Deadly Aim: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #3

by Paty Jager

  “And I thought it was because you didn’t want me up on the mountain with the poachers.” Shandra spun from the open window. “Let me know who I found,” she said over her shoulder as she headed back to the house.

  Ryan laughed at Shandra’s departure. He knew there was no way the inquisitive woman could stay out of the investigation. Not only because the body was found on her property by her, but because she seemed to thrive on digging up clues to right wrongs.

  He started his vehicle and drove down the mountain to Huckleberry. The small community would know if a local was missing, and the resort and hotels would be able to tell him if a patron hadn’t returned. There were other factors that could keep the identity of the body hidden from them for a while. Lack of fingerprints or DNA in the system. No family that missed him. He could be homeless. So many unknowns.

  The four parking slots allotted to the Huckleberry city police were empty. He’d also noted the streets didn’t host as many people roaming about. The summer tourist season was waning. It would be a couple months until the skiers arrived by the droves.

  Inside the police station, Hazel, a retired county clerk, manned the telephone and radio.

  “You’re starting to become a regular here. May need to ask Chief Marlow to set you up a desk.” She smiled and answered the ringing phone.

  Ryan waved and sat in the chair behind Officer Blane’s desk. The rookie cop had been overzealous several months earlier when he’d cuffed Shandra after finding her with a dead body.

  Ryan pulled up county-wide missing persons reports. None matched the build of the body Shandra found. He spread his net wider, sifting through missing person records of the counties and then the states around them.

  The front door opened and Blane charged over to the desk. “Why do you always use my desk?”

  Ryan glared up at the rookie. “Do you see another computer that is hooked up to all the agencies?”

  “You could use the chief’s.” He backpedaled. “Or the one where Hazel and Millie sit.”

  “Those are all being used.” Ryan clicked out of the site he was in and stood. “I’m finished.”

  He sauntered up to Hazel’s desk. “Need a cup of coffee?”

  She winked. “Blane watch the radio and phone, I’ll be back in fifteen.”

  Ryan followed the woman, who had to be past seventy, as she practically skipped to the break room. He’d used her local knowledge about people before and was confident she could help him with this case.

  Hazel poured two cups of coffee and sat at the table. Ryan took a seat across from her and sipped his coffee.

  “This have anything to do with the body that Higheagle lady found on her property.” She frowned. “That young lady seems to find a lot of bodies.”

  Ryan nodded. “Unfortunately there wasn’t much she could do about the last two. Huckleberry Mountain has been a favorite place for leaving bodies for years.” He remembered a big scandal that happened when he was a boy and the resort was just becoming popular. A benefactor of the resort had gone missing and the body never found. Though speculation was he had gone skiing and fell into a crevasse. There were still a few who thought he was murdered because of a feud going on between him and the locals.

  Hazel bobbed her gray curls. “This mountain has some rugged terrain. This body, was it an accident?”

  “We won’t know until forensics takes a look at him.”

  Her fading green eyes widened. “You know who it is?”

  “Only that he’s male. The animals made facial recognition useless.”

  She cringed. “Bet that wasn’t something that artist liked seeing.”

  “No. It wasn’t pleasant for anyone to see.” Ryan swallowed half the cup of coffee, thankful it was Hazel’s brew and not the chief’s. His coffee went down like battery acid.

  “Why’d you ask me to have coffee?” Hazel peered at him over her cup.

  “What can you tell me about the Randals?”

  “You think it was J.W.?” Hazel’s crooked smile revealed she tried to hide a gleeful smirk.

  Ryan jumped on the obvious. “Is J.W. Randal a likable man?”

  Hazel shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “I doubt you’ll find a person in Huckleberry who likes the man, including his wife.”

  Chapter Six

  “Why’s that?” Ryan asked, taking a sip of his coffee and watching Hazel closely. So far the woman had shown little bias when he’d asked her about locals. Something about J.W. Randal dug in her craw.

  “You can ask anyone in the community, they’ll all tell you the same. When a man has no respect for the law—government or nature, he is the lowest.”

  “Are you talking about the charges brought up against him for illegal use of hunting tags?” Ryan had looked the allegations up on the computer while he was online.

  “That and the way he treats people and animals.” She leaned closer. “I heard him tell his wife if she wasn’t an iceberg in bed, he wouldn’t have to look elsewhere.” She leaned back, her eyes wide behind wireless glasses. “This was in the middle of a charity event. J.W. was standing with his arm around the shoulders of a young, and I mean young, woman. Vivian didn’t say anything to him, and he blurted that tidbit loud enough for half the crowd to hear.”

  “What would Vivian get if J.W. was dead?” The wife sounded like a good suspect if the body turned out to be Randal.

  “I doubt she’d get anything. From what I’ve heard, his illegal hunting has nearly wiped them out with legal fees and fines.” Hazel picked up her coffee cup. “I’ve never seen Vivian stand up to J.W. It would take a pretty strong backbone of courage to kill a person, I’d think. And she has just as much money as J.W.” She stood. “I need to get back to my desk. Blane messes up everything.”

  Ryan looked at his watch. If he headed to Warner, the county seat and where he had a small apartment, he could pack a bag and be back in the area by ten. He’d book a room on the way out of town. If he kept catching homicides in the Huckleberry area he might have to start working out of here instead of Warner.

  ~*~

  Shandra spent the better part of the evening scanning the internet for information about J.W. Randal and his family. What she didn’t understand was why a man who appeared to be a savvy businessman, would start up an illegal hunting reserve on his property.

  “Had his hubris become so big he thought he could get away with illegal hunting?” She scratched Sheba’s head and shut the computer screen. Her eyes stung, and she’d been stifling yawns the last half hour. “Let’s go to bed.”

  She carried her sundae bowl into the kitchen, turned out the lights, and headed to her room. In bed, she turned off the lights. The minute she closed her eyes the mauled body spun in her head.

  Clicking on the bedside lamp, she fluffed the pillows, and sat against the carved headboard. “Come here.” She beckoned Sheba, patting the bed beside her. Always an eager bed partner, Sheba crawled from the foot of the bed to lay alongside Shandra.

  “You might be scared of your own shadow, but having you here makes me feel safe.” She wrapped an arm around the fluffy neck and leaned her cheek on the furry head. Slowly her eyelids closed as she snuggled with her furry talisman.

  Shandra walked through the forest, looking right and left and jumping at each sound. Ella appeared. “Do not fear the mountain. It did no wrong.”

  “I saw the body. It was…” Her body shivered.

  Ella wrapped her arms around Shandra. “The animals must eat to survive. They do not ask to be hunted. They are not the killers.”

  “Is my mountain safe?” Shandra stared into the brown eyes she’d grown fond of too late.

  “You will come to no harm.” Ella disappeared, taking with her Shandra’s fear.

  Shandra woke. She smiled at the dream and turned the light off. Tomorrow Ryan should know who the person was, and I’ll go to the mountain and look for clues to his death.

  ~*~

  Ryan blinked at the phone buzzing and vibrat
ing on the bedside table. His eyes focused and he swiped a finger across the screen.

  “Detective Greer, this is Sheila Rickman at the Forensic lab. I have an identification on that body you sent in yesterday.” The matter-of-fact female voice pulled him completely awake.

  “Did you also determine cause of death?” He leaned over to grab his shirt from the chair and dug for his note pad in the pocket.

  “Yes. John Wayne Randal was shot once through the heart.”

  Ryan whistled. “One shot in the heart. That is either luck or premeditated to have that kind of aim.”

  “He also had traces of hair, blood, and bone of the cervus canadensis under his fingernails.”

  “Is that a plant?”

  “No, Rocky Mountain Elk.”

  Ryan sat up straighter. “He was the one who killed the elk and took the horns.” But where were the horns? And who shot him? Did he have an accomplice?

  “I’ll send the full report to you in an email.” Her clipped tone proved she had more to do than talk on the phone.

  “Thank you.” Ryan tapped the off button and quickly dressed.

  There had been two names in the indictment against Randal for the illegal hunting—Red and June Hasting, his employees. They were first on his list to talk to this morning, after he broke the news to the widow. Lucky for him, the Hastings lived in a cabin on the Randal property.

  First he’d head to Ruthie’s and get a bite to eat. Walking into the diner, he was surprised to see so many locals. There was an empty stool beside Treat at the counter. Ryan sat and smiled at Ruthie who held up a coffee pot. He nodded.

  “Mornin’ Detective. Do you know who that body is I hauled off the mountain yesterday?” Treat asked, holding up his cup for a refill.

  “I do, but I can’t say anything until I’ve contacted the next of kin.” Ryan had a hard time not spilling the name. Treat and Ruthie both knew just about everything about everyone who was local to Huckleberry. It would be nice to get their take on the Hastings and Vivian Randal.

  “Then it is someone local.” Ruthie shook her head. “I don’t like it when the mountain takes a life, but when it’s someone you know, makes you wonder how much in harmony we are with the mountain.”

  Ryan stared at the African American woman talking like a Native American. “I didn’t realize you were so in tune with nature.”

  Treat slapped him on the back. “Ruthie lived with an old Indian woman after her father ran off and her mother sunk into depression.”

  Ruthie glared at Treat. “You may be my fiancé, but that doesn’t give you the right to spill my business without asking.” Ruthie pivoted and headed to the kitchen.

  “Way to go, Treat. I didn’t get to order anything.” Ryan glared at the man but found Ruthie’s upbringing interesting. No wonder Shandra frequented the café.

  Treat looked like a whipped pup. “I didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable, I was explaining how her moods ebb and flow with the seasons and nature.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll not say anything. If I’m not getting any breakfast, I need to get going.” Ryan downed his coffee and dropped a dollar on the counter.

  “It’s my fault. Take this.” Treat slapped an egg from his plate between two pieces of toast.

  “I’ll just grab donuts on the way out of town.”

  “And be stereotyped. Here.” Treat grabbed his hand and slapped the makeshift sandwich in Ryan’s palm.

  “Thanks. I think.” Ryan left the restaurant, eating the sandwich as he walked to his Tahoe.

  The Randal ranch was two miles beyond the turn off to Shandra’s. He knew she’d be waiting to hear who the victim was, but his first priority was to inform the family.

  He hated the job of telling family their loved one was gone. When it was murder it was even harder. Natural causes people could understand, but a violent death such as a car wreck or murder, that always left the family stunned.

  Turning off the county road onto the Randal property was a night and day difference from Shandra’s concealed, rough road. A large archway, with metal-art elk heads and the sign RANDAL RANCH signaled the wide, paved road that led into the forest.

  The lane was nearly a mile long and lined with statuesque pine trees. The underbrush had been cleared back on both sides of the road a good twenty feet. At the end of the lane stood a large, pretentious, log home. Shandra’s log home was small and tasteful. The Randal home looked like a lodge in a magazine. Next to it stood a four-door log garage. On either side of the garage stood huge cottonwood trees. Beyond the garage sat a small cabin and a barn.

  Ryan stopped his SUV at the end of a river-rock walkway that led up to the double, stained-glass doors. A few yellow leaves drifted by in the breeze as he walked up the cobbled path. A large knocker in the shape of an elk head hung on the wall on the left side of the doors. When he grasped the ring to knock, the sound of a bull elk bellowed through the house.

  This guy had elk fever. Ryan waited for several minutes before he raised a hand to “bellow” again. The second elk call was answered by an exotic-looking woman of about forty. She wasn’t Vivian Randal.

  “I’m Detective Greer with the Weippe County Sheriff’s Department.” He pointed to the shield attached to his belt. “I’d like to speak with Mrs. Randal, please.”

  The color drained from the woman’s face. “Is this about J.W.?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. Would you please get Mrs. Randal?” Ryan stepped into the house and closed the door.

  The woman wrung her hands a second or two. “Sure. Yes, I’ll get Mrs. Randal.” Her own statement seemed to jostle her feet into motion.

  Ryan stood by the door scanning the interior. The foyer was large and opened into a room as big as the whole Weippe County Sheriff’s office. As he’d imagined, there were several bull elk heads mounted on the walls, as well as bear hides and a cougar body mount. The man had been a serious trophy collector.

  He heard the click of heels on the hardwood flooring. Following the sound, he spied a tall, blonde woman walking toward him. His first impression was that of watching a model on a commercial. She carried herself tall, her shoulders drawn back, accentuating her full breasts that bounced with each step under a skin-tight pink shift. Her hair flowed free around her face and shoulders with just the right wave. Her long legs were clad in the same snug leggings Shandra had worn not that long ago. Her high-heeled boots stopped just below her knees.

  “Oh! We have company!” The woman lengthened her stride and stopped in front of him. “We never get good-looking guys like you visiting. It’s always stodgy old men.”

  The voice and seeing her up close, Ryan logged the young woman in at early twenties.

  “I’m Detective Greer. I’m here to see Mrs. Randal.” He extended his hand to shake. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Cecily Wagner. Vivian is my aunt.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is that why June rushed by me? To get my aunt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, she went outside, not into my aunt’s study. Wait here, I’ll get Aunt Vivian.”

  Chapter Seven

  Shandra woke to Sheba barking. She found two trailer loads of horses, along with deputies and searchers, in her driveway. She dressed quickly and saddled up Apple to escort the group to the area where she’d found the body the previous day. Her dream had quelled any fears of the mountain.

  “Where you headed?” Lil asked, walking into the barn with Lewis wrapped around her neck like an orange stole.

  Shandra smiled. After two years living with the woman, you’d think I’d get used to the cat and her purple combinations. Today, Lil had on a bright purple, thermal shirt under an open denim shirt with embroidered lavender flowers. Her pants were gray with purple and neon green flower patches on the knees.

  “I’m going to escort the search crew to the site.” She led Apple out of the barn and swung up on his back.

  “You sure that’s a good idea? Could be poachers that killed that man.” Lil grabbed
hold of Apple’s reins.

  “With all the cops around trying to discover how that poor man died, I’m sure any poachers are long gone.” Besides, I know I’m safe, Ella told me so. Shandra smiled at her employee. “Please release the reins. I’ll be fine.”

  Lil shook her head, but she released the reins. “You got your phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Call if you run into trouble.”

  “I will.”

  Shandra headed Apple up the trail with eight people following behind.

  ~*~

  Yellow tape ringed the area where the body was found and streamers of yellow hung from trees in the direction she and Ryan had walked.

  “Want me to help you search,” she asked Deputy Trapp, who had spent the night on the mountain.

  “We’re good. You can go back home.”

  Ryan probably told him to keep me out of this. “Ok.” Once she rode out of sight of the group, she cut back towards the fence neighboring the Randals. She’d do a quick fence line check from here down. If she found nothing, she’d steer clear of the search and check the fence above.

  Apple picked his way through the underbrush until the fence stopped them. Shandra headed him downhill. Fifty feet down the fence line they ran into a well-used path that continued under the fence and onto the other property.

  She dismounted and checked the fence. It was rigged to look untampered but was attached like a gate. She unhooked the wires, opened the gate, and led Apple through. Not knowing if the Randals had cattle on their property, she closed the fence.

  Mounting, she headed Apple down the easy-to-follow trail. She was going to find out why this path had a convenient opening to her property.

  ~*~

  Ryan watched the young woman stride down the same hall where the first woman had disappeared. Within seconds, she reappeared with the woman whose face he connected with Vivian Randal from his research on the internet.

  “Aunt Vivian, this is Detective Greer.” The young woman made the introduction with a hint of glee in her tone.