Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch

by Darlene Franklin

  “Okay.” She dragged out the last syllable. “He stays on the list. Gwen is next. I suppose her motive would be Penn’s affair with Suzanne.”

  “But she never came to the theater,” Audie said. “I think it’s safe to cross her off the list.”

  “Unless she had the same model gun. But that seems unlikely. She might have a modern weapon, but not a historical piece like that.”

  “I wish we knew if the police had found the murder weapon,” Audie said. “I haven’t seen anything in the paper since they revealed it was a model 1892.”

  “Of course Cord had access to the guns,” Dina said and grinned. “So he had means and opportunity. But he had no motive. We can leave him off the list.”

  “He had a motive.” I didn’t look at Audie while the words dragged out of me. He was right. We had to do this the proper way and look at everyone. “Penn threatened to publish a rumor about mad cow disease in Cord’s herd.”

  Dina’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”

  “It’s not true, but just the rumor could shut down Cord’s business and do permanent harm.”

  “But we have his testimony that he felt the bullet fly by his arm.” Now Audie was the one bending over backwards to play fair. “And you put blanks in the guns. I don’t think it was Cord.”

  “What about my boss?” Dina tapped the pencil against her teeth. “He might have had means. He interviewed you about the reenactment, didn’t he? Did you show him the guns?”

  “I showed him the guns and explained that the mayor had lent them to us for the duration of the celebration. I thought a little back-scratching wouldn’t hurt, but now I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. But we don’t know of any motive Mitch had for wanting Penn dead.”

  The bite of croissant turned to dry toast in my mouth, the mayonnaise lingering in my throat like acid. “He had a motive.”

  Two heads—one blond, one Christmas red—swiveled in my direction. “What’s that?” Audie sounded upset, as if I had been keeping a secret from him.

  “I discovered it last night. Dina told me that the Sequoian might be in financial trouble, and I decided to check it out.”

  “What did you learn?”

  “Penn was behind a takeover bid. He’s been buying every available share.” Another piece of information fell into place. “And Suzanne told us that Mitch carried on about needing money for some business deal.” I looked at my sister. “And the fuss about the number of newspapers you printed. I think he printed fewer copies than they used to, to save money. He was pinching pennies, trying to save his business. His family’s business, going back to the Grace-Gaynor feud.”

  “Phew.” Audie intertwined his long fingers. “What is it they say about motives for murder? There’s only a handful—revenge, jealousy, money.”

  “I thought it was cui bono—who benefits?” Dina tossed her head. “I guess it’s another way of saying the same thing.”

  “Let me see that list.” I took the steno book from Dina’s hands. “We’ve tentatively eliminated the widow. And Cord.” I smiled at Audie. “Have we established that Mitch had the means? Did you leave him alone with the guns at any point? He couldn’t have taken one with you looking on.”

  Audie shook his head, frustration evident in the movement. “I did. On the morning of the play, he came into the theater. He asked if he could borrow a phone to make a call, because he had forgotten his cell phone. I was busy taking care of last minute details, so I left him alone in my office.”

  “Suzanne. Mayor Ron. Gaynor.” My heart twisted. I still didn’t want the murderer to be someone I knew. I looked at the package that held the dress I had mended for Suzanne and remembered our last conversation.

  “I don’t think Suzanne did it.” I shared the conversation I had with her. “At first I thought she was confessing to a murder. I was pretty scared for a few minutes! Then I realized that she was talking about her affair with Penn. I know she’s an actress, but her remorse rang true.”

  “Let’s think on it,” Audie said. “Cici, are you still up for dinner tonight?”

  Dina looked at the two of us. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” She pretended to huff, but couldn’t hold back the grin from her face. “Don’t worry, I won’t spill the beans. I’ve got to get to class.” She blew us a kiss on her way out the door.

  Audie arched a pale eyebrow over his darkened eyes.

  “She misunderstood the invitation.” The words stumbled on their way out of my mouth. “We’ve been working on this investigation together, that’s all.”

  “No she didn’t.” Audie’s blue eyes bore into me like a laser light, exposing my deepest feelings. “I like your little sister—or should I call her your niece?—but I want some time alone with you.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. “Yes, I accept. Shall we plan on the Buffalo Herd or the Gulch?”

  “The Buffalo Herd. I’m ready for Old Jim to buffalo me into his choice of dinner.” Audie grinned. The owner, Old Jim Wiseman, never used a menu and only served the special of the day—always something made from buffalo meat. Audie tipped my head to meet his dazzling eyes. “When this is over, you and I need to have a talk.”

  I warmed from head to foot, followed by a delightful chill. “Okay,” I said in a small voice.

  He brushed his lips across mine, wrapping me in warmth once again. “I’ll pick you up here when you close up shop.”

  ~

  The phone rang as Audie pulled up on the street. It was Gwen Hardy.

  “Cici. I’m glad I caught you.” She sounded more composed than she had on Monday.

  “I found more of the Grace letters. Are you interested? I don’t want them around.”

  More letters? Something that would reveal what did happen on the day of the land run? I couldn’t wait. “Absolutely. We’ll be by in a few minutes.”

  I grabbed a waterproof plastic bag and put on a fringed buckskin jacket—one of the advantages of western wear—before meeting him outside. He stood on the sidewalk, holding the door of his Focus open for my convenience. My hero.

  “Gwen Hardy found more of Bob Grace’s letters!” I was grinning so widely that it hurt. “I told her we’d be right over.” We stopped by the widow’s house, and then drove to the Buffalo Herd.

  When Old Jim described the day’s special, Audie and I nodded agreement. His granddaughter Sara waited on us, bringing out heaping bowls of salad. I dug in with relish.

  “I have an idea about our investigation,” Audie said. “In the best theatrical tradition, we should do an encore performance of the gunfight.”

  My mouth dropped open. I shut it and swallowed the lettuce, dabbing at the dressing that dribbled from the corner of my mouth. “Why?”

  “Maybe we can jar one of our suspects into confessing.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Isn’t that what always happens when Poirot gathers his suspects?”

  “This is rural Oklahoma, not England.”

  “Same principle.” Audie waved his hand, rejecting my objection. Sara appeared in response to his gesture. She refilled our coffee cups and left, standing at a discreet distance.

  Audie lowered his voice. “We have two primary suspects, right?”

  I leaned forward to hear. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sara smiling. Great, by tomorrow the whole town will be abuzz with news of a romantic dinner between the two of us. On top of the milkshake we shared the other day, they’ll be asking for the wedding date. And what we’re really doing is trying to solve a murder. Speaking of which. . . “The mayor and Mitch Gaynor,” I agreed.

  “They both probably think they’re in the clear. Above suspicion, and all that.”

  “Reiner wouldn’t cover up a murder.”

  Audie placed a finger on my lips to remind me to lower my voice. The contact burned where it touched my flesh. I glanced in Sara’s direction. Perfect! She caught that, too.

  “No, but he might not look in the right direction. I figure we can nudge him along. Here’s my idea. Gat
her everybody who was in the play, and everybody who was in the crowd in front of the saloon, together. Everyone who is still in town, that is.”

  “What will be our excuse for getting them back there?” I balked at the thought of asking people to return to the site of bad memories. Okay, they had probably all been back downtown since last Saturday, but not for the express purpose of reliving those horrific minutes. “I wish the police could invite them.”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard.” Audie grinned. “Appeal to their vanity. Get new actors for the drama. Ask the mayor and Mitch to play the roles as prominent scions of their respective clans. Explain that we want to see if Penn missed anything in his version of the land run.”

  I mulled over the idea. It had possibilities. The mayor would love a chance to play the ham. If he was innocent. And if he was guilty? Well then, maybe he would want to use the play as a smokescreen to throw suspicion on someone else.

  “We need the others there as camouflage,” Audie said. “So they don’t suspect a setup.”

  Ever since Sara poured the last cup of coffee, Audie had held onto my hands. He bent his head and whispered so that only I could hear. The closest customers sat across the room; no one could hear. I wished he was whispering romantic words instead of investigative secrets.

  “That gives us until noon tomorrow to set everything up. Do you think we can do it?”

  “All the better. They won’t have time to reconsider and back out.” Audie raised one of my hands to his lips. His warm breath played across my knuckles like a spring breeze. “Why don’t we each call half the people on the list?

  “Uh, sure.” With his hand cradling my now forest fire hot fingers, I would have agreed to anything.

  “Good. It’s decided then.” With a wicked smile, Audie signaled for Sara. “We’ll share a turtle cheesecake for dessert.”

  I started to protest, but Audie insisted. “Fine, then. Let’s look at the rest of Grace’s letters while we wait for dessert.”

  Sara refilled our coffee cups and brought out a piece of cheesecake and two forks. We ignored them while we read through the letters that reflected Bob Grace’s heart and his love for his Mary. How I wanted to be loved like that. I looked at the man sitting across from me. Was it possible? Was this the man God had for me? Maybe. I smiled.

  Audie caught the smile. “Find something interesting?”

  I blushed. “I was just thinking how much Bob Grace loved his wife. And how much she must have loved him.”

  “Ah, yes. Lucky man. Maybe Wilde had it right again. ‘Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything.’ ”

  Then you wouldn’t be very lovable, because I can’t see many defects. I hid my hot face behind the next envelope. The words swam in front of my eyes, then gradually cleared. “I lined up with thousands,” the letter stated.

  “Audie.” My voice sounded strangled to my ears. “I know who the murderer must be.”

  18

  September 22, 1891

  Dearest Mary,

  I am here on our land! God is faithful!

  This morning I lined up with thousands at the border to the unassigned lands. The bugle sounded at the stroke of noon. Patches flattened his neck and began a flat-out run, seeking the front of the herd.

  We soon left the other settlers behind. I did not see anyone for long minutes, until at last I caught sight of Gaynor’s black horse as I neared the cave where I kept vigil on Sunday night. We crested the final hill, neck and neck. I was sure that Gaynor’s big horse would have the advantage.

  Then the miracle happened. Gaynor’s horse stumbled over a rock. A small thing, for it only slowed him down; but Patches made his way down the hill like the sure-footed cow pony he is.

  I passed the flag stake and grabbed it. “This claim belongs to Bob Grace!” I shouted. That nettled Gaynor. I had to urge him to continue to the far side of the river, or he would have missed out on a claim altogether.

  God be praised, our dream has begun!

  Your loving fiancé,

  Robert Grace

  ~

  Friday, September 27

  Audie’s head snapped up. “What have you found?” He glanced around, making sure our waitress was out of earshot. The other customers had paid their check and left.

  “Or at least I know who it isn’t.” I handed over the letters I had been reading, dated immediately before and after the land run. “God convicted Grace that what he planned to do was wrong. He ran the race fair and square.” I managed a slight chuckle. “Cord should be pleased. So should the mayor.”

  “So Penn wrote the true story after all,” Audie mused, his fingers tapping on the table. “That means the mayor had no motive—that we know of—to kill Penn. And that means—”

  “Mitch is probably our man.” We looked at each other for a long moment, my heart pounding hard in my chest. I lost all interest in the cheesecake still waiting between us.

  “Careful.” Audie tucked the letter away and put them all back in the plastic bag. “I think we should still ask both men to take part in the reenactment tomorrow. And it’s time to tell the police what we’ve learned. They need to keep an eye on Mitch. And to convince him that he needs to come, if he objects.”

  “At least the exercise should demonstrate that Mitch—or whoever takes his place in the crowd—could have fired unnoticed because everyone was watching the gunfight.”

  A big grin broke across Audie’s face. “And I know just how to do it.” He told me what he had in mind. I agreed that it sounded like a good plan.

  We asked for a box for the cheesecake, eager as we were to leave and set up things for tomorrow before much more time passed. We decided to talk to the police last. If we told them first, they might try to stop us. Audie dropped me off and went home to make his share of the calls. I stayed on the phone until half past ten. Audie called a few minutes later. Everyone on the list had agreed to come to the Gulch at noon on Saturday.

  “Did you have any trouble convincing Mitch?” I asked.

  “No. He said it sounded like a good idea, and he’s bringing a photographer along to take pictures. I wonder if he expects to change history this time.”

  We had greater concerns than changing Grace Gulch history, and that is why we met on Frances Waller’s doorstep shortly after seven on Saturday morning. It was time to enlist the help of the police, and I had to get to the store by nine. Even a murder investigation couldn’t close down business.

  Of course there was a chance Frances would be working, but I relaxed when I spotted her indigo blue coupe in the parking lot in front of her apartment. She opened her door a crack, almost unrecognizable beneath some kind of facial goop, her hair wrapped in a towel, and dressed in jeans and college T-shirt. “Cici. Audie. Give me a minute.” She shut the door in our faces. We waited five long minutes in the cool morning air, listening to the calls of the siskins, wondering if we had made the right move. She reappeared, face clean, hair combed down around her shoulders. “Come in.”

  Catching her dressed like an ordinary civilian made it easier to tell her what was on our minds.

  “We wanted to talk to you. . .about Penn’s death.”

  Her shoulders straightened. “You know I can’t do that. It’s an ongoing investigation.” Even without her uniform, she projected a police presence.

  I looked at Audie. He shrugged, as if to say, it’s up to you.

  “We were concerned when Dina and Cord were involved with the investigation.” I didn’t want to put her on the defensive by saying what I really felt. How could you suspect my sister? “So we decided to ask around on our own.”

  Frances raised an eyebrow at that. “Why don’t you sit down while I make some coffee? It sounds like this may take awhile.”

  We waited another few minutes. I looked through a stack of books on her end table, surprised to find a few Christian romances tucked in among police manuals. Well, well, was she a romantic at heart? My watch read hal
f-past seven when she returned with four cups in hand, two from the Grace Gulch Police Department and the others, buffalo-shaped mugs dated with Oklahoma’s recent Centennial.

  “I called the chief to come over,” she said without preamble. “He needs to hear whatever you have to say, as well.”

  Ah, well. So much for gaining her sympathetic ear. We sipped the coffee—hot, strong, perfect for a wake-up cup—until we heard the crunch of car tires on gravel. Our hostess opened the door for Reiner before he could knock and then handed him a cup of coffee.

  “What’s this I hear about the two of you interfering with our investigation?” He stomped over and sat down in Frances’s recliner without spilling a drop.

  Interfering? No one we had spoken with seemed upset with our visits. Unless the mayor complained to Reiner during their interview.

  “I read your statements about the accident in the mayor’s office.”

  Of course. “So you have ruled it as an accidental shooting?”

  “For now. Although two accidents in one week is too much of a coincidence. You two were at the scene of the crime both times. Another coincidence?”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “But Penn’s death was no accident.” Audie made it a statement.

  “Do you have any forensics reports back yet? Have they found the gun?” I asked.

  Reiner and Frances looked at each other, silently agreeing not to share that information.

  “It wasn’t the gun Cord used, was it?”

  Frances blinked at my question, but I decided that I didn’t need an answer to continue. “Cord helped us figure out the angle of the shot. It had to come from the direction of the Gulch. And these were the people who were standing there.” I showed them our well-worn list of suspects.

  Again Reiner and Frances exchanged looks. “Tell us what you think you know,” Reiner said. I suppose he couldn’t help the sneer that crept into his voice.