“I’ll see what Delbert has to say,” Jared said. “If I can reach him.”
“You’ve tried?”
“Three times. Could be he’s on his way here.”
Myles walked over to the sliding glass door and found droplets of blood even there. Pat had put up a fight; he’d simply been overpowered. “I’m sure he is,” he said. “Especially if he expects to be included in the will. Delbert has always taken his parents for everything he can.”
Jared wrote a note about Delbert on his pad with a pencil that’d been broken in half and barely had any lead.
“Is that shitty pencil the best you can do?” Myles asked, momentarily distracted.
Jared held up his hand to examine the pencil stub. “What’s wrong with it?”
Myles opened his mouth to say that he could at least carry a decent pen—but snapping at such an inconsequential detail only revealed his stress. What did it matter as long as that pencil put words on paper?
Once again reining in the irritation that’d been lurking ever since he crawled out of bed, Myles waved away Jared’s concern. “Not a thing,” he said, but Jared was too literal to let it go. He couldn’t understand why Myles would mention it if he didn’t expect some action to be taken.
“There might be a pen in my car…?.”
“Forget it.” Even if there was a pen in his car, he had little chance of ever finding it. His vehicle was so full of wrappers, receipts and other flotsam, Myles often wondered if it violated the health and safety codes. “What about the call Pat received prior to coming here? Do you know who made it?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
Jared blinked at him. “The number goes to the pay phone outside the Kicking Horse Saloon.”
The fact that Pineview didn’t have cell service wasn’t going to help them solve this crime. Here, pay phones were still an important form of communication, which meant that call could’ve come from anyone. And that particular location, right outside the town’s favorite bar, made it unlikely that a bystander would pay attention when someone was using it.
“So you’re checking out Gertie and Delbert,” Myles summarized. “Who else is on your list?”
“All the hunters, campers, fishermen and recreationists who’ve come through here the past couple of days.”
Myles eyed the blood spatter on the wall. The photographs shot by the forensic techs would be sent to an expert. But it would take time to get the analysis. Everything took time…?. “How many people do you figure that is?”
“Least fifty.”
“That narrows it down.”
Jared didn’t react to his sarcasm. “We got a partial thumbprint—in blood—on the door handle. That should help. Especially in conjunction with all the footprints.”
Except that none of them were very clear. They’d lifted the prints with tape but who knew if they’d show anything useful. “If we find a suspect these things might help. Otherwise…”
“If it’s not Gertie or Delbert it’s one of the campers.”
“Why would a camper call about a rental and then kill the real-estate agent?”
“Sometimes there isn’t a reason.”
“You think we have a psychopath in the area?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“I don’t know about that. Pat wasn’t attacked as soon as he and whoever he was with came into the house. He was murdered in the kitchen—as if he spent some time with his assailant, had a discussion first. If death was the goal from the beginning, there’d be no reason to pretend to be a prospective renter. Not once the killer got inside the house anyway.”
“So you’re suggesting he knew his attacker,” Jared responded.
Which was why Jared kept going back to Pat’s family. “There are holes in that theory, too,” Myles said. “Anyone who showed up here intending to kill would bring a weapon. This offender used some sort of blunt object. To me, that suggests he grabbed whatever was close at hand.” Myles wasn’t sure what that was. A rock? Part of a tree branch? A hammer? He was relying on the autopsy to reveal more about the wounds Pat had sustained and what could’ve caused them.
“But if the murder resulted from a spontaneous act, a sudden flare of temper, why couldn’t Delbert be our man?”
“He could. Except that Pat wouldn’t have driven over here to meet Delbert. What would be the point?”
“Delbert could’ve lured him here under false pretenses.”
“We just established that this wasn’t a planned killing. The evidence doesn’t support it.”
Jared scratched his chin. “Do you know how hard it is to solve a truly random crime, with no eyewitnesses? If our offender was a visitor to the area, we might never narrow it down.”
“Exactly what I’m afraid of.”
Putting his pad in his coat pocket, Jared turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Myles asked him.
“I’m meeting Linda at the Golden Griddle.”
Linda Gardiner was the other investigator Myles had assigned to the case.
“We’re hoping to come up with a list of people who used the pay phone yesterday when Pat received that call,” Jared went on.
The Golden Griddle was across the street from the bar. Anyone there would have a clear view of the pay phone—if he or she happened to look. But that restaurant only served breakfast. “It closes at one. The call came in shortly after two.”
“True, but it takes the waitresses an hour or so to clean up. If we’re lucky, one of them saw someone at that pay phone while she was getting into her car and can at least give us a description.”
If we’re lucky. What if they weren’t?
They’d have nothing but a body.
5
Heartbroken, Vivian gaped at the screen.
“Mommy?”
She could hear her daughter calling her but Mia’s voice sounded small and tinny, as if it came through the dark tunnel of a dream. Vivian didn’t react, couldn’t react. She was frozen in time and space. It wasn’t until her daughter came up and tapped her arm that she was able to blink and look away. And then the many years of practice she’d had hiding her fear and disappointment from her children came to her rescue, and she managed to conceal her reaction to what she’d just read. “Yes?”
Mia’s eyebrows knotted. “Why wouldn’t you answer?”