Deadly Aim: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #3

by Paty Jager

  They stopped at the family table.

  “Shandra, this is my father, Ephraim Greer.”

  The pride in Ryan’s voice was unmistakable. The man had been missing from the festivities the night before. According to the family it had been a farm emergency.

  A man the spitting image of Conor, only two decades older, stood and held out his hand. “I understand you met my son under interesting circumstances.” He motioned for her to take the empty space next to him. “Take Colleen’s seat, she’s off greeting everyone.”

  Shandra sat. Ryan stood behind her.

  “Yes, I was handcuffed and he’d thought I’d killed someone,” she said, narrowing her gaze.

  Ephraim laughed loudly and wiped tears from his eyes. He looked up at his son. “Boy, you’re supposed to handcuff a beautiful lady after you have her consent.”

  Her face heated. Unsure how to react, she glanced up at Ryan. His red face and gaze darting around the table proved he was embarrassed too.

  “Thanks Pop. Now Shandra won’t want to come to family gatherings.” Ryan reached down and grasped Shandra’s hand. “We have to get going. I’m working a case and need to get back.”

  “It was nice meeting all of you,” she said, making eye contact with all of Ryan’s immediate family.

  He led her over to his brother. “Conor, we need to go. I have a case I’m working on.”

  “You have to stay for the cake,” Lissa said, standing beside Conor.

  “We can’t. Ryan needs to get back to his work and I need to get back to mine. Thank you for allowing me to tag along with Ryan.” Shandra smiled at the bride and groom and followed Ryan to the door. “Don’t you need to say goodbye to your mother?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder and catching a glimpse of Colleen pointing a finger at Ephraim.

  “Nope. She’ll call me and ask what Pop did to make me leave.” There was humor in his voice.

  She stopped just inside the country club doors. “You took me over to your father knowing he’d say something that would give you an excuse to leave.” She slapped him on the chest with her pocketbook. “You’d rather make a scene than just slip out.”

  “This way my mom and sisters will all be sorry for Pop’s behavior and not bug me about you for a while.” He smiled. “Come on. I do have a case to solve.”

  He gave the valet the ticket for his pickup, a green Ford, and they were soon driving down Highway 90 back to Huckleberry.

  “Are you going to confront the Clowers?” Shandra asked.

  “I can’t. Not until I have more evidence than they own the necklace.”

  “But the photos of the girl wearing the necklace. Isn’t that enough proof?” Shandra couldn’t shake the feeling they were missing something else.

  “It proves nothing. We don’t have a good photo of her face. It could be someone who stole or borrowed the necklace. The photos only prove she and Randal were fooling around, not that she murdered him.”

  “But the smaller footprints could be hers. She killed J.W. and told her father. He knew about the wildlife cameras. He went to the murder site and removed the camera that would prove his daughter killed J.W.” Shandra liked her theory.

  “Buy why did she kill him? I need to find a motive. There is more motive for Clower killing him. Especially if he’s the one who found the first camera and ground the SD card into the dirt.”

  Shandra sighed and leaned back in the seat. “I see why you need more evidence. I would think you could confront Mr. Clower about his daughter and J.W. That might get you something to start with.”

  “I had Deputy Speaks write up a warrant for the financials of all the people involved in this investigation. The skillful way the girl’s face was kept from the camera but the necklace was showcased, makes me think blackmail was involved. The financial records should show us the victim and hopefully lead to the murderer.”

  Shandra studied Ryan. He liked his job. It showed in the way he was thorough in his investigations.

  “Do you think it was someone other than Mr. Clower’s daughter, but J.W. wanted to make it look like it was her?” Shandra didn’t like the idea J.W. had gone to such tactics to get out of his illegal hunting allegations.

  “It would make sense Randal would target Clower to get him to back off. But stupid. Too many people knew about the allegations. Clower couldn’t back off.” Ryan ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Let’s talk about something else. I’ll have to face all this when I get back to Huckleberry.”

  “It was a nice wedding,” Shandra said. It was the type of wedding at one time she’d dreamed of. That was until she’d witnessed the dysfunctional marriage between her mother and step-father and discovered the true nature of the two males she’d loved. Or thought she’d loved. She sighed deeply. Love was highly overrated.

  “Yeah. A bit tame from what Lissa had told me she wanted twelve years ago.” He smiled. “I liked it. Just the right amount of ceremony but mostly family oriented.”

  Ryan pulled into Warner, the county seat of Weippe. The small house he rented was on the outskirts of town. Shandra had remained outside, placing her luggage into his pickup when they stopped on the trip to Couer d’Alene. This time he needed to change, not just grab his bag.

  He turned into his driveway. “Grab your bags. We’ll toss them in the Tahoe and go inside. I need to change and repack my bag.”

  “How much longer do you think the Randal murder will keep you in Huckleberry?” Shandra asked.

  “I hope it’s cleared up in a couple more days. If I get good leads from the bank statements and can link Clower to Randal.” Ryan parked, killed the engine, and faced Shandra. “Does your invitation to stay at your place still stand?”

  She stared into his eyes. “Why wouldn’t it?”

  “You’ve met my family, saw how they are pushing us together. I don’t want their zealousness to make you think I’m in a hurry to tie the knot.” He’d witnessed Shandra retreat a little more each time someone called them a couple. Something in her past had her skittish of marriage.

  “I didn’t invite your family to stay with me, I invited you.” She touched his cheek. “You’ve not asked and I’m not ready to tell anyone of my stupidity. It makes me feel naïve and vulnerable when I think about it. But one day, when I feel I really know you and can trust you completely, I’ll tell you about my past with men.”

  Ryan held her hand, turned his head, and kissed her palm. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll be here to listen.”

  “Thank you.” She cleared her throat and drew her hand into her lap. “What kind of a bachelor pad do you live in?” Shandra opened the door and slipped out.

  Ryan smiled. She wasn’t ready, but her actions gave him hope that she would eventually feel comfortable enough with him to take their relationship to the next step.

  He hopped out of the cab and into the back of the pickup. Unlocking the truck box, he pulled out his duffel and Shandra’s travel bag.

  She reached up taking her bag and his duffel.

  His phone beeped as he crawled out of the pickup. “Greer.

  “The warrant came through. I sent the financials to you in an email. I think you’ll find them interesting,” Speaks said.

  “Thanks. I’m changing here in Warner but will be back in Huckleberry in less than an hour.”

  “How was your brother’s wedding?” Speaks asked. He’d met Conor at the sheriff’s office when one of Conor’s clients was arrested for drunk driving.

  “Nice.” Ryan continued climbing out of the pickup and unlocked the Tahoe. Shandra placed her bag in the vehicle and headed up his walkway.

  “I gotta go. Thanks again for taking care of the paperwork.” Ryan ended the call and followed Shandra to his front door. “Keep in mind this is a bachelor pad, but my mom comes by once a week and cleans.”

  Shandra laughed. “Your mother comes by and cleans your house? I thought you said she taught you to cook. Didn’t she teach you to clean up after yourself?”


  He shoved the door open and waved her in. “Yes, I know how to clean up after myself. But there are times when I’m not home long enough to take out the garbage, wash my sheets, or vacuum. And I pay her.”

  Shandra walked into the small living room and twirled. “I see what you mean about a bachelor pad. With your interest in art you’d think you’d have more than a velvet paint-by-number of dogs playing poker.”

  Ryan laughed. “In all fairness, that was here when I moved in. Like I said, I’m not here much. It’s more of a place to keep my clothes and sleep.” He continued through the living room to the bedroom. “Make yourself at home. I’ll only be five-ten minutes.”

  “M-hhmm.”

  He glanced back and found Shandra on the couch flipping through his Guns & Ammo magazine.

  Grinning, he continued to the bathroom, dumped the dirty clothes from his duffel into the clothes basket, slipped out of the monkey suit he wore for the wedding, and changed into his usual jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy boots, and shoulder holster. Back in the bedroom, he put clean clothes in the duffel, clipped his badge to his belt and slid his Glock into the shoulder holster.

  Returning to the living room, he found Shandra still reading the magazine.

  “Find a gun you like?” he asked, sitting on the couch beside her.

  “I’ve never shot a hand gun. Growing up, I learned how to shoot rifles. Adam wouldn’t let me ride alone in the spring unless I had a rifle with me. We had trouble with cougars getting into the cattle when they were calving.” She tapped the page. “I like the look of this one.”

  Ryan peered down at the page. Her finger was on a revolver.

  “A revolver is good.” He thought it was a good idea considering she and Lil lived alone on the mountain. “How do you plan to use it?”

  “A rifle is bulky to carry when I ride. After finding J.W., I started thinking I should be armed while riding.”

  “I agree. I’ll go grab a couple of my hand guns. You can shoot them and see what you like the best.” Ryan stood.

  “That’s a good idea. I haven’t a clue what would be a good one for me.” She closed the magazine.

  Ryan returned to his bedroom, opened the closet, and dialed the lock on the gun safe at the back of the closet. His safe held a huge selection. Several different hunting rifles, sniper rifles, and handguns. He selected two automatics and two revolvers, slid them into a carrying case, and closed the safe.

  Back in the living room, he handed the case to Shandra to carry to the Tahoe. “We’ll have shooting practice. When you decide what you like, I’ll teach you how to clean it. Then I’ll take you to a reputable gun seller and you can purchase your own.”

  “I know how to clean my rifles, but I imagine a hand gun is going to be a bit more complicated.” She raised the case. “Thank you. I’ve been contemplating this a while. The last week kind of pushed me to make a decision.”

  Ryan stored his duffel and the gun case in the back seat. “There’s nothing wrong with having a gun for protection. Especially if you know how to use it.”

  They both took their seats in the vehicle. On the drive to Huckleberry, Ryan described the differences in the guns he’d brought for her to try.

  Darkness shrouded the side streets of Huckleberry as they drove through the town.

  “Over there. Isn’t that Red Hasting?” Shandra said, pointing to a man stumbling along the sidewalk.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Ryan had witnessed many drunks. This man didn’t stumble like a drunk. He appeared disoriented as he grasped the street light in front of the donut shop.

  “I’m going to check him out.” He swung the car into the side street.

  “Stay put,” he said, exiting the vehicle.

  The man was Hasting. He barely raised his head when Ryan approached. “Mr. Hasting can I help you?”

  The man stared at him. His eyes jiggled back and forth. He sucked in air. “C-can’t b-r-ea-th-he,” he slurred.

  Ryan put an arm around Red, holding him up, and headed to the vehicle.

  Shandra hopped out, opened the back door, and shoved their bags to the far side of the back seat.

  “I think he’s drugged.” Ryan lowered Hasting into the back seat, closed the door, and hopped in the driver’s seat.

  He drove to the Emergency Care Center next to the clinic. He jumped out and banged on the locked door before reading the notice next to the door. After hours call: 777-2929.

  Punching in the numbers Dr. Porter’s name came up. The phone rang twice.

  “Hello?”

  “Doc, I’ve got Red Hasting down here at the Emergency Center. He’s having trouble breathing and looks bad.”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  The phone went silent. Ryan turned from the building. Shandra had the back door open and was talking to Hasting.

  Ryan reached them in four strides.

  “Red. Red stay awake. Did you drink too much?” Shandra asked, opening the man’s top two buttons on his shirt. The way he sucked air into his lungs she wanted to help him get as much as he could.

  “N-no-t d-rrrr-u-n-k. O-nnn-e d-rrrr-i-n-k.” He dug at the collar of his shirt even though she’d opened it. “C-a-nnn-t b-r-ea-the.”

  “Doc Porter’s on his way,” Ryan said from behind her. He moved to her side. “Hasting, where did you have your drink?”

  “M-m-m-a-a-x-x-i-e—” He gasped, grasping his throat.

  “He’s not breathing!” Shandra cried, grabbing an arm and trying to pull him out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk.

  Ryan grabbed his other arm. Together they pulled him out. Ryan started quick chest compressions. Shandra held his head straight, hoping to keep his airways open.

  A car squealed to a stop.

  Dr. Porter rushed by her, unlocked the emergency doors, and disappeared. He came back with a box and respirator. He showed her how to use the respirator and then ripped Red’s shirt open and applied a gel to the paddles.

  “All Clear.” He placed the paddles on Red’s chest. The motionless body jerked.

  Dr. Porter sat back on his heels. Red didn’t move. The doctor zapped him again. His body jerked and went still.

  Setting the paddles on the open defibrillator box, Dr. Porter checked for breathing and pulse. He glanced at his watch. “I proclaim this man dead at eight twenty-three p.m.”

  Shandra stared down at the man who had proclaimed his love to his wife two days ago not far from this very spot. Tears burned the back of her eyes. What a waste of a life. He’d appeared healthy the times she’d seen him.

  “Was it a heart attack?” she asked Dr. Porter.

  “No.” Ryan said with conviction.

  “How do you know?” She watched him.

  “Yes, why don’t you think it was a heart attack?” Dr. Porter, placed the instrument in the case and stood.

  “He had jumpy eyes. You’re his doctor. Did he have heart problems?” Ryan ran a hand across the back of his neck.

  Shandra had learned he did that when he was stumped or baffled.

  “No. Red Hasting is, or was healthy.” Dr. Porter stared at the man at their feet. “Stay with him while I get a gurney.”

  Ryan nodded.

  Shandra moved closer to Ryan. She needed a hug. He put his arm around her, drawing her tight against him. She savored the beat of his heart and heat of his body.

  Life.

  She needed that after watching the man at their feet lose his.

  Rumbling of small rubber tires announced Dr. Porter’s approach. She moved out of Ryan’s embrace. Along with the doctor and the gurney the antiseptic scent of the emergency room wafted out the open doors.

  Ryan helped Dr. Porter lift the body onto the gurney.

  “You going to tell his wife?” Dr. Porter asked.

  “Yes. After I go talk to someone.” Ryan glanced up and down the quiet street. “I don’t think anyone will tell her before I do.”

  He grasped Shandra’s elbow. “Come on. We have
someone to talk to before I get you home and give Mrs. Hasting the bad news.”

  Shandra climbed into the Tahoe. “Where are we going?”

  “Maxie’s. Someone there put something in Hasting’s drink.” Ryan had a determined set to his jaw.

  They drove the two blocks to Maxie’s. She’d been in the bar on several occasions with Ted and Naomi. The establishment was the trendiest of the bars in town. The lighting wasn’t as dim as the other bars and the clientele were local business persons or tourists. The other bars catered to the locals who liked to drink beer and gamble. Maxie’s had mixed drinks and high-priced wines along with micro-brew beers.

  Ryan parked on Pine Street. They walked around the corner to the entrance of the bar. Inside the doors, Ryan stopped and surveyed the clientele. “You know anyone in here?” he asked.

  Shandra smiled. “The bartender and owner, Maxine.” She sauntered up to the bar and took a seat in the middle of the bar close to the cash register, taps, and bottles. Maxine was at the end serving drinks to two men about forty.

  “You know the bartender?” Ryan took the seat next to her.

  “Ted and Naomi like to meet artists here. I’ve been in here several times with them.” She smiled at him. “You’ll like Maxine.”

  The woman glanced up, saw them, and smiled. Her long legs clad in skinny jeans brought her to a stop in front of them. She placed a coaster in front of Shandra and poured her favorite white wine. “What would you like, handsome?” Maxine asked Ryan, fluttering her long, dark, fake lashes at him. Her strawberry blonde hair was piled on her head in a haphazard way, revealing her thin shoulders barely holding the peasant top over her double D breasts.

  “Water and answers.” He flashed his badge.

  Maxine pouted as she stared at Shandra. “Doll, why’d you have to bring Debbie Downer to the party?”