Barnstorming (Gail Mccarthy Mysteries) (18 page)

The little dog was certainly cute. I bent down and called her and she ran to me eagerly, wagging her tail. She was black, with coarse, wiry terrier hair and whiskers, like Freckles. She was obviously going to be bigger than a Chihuahua, maybe twenty pounds at most, though. A little black, whiskery mutt.

“See the white star on her chest?” Mac said. “We named her Star.”

Blue was grinning.

“And you okayed this?” I asked him.

“Well, you have been saying you want to get another dog. And Freckles is pretty old.”

“That’s true,” I agreed.

“And you said you wanted a small dog.”

“Well, yeah, I guess I did.”

“She’s little, Mama,” Mac said, playing tug-of-war with Star. “Do you like her?”

I smiled. “Yes, I like her. Does Freckles like her?”

I glanced at the old dog, who was basking in the sun, apparently indifferent to the newcomer.

“She seems okay with it,” Blue said. “She just growls if the puppy jumps on her. Otherwise she wags her tail. She won’t play with her, though.”

“I guess she’s too old for that,” I said. “As long as she doesn’t eat her.”

“She’s not showing any sign of it. And look…” And Blue gestured at Mac, who was running laps around the riding ring with the puppy hot on his heels.

“Yeah,” I said. “He was ready for a puppy. Well, good, I guess. But Blue…” And in another minute I had told him about finding Sheryl’s body and Jeri’s immenint arrival.

Blue’s smile faded as I spoke and his face looked stern. “Gail, I think it’s time we stopped riding and hiking in the woods for a while. Until this is resolved, anyway.”

“I know,” I said. “I agree with you. I just hope it gets resolved soon. Let’s not mention it to Mac, okay? I don’t want him to be afraid of the woods. We just won’t go up there as a family until this is over.”

“If it’s ever over,” Blue said glumly. “Not all crimes get solved.”

I stared at him and shook my head. Mac was running through the sunshine with his puppy, the ridge a peaceful, dark green background behind him. The thought of an unknown and frightening evil lurking there forever almost made my stomach turn.

“It WILL get solved,” I said, a little too fiercely. “It has to.”

Blue glanced at me oddly, but Mac and the prancing puppy were upon us, and we both dropped the subject and began to play with the little dog.

In another hour Star was sacked out on the couch along with Freckles, lunch had been eaten, and Jeri’s car was coming up the driveway. By this time her visits had become routine and neither Blue nor Mac paid much attention as I excused myself and went over to the other house to meet her.

Jeri was seated on the couch and fiddling with her recorder when I walked in. I took a deep breath, striving for a patient, tranquil mind, and sat down in the rocking chair.

“What did you learn?” I asked her.

“Unofficially, it looks as though she was shot with a twenty-two in the chest, just like the other woman. It does appear that she was probably horseback; we saw fresh hoofprints very near where she lay and you didn’t ride there, right?”

“No, I never rode Sunny within fifty feet of her body.”

“That’s what I thought.” Jeri clicked her recorder on. “Okay, tell the story of how you found her.”

I recounted the morning’s expedition as it had happened, leaving out no detail I could remember. When I was done Jeri clicked the recorder off and sat silently, a moody expression on her face.

“Did you get a chance to talk to Buddy?” I asked.

“Buddy’s camper was gone when I got up there yesterday afternoon about four o’clock,” Jeri said. “I guess our friend Brandon saw him drive out. I’ll have to talk to Brandon. The question is, was Sheryl Silverman shot before that? Or that’s one question, anyway.”

Jeri was quiet a moment. “I went back to Lazy Valley yesterday afternoon after I put Gray Dog back in his pasture. I saw Doug Martin and talked to him. Didn’t learn much. He said Sheryl had gone out for a ride. Judging by the condition of that body, I’m guessing she was shot that afternoon. So why didn’t Doug report her as missing?”

“Good question,” I said. But even as the words left my mouth I was picturing Doug’s handsome, boyish face and feeling sure he was no killer. Then I remembered the strangely intense expressions on his and Sheryl’s faces and their odd body language when I had last seen them, as Jeri and I had ridden through Lazy Valley. Maybe it was better not to assume anything.

Jeri stood up. “I need to get over to Lazy Valley and find Doug Martin,” she said. “If he’s not there I’ll have a look at Jane Kelly’s place.” She was headed for the door when she stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. “We still haven’t managed to pick up Ross Hart and Tammi Martinez,” she said. “They haven’t gone back to their house or to the Red Barn, that we know of. They just disappeared.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s weird. Do you think they’re hiding out up on the ridge? They took off with just the clothes on their backs as I heard it. I can’t believe they’ll last very long camping out up there. I wonder who’s feeding the horses at the Red Barn?”

Jeri shrugged. “No idea. Got to go.”

And she was gone.

I got up out of my rocker and went out on the porch. Jeri’s car was bumping down the driveway. I could see the three horses in their corrals, tails swishing lazily. Chickadees pecked at the seeds in the drooping sunflowers that towered over the vegetable garden fence. A skim of clouds drifted like a wraith across the sun and a chilly little breeze brushed my cheek. It felt like the weather might be changing.

I was restless as that wind. Too much was happening, too much was unknown. I wanted to do something, but didn’t know what it should be. For a second, thoughts chased through my mind…Doug Martin’s face, Sheryl’s cold body, Buddy and his camper, and the disappearance of Ross and Tammi. And suddenly I made up my mind. I was going to visit the Red Barn. Find out if they needed any help feeding. It was the least I could do.

Ten minutes later I’d told Blue and Mac where I was going and was walking down my driveway. Mac was playing fetch with Star and Blue was napping. I’d donned a denim jacket to combat the wind, which was steadily increasing. Storm coming, it felt like.

It was roughly four o’clock when I strolled in the drive that led to the Red Barn. There were several people in the arena and lots more hanging around the barn and shedrow. Everyone seemed to be very busy talking. I looked about for someone I recognized.

In a minute I spotted the woman with the blond/gray hair mucking out the paint mare’s pen. I drifted over in her direction and leaned on the rails of the pen. The woman stopped her shoveling and glanced at me curiously.

“Hi. I’m Gail McCarthy,” I said. “I’m a neighbor. I talked to you yesterday after the big bust. Has anybody heard what happened to Ross and Tammi?”

The woman pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and squinted at me. “I’m Riva,” she said. “And no, no one here seems to know where Ross and Tammi went or what their plans are.”

“Do you think they’re hiding up in the woods?” I asked idly.

“Seems unlikely to me,” Riva said. “Not those two. They liked their comforts.”

“That was my impression, too,” I said. “Who’s doing the feeding?”

“We’re all feeding our own,” Riva answered. “Thus the crowd.” And she gestured around. “A few people are starting to develop little cooperative groups, now that we all realize they might not be coming back. Apparently they didn’t want to be busted. Someone called the barn owner, who moved to town after she brought Tammi in to manage the place. Hopefully she’ll come up with a new manager.”

“Did Tammi do all the feeding?”

“Along with Ross. And we all clean our own stalls and pens. They didn’t have any regular barn help.”

“Oh,” I said. The Red Barn had always been known as a “cheap” boarding stable.

Riva had returned to shoveling poop and I watched her awhile. “Do you ride the trails much?” I asked at last.

Riva paused and looked at me. “I used to,” she said. “I haven’t felt much like getting out there since Jane was killed.”

“I understand,” I said. “I guess we’re all wondering how that happened,” I added, deciding not to mention Sheryl.

Riva kept meeting my eyes. “Do you know who Bill is?” she asked.

“Um, no, I don’t think so.” I was puzzled by the intensity in her voice.

“Bill lives in a blue house near the trail in that direction.” Riva waved a hand. “And he owns a big white dog.”

“Oh, that guy,” I said. “Yeah, I do know who you mean. He sics his dog on horse people.”

“And he’s trying to block the trails,” Riva added fiercely.

“He’s the one who’s doing that?” I asked. “I’ve seen those roadblocks. How do you know it was him?”

“I saw him doing it one day. Blocking the ridge trail. Sat there on my horse and watched him for a while. Then I said, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? This isn’t your land.’ And he gave me what I can only describe as an evil look. You know what he said? ‘I don’t like horses on that trail looking down at my house. We don’t need any horse people around here. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay off these trails.’”

“He said that? Wow.”

“It was creepy. I had the thought then and there that if that guy has a gun he’d be dangerous. I turned around and rode away from him right away. The next thing I hear, Jane has gone and called the sheriffs on him for siccing the white dog on people. And the next thing Jane gets shot. What would you think?”

“I see what you mean,” I said. And the thought leaped into my mind. Someone shooting horse people not because they were simply nuts, as I had thought Buddy might be, but because they were irrationally anti-horse. And Sheryl had been shot very near this guy’s house. Damn. This was information I should share with Jeri.

I shivered, as a gust of chilly wind blew through the yard, and drew my denim jacket more closely around me. Riva had gone back to raking and shoveling. “Thanks,” I told her bent head. “I guess I’ll get going.”

“See you,” she said, and picked up the loaded wheelbarrow to heave it along.

I walked down the aisle by the shedrow, headed in the direction of the road out. As I reached the gate I looked up the road to see a black horse coming down it. The coppery gold sheen of the rider’s hair was distinctive. I let myself out the gate and walked up the hill toward Trish O’Hara, who was riding down from the direction of the ridge trail.

“Hey, Gail,” Trish said in her friendly way as she saw me. “What’s going on?”

“Lots,” I said, not sure how to answer this question. “What are you up to?”

“Well, looking for Sheryl Silverman, partly. Jonah said he found her saddled horse outside the gate, but nobody’s seen her. Everyone is worried that she got dumped and is hurt. So I went out for a ride, hoping I’d find her. But I haven’t.”

I shook my head. “Jeez, Trish. I guess I ought to tell you. I found Sheryl this morning when I was out riding.”

“Is she okay?”

“No. She’s dead.”

“Oh no.” Trish’s well-meaning face reflected the shock she was undoubtedly feeling. I didn’t see any reason to keep her in the dark.

“She’d been shot,” I said. “Just like Jane.”

“Oh no,” Trish said again. “That’s terrible. I should get back to Lazy Valley and tell them.”

“They’ll know by now,” I said. “That detective I was riding with yesterday, Jeri Ward, has gone over there to ask questions. Everyone is going to know pretty soon.”

“Oh my God.” Trish was obviously trying to process this news. “I can’t believe it. What is happening here? Is there some crazy person out there shooting horse people?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “but the thought crossed my mind. Have you run into that guy who lives in the house near the trail over there,” I pointed, “and has a white dog?”

“Oh, the dog that chases horses.” Trish shrugged. “I don’t know anything about the owner.”

I recounted the story Riva had told me and said, “So now I’m wondering.” Another thought struck me. “You were out riding yesterday, weren’t you? Did you ride long?”

“About three hours, I guess,” Trish said, sounding puzzled.

“Did you see anyone?”

“Well, you guys. And right as I was headed back I saw Ross Hart and Tammi Martinez, riding up the swingset trail at the high lope. I got out of their way and they barreled on by me, didn’t even stop. It was weird.”

Bingo, I thought. “Up the swingset trail, huh? Where did you see them?”

“Right where the swingset trail takes off from the logging road. I was headed up the logging road.”

“Did you see the camper?”

“Yeah, there was a camper parked by the side of the road. An old beat-up one.”

“Did you see the guy?”

“Nope. No guy was around the camper. Not that I saw.”

“Do you know about what time this would be?”

Trish gave me an odd look, but glanced at her wrist and said, “I got back from my ride around two. I checked my watch. So I suppose I saw Ross and Tammi and the camper sometime between one and two.”