Shotgun Moon

by K. C. McRae

  Merry dismounted and looped the reins over a piece of broken fencing. She loosened the saddle girth and walked to the half-burned horse barn.

  ———

  Lauri squinted at the Glamour magazine Janelle had lent her, the light from the kerosene lamp growing dim. Something wrong with the glass thingie that fit around the flame. She sighed, and wished for the forty-second time that day for electricity.

  No TV, no telephone, no microwave, and worst of all, no hair-dryer. So not only was she stuck in a tiny dark cabin in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, she had to look like shit, too.

  Janelle said she believed Lauri was innocent. But even so, Lauri couldn’t tell her about following Barbie Barnes. Janelle would say it was too much of a risk, wouldn’t like Lauri using her car to do it, and wouldn’t get why she was doing it at all. Lauri couldn’t tell her the whole truth either; however much Janelle vowed to be on her side, she wouldn’t understand what Lauri had done to the waterbed. Wouldn’t matter how much she tried to explain it. There had been too many other situations like that, too many other people who gave her that look when she’d only been trying to tell them what they’d asked to know.

  So she hadn’t told her. Janelle worked all the time, so she wouldn’t see her own car in town, and if someone else saw it and asked Janelle about it, Lauri would tell her that she’d had to come into Hazel to get something or other.

  At least she got out once in a while. It was hard to follow Barbie during the day in a town the size of Hazel, so she only did it at night. She’d dyed her hair dark like Janelle’s and added a variety of hats and a pair of big ugly sunglasses like Janelle would wear—that girl had the worst taste—and no one had taken a second look. At least, she didn’t think they had.

  And at night Lauri could get close enough to see what Barbie was doing in her house. Persistence pays off, her mother always said. Lauri was just waiting for that to happen. She was getting pretty tired of waiting for Merry to catch on, though. She’d been going great guns there for a while, tracking down clues like Nancy Drew and generally making a pest out of herself. Then she’d kind of dried up, like she’d hit a dead end. Plus, she’d started hanging out with Barbie Barnes.

  At first, Lauri had thought it was because she knew what Barbie had done and was trying to prove it, but that quickly went out the window. Drinking together, getting all chummy, and crying on each other’s shoulders. Made her sick, having to watch that garbage through the kitchen window. Seeing how everybody liked sweet little Barbie so much. Only Lauri seemed to know what a bad person she was.

  And why didn’t they all like her like that? What was it that Barbie had? How did she fool them all so easily?

  She was worried Merry might have heard her when she took up her nighttime watching place, high in the branches of the big old tree in the yard next to Barbie’s house, just as her cousin stormed out. It was cold at night sometimes, but not too bad, and Janelle had lent her some pretty good outdoor clothes.

  Clay had certainly made the wrong choice in women, but Lauri would make sure Barbie got what she had coming. She had to pay for killing the man Lauri loved, the man she was going to have a family with. And besides, if she didn’t, everyone would continue to blame Lauri. She couldn’t imagine going to jail for Clay’s murder, she just couldn’t. And she didn’t want to be running her whole life either. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be sitting in this nasty cabin that belonged to the Paysens when it came time to have the baby.

  Then Denny died and Sergeant Hawkins blamed Merry. So now she had even more reason to find out what really happened, didn’t she? Lauri had hated doing it, but she’d finally made the cell phone call. Merry wasn’t working fast enough on her own, and it was pretty clear no one believed anything Lauri had tried to tell them.

  No one but her cousin. So she had to come through. She just had to. Lauri had seen the hunted look in her eyes that first day when she’d barged into the police station, before Officer Gutierrez asked all his questions. Merry hated that place.

  Now Lauri got it, even after just one night in jail. It sucked, and she had no intention of going back.

  twenty-two

  Sunlight streamed through the gaping hole above. The smells of dead smoke and molding hay made Merry’s nose itch. Eight stalls marched along one side of the aisle. Along the other side, falling sections of roof had crushed five more. At the far end, an open area held tack. Saddles hung on the racks jutting from the rear wall, and bridles, hackamores, and halters from the pegs on either side. Under the pegs, built-in cubbyholes held everything from fly spray to curry combs, brushes, and hoof picks to padded boots and leg wraps. Soot cut by rivulets of water streaked everything.

  Merry stepped past the tack to the closed door on the other side. It revealed a makeshift office, most of the space taken up by a desk made from an old door and two filing cabinets. A folding chair leaned against one wall. She stepped to the file cabinet on the right and opened the top drawer. The files contained printouts of forms and client information from the Lamentes’ business. These would be copies for easy access, while the computer containing the electronic copies remained in Bo’s burned-out den. If Olivia really planned to continue training horses, she’d need all this.

  The last drawer held WorldMed brochures and several copies of a direct mail piece asking for donations. Merry fingered the edge of the paper, considering. Shirlene had said she spent the majority of her volunteer time on the library, but WorldMed kept coming up over and over. Olivia and Barbie had supposedly been working on something for the organization, though now that appeared to be a lie. Shirlene had said that even Anna volunteered with WorldMed, though she really didn’t seem the type.

  Merry tucked the brochure into her pocket.

  Barbie could have killed Clay in simple rage. After all, she had believed he was sleeping around. But that felt … off. WorldMed was the common theme among the suspects in Clay’s murder. Well, not all the suspects. It seemed odd that the evidence seemed to center on Lauri, yet she was the one person who didn’t have anything to do with the organization.

  So could WorldMed be involved? How?

  Merry shook her head. Good Lord. Look at yourself, suspecting a nonprofit that gives desperately needed medications …

  Medications. Narcotics.

  Her mind scrambled around the thought. She’d instantly discounted Sergeant Hawkins’s statement that there was a drug problem in town when he’d pulled her over in the Blazer. However, what if he’d been telling the truth? Not about receiving a tip about her, of course, but about there being a problem with illegal drugs in the area. Even so, the usual suspects in small-town Montana were meth, maybe some pot—easy enough to access since the law allowing medical marijuana had passed. And Gus Snyder had apparently had access to cocaine.

  On the other hand, prescription drugs were hot stuff, especially with kids, though Merry had known a few women whose addictions to pills like Oxycontin had landed them in jail.

  If something was catawampus with WorldMed, it had to have something to do with prescriptions.

  Clay had hated drugs—enough to harp on his roommate about them and enough to get Gus Snyder fired from the drilling rig. Shirlene had said she didn’t have anything to do with the controlled substances, but as a nurse—and the main organizer, it seemed—Olivia would know how the narcotics were handled for WorldMed. However, asking her about an old gun was one thing—asking her to look for evidence against Barbie, another.

  Merry swung up on Izzy’s back and pressed her legs into her sides.

  She would have gone to Jamie with what she knew if he’d still been on the case. As it was, Rory Hawkins probably wouldn’t be interested in anything she had to say, and she didn’t know Lester Fleck well enough.

  Jamie would kill her if he found out she’d gone to talk to Barbie face-to-face suspecting she’d killed both Clay and Denny. And maybe even Bo. But that w
asn’t why Merry decided to call instead of going to Barbie’s house or trying to track her down at the clinic. For one thing, if Olivia were around it would be more difficult for her to run interference on the phone. The second reason lay in Olivia’s earlier reaction to Merry’s call. Something about talking to a disembodied voice asking for help was less confrontational than looking someone in the eye.

  And maybe the same story would work. Only Barbie would know why Merry was asking about Mama’s gun. She’d be putting herself in danger. She’d be bait.

  Bait for a trap. Not a bad idea, actually. But not yet. Merry would tell Barbie that she’d come around, that now she blamed Lauri for the murders. It wasn’t that far of a stretch. Everyone else thought she did it.

  Back home, Merry sluiced down Izzy’s sweat-streaked back and let her out to graze in the near pasture. She humped the bulky western saddle into the tack room and gave the leather a quick wipe down, then shook out the saddle pad and returned it to its peg.

  Inside she treated herself to a tall tumbler of sun tea, listening to the popping of the ice cubes as she rubbed the condensation that had formed on the outside of the glass across her forehead. She eyed the phone, thinking about what to say before she picked it up and dialed the number that had gone to voicemail that morning.

  Barbie answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

  Merry took a deep breath. “It’s Merry. McCoy.”

  A beat while that hung in the air. Then Barbie said, “I don’t know any other Merrys.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry about the other night.”

  The other woman hesitated. “You shouldn’t have said that. About Clay.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m at my wit’s end here.”

  “Your cousin killed him. I’m sorry, but that’s what happened.”

  Bingo. “I’m starting to believe that myself. And Denny Teller, too. She was out on bail, after all.”

  “There you go.”

  Merry felt her way. “He was shot with my mother’s gun.”

  “Oh, my God. She stole it?”

  “Not exactly. In fact, Mama had sold that gun.”

  “Who to?”

  “To Bo.”

  Another hesitation. “Bo? I don’t understand.”

  Oh, but you do. “I asked Olivia, and she said she’d seen it. She said he taught you how to shoot with it.”

  A pause. “She told you that?”

  Merry kept her tone light. “It was a thirty-eight revolver. Had Mama’s name engraved on it. Do you remember it? Can you think of how Lauri might have gotten a hold of it?”

  A long silence from the other end.

  “Barbie?”

  “Sorry. I’m here. I just … no, I’m afraid I don’t know how your cousin got that gun.”

  “You sure? It would help put things to rest. I don’t like being framed.” The last sentence came out with a hard edge to it.

  “Framed? No. No, I bet you don’t.” She sounded thoughtful.

  “Well, let me know if you think of anything, okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  Merry hung up and grabbed a towel. Mopping the puddle that had formed under her tea, she thought about Barbie’s reaction. What had she expected? A tear-stained telephone confession? Of course not. But still, she felt a little disappointed.

  ———

  Olivia was leaning on the counter cleaning a pair of reading glasses when Merry entered the Quikcare. She looked up and blinked.

  “More Tylenol?” She didn’t sound hostile so much as tired.

  Merry smiled. “No, thanks. I’m trying to cut down. But I have some questions about that relief agency you work with, WorldMed.”

  “You’re interested in volunteering?”

  “I am. Shirlene has told me a lot about it, of course, but I got to wondering how you handle the narcotics that you send overseas.”

  Olivia studied her. “I don’t know that I should talk to you about this.”

  “Well, you should know that any rumors you’ve heard about me, anything about my being in jail? None of any of that had anything to do with drugs.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed the other woman’s face. “I know what happened. Or a version of it. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Unless we’re talking about a regulatory agency I don’t see that our drug policy is anyone’s business.”

  “Oh.”

  Olivia narrowed her eyes. “What’s this about?”

  Merry reached for a lie. “Anna Knight. I heard something about her being involved with drugs.” Okay, good. That wasn’t even a lie, really.

  “Bah. Anna? I don’t think so. Besides, what would that have to do with WorldMed?”

  “Maybe nothing. I’m just trying to find connections.”

  Olivia shook her head. “You’re still trying to clear your cousin, aren’t you? Well, you just leave Anna out of it. She’s a good girl.”

  God, she sounded just like Shirlene. And if she thought Merry was still trying to clear Lauri, she’d tell Barbie.

  “You know what? Lauri probably did it. Okay? I get that. But will you at least look at your records, see if there’s any discrepancy? What I heard about Anna has me curious.”

  She hesitated, then dipped her chin. “Okay. I’ll take a look.”

  “And you’ll call me if you find anything.”

  “No. I’ll call the police if I find anything.” She didn’t sound happy about it.

  It was the best Merry would get from her. “Is Anna around?”

  “Anna’s gone. She left this morning to go visit her grandmother. I guess the old girl’s not doing so well.”

  No kidding, considering Anna had as much as told Merry her grandma had died. If, of course, it was the same one who Shirlene reminded her of. God rest her soul.

  “I see. Well, I hope she gets to feeling better. You mind if I use your phone?”

  ———

  “Hello? Shirlene?”

  A loud click sounded in Merry’s ear as the phone dropped back into its cradle. She hit redial, listening with impatience to the number replay musically in her ear. After a dozen futile rings, she slammed the phone down, then had a thought, grimaced, and picked it up again, jabbing at the buttons with her finger. Olivia flashed a glance at her from the far end of the counter.

  “Hi, is this Gayle?” Merry asked when the woman answered.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Merry McCoy. I need to talk to Jamie.”

  Her tone turned cold. “He’s not here.”

  Merry lowered her voice. “I really need to talk to him.”

  “He’s on leave from the police department for a while. I don’t think he can help you.”

  “I just have a procedural question,” she said. “Can you ask him to call me?”

  Jamie’s wife made a noise in the back of her throat. “I guess. I’ll tell him when he gets home.”

  “As soon as he gets in.”

  “I said I’d tell him. Does he have your number?” Her tone was sarcastic.

  What had Jamie told her? Merry tried to wipe the guilt from her voice as she left the number of the ranch.

  Damn.

  Merry thanked Olivia again and ran out to Lotta. Thunderheads piled upon the horizon, and the wind began to pick up. The light turned gray as more clouds obscured the sun. Distant rumblings, fair warning of the impending storm, followed a faint flash from deep inside the growing mountain of moist air.

  She pulled into Shirlene’s driveway, ran up the walkway, and pounded on the door. No one answered. Circling the dwelling, she peered in the windows. No one was home. If it hadn’t been for someone picking up the phone when she called, she would have let it go.

  The back door wa
s unlocked.

  She walked through the darkening house, flipping on lights and calling out. Upstairs and down, she looked in all the rooms. Clothes were scattered on the floor of Lauri’s room and two of the dresser drawers gaped open. Either someone had been through her things, or her cousin was a terrible slob.

  Then something caught her eye. Two one hundred-dollar bills lay folded on the dresser. Merry fingered them, then put them back.

  She checked the cluttered, cobweb-festooned basement, finding footsteps in the dust, but no indication of when they had been made. Probably Shirlene’s. She shut off the lights and locked the back door on the way out.

  The wind had turned colder, and she shivered as she got back into her truck. Darker clouds reached Hazel, creating an early twilight. She guided Lotta to Shirlene’s Dry Cleaning on Main. A CLOSED sign hung in the window. A bleak fluorescent nightlight illuminated the rear of the shop.

  She cruised through town, wishing she had a cell phone and chiding herself for overreacting while she peered into the gloom hoping to spy Shirlene’s red Toyota pickup. She checked her aunt’s church, the library, the grocery store, the clinic, the park, and the Hungry Moose. At the Dairy Shack, three teenagers loitered, eating ice cream and talking to another teenager behind the food counter.

  A thought occurred to her, and she drove to the alley in back of the Hazel Office Mall. Maybe Shirlene was in Kate’s office.

  No luck.

  What had begun as a combination of mild concern and curiosity gradually turned to dread as her search efforts turned up nothing. She made one more circuit before heading back to Shirlene’s.

  The sky loomed above, packed with volatile potential. A few fat drops of rain splatted on her windshield. The clouds built momentum, negating the best attempts of daylight saving time to hold onto the fading summer light. A sudden flash rent the rumpled gray

  flannel overhead, and the accompanying roll of thunder followed almost immediately.