by Elise Sax
“Why didn’t you deserve her?” I whispered because I was frozen in fear and couldn’t let more sound out. I worried that this was the preamble to his confession, that I was about to hear something earth-shattering and dangerous.
Amos took a deep breath. “Amy was the love of my life. She made our house a home. No matter what was going on, problems at work, troubles on the ranch or in town, Amy was upbeat and positive. Glowing.” He smiled for real this time. “She actually glowed, like you would think an angel would glow. You know?”
I nodded, but I didn’t know. She sounded wonderful. He sounded like he was head over heels in love with someone who couldn’t possibly be real because nobody was that perfect.
“So what happened?” I asked, bracing myself to hear the worst.
“The day she disappeared, that morning, we had a big fight before I left for work. I had been very upset about some stupid memo from Santa Fe headquarters, and I was short with her. Then, it escalated.”
“Escalated how?” I asked. My voice was barely audible now. I knew that I was about to hear what Amos did to his wife that day, and I was dizzy with anticipation.
“I yelled at her because my coffee mugs were out of order. I like my latte mugs in front of the cabinet and my espresso cups in back. I’m weird like that. And I opened the cabinet and the stupid espresso cups were in front. So, I yelled at her that nothing was the way I wanted in the house. Then, I moved on to yell at her about the paint colors she had picked out for the living room and the ugly afghan on the couch. And you know what she did?”
“No,” I said.
“She laughed. She pointed at me and laughed. Then, she tried to kiss me to diffuse the situation, because frankly, I was being completely ridiculous, but when she was about to kiss me, I stepped out of the way and yelled at her again.”
“Then what happened?”
“I went to work and never saw her again. I didn’t tell her I loved her, and I didn’t even say goodbye. She disappeared, and I figured she had left me. Then Boone found her, and of course, I knew that she had killed herself, and I was to blame.”
“Oh my God,” I said, clutching my chest and heaving a sigh of relief. “Is that all?”
“What do you mean, is that all? I caused a woman to kill herself.”
Heaven help me, I started to laugh. “She didn’t kill herself. She was murdered.”
Amos narrowed his eyes. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Not maybe, maybe not. She talked to me. I know that she was murdered.”
Amos knew that I had a habit of talking to dead people, so he didn’t pull out a giant net and send me to the funny farm. Instead, he was deeply emotional about me talking to his wife, and he made me tell him everything she said. I did. It took me about a half hour, but I told him every last word.
“He’s closer than you think?” he asked. “What does that mean?”
I hemmed and hawed and finally told him about my suspicions. “I think it means that someone close killed her. Maybe you. Maybe Silas. Maybe…Boone.”
“Boone? No,” Amos said quickly and then seemed to think about his brother killing Amy for a little while. “He was the one who found her. Did you know that?”
I nodded. “But he liked Amy.”
“They used to date,” Amos added softly, like he was still thinking about Boone killing the woman he loved.
“But it’s Boone. He’s a good guy,” I said.
Amos put his hat back on. “I’ve got places to go.”
I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t do anything rash. We don’t know anything yet. Everyone’s a suspect. Silas, too. And my ex-husband. He’s back in town.”
“Your ex-husband wasn’t here when Amy was murdered.”
“That’s true, but…”
Amos wasn’t listening. He was already walking back into the forest. “Careful getting home,” he called with his back to me. “These back roads aren’t real safe. On my way over here, I saw Rocco driving like a madman.”
“Rocco was on the road? When?” I asked, but Amos was already gone.
I stood in place, no further in finding the serial killer than when I started. I had been sure that the answer would be here, but it wasn’t, and now Amos was probably going to kill his brother.
I took a deep breath and tried to regroup my thoughts. It was due to either anxiety or some other physical ailment, but I had a buzzing in my ears. I looked around to see if it was coming from somewhere other than my brain, but there was nothing there.
I was alone.
Alone with my suspicions. My list of suspects had grown. The serial killer was either Boone, Amos, Silas, Rockwell, or even Rocco. But I was nowhere closer to figuring out which one was the killer. The clock was running out, and there was a girl’s life on the line.
Part IV: Matilda Finds the Serial Killer, and…
Bacon Vending Machine Credited with Catching Mooner
by Jack Goodnight
A bacon vending machine is being heralded for capturing a wanted criminal. The unique vending machine was installed by local entrepreneur Rocco Humphrey in the Plaza to satisfy the growing segment of the population who are on the ketogenic diet.
“Keto folks don’t eat cookies and chips. They eat bacon,” Mr. Humphrey explained. “There’s a need, and Goodnight is going to fill it. It’s just a matter of time before folks in Albuquerque and Santa Fe make their way over here for a bacon snack. I’m sure we’ll work out the side effects by then.”
The “side effects” were discovered only hours after the first bacon vending machine was installed. The first customer, who purchased six slices of bacon for three dollars from the machine, took a short walk in the Plaza with his snack when he was run down by a pack of dogs.
“It was like a scene out of Alien,” Jerry Grant, the victim of the attack, described. “They must have smelled the bacon, and they came after me. German Shepherds and Rottweilers working together. Even two golden retrievers ran me down the street, and boy were they vicious.”
Mr. Grant’s attack was not unique. There have been at least a half dozen reports of similar attacks. The bacon vending machine was going to be removed today, against Mr. Humphrey’s wishes, when a customer got a craving for bacon and bought a dozen slices.
That customer turned out to be the mooner, who has been terrorizing the town by showing his naked buttocks while standing on various roofs and yelling insults at passersby. Today his mooning days were over when at least twenty dogs followed him to the roof and scared him off of it.
“He jumped off the roof and landed right in front of me,” Patrolwoman Wendy Ackerman said. “He broke both legs. The dogs are okay. They stayed on the roof and ate the bacon. We arrested him, and he’s on his way to the hospital. Don’t worry. He won’t get away this time.”
The sheriff’s department has been trying to apprehend the mooner for two days without luck. They are now contemplating acquiring a K-9 unit in Goodnight. The local, bacon-loving dogs were safely returned to their homes.
Chapter 13
I stood in place for a while after Amos left. I still had the buzzing sensation in my ears. I didn’t know if I should believe Amos when he said that he thought Amy had killed herself, but he sounded pretty convincing to me.
I decided to look around while I was alone. I got down on my hands and knees and looked for clues on the ground. It was a long shot that I would find anything except for shrub and bugs, but as long as I was there, I wasn’t going to let anything get by me. My senses were razor sharp, and I was laser focused.
“What’re you doing?”
The booming voice came out of nowhere, and I jumped in surprise. Two jean-clad legs approached me, and I was sure that I was going to be murdered by the serial killer. When I finally looked up, I saw that it was Boone.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked, suspicious.
“I’ve come here to kill you. What do you think I’m doing here?”
I gasped. “What? So, it’s true? You�
��re the serial killer? My fiancé abducted and killed girls?”
Boone rolled his eyes. “No. I was joking. I never made it to the Basin. I turned around, and I’ve been following you for a couple hours.”
“Why? You don’t trust me?” I demanded. I stood and crossed my arms in front of me.
Boone’s mouth dropped. “Me? I don’t trust you? How about you don’t trust me? You think I kill young women.”
“Not just you. I suspect Amos, Silas, Rockwell, and Rocco, too,” I said.
“Oh, so I’m not the only suspect. I’m on a list?”
“Yes, doesn’t that make you feel better?” I asked, brightly.
“No!” he cried, obviously upset.
I shrugged. “I can’t help it. I don’t have enough clues to narrow the field down any more than that.”
Boone’s mouth dropped open again. He looked nonplussed. “I’m your fiancé, Matilda, and you can’t rule me out as a psychotic killer?”
“Sure,” I said and bit my lip and lowered my eyes. I so wanted to rule him out. My gut was telling me he wasn’t guilty. But my gut had told me not so long ago that Rockwell was the love of my life, and I had married him. So, what did my gut know? Pretty much nothing. I had a very stupid gut.
Boone put his arm around me and pulled me close. He smelled good, like the promise of hot sex and cuddling afterward. I hated that he was on my suspect list. He nuzzled my ear and trailed soft, sultry kisses down my neck.
Then, he surprised me by breaking out into laughter. He threw his head back and laughed loudly, never letting me go. It took a while, but he finally quieted down. “I can’t believe I’m in love with a woman who thinks I’m a serial killer.”
“Funny, right?” I asked.
“Hilarious. Does the Don Johnson stubble on my face make me look like a killer? Maybe I should shave more often.”
“I like your Don Johnson stubble,” I said, feeling guilty about not trusting him.
He hugged me closer and rested his chin on my head. “I came back to make sure you’re okay. I was being a protective, thoughtful fiancé.”
Oh. He was right. It was thoughtful and protective and so much better than coming back to kill me. “Thank you,” I said.
“I’m a good guy,” he said.
“I know.”
“And I love you. Heaven help me, I’m crazy about you. So crazy that I don’t care that you think I’m a maniac. Although it would have been a lot more complimentary if you thought I was a spy or an undercover Green Beret. Something manly with a lot of testosterone. Or a dangerous drug runner with stunning good looks. Or even a steroid-pushing weight-lifter. Something like that.”
“I love you too,” I said. But love didn’t change anything. I had learned that with Rockwell. What if Boone was like Rockwell? What if I shouldn’t trust him?
“Good,” Boone said. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is over and Rockwell is gone. I’m worried about you. You’ve put a lot of people on your suspect list, and you’ve been making waves in town. You could be in danger.”
He was so sweet, practically perfect, if I didn’t count the whole serial killer suspect thing. We were having a nice moment, so I decided not to tell Boone that I might have sent Amos on the warpath and might have intimated that Boone had killed his wife.
That kind of information could wait.
My phone rang. I pulled out of Boone’s embrace and dug the phone out of my purse. It was Silas, and I answered.
“Boss, I got the box again,” Silas told me.
“You stole it, again?” I asked.
“No, Amos just walked in and handed it to me. He said he knew we were investigating and to go have at it.”
“Is there anything in the box?”
“Nope. Still empty, but get this. Klee says it’s a fancy tea box. It was handmade by a local artist on native land.”
A tea box. It made sense. Amy had a large teacup collection, so she must have loved tea.
“Come on back to the office, and let’s reconnoiter,” Silas suggested. Since I didn’t have any new information, I decided to go back and put our heads together to come up with new leads. I had thought that visiting where Amy’s body was found would give me much needed clues, but it was a bust. Hours had passed since I had seen the hitchhiker, and I felt despondent about her safety. I didn’t report her to the sheriff’s department because what was I going to say? That there was a hitchhiker and then she wasn’t there? On the face of it, that wasn’t suspicious at all.
Boone followed me to my car. His truck was parked nearby, and we drove away together with him tailing me, in case Rockwell or a serial killer were out to get me. Under normal circumstances, I would have found it romantic that my fiancé was protective, but now I was just annoyed. All the men in my life were suspects, and I needed some distance from them.
We followed the road, which took us around the town and finally turned off into the Plaza. The reality show crew must have convinced Rocco to take the stuffed Daisy giraffe out of his museum because Rocco and Mabel were standing by it right in the center of the Plaza. The reality show was filming them, and they were drawing a crowd. Poor Rocco looked miserable, standing next to what was effectively the shame of Goodnight, and something that he had worked tirelessly to overcome.
Behind me, I could see Boone laughing hysterically in his truck. The crowd was laughing, too. I slowed down to a crawl because Mabel looked like she was going to blow. Her face looked like it was eating itself. Her mouth was so scrunched up that it had disappeared under her nose, which looked like it was signaling ships with its nostrils, flaring at an alarming speed. Her hands were clenched into fists.
“Uh oh,” I said out loud and slammed on my brakes. Boone slammed on his behind me to avoid hitting my car. I opened my window so I wouldn’t miss anything.
“I’ve had enough!” Mabel yelled. “I’ve had enough of this dad-rat-it, God-bless-it shitshow! This isn’t a reality show! This is a shitshow! You’re fired!”
“You can’t fire us. You have a contract,” the director yelled back.
“Oh, yeah? I’ll give you a contract!” Mabel yelled. Imbued with strength that only rage will give a person, Mabel took hold of Daisy’s stuffed neck and attacked the director with it. As Mabel swung, the giraffe’s head came down like a hammer, striking blows on the director’s head, and then the cameraman’s head and then the sound man’s head.
“It’s like a perverse game of Whack-a-mole!” I heard Boone cry from his truck.
He was right. The reality show people dropped their stuff and ran for it, all the while holding their heads in pain. Mabel wasn’t finished, though. She used Daisy to smash the filming equipment. Then, with fury blazing from her eyes like weapons, she wielded Daisy so that the giraffe’s head towered over her.
“You want a piece of me?” she yelled into the crowd. Her voice bellowed in a deep basso profundo. It was like she was possessed by the devil or Arnold Schwarzenegger. “I’ll give you a piece of me! Won’t I, Daisy?”
I don’t know why—maybe because I was fed up with the men in my life—I loved seeing Mabel take charge. “You go, girl!” I yelled from my car. Mabel blinked a few times at my war cry and proceeded to use Daisy as a jackhammer, knocking down everything in her path. Rocco stood stock still, as if he had just seen a ghost and was in shock. Mabel kept going, dragging Daisy with her and using her as a weapon. Boom went a bush. Pow went a park bench.
Ironically, Mabel had tried for years to build up Goodnight, but now she was tearing it down with the same thing that had torn down its reputation a hundred years ago.
I had seen enough. I decided to give Mabel her privacy as she went on the rampage. I drove out of the Plaza, careful not to run anyone over as they ran for their lives away from the killer stuffed giraffe.
I was exhausted, and I was looking forward to getting home and lying down for a minute to gather my energy. But when I arrived home and parked my car, all hell was breaking loose. Rockwell w
as standing with his back plastered to the outside wall. Nora’s food truck was facing him, only inches from his body, and she was revving the motor, menacingly. Adele had a huge branch of burning sage, which she was shaking at Rockwell like she was going to burn him alive.
Silas and Jack were there, jotting notes in their reporter’s notebooks, and Klee was taking pictures of the whole thing. My dogs were lying down nearby, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, and when I got out of the car, they ran to me, begging me for bones and pets.
Boone parked behind me and got out of his truck. “This is good,” he said. “Now, this I like. This is like a Christmas present and a birthday present all wrapped into one.”
Tilly came through the gate with a huge smile plastered on her face. “This is great, but they’re amateurs compared to what I’ve got in store for the bastard,” she told me.
“What do you have in store for him?” I asked.
“I’m going to shield you from that, in case the feds come down on my head. It could be an EPA hazard, and it might violate the act against chemical warfare.”
“Thank you for shielding me,” I said. “I see Nora and Adele. Do you know where Faye is?”
“I heard something about talking to a lawyer,” Tilly said.
Oh, thank goodness. Terrorizing Rockwell was all well and good, but the shark lawyer was my best bet at getting rid of him.
The sound of a sheriff’s siren broke through the chaos, and Amos’s SUV drove up the driveway and stopped behind Nora’s food truck. Amos got out, and it was obvious that his impressive sheriff self was fully back and intact.
He did a John Wayne walk toward Rockwell. “Stop, now!” he yelled. His voice was booming and imposing. Everyone took note. Nora turned off her engine, and Adele dropped her burning branch to the dirt ground.
“My brother is such a party-pooper,” Boone complained.
“What’s going on here?” Amos demanded.
“He’s a killer!” Adele yelled.
“He stole potatoes!” Nora yelled.
