Shoot First, page 29
“You going to try to dig that up? Put Jennifer on it?”
“Not right off. If Wardell Yardley didn’t find more, it’s either very, very well hidden or doesn’t exist. Either way, our time’s better spent — Damn.” That soft curse came out involuntarily at my first daylight view of the site.
The concrete front steps stood, slightly tipped but otherwise intact. Irregular outcroppings of rubble revealed a stretch of concrete wall I couldn’t place until I spotted the tilted refrigerator and realized the wall that must have supported the kitchen door and back steps.
“I probably would have burned everything when I left anyway.” Even to me I sounded grim.
“So as not to carry Hovel cooties,” Mike said with an understanding nod.
“Right. Sad thing is, it could have been a nice little house.” I looked across the street at Mildred’s house, looking so trim despite police tape still surrounding it.
Mike parked behind a sheriff’s department SUV, though Shelton wasn’t in sight. A truck farther down seemed familiar. But at the moment I couldn’t have ID’d anything less subtle than the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.
Mike opened the passenger door for me before I could get myself to move. I tried a weak chuckle and said. “All that damned wallpaper scraping wasted.”
“Consider it a form of FreeCell.”
As we started toward the house — no, toward the rubble — Stan Newton angled across the dirt and ash from the not-quite-familiar truck to intercept us.
“Don’t think you can pick through for things of value,” he said.
I laughed. “What do you think’s left here? A Renoir?”
“I don’t care if it’s one of those fabric eggs, you’re not getting anything without proving it’s yours.”
“Fabric egg? Fabergé? Well, some might have survived this, depending on what they were made of. At least their jewels would.”
“Jewels? Now you’re claiming you had jewels? That’s—”
“Don’t be an idiot, Newt,” Mike said. “Get professionals in, let them handle this.”
“I’m going to keep an eye on them, too, so they don’t cheat me.”
I rolled my eyes.
Newton might have seen that. “Probably started the fire yourself,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?”
A wise man would have backed off. Newton said, “Heard you were doing all sorts of things to the property. Without permission. Your lease—”
“Anything I did could only have improved it. The wallpaper alone—”
“Using a heat gun to remove wallpaper? They’ll start fires quick.”
“I was not removing wallpaper in the middle of the night, and when I did remove wallpaper I did not use a heat gun.”
“Changing things without permission — you forfeit your deposit. It’s right there in your lease.”
“The lease says if you nearly get burnt to death in that wreck of a shack, you don’t get a cleaning deposit back?”
“You signed—”
“Newton, shut up.” Mike’s booming command surprised both of us into silence. He continued in his usual tone. “It was arson. As long as you have insurance, you’ll be fine.”
“Of course I’ve got insurance. What kind of a businessman would I be, not to have insurance?”
“Then,” Mike said, “as long as you didn’t commit the arson, you’ll be—”
“Hey! You can’t accuse me. I want a retraction. Right now. You hear me. You can’t go throwing around accusations just because of some rumors. I didn’t commit any arson. Ever.”
“Half of Sherman hears you,” Mike said, the edges wearing thin. “I said, as long as you didn’t. You’re the one who shouted arson loud enough to turn heads up and down the block.”
Newton’s neck twisted as he spotted the four people in view who were staring at us, which in Sherman was damned near a crowd.
“Elizabeth and Richard could have been killed. Think about that. And think what that would have done to your business.” Mike stepped close and looked down at the shorter man, forcibly reminding me, and I strongly suspect Newton, that Mike had played professional football. “Think what that would have done to what’s left of your reputation. This would be a real smart time to be generous. And an even smarter time to be gone.”
“I’m not going anywhere. This is my property. And you’re trespassing. Trespassing! Deputy!”
At his shout, Mike and I turned and saw Wayne Shelton approaching from the direction of the garage.
“These people are trespassing. I want them off my property.”
“How can I be trespassing when I have a lease and the rent’s paid up?”
“Rent for a house that isn’t here anymore. So get out. Now!” He took a step toward me.
Mike stepped in between.
I couldn’t see around his broad back, but Shelton broke into a jog.
“Hold on there, both of you,” he ordered. “Stan, calm down. Mike, go over there by your SUV.”
“Deputy—”
“Now.”
Mike gave me a look over his shoulder. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”
“She won’t,” Shelton said.
“Not if she gets off my property,” said Newton. “Otherwise—”
“Shut up, Stan. Elizabeth’s here at my request. Part of the investigation.” He took my elbow and turned me away. “Have you—?”
“She could be tampering with evidence.” Stan came around so he was in my face again. “Probably is. Probably—”
Shelton gave Stan a stern look. “Quiet.”
“You do your duty,” Newton said. “You charge her. Arrest her!”
“Arrest me? For what?”
“Arson!” Newton shouted. “She threatened to burn it down. I heard her! Paycik, too. Get him under oath. If he says otherwise, then you’ve got him on perjury. Said it right to my face. Brazen as hell.”
“Stan. Quiet. Stay.” Shelton took me by the arm again, and said in an undertone, “Let’s go over here.”
“Do you have a dog, Deputy?”
“Corgis.” From his expression, they were the light of his life, but they almost cost me my dignity as I thought of the height-challenged deputy matched with that short-legged breed.
“I could use training tips,” I managed once I’d swallowed a couple times. “Dogs and people.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
“What about these threats Stan says you made to burn down the house?” Shelton asked once he had me far enough away to not have Newton hear us.
We could still hear him, unfortunately.
“I have no — No, wait. The day of the shooting at Mildred’s, he was here and started spouting off that I was damaging the value because I’d been scraping paint and wallpaper. I said something about it couldn’t be worth any less if I burned the damned thing down. I also laughed. It was a joke.”
“You stay here,” Shelton ordered. It was nicer than stay, but it meant the same thing.
While I watched him talk to Mike, I tried to decide if Newton’s attempt to implicate me for arson made it more or less likely he was behind the fire. As Shelton gave Mike the stay command with a stop-sign hand, and came back to me, I decided it was too close to call.
“You and Paycik tell the same story,” he said.
“That’s because it’s the truth.”
He hitched a dismissive shoulder. “Unlikely you’d try to fry yourself in your bed. But it won’t be ruled out unless evidence says so.”
I expelled a disgusted sigh, which turned into a cough before I could speak a scathing rejoinder. I hoped Diana wouldn’t hear about me coughing, or I’d be back in the hospital.
Taking full advantage of my inability to speak, Shelton went on. “My investigation will continue. I’d hoped being here might shake open your memory. Anything?” I shook my head. “Suppose fighting with Newt ended any hope of that. Okay, you and Paycik get out of here and meet me at the sheriff’s department. I still want to talk to you.” He accompanied that with a gesture to Mike to approach. “I’ll hold off Stan.”
Wasting no time, Mike reached me and was making “are you okay” noises as Shelton walked away.
“Let’s go,” I said, leading him back toward his SUV.
Behind us, I heard Stan screeching a protest that I was getting away.
* * * *
Mike had an assignment to get to, yet refused to leave until we connected with Diana, who said she’d pick me up when I was done at the sheriff’s department.
I needed to get my own transportation. Fast.
Shelton pulled in as Mike drove off. I waited for him on the sidewalk. As we turned toward the door, Richard Alvaro came out.
“Hi, Elizabeth. Good to see you.” He smiled.
“Good to see you, too, Richard. And it’s good to be seen — which I owe to you. I wasn’t in a state to thank you when we saw each other last.”
His eyes cut to Shelton.
I wanted to rap his knuckles like a maiden aunt. I’d worded it that way so Shelton would think I was referring to the night of the fire. But Alvaro’s eye-shift screamed there’d been another time that neither he nor I wanted to talk about in front of Shelton.
“No need to thank me.” Then he made it worse by stopping dead.
“Better get a move on, Alvaro,” Shelton said.
“Yes, sir. Bye, Elizabeth.”
I said good-bye, then watched him go. “He’s awfully cheerful.” I said to Shelton, who wasn’t cheerful.
“C’mon. Let’s get inside. As for young Alvaro being cheerful, I know why.”
“Why?” I was half a beat too late to stop my knee-jerk question from putting me in what I now recognized as a trap.
“He’s not dealing with you, because that’s on me this go-round.”
“Real nice, Deputy Shelton. Here I am, an upstanding citizen, trying to help the cause of justice and—”
“Right. Doesn’t have anything at all to do with chasing a story.” He rocked back on his heels. “All in all, it’s not a bad idea for those friends of yours to keep an eye on you. You seem to put people in a mind that they might want to take advantage of you being in a hospital bed to try to hurt you.”
I put my hands on my hips. “In other words, you know all about what Richard was worried about you knowing, and it’s okay with you, but you’re not going to put him out of his misery by telling him it’s okay.”
“I haven’t any notion of anything he could be miserable about.”
“How about working with you?”
He made a sound, then tipped the brim of his hat back enough for me to see the glint in his eyes. “Despite all the reasons on the other side of the ledger, I will tell you I am glad you didn’t die in that fire.”
I gave him back look for look. “Too much paperwork?”
He turned toward the door, ushering me ahead of him. “You’re a pain in the ass six ways from Sunday, E.M. Danniher, but you’re not stupid. Way the hell too much paperwork.”
DAY ELEVEN
THURSDAY
Chapter Forty-Nine
“Hey,” Mike called out from the other side of the bunkhouse’s door at the same time he knocked the next morning.
“It’s open.” I was sitting on the bed, putting on new shoes.
My session with Deputy Shelton yesterday had been mutually frustrating. I had no insights to give, and he wasn’t sharing his. I did share what Stan had said about nobody proving he’d done arson, and suggested Shelton look into suspicious fires in Stan’s past. From his nonreaction I guessed this wasn’t news. I’d even tried dangling a bit of what Dex had told me about the arson, but got only deadpan.
It was enough to make me want to make cracks about his mama’s rhubarb pie.
No, I didn’t. I was frustrated, not stupid.
After Diana picked me up at the sheriff’s department, things looked up. We went shopping. Diana had done well on sizes for the jeans and shirts she’d bought me, but she’d overestimated the width of my feet, so getting shoes was top priority.
My endurance ran out well before my need-to-get list did.
Imagine you failed to pack a carry-on, the airline lost all your luggage, then multiply it by the rest of your life.
Yes, I took an afternoon nap. Then, I went to bed right after dinner, and overslept.
Add to the list — either get an alarm clock or learn how to set the alarm on the new phone.
We’d called another meeting for this morning to share what we’d each learned.
“Diana sent me to get you.” Mike came in, then stopped abruptly and pointed at the brand-new dog bed. Extra plush. Giant size. With a built-in bolster. “Really?”
“That floor’s hard,” I said with not a trace of defensiveness, because I was stating the truth, not being defensive.
“Like he hasn’t been sleeping on harder. But that isn’t what I meant. It’s got to be in the middle of the floor?”
“That’s where he sleeps.”
“Ah. But it doesn’t appear he intends to use it during the day.” He looked over his shoulder through the still-open doorway to where Shadow stood at the bottom of the steps from the bunkhouse’s wraparound porch.
“Maybe not now, but he might change his mind. C’mon, let’s go.”
We walked across to the main house with Shadow behind us.
At the bottom of these stairs, I boldly patted Shadow’s head, and he let me. “Be a good dog. I’ll be fine here.”
As Mike opened the door, he said, “His coat looks like he was attacked by Edward Scissorhands with palsy.”
I turned and gave him a look.
“Whoa, what did you do, Mike?” Diana asked as we walked in.
“I didn’t do anything,” he protested. “I just mentioned Shadow’s coat looks rough.”
“Like he’d been attacked by Edward Scissorhands with palsy,” I quoted.
Tom tried to turn a chuckle into a cough. Jennifer and Diana joined me in glaring from him, back to Mike.
“You said this of the dog who saved her life?” Diana asked.
“How about if we get to work.” Mike tried.
“He’s a hero,” Jennifer added.
I said, “You were mocking him for what happened because he charged into a burning house. Saving not only me, but your former girlfriend’s little brother.”
“Okay, okay. I didn’t — Oh, hell.” Mike raised his hands in surrender.
Tom’s voice cut across the room. “Brice Gaines was the heir.”
Mike owed him for that eminently successful change of subject.
“What? What?” The first what was my mental engine idling. The second was a reaction to the words. “Brice was Avis’ heir? Mildred said his mother was. The niece, SherylLynn.”
“I have a copy of Avis’ will for you. But what it boils down to is that after Mildred and Sally got their chance to go through the house for three items each, then Brice got as many as he wanted, with the rest to be sold at an estate sale, handled by Helen Rhodes.”
“Anything he wanted?” I repeated, feeling as if my thoughts were trying to swim through applesauce.
The applesauce parted. “Paige said something. The day of the sale, just before Mildred screamed. Do you remember, Mike?”
“No.”
“She did. About how there wouldn’t be the added delay for the heir. That must be what she’d meant. With Brice dead, that step where he went through Avis’ house for as many items as he wanted was skipped. And Sally talking about a man who had ‘all,’ that was Gaines, too.”
Tom nodded. “All the proceeds from the sale and the house went to Brice. Nothing to his mother.”
“What happens with him dead?” Mike asked.
“I asked the clerk that. He inherited when Avis died. So now it goes to whoever his heirs are. The clerk said people his age rarely have wills, so it likely goes to his mother as next of kin.”
So the niece inherited after all.
“I’ve got more on Brice,” Diana started. “Avis’ neighbors say Brice came at least six, seven times in the past year or so. They couldn’t pin it down. He slept elsewhere but spent a fair amount of time inside the house. Neither he nor Avis seemed to enjoy the visits particularly. Apparently Avis spent most of her time at Sally’s, especially when he was in town. No one could swear one way or the other if Mildred was there when he was around. One interesting thing is he’d ship boxes back to himself in Georgia while he was here.”
“Penny mentioned something about boxes, too. Any idea—?”
Before I finished, she was shaking her head. “No one knew what was in them.”
“I bet I do.” Jennifer grinned widely as we all turned to her. “Pieces of the Old West, according to his ads. Finally matched his cyberprints, and that led me to one of his online identities, and that unlocked everything. Led me right to where he ordered stuff from China, then shipped it to Avis.”
Mike whistled. “They were in cahoots to sell faked artifacts? But why have stuff shipped to Avis?”
“He’d send buyers a copy of part of the shipping information, just enough to show it came from Wyoming, without any other identification,” Jennifer said. “Looks like he mixed in some real stuff, maybe from Avis’ collecting, which has kept some sites from closing him down.”
“Good work, Jennifer. Anything else?”
She looked at her laptop screen. “He started eighteen months ago. Oh, and he kept ninety percent and gave Avis ten percent.”
“Generous,” Mike muttered.
“One more thing about Gaines,” Diana said, “two neighbors said they saw him at Avis’ house the evening before he was shot. Apparently having no luck getting inside.”
I needed to put all this in order. “So, he’d been selling fake artifacts. Avis had to know, don’t you think? With packages arriving from China, and him repackaging.” Nods all around. “Then Avis dies, and he inherits. He could use all her stuff as inventory, or he could let the sale go through and take the money. He decides to take the money. Arrives in town for the sale. … Then goes to see Teague, trying to sell fake artifacts. At least according to Clara.”
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