammering, he moved to the right side of the door. Travis positioned himself across from him. At his nod, they went in, guns drawn.
Dwight’s breath caught as he came face-to-face with a man in white—then he felt foolish, and a little shaky, as he realized the figure was actually a mannequin in a World War II sailor’s uniform. He scanned the rest of the room, which was filled with old military paraphernalia, from helmets and maps to a Vietnam-era field radio and navy semaphore flags.
The body hung from the ceiling in the corner, positioned so that someone had to enter the room to see it. In the dimmer light in that part of the room, it did indeed look human—but closer inspection revealed that this, too, was a mannequin, dressed in the olive drab of a World War II-era sergeant.
Travis holstered his weapon. “Someone’s idea of a sick joke,” he said.
“What is it? Someone said there was a body?”
Eddie, red-faced and out of breath, appeared behind them, his gun drawn.
“Put that weapon away,” Travis barked. “And go back downstairs.”
Eddie holstered the gun, but made no move to leave. “I’m the security guard for the museum,” he said. “I need to know what’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on,” Dwight said. He gestured to the hanging mannequin. “Some joker decided to play a prank.”
Eddie started to approach the mannequin, but Travis waved him back. “Stay out of the crime scene,” he ordered.
Eddie laughed. “Crime scene? It’s a mannequin.”
“Someone wanted to frighten the people here tonight,” Travis said. “I want to know who.”
Brenda appeared behind Eddie in the doorway to the room, looking pale but determined. “What is going on?” she asked.
“Someone hung one of your mannequins from a ceiling beam,” Travis said. “Then someone looked in, thought it was a body in the dim light and panicked.”
Brenda moved into the room and looked toward the mannequin in the corner. She shuddered. “It certainly does look like a body from here. Who would do such a thing?”
“Where have you been, Eddie?” Dwight asked.
“Are you accusing me of doing something like this? I’ve been working, protecting the visitors to the museum and the museum’s valuable property.”
Dwight didn’t let his disdain show on his face. Eddie acted as if he had personally been guarding every exhibit.
“The auction items!” Brenda’s eyes widened and she started to turn away.
“Gage is guarding them,” Travis said.
Dwight nodded. “You thought this might be a distraction—get us all up here and the thief could help himself to whatever he liked downstairs.”
“It was a possibility.” Travis looked up at the dangling mannequin. “Let’s close off this room until we can get a crime scene team in to take a look. And we’ll need to talk to whoever was up here when it was discovered.”
“Some people have already left,” Brenda said. “I think we can safely say this has put a damper on the evening.” She turned around to look toward the hallway. “There have been dozens of people in and out of these rooms all night. How could someone do this without being seen?”
Dwight studied the layout of the room. “You can’t see this corner from the hallway,” he said. “If our prankster had the rope handy, he could wait until he was alone in here and loop it around the mannequin’s neck. Throw the rope over the beam, hoist up the mannequin, secure the rope and stroll out. It might take less than a minute.”
“You c
an ask if anyone saw anything,” Brenda said. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“Maybe.” Travis didn’t sound convinced.
“Do you have a guest list or anything with the names of everyone who attended tonight?” Dwight asked.
“There’s a guest book—but whether or not people signed it was up to them.”
“Let’s go get it.”
He descended the stairs right behind her, and a crowd of people surrounded them, firing questions—most versions of “What happened?”
“False alarm,” he said, one hand at Brenda’s back. He leaned closer to whisper in her ear, the floral scent of her perfume momentarily distracting him, but he forced his attention back to the task at hand. “You’d better make an announcement and send them home.”
She nodded and climbed back up a few steps until she was above the crowd. Everyone fell silent. “Thank you all so much for coming tonight,” she said. “I hope we see all of you at the auction tomorrow morning. You’ll be able to get another look at all the items available tomorrow starting at nine a.m. See you then.”
Eddie had appeared on the stairs behind Brenda as she spoke. As he came down after her, Dwight snagged his arm. “Help herd everyone out the door,” he said.
Eddie opened his mouth as if to argue, but apparently thought better of it. He nodded and moved on, murmuring, “Good night,” and, “Thank you for coming,” as he urged people toward the open front doors.
“I want to check with Gage that the auction items are all right,” Brenda said to Dwight.
“Good idea.” They fought their way against the flow of the crowd to the next room, where Gage stood between the tables of auction items. “Any problems?” Dwight asked.
“Everything is still here, and I didn’t notice anyone paying particular attention to me or the merchandise,” Gage said. “What happened up there?”
