by Pamela Cowan
“Drop it. Why should I drop it? Because I didn’t think about people hearing the shot. Or did you and my sister have a little chat and decide I couldn’t do this? You’re just like that detective. You think I’m not a professional. That I can’t—”
“Man, your sister was right, that bastard did a number on your self-esteem.”
“Excuse me,” Emma said. Her hands were clenched into fists, each word clipped. “What exactly has my sister told you?” The thought of El and Leo sitting around talking about her past was infuriating. Her voice had risen. She noticed more than one person sneaking sidelong glances and sat back in her chair, forcing herself to at least look calm.
Leo picked up his coffee, took a long sip, then said. “Your sister wasn’t gossiping behind your back. She was upset, and needed someone to talk to. Apparently the idea of killing your husband wasn’t out of the question for her. She knew that wouldn’t ultimately help you and she needed someone to talk her down before she got on the plane. The risk of running into him was too high.
“The two of us were driving back from a meeting with our financial advisor when the hospital called and told her what was going on with you. I was there, so she confided in me.”
“I see,” said Emma, and after a few calming breathe, she actually did. “Sorry. I should try harder to control my temper. I have a hair trigger, especially where Mark’s concerned. He pushes my buttons, which makes sense, since he installed most of them.” She tried for a smile but it came out a grimace. “Let’s talk about something else. For instance, tell me why you and El set up your business here? Hollis isn’t exactly a center of industry.”
“Why not? Oregon is beautiful. Hollis is a couple hours from the beach, or skiing, or boating, or whatever you want. Besides, this is gun country. Lots of hunters and target shooting so plenty of customers.”
“So it wasn't just because I live here?” He couldn’t know what the answer to that question meant to her. She’d tried to make it sound like something she’d casually tossed out but it was much more than that.
Ever since El had announced she was starting a business Emma had wondered, why Hollis? Was it solely because of her? Did El feel she had to be close by to take care of her? Had it driven her to make a terrible business decision? If it had, and the business failed, it would be her fault. If El was unhappy, it would be her fault. Her fault because, after she found out about Mark, she’d temporarily lost her mind.
Her memory of the two weeks after her breakdown was spotty. She remembered discovering and finally accepting the depth of Mark’s betrayal. Then she remembered things as strange fragments. Like leftovers from a bad dream. There was breaking glass. Blood. Screams that she came to understand were her own. There was a ride in an ambulance with flashing lights but no sound. The sharp smell of antiseptic. The sharper sting of a needle.
After she woke, they gave her a supply of bitter white pills to keep her numb until she could bear to feel again. She remembered El arriving to take her home. Mostly, she tried not to think about it. It was painful. There was shame there. A huge sense of failure and weakness.
El had gone away when her leave ran out, returning to her job with the military. When, a few months later, she announced her plan to leave the service, move to Hollis and start a business. Emma had been both overjoyed and horrified. She wanted her sister near, but not if was only because she thought Em might have another breakdown.
“Just because you live here?” Leo was saying. “I’m sure that was part of it. But mostly, we were both sick of moving from base to base. We thought it might be interesting to put down some roots, be part of a community. Ellen had lived in Hollis and liked it. That small town feeling and all the outdoor stuff sounded good to me. We’d both seen enough big cities to last a lifetime. I’ve heard you talk about Portland like it’s some kind of metropolis. I’d love to show you Beijing or Moscow.”
Emma felt relieved. She thought what Leo said sounded like the truth. Her breakdown wasn’t the only reason for her sister setting up business in Hollis. Maybe not visiting VR Tactical had been a way of avoiding her sister after all. That would have to change.
She felt elated. As if a huge weight had suddenly been lifted. Leo’s last words didn’t hurt either, ‘I’d love to show you Beijing or Mosco.’ The prospect of flying to distant cities with the extremely hot man sitting mere inches from her was intriguing.
Then, the sound of her sister’s voice filled her head. ‘No crushing on my business partner. Mixing business and romance never works.’ Of course, as she’d explained to El, he wasn’t in her business, at least not yet.
Amused by her own double entendre, she drained the last of the cold and only slightly bitter coffee.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Friday, September 14
Emma called the Chevron Station in Muddy Creek on Friday, learned that Audie was working, and though she could have asked her question over the phone, decided to wait and talk to her in person. She had never liked the phone for interviews. Body language could speak volumes while phones, text, and emails were sadly lacking.
Her plan was to talk to Rose and Ms. Mackie again and hopefully track down Harry Olstad and Willy Keene. She also wanted to see if she could find others in town who might have seen something but she’d start with Audie.
As she drove, Emma thought about the questions she needed to ask Audie. For instance, when she saw the four cars go by, what direction were they going and in what order? Had anyone said they heard the shot?
When she pulled into the station, Audie was at the tanks pumping gas into a white van. Emma pulled into the same parking spot she’d used last time and walked back toward the station. She waved at Audie, who raised the gas nozzle in a funny sort of salute, then went inside the store to wait for her.
After a short time, Audie walked in, took off the puffy jacket she wore, tossed it over a stool behind the counter and put some cash in the register. Then she turned her full attention to Emma.
“Good to see you,” she said. “How goes the investigation?”
“Slow,” said Emma. “I’m hoping you can help me again. I’ve got a few more questions.”
“Fire away,” said Audie. She took a stick of Chapstick from her back pocket and coated her lips.
Once again Emma noticed she was dressed cowgirl style, in a white blouse with mother of pearl buttons tucked into black jeans. She wore a necklace made up of dozens of strands of turquoise and feather earrings dyed to match.
“Have you remembered seeing any other cars in town Sunday morning?” Emma asked. “I mean, other than the ones you already told me about.”
“Nope. Just those four.”
“Do you remember what order you saw them in, and what direction they were going?”
“I believe I do. I gave it some thought when I talked to the cops the other day. Let me think about it a minute.” She shut her eye, frowning in concentration, then opened them and picked up a notepad and pen from the counter.
Emma watched Audie draw a square and then a row of arrows, their tips going in different directions.
“This is the station,” she said, tapping the square. “This is the folks driving by. First was Rose heading to work as she usually does. That was early, right after I got here, so maybe five-thirty or six. Then, soon after, I saw Norma heading out. I got busy then but around ten I saw Harry’s truck go by. He looked to be heading home. Then, it must have been around noon because I just finished lunch and was going out for a smoke, I saw Willy heading toward the highway and Norma heading home.”
“So you saw Norma leave and return. Are you sure you didn’t see anyone else twice?”
“I don’t think so, but that doesn’t mean much. If I’m not outside pumping gas I’m inside restocking beer and wine and filling up bags of ice. Plus I have to dust the shelves. I don’t have that much time to look out the window. Sorry I can’t help more.”
“You’ve been a ton of help. I just haven’t been asking the right questio
ns. I’m going to try and talk to the people you saw that morning. I found Mr. Olstad’s place last time and I left a note but he hasn’t called me back. I still have no idea how to find Mr. Keene. His phone isn’t listed. Probably too young to have a landline. Everyone is moving to cell phones now.”
“That’s for sure. You know, I’m pretty sure Leena Keene, out at Jansen's Mill, is his aunt. I can’t swear to it but they have the same last name, and it’s not that common.
“The place they live. It’s a little sort of trailer trash dump just south of here. You might go out there and ask around. It’s so small someone is bound to know which house she lives in. Like I said though, it’s not a real nice neighborhood. You might want to take someone with you. I’d think twice about knocking on doors out there alone. Would you like me to draw you a map? I’ve had to drop off groceries out there a couple times. The store does deliveries to seniors sometimes.”
“That would be really helpful,” said Emma gratefully, and watched Audie sketch on the notepad.
After buying a diet Dr. Pepper and a slice of apple pie, Emma drove to Mrs. Mackie’s, and was happy to find her at home. This time the elderly woman insisted that she come inside.
“How would you like a cup of coffee and a Danish? I picked some up at the new bakery in Hollis on Sunday. They’re a tiny bit stale but they’re fine if you dip them in coffee.”
Emma sat at the table nibbling her pastry and taking small sips of coffee. Even with a splash of milk and two cubes of sugar it was strong. They sat quietly, sharing the view through the dining room window of the wide river rushing by. The quaking aspens along the bank dropped their dying leaves like silver rain in response to each gust of wind.
“You have a beautiful place, Mrs. Mackie,” Emma said. “I’m a little jealous.”
“I’ve been blessed, and please call me Norma,” Mrs. Mackie said. “What was it you wanted to ask?”
Emma shifted into working gear. “You said you saw Willy Keene Sunday morning. You were driving from your house toward town and he was headed the opposite way.”
“No, that’s not right,” Norma corrected her. “I was coming home when I saw him.”
“Oh. When you said morning I just assumed you meant when you were heading out of town.”
“No, you’re right, I did say that. But now that I think about it I was wrong. I had been to breakfast and the hair dressers and was heading home. No, it wasn’t morning, it had to be closer to noon.”
“I see. So he was leaving Muddy Creek. I know your place, the Olstad place and Dodge’s ranch are up that way. Is there anything else that you can think of that would give him a reason to be up there?”
“Well, sure. We get lots of folks going up into the canyon country scouting deer or birds. Bone Creek has some good fishing too. It’s Deer Bone Creek but the locals just call it Bone Creek, Bone Ridge. You know how it is.”
“I do. Is he the only one you saw? I remember you telling me he was all over the road and that was probably made you remember him so clearly. Now that some time has gone by, have you remembered anyone else, someone who didn’t stick in your memory?”
“Well, I guess if I did, and it didn’t stick, I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” she said, with a wide smile.
Emma laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. Dumb question. Here’s another one for you. Did you hear a gunshot on Sunday morning? I’m told Dodge was killed with a shotgun so it must have been very loud.”
Norma pointed to her ear, and looking close, Emma noticed the hard plastic bulb of a hearing aid.
“I don’t have them in all the time. Not at night, and not until after my shower,” she explained. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear a thing.”
“That’s all right. I still have a few people to ask. I’m heading up to the Olstad place next.”
“You needn't bother with that. He won’t be home.”
“Oh?”
“Harry got in an accident Saturday evening. He was pulling onto the highway and didn’t see a truck coming right at him. Harry’s eyes are probably about as bad as my ears, and that truck was probably gray. Tell me why that’s so popular, cars and trucks the same color as the road? How are you supposed to see them?”
“So h-he’s passed away?” Emma asked hesitantly.
“Oh gosh no. He’s gonna be fine. Him and his truck got all banged up and went to the hospital. I mean, his truck is in the shop and he’s in the hospital. More coffee?” She turned toward the pot that sat on the countertop burbling happily away and awaiting its next victim.
“No thank you,” Emma said hastily. “So, if he’s been in the hospital since Saturday. Then how is it that the woman at the gas station saw him Sunday?” Emma said, partly to herself.
“That’s a good question, but it couldn’t have been Harry she saw. Rose, she’s my neighbor and a nurse at the hospital, said she looked in on him. He’s got a busted collarbone and a broken arm. They were keeping him in for a few days. Maybe someone was doing him a favor and took his truck home?”
Again, partly musing to herself, Emma said, “But if it was wrecked on Saturday how could it be fixed by Sunday? When I got into a fender bender and needed a tiny bit of body work it took three weeks. Besides, it was a weekend. Who works on weekends? There has to be a mistake. I bet it was a truck that looked like Mr. Olstad’s. It couldn't have been his.”
“If you ever saw Harry’s truck you’d never mistake it for someone else’s. That truck is one of a kind. Big white Chevy, big winch on the front, the bed is cherry red, driver’s door is blue. I’ve never seen another one like it. Everyone out here knows Harry’s truck. It’s like a unicorn in a herd of donkeys.”
Emma unconsciously rubbed at the lines that had formed in her forehead. She’d have to talk to Audie again. Getting up, she took her cup to the kitchen, rinsed it and put it in the sink. “I should get going.”
Norma said, “If you wanted to know more about Harry you might want to stop and talk to Rose. She might be able to tell you if he’s still at the hospital.
“Do you mean Rose Jamison?”
“Why yes? She’s such a nice woman, and her and her husband are such good workers. As a matter of fact, her husband works for Harry now and then. Why, he just might be taking care of the place while Harry’s laid up. If anyone brought Harry’s truck home I bet it was Charles. Would you like directions?”
“No thank you, that’s not necessary. I spoke to Rose the last time I was out here. I was under the impression that her husband would be out of town for a long time. I don’t think he could have been driving Harry’s truck.”
“Hmm, I don’t believe he’s left town. I saw him just yesterday. He had to come out so he could take some measurements. He’s coming over tomorrow to fix a fence that got knocked down by the last windstorm. I’ve got cows coming at the end of the week and if it’s not done they’ll end up on the streets. Street walkers.” She laughed at her own joke.
Emma laughed politely but her head was spinning with more questions.
“When you went to the house,” Norma asked, “did you see all they’ve done? New paint, flowers planted everywhere. It’s going to be beautiful come spring. Like I said, those are some hard working folks. Don’t see that in this new generation. They want everything free and easy. You seem like a hard worker though. Trying to find out who killed a man, that not too many are sad to see gone, must be hard. Your list of suspects must be darn long I’d imagine.”
“And getting longer by the minute.”
Emma thanked Norma and left to find a quiet place to ponder what she’d learned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Friday, September 14
Sitting parked in Norma’s driveway seemed awkward, so Emma drove out of sight before pulling over and digging a notepad and pen from her purse. Using the steering wheel as a desk, she wrote a rough timeline and some notes.
5:30ish a.m. – Rose seen driving to work.
6:00 a.m. or soon after – Norma driving to Hollis
10:00 a.m. – Harry seen driving toward home.
12:00 p.m. – Willy passes Norma on her way home.
The list led Emma to ask more questions. What was Willy doing up there? When did Rose return? Where was Harry coming from?
Slipping the notepad back in her purse, she put the car in gear and drove toward Rose’s. As she drew close she could see there were no cars in the driveway. Too bad but since she was this far out anyway she decided she might as well drive to the Olstad place. She’d love to see if Harry’s unique truck had made it home.
Pulling down the dirt and gravel road, Emma immediately noticed gray tendrils of smoke coming from a brick chimney. Someone must be home. It was disappointing to see that the station wagon and RV were still in their respective places but there was no sign of the truck. Maybe there was no one home after all. Still, it was worth trying.
She knocked and was happy to hear a deep voice bellow out.
“Hold on, I’m coming.”
The door opened and a man stood in the doorway, looking at her with a half-smile and raised eyebrows. His wrinkled face told Emma he was in his seventies or even eighties but there was nothing else that said he was surrendering to age. His hair was white, but thick, he stood tall, with a sort of relaxed but confident poise as he waited for her to talk.
“I’m Emma Richland,” she told him. “I left my business card and a note in your door a few days ago?”
“I didn’t see it. Sorry,” he told her. “You’ll have to tell me what it is you needed.”
Emma explained who she was and said, “I’ve been investigating an arson and it brought me into the investigation of our policy holder’s murder. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”
“Well, you could,” he said. “Though I doubt I’ll be much help. But come on in. Let’s at least be warm.” He stepped back from the door and Emma noticed he held his right arm tight against his stomach. The left cuff of the flannel shirt he wore was undone and flapped around his wrist. The one on his right was rolled up showing the edge of a cast that stretched his shirt and seemed to encase his arm elbow to shoulder.
