Текст книги "A Treasure to Die For"

Автор книги: Richard Houston

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The angle of the setting sun created shadows I hadn’t seen earlier. There were half a dozen footprints in the snow leading north toward the closest hillside. There might have been more, but several vehicles had been through here after the prints were left. I saw deep tire tracks from a heavy truck, and several narrower ones that could only be a motorcycle or ATV. A lot of people used this trail for off-road fun, which explained why most of the footprints had been obliterated. I also knew there had been more than one person because one of the prints was much smaller than the others. Bonnie and Fred watched as I got on my hands and knees to get a closer look.

Fred came over to see what was so interesting. “How about it, boy, think you can find where those footprints go to?” I suspected he thought I’d found something good to eat, but was willing to give him credit for wanting to help.

“Do you think it was those kids?” Bonnie didn’t bother to bend down to our level.

“Maybe, but I can’t help wonder what they were doing over there,” I answered pointing to where the prints led.

Bonnie’s eyes followed the path in the snow. “Well whoever it is, I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore. I’m cold and getting scared we might get stuck up here in that old Jeep of yours. Can we come back and look some other time?” She had dressed in shorts and a thin summer blouse. Great attire for the near eighty temps back in Denver, but nothing a Sherpa would be caught wearing at this altitude.

“My thoughts exactly. And the sooner we head home, the better. Unless they were leaving breadcrumbs from a jelly donut, Fred would never find their scent anyway.”

***

Bonnie and Fred both slept on the way home, which was fine with me. It gave me nearly two hours of quiet solitude to think about how foolish we had been thinking we could simply drive up to Mosquito Pass and find the treasure. We had barely started up the trail and must have seen the remnants of at least two dozen mines. There were probably over a hundred more in the area and any one of them could have been where Drake had hidden his treasure, if there was one. Even Wilson said his book was a work of fiction based on an old news article.

Thinking of Paul Wilson reminded me of the punk kids. What were they doing up there? Had they solved Drake’s riddle within a riddle? The owner of the gas station had said they were only a few hours ahead of us, so unless they went on to Leadville, we should have passed them on our way up Mosquito Gulch as they were coming back. Then again, they could have gone north on Colorado Nine to Breckenridge before we’d made the turn toward the pass. I hoped that was the case, for the road into Leadville was a widow maker in a two-wheel-drive Datsun pickup.

***

Mosquito Pass still bugged me as I sat at my computer Sunday morning working on my how-to eBook. My mind kept drifting while staring at the nearly blank computer screen. I had the title for the chapter, How to Stop Dry Rot Dead, and that was all I had written. I finally shut down the computer and called Fred. Maybe some great revelation would come to me during our walk around the lake.

Like our morning walk, the revelation on dry rot would have to wait. A county Mountie was in my driveway checking out my Jeep. Trouble is, he was checking in the wrong county. His truck said Park County Sheriff and I live in Jefferson County.

“Stay, Fred,” I said, opening the door. Maybe I should have used reverse psychology and said go. He obeyed as well as a teenager and was the first one out the door.

The deputy stopped writing in his notebook long enough to reach down and pat Fred on the head before addressing me. “Is this your Jeep, sir?”

“What I do, Officer? Get caught by a red-light camera or something?”

“Then you must be Jacob Martin,” he said extending his hand. “I’m Officer White from the Park County Sheriff’s Department. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your trip yesterday.”

Fred tired of the chit-chat and went in search of a bush. I invited the officer inside my house once I realized he wasn’t here to arrest me for breaking and entering Appleton’s cabin.

White took in everything the second he stepped through the entrance of my small cabin, including the dirty dishes stacked in my kitchen sink. Even my bedroom door was open, exposing an unmade bed. My bathroom was the only room he couldn’t see because that door was closed. He must have been disappointed if he’d been expecting a meth lab, or stacks of stolen electronics.

I offered him a chair at my kitchen table, facing away from the clutter in the sink and on the counter. “I’ve got a half a pot of coffee from breakfast this morning. I can warm it in the microwave if you care for a cup.”

“No thank you, Jacob. Or do you go by Jake?”

“Everyone, except my ex, calls me Jake. I won’t repeat what she calls me.” I no sooner let it out my mouth when I realized how dumb the cliché sounded. I chalked it up to nerves.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Jake, but we need to follow up all possible leads in a case like this. My brother-in-law owns a service station in Fairplay, and claims a man and older woman with a Golden, like the one that greeted me, stopped at his place yesterday asking questions about a couple kids. My captain was wondering if you saw them on your trip up to Mosquito Pass.”

His brother-in-law? It made me wonder if his captain was some relation too. I thought I’d left nepotism back in the Ozarks. “We didn’t get very far. My Jeep overheated and by the time it cooled off it was too late to go any further. But I can tell you we never saw the kids, or anyone else. Why do you ask? Did they rob a bank or something?”

He missed my futile attempt at humor, and hesitated before answering. It was obvious he was considering his words carefully. “They’ve been reported missing.”

I got up from the table when I heard the microwave beep. I had put a cup in for myself even if he didn’t want one. “Sure I can’t warm you up a cup, Officer?”

“Bob. You can call me Bob, no need to be formal. I only want to ask a few questions.”

I almost laughed when he said his name was Bob, but caught myself in time.

Officer White saw through me. “I know, Jake. I’ve heard more jokes about bobwhites than I can count. My parents had a cruel sense of humor.”

Fred scratched at the door, so I went over to let him in before I made a total fool of myself. “Oh, we did find this,” I said reaching down to rub my hand on Fred’s back. I was too tired to give Fred a bath after our failed treasure hunt and was hoping his swim in the lake would clean off the oil. Now I was glad I hadn’t destroyed what might be evidence.

White looked at my oily hand without touching it. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Transmission fluid. We stopped by a snowdrift and when my dog rolled in the snow, he came up with this. Someone with a leaky transmission had parked at the same spot before us. But I don’t think it was the kids.”

White stopped writing and looked up at me. His expression screamed “What?” without saying a word. I felt compelled to explain. “I don’t think the truck they were driving had an automatic, so they couldn’t be the people who hiked to a nearby mine.”

“Someone parked a vehicle and then hiked over to a mine? I thought you said you hadn’t seen anyone?”

Bonnie walked in before I could answer. “You all right, Jake?” She was as white as one of my printer papers, and her face was just as blank.

I tried to ease the situation by joking. “Officer White, this is Bonnie, my partner in crime.” Dracula couldn’t have done a better job in draining what little blood that was left in her face.

White rose from his chair, and walked over to shake her hand. “Ah, the third member of the Three Musketeers. Glad to meet you, ma’am. Jake was just telling me about the trip the three of you took yesterday.”

She accepted his hand cautiously, as though she was afraid he’d snap handcuffs on her. “I thought Jake might be in trouble or something when I saw your truck drive by. He had a burglary a couple days ago so one can’t be too careful.”

White turned back toward me. “Burglary?”

“Yeah, someone broke down my lower door and stole a bunch of stuff. I reported it to the Jefferson County sheriff, but they never found the guy.”

“He even told them who it was, and they did nothing,” Bonnie said.

White wrote a couple more notes in his book while answering Bonnie. “I’m sure they haven’t forgotten. Jeffco has a huge area to cover and a lot more crime. The most exciting thing we’ve had lately is a break-in after the owner of the house committed suicide.”

Her jaw literally dropped. I always thought the expression was nothing more than an idiom for unimaginative writers, but she was on the verge of losing her dentures. I jumped in before she could confess. “I think I heard about that. Wasn’t it over by Bailey?”

“Not even close. He lived right over the county line in Pine Junction,” Bob answered before Bonnie could pass out. “But tell me about the hikers you didn’t see. The ones you think had a leaky transmission, and why you don’t think they’re our missing persons.” He was like a bulldog –or is that an elephant?– he hadn’t forgotten about my hypothesis.

“Those Datsuns didn’t have automatics,” Bonnie answered for me. Evidently she had recovered from the thought of spending the night in jail.

“Datsuns?” White asked.

It was my turn to interrupt. “Your brother-in-law, Rick, told us the kids were driving a Datsun.”

“And Jake used to have one of them, so he figured out all by himself it wasn’t the kids.” Bonnie finished for me.

White looked like he was getting upset. “Okay, maybe I will have that cup of coffee after all, and then we’ll start over but I only need one of you to tell me the story.”

“Do you mind Bon? You make better coffee than me anyway,” I said while leading Officer White back to my kitchen table.

Bonnie busied herself with making fresh coffee and cleaning my dirty dishes while I explained how Fred had found the transmission fluid and tracks leading to the mine. I also added my two cents about why the footprints couldn’t belong to the kids with a brief history of early Datsun pickup trucks. But for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a way to ask about Appleton without incriminating myself or Bonnie. I suppose Fred was just as guilty, but I didn’t think they’d arrest him.

***

“Do you think they’re on to us, Jake?” Bonnie asked while lighting a cigarette. The three of us were sitting on my front porch watching White drive away.

I didn’t bother acting annoyed over the smoke, for I knew she needed the nicotine to calm her nerves. “Not yet. I was surprised Bobwhite didn’t say something about my Jeep breaking down by Appleton’s. Unless that deputy never called in my plates, they must have a record of me being in the vicinity of the break in.”

“Bobwhite? Why did you call him that?”

“It’s his name,” I answered with a short laugh. “Officer Robert White, or as he prefers to be called, Bob.”

The irony of his name made her smile, but only for a moment.

“I only hope the burglary was discovered before the other deputy saw me there. Then there would be no reason to suspect me, unless the CBI finds some prints we missed when we tried to wipe the place down.”

“CBI?”

“Colorado’s version of the FBI. I doubt that Park County can afford a modern forensics lab, so I assume they outsource it to the state.”

Bonnie tapped cigarette ashes into her hand, and seemed to be considering my explanation. “What about the blood on the deck, Jake? What if the CBI finds it and our prints? Won’t they think we killed him?”

Fred had been sitting and listening to every word, so I tried to lighten things up a bit. “What do you think about Mexico, Freddie? Would you like to meet a cute Chihuahua?”

Bonnie wasn’t amused. “Seriously, Jake. How can you joke at a time like this? I nearly died when they thought I killed Shelia. Now I’m a suspect again!”

“I’m sorry, Bon. Even if they do connect me as the one who wiped the place clean, they have nothing on you. I promise I won’t say a word about you being there.”

Her eyes began to swell with tears, and she spoke without looking at me. “I’m sorry I was so self-centered, Jake. You remind me so much of my Diane. She didn’t have a selfish bone in her body either.”

***

Fred and I finally made it to the lake after Bonnie recovered and went home for something stronger than coffee. By the looks of the overflowing parking lot, it wasn’t going to be easy finding a place away from the weekend crowd where he could swim. And to make matters worse, someone had posted a new sign with a list of don’ts. Halfway down the list, right after ‘no power boats’ was ‘no swimming’. It looked like civilization was finally catching up with me.

I kept Fred on his leash until we were once again on the backside of the lake. ‘Dogs must be on a leash’ was also on the list, but I knew it was more for the parks protection from lawsuits than anything else, for half the dogs there were Labs or Goldens, running free or swimming. Now all I had to do was trick Fred into a bath by pretending to play fetch with a stick. Maybe I’d forget about our little adventure from the day before once his oily fur was clean again. I had better things to think about than the lost kids who were probably in Vegas or somewhere far away by now.

I’d convinced myself they either made it down the trail to Leadville or had gone on to Breckenridge. Deputy White had said that none of the search teams found a trace of their Datsun, so I concluded they had probably run away, and left the state by now. I had to concentrate on finding Appleton’s killer before the CBI found Fred’s prints and came after me. Now I wished I’d taken the time to clean his tracks in the kitchen.

A young couple stopped to watch Fred swim after the stick I had been throwing for him. They reminded me of Craig and Shelia the last time I saw them together. Unlike Craig, this guy didn’t seem bothered by Fred being loose. He and his girlfriend were laughing and holding hands when Fred jumped in the water.

Thinking of Craig brought me back to the murders. I was sure he had killed Shelia and Appleton, but how could I prove it? I would look really foolish if I called Deputy White and told him that he should arrest Craig Renfield. Without motive and some proof that he did it, White would have me locked up, not for murder but for insanity.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was grasping at straws. But who else could have killed Appleton, and why? That’s when I realized I’d been playing detective all wrong. I needed to start with the why instead of the who.

Appleton stole my copy of Tom Sawyer so he could decode Drake’s enigma. It only followed that whoever killed him knew he had found the answer to the riddle. Bingo. That was why the punk kids were on the pass; they hadn’t solved the riddle, they took the answer from Appleton. Damn, I really wanted to see Renfield hang, and it wasn’t going to happen. Now I had the why and the who, but I still had no proof it was the kids.

My brilliant deductive reasoning ended when Fred dropped a stick at my feet. At least I thought it had been brilliant, though I’m sure Deputy White would compare it to a night-light – dim and dull. I threw the stick back in the water then headed toward the parking lot. It wasn’t two minutes later I felt Fred trying to put the stick in my hand.

“No, Fred!” I said a little too loud. “We need to get on home and do some research on those kids. I don’t even know their names.”

He had a limited vocabulary, so I doubt he understood what I’d said, but he did know the word NO, and dropped the stick.

***

Fred was still pouting when we got home. I wasn’t sure if it was because he thought I’d yelled at him, or he was mad that I’d cut his swim too short. Whatever it was, he wanted to let me know he didn’t like it. I ignored him and let him stay outside to sulk while I went in to boot my computer.

It didn’t take long to get the names of the punk kids. A search with the keywords ‘missing’ and ‘Park County’ returned an article on the search underway on Mosquito Pass for a Jennifer Dawson and Cory Weston of Lakewood. Another search, this time using ‘Cory Weston’ and ‘Lakewood, Colorado’, gave me an address on Saulsbury. I quickly checked my notes for Craig’s address. They lived on the same block.

I couldn’t wait to share my knowledge with someone and gave Bonnie a call.

When she didn’t pick up, I called her cell phone. “Did you hear the news, Jake?” she asked before I could tell her about my fortuitous research. “They found those kids in a mine on Mosquito Pass.”

“Are they okay?”

“No. They’re—”

My phone beeped and cut her off momentarily. “Hold on, Bon. It’s the Park County Sheriff calling. I better get it.”

CHAPTER NINE

“Don’t say a word to them until you talk to a lawyer, Bonnie. I’ll ask Harvey first thing tomorrow and see if he can help you.” Bonnie’s twin sister, Margot, didn’t let me finish talking before adding her two-cents. I had just finished telling them about my conversation with Deputy White and how he wanted us to sign a written statement. Bonnie and Margot were at a boutique in Evergreen when her call had been interrupted by the Sheriff’s office. When I called back, Margot insisted I come down and tell them everything White had said. After I’d told her I wouldn’t be caught dead in a boutique, we agreed to meet at the coffee shop two doors down.

I knew better than to interrupt Margot by suggesting a lawyer wasn’t necessary, especially one like Harvey Goldstein, Denver’s finest. Margot was a major pain in my neck last year when she and Bonnie had talked me into re-writing a manuscript their father had written. Little did I know it would lead to a trail of deceit and murder and get me accused of negligent homicide. I hadn’t seen Margot since then, and it still amazed me how alike, yet different, two twins could be. I suppose it was the money.

Margot had married well and didn’t mind spending on anything that would make her look younger. Bonnie’s dead husband left her with a mortgaged house and a Social Security check that barely paid the utilities and grocery bill. She couldn’t afford the expensive facials, and beauty treatments her sister could. Margot looked twenty years younger, from a distance. Sitting next to her in the coffee shop with her makeup, Botox, and tired face lift, she looked like a clown.

Bonnie winced after sipping her latte. “I can’t afford a lawyer, Margot. You know that. And don’t even suggest paying for one. I don’t need your charity.”

Other than being too sweet for my taste, I knew there was nothing wrong with her coffee that a little bourbon wouldn’t fix. I tried to stop the argument that was sure to follow. “Whoa, you two. White only wants a statement. He just called to let me know they found the bodies and thank me for telling him about the transmission fluid. He said they would have missed it otherwise.”

Margot looked at me with swollen eyelids. “Transmission fluid?”

I hesitated answering, wondering if she had been crying. Had they been arguing before I arrived? Then I saw the scars and realized it must have been from her latest elective surgery.

Bonnie didn’t wait for me to speak. “Jake told him it wasn’t the kids because their truck didn’t have an automatic. He got all that from a little spot of oil on the ground.”

“Except I didn’t take into account a power-steering pump,” I said, cutting back into the conversation.

Both sisters sat their drinks down at the same time and looked at me, four gray-blue eyes wondering what I had just said.

“I’m pretty sure the early Datsuns didn’t have power-steering, so it never occurred to me that it was the pump that was leaking. Someone must have added it. Anyway, those pumps use a fluid that looks exactly like transmission fluid.”

Margot looked annoyed. She had fished out a compact from her purse to check her eyelids while I was talking. “That’s nice, Jake, but what did the sheriff say about the kids?”

“I was getting to it, Margot. White said they found the Datsun in a pit half a mile from the mine. That’s when they decided to check out all the mines in the area. The kids were in the one where we saw the footprints in the snow. The old rotten floor gave out on them, and they fell fifty feet straight down.”

Margot didn’t wait for me to continue and put away her compact. Evidently, she was satisfied with what she had seen in the mirror, or maybe it had cracked and she didn’t want us to know. “All the more reason you need a lawyer, Bonnie. I won’t be surprised if they say you two ditched the truck after throwing the kids down the mine shaft. I know these cops. They’ll pretend you’re their best friends and then slam it to you.”

Bonnie’s eyes turned a shade darker. “This isn’t a television cop show, Margot. All they want is a statement. If I go in there with a lawyer, I might as well hang a scarlet M on my chest.”

“I still think it’s a trick. They’ll find out you were in that guy’s house sooner or later. You should let them know before they find out. That’s why you need a lawyer.”

“You told her we went into Appleton’s cabin?” I asked, raising my voice.

Bonnie lowered her head, and stared into her latte. “She’s my sister, Jake. I guess I let it slip.”

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat to get their attention. “We don’t even know if the burglary White mentioned was Appleton’s. Nor do we know if they suspect murder. Are you forgetting they said Appleton killed himself? Why incriminate ourselves and make them think otherwise?”

“Because Bonnie will be charged for withholding evidence when they find out she was there. Ow! Why’d you kick me?”

“Because everyone’s listening,” Bonnie answered.

I hadn’t seen Bonnie kick her sister under the table, but looked around to see that we had indeed become the coffee shop’s main event. “Well, if you gals don’t mind, Fred’s been alone in the car too long, and I need to get going,” I said, getting up and reaching for my wallet. It was a white-lie. I had left Fred home on my front deck, but it was all I could think of to make a quick exit.

“I’ll get it, Jake,” Margot said when I opened my empty wallet in front of her while trying to extract a credit card. “And I promise not to call Harvey – for now.”

Fred ran out to greet me with a tennis ball in his mouth when I drove into my driveway twenty minutes later. I hope if there is such a thing as reincarnation that I come back as a Golden. They have a way of making one smile no matter what. I took the slimy ball and threw it down the hill, knowing it should give me time to make it to my porch before he came back to drop it at my feet.

Our game went on for over half an hour, long enough for me to plan my next move. I didn’t want to pin my future on Margot’s promise. I knew all too well she could have second thoughts and tell Harvey everything, thinking it would be best for Bonnie. If she did spill the beans or talk Bonnie into coming clean, I could forget about ever getting Julie’s book and ring back. Once they suspected Appleton had been murdered, his loot would become evidence, assuming it was found, and I would become the number one suspect. In the end, I decided to hold off a few days before going to the Sheriff’s substation in Bailey with Bonnie to give our statements. I wasn’t ready to perjure myself in the event Margot got Bonnie to confess. I needed time to gather more information before making any decision that could put me in jail for several years.

Once Fred was fed and lying at my feet, I went to the one source of information that never failed me: the Internet. I had convinced myself that it was the kids who killed Appleton when he caught them in the act of a break-in, but now I wasn’t so sure. My gut told me Appleton didn’t kill himself, nor did the kids die in an accident. That left Mr. Jerk as my only suspect, so I decided to run the cheapskate’s version of a background check on Renfield.

Craig Renfield turned out to be of the generation that had little to do with computers and social media. I couldn’t find him on Facebook, YouTube, or LinkedIn. Next, I tried Cory and Jennifer.

Cory kept his Facebook page private. Jennifer, however, seemed to have nothing to hide. She discussed in full detail all the things she and Cory were going to buy with the money they would get from Drake’s treasure. She also didn’t mind sharing her personal thoughts through her poetry. There were crude attempts at writing sonnets with only twelve lines and no clue about iambic pentameter. But it didn’t matter, for after reading several of them, I felt terrible for thinking this poor kid could have killed anyone.

It was obvious she had been abused as a child; abandoned by her father before she could walk and ignored by a drunken mother. Cory had saved her from taking her life only last year and the two of them were deeply in love. She moved in with him when she was only sixteen without any objection from her mother. Cory was her knight in shining armor, and the father of her unborn child.

I gave up searching when my Internet connection went dead around midnight. This happened whenever Bonnie would turn off the power strip to her router. She was close enough, so I didn’t have to pay for service of my own, but at times like this I wish I wasn’t so frugal.

The low-down on Renfield would have to wait, as would the solution to my problem of finding Julie’s book and ring. Fred was already asleep at my feet, so I shut down my computer and quietly headed for the bedroom. Whoever said dogs could hear twice as good as humans must have had a Golden. He woke and followed me before I made it two feet.

***

Sleep failed to produce the answer to my problem. I still had no idea who killed whom when I woke Monday morning. Instead, my subconscious kept nagging me about a more pressing predicament – what to do about Margot and her lawyer. Seeing as how it was Bonnie’s predicament too, Fred and I went knocking on her door. I’m sure his only concern was if he’d like what was for breakfast.

We could smell sausage frying even before we let ourselves in. Once inside, I went straight for the coffee pot. “This smells so good, Bon. It’s just what I need to wake up. Poor Fred has no idea what he’s missing.” I loved her coffee. Unlike the generic store brands I always bought on sale, she insisted on nothing but Columbian beans picked by Juan Valdez himself.

She smiled and rubbed Fred’s head. “Acid reflux, according to Doctor Oz.” Then she looked up at me like a worried mother. “Don’t tell me you were up all night at that computer again?”

“Not after your router went down. But in a way, I’m glad you shut me off last night. I probably would have fallen asleep at my desk again. That really hurts this old back.”

“I’m sorry, Jake. I keep forgetting about that switch.” Almost every room in her house had an outlet for a lamp controlled by a wall switch. That was the building code back in the seventies when ceiling lights were not in fashion. Her router was plugged into one of those outlets.

Fred decided he wanted out, which seemed strange considering the wonderful smells of breakfast cooking. But nature must take precedence over food in the animal kingdom, so I left the kitchen counter where I had been standing and opened the back door for him.

“Do you think Margot can keep her word?” I asked without looking at her so I could watch Fred to make sure he didn’t stray too far.

When she didn’t answer, I quit watching Fred and turned toward her. She looked really upset. “Bon? Are you okay?”

“You’ll have to go without me, Jake. Margot insists I wait until her lawyer can go with me to make my statement. You know how she can be. Money does that to people. Makes them think they know best.”

Fred interrupted our conversation by barking before I could tell her I had decided to wait a few days myself. I quickly turned, and looked outside to see what had him so upset. Someone was driving up the road to my cabin with Fred chasing after him.

I yanked the door open, and yelled out before running down her back steps, “My God, Bon! It’s the SUV from Appleton’s! Wait here and call 911 if you hear any gunshots!”

I was completely out of breath by the time I ran up the path to my house. It was less than fifty yards, but it was all uphill. Fred had the driver trapped in his car, afraid to get out. When I got closer, I noticed a man with a neatly trimmed goatee, a horseshoe ring of hair, and thick glasses sitting behind the wheel. He was the author from the book signing.

“Down, boy. It’s okay,” I said to Fred, grabbing him by his collar.

“Mr. Martin?” Paul Wilson opened his window halfway, but didn’t make a move to get out of his car.

Bonnie’s Cherokee raced into my driveway before I could respond. “I called the sheriff,” she said through her open window. “They should be here…” She stopped short when she saw who it was.

Wilson finally found the nerve to leave his car and surprised me when he stood next to it. He barely made it to the top of its door. He had looked much taller at the signing, but then he might have been standing on some kind of platform at the time.

“I’m sorry to come unannounced, Mr. Martin, but I assure you I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“It’s okay. She didn’t really call the cops. Did you, Bon?”

She shook her head no.

“Please call me Jake,” I said, extending my hand. “And the speechless lady is my good neighbor, Bonnie Jones. I think you already met my dog, Fred.”

Wilson returned the handshake without looking at me. His eyes never left Fred. “Yes, I remember him from the bookstore. He didn’t look so vicious then.”

Bonnie found her voice and came over to hold Fred. “He’s a pussycat most of the time. It’s that car you’re driving he doesn’t like.”

“My car?” Wilson asked. “What’s he got against my car?”

“He saw one just like it at a crime scene a few days ago.” She no longer seemed to be afraid of Wilson. Maybe it was because he was a good inch or two shorter than her.

He looked over at her Cherokee. “That was your Jeep?” he asked in a much stronger voice. “What were you doing there?” For some reason, the situation reminded me of the time when Fred had cornered a raccoon he’d been chasing. We were no longer the hunters.