Chapter Thirty-Six

Tom modestly gesturedShelton and Richard in ahead of him when, by all rights, he should have entered to a hail of rose petals and trumpets for his achievement in getting them here.

If he'd come in first, he might also have buffered those of us inside from the waves of fury pulsing from Shelton. To say Shelton was thunderous would be likening a tsunami to bathtub splash-over.

"What the—"

He couldn't get more words out. Possibly because the only ones that came to his tongue were curse words and he rarely indulged.

Still, Shadow rose and put himself between the two men in uniform and Suzie Q.

That drew Tom's attention to the dog. He raised one eyebrow at me.

I responded later with a look.

"Sergeant Shelton, you know Brenda Mankin. She observed something that you need to hear about immediately. Brenda—?"

"Wait," Richard Alvaro said. "I want you to be aware I'm recording this, Ms. Mankin."

"No skin off my nose."

Shelton grunted.

Brenda didn't need any further urging.

In almost the same words as she'd told us, she related how Randall Kenyon came out of Keefer Dobey's cabin yesterday after Diana and I had left.

"Diana's photos before, mine after," Tom said quietly. The man was a diplomat not mentioning me. Diana's showed no sign of the paper visible behind the painting in Tom's photos.

That earned a laser glare. But Shelton didn't waste much time on it, because he grasped the possibility immediately.

Richard wasn't far behind, judging by the way he jerked his head from Brenda to Shelton to check if he got the implication.

"How long?" Shelton rasped at her.

"...with no cause or right to — How long? What kind of fool question—"

She'd kept on with her tale, so it took a moment for the interruption to halt her.

I parted my lips to straighten out the miscommunication, but Diana put a hand on my arm. She was right. Better to stay out of the line of fire. Besides, she also handed me a cookie.

"—is that? I knew right off when I saw him. That's the stupidest—"

"How long was he in there?" Shelton's dentist was going to make a fortune off this case judging by how he was grinding his teeth.

"I don't know. I—"

"So he could have just been standing at the door and you only thought he was coming out."

The red of anger suffused Brenda's wrinkles. "No. I haven't lost my mind or my eyesight, Wayne Shelton. I came out of my cabin and started across toward Keefe's with a bowl of food for Suzie Q. Not that she ever eats it, but I've been trying since the day I found him. And that's what I was doing — taking the bowl I'd filled up in my kitchen over to where she was on the porch.

"First thing I saw was the back end of that rental truck Randall Kenyon's got peeking out from behind the barn. Like it was parked so nobody in the main house could see it. I got closer to Keefe's cabin, the door opened and there was Randall Kenyon himself looking out. Thought he was going to bolt back inside for a second and I bet he did, too. Then he decided to try to bluff it out. Before I can get out much more than What the hell—?, he jumps in with Did you see ‘em? Course I say, See who? And he starts in with all this bull about seeing someone inside the cabin and that's why he went in and he thinks they went out the back before he could spot them good enough to ID—"

And there we had Randall Kenyon's line of defense for denying he planted the letter implicating Wendy Barlow. But if he printed it out at the BB...

Shelton's jaw bulged out in another likely tooth-on-tooth assault.

"—but he said I must've seen them, because they ran across the back toward my cabin. Which was bull of the first order, because I looked later on and we'd had that snow and footprints would have shown back there. But if what he saw weren't critters no bigger'n a possum, he was lying just the way I knew he was."

"What did he say to that?" I asked.

I got warning looks from Tom, Diana, and Richard, but Shelton didn't blink. Even better, Brenda answered. "Didn't give me time to check. When I said I hadn't seen anything, he switched like a leaf caught in the wind and said maybe he'd been mistaken, maybe it had just been shadow and light playing tricks on him and he had to get going and — poof! — he was gone."

"Did you see anything he did in the cabin?" Shelton asked.

"I would've said if I had, wouldn't I? I told you what I saw, what I said, what he said, what he did."

I could think of a number of questions, but Shelton appeared to have slipped into a reverie, which did not abate the warning looks sent my way from Tom and Diana.

Richard shifted his weight. Without looking around at the young deputy, Shelton lowered his chin.

I wouldn't have taken it as more than a twitch in the back of his neck, because Shelton rarely nodded at me. But Richard being his protégé created a different context.

Richard asked, "Can anything help you narrow down the amount of time he could have been in there?"

Not only was it a good question, but his wording indicated he accepted her account. That and the general effect the pleasant young man had on people softened Brenda's tone.

"As a matter of fact there is. I'd taken water over to Suzie Q first. Can't say if he was there or not, but his truck wasn't where I saw it minutes later. I took the food dish she hadn't touched from the previous day back to my cabin, emptied it into the garbage, washed out the bowl, then had to attend to some private matters." Pink crept up the wrinkles of her neck, but she set her chin pugnaciously and said, "The toilet. I had to use the toilet. When I came out, the dish was about air-dried. I finished it off with a towel and put more food in. So, I'd say ten minutes anyhow. Could've been fifteen."

Plenty of time for Randall to stash the letter behind the picture frame.

Shelton was beginning to let himself believe it was possible Randall Kenyon had planted the letter.

It wasn't like the clouds cleared from his brow, but he could probably imagine a time when they might.

His people hadn't missed both the nutmeg tins and the letter. Sure, they'd still missed the nutmeg tins.

And he knew I'd never forget that. Worse for him, he'd never forget it.

I found that comforting. You know, in case I got amnesia.

This shift in Shelton didn't show in expression or posture. But he said, "We need you to come to the sheriff's department to make an official statement."

That meant he was ducks-in-a-rowing before he tackled Randall Kenyon.

"That can wait until tomorrow, can't it?" Tom half-asked, half-stated.

Shelton grunted.

"If one of your people would drop Wendy off here, we'll see that they both get back to the ranch tonight. Take the next step tomorrow," Tom said.

Another grunt.

Shelton turned to leave.

I scrambled up to get to the door just after he'd exited.

"Good to see you, Sergeant. Good night, Sergeant. Sleep well, Sergeant."

Richard rolled his eyes at me as he passed me in the doorway and I could feel Tom and Diana doing the same behind me.

But it was worthwhile.

Shelton growled.

Some people count their treasure in land or gold or stock or bitcoin. I hoarded a stash of remembered Shelton growls.

****

Diana left forher delayed family dinner.

With the external warmth of the fire and — in the case of Brenda, the internal warmth of a small whiskey Tom poured and she chugged — Brenda and Suzie Q dozed.

Tom and I held hands and our silence, sipping our drinks, watching the flames and the dogs.

Richard was back with Wendy in under half an hour. He escorted her to the door — his knock stirring the dozers — but didn't come in with her.

Wendy looked even smaller. Shrunken almost. Her thinness no longer making me think of wiry, but fragility.

"How was it?" Brenda asked, as I escorted Wendy to the easy chair beside her.

I'm not sure even she would have asked that if she hadn't been dozing and possibly feeling the effects of that whiskey.

"How do you think it was?" Instead of Wendy's usual snap, that came out querulous.

Tom handed her a whiskey. She cupped her hands around it as if the glass gave off warmth before taking a small sip.

"Never want to be in a situation like that again. Can't be," she added in a vehement murmur. "Won't be."

"You should have called James Longbaugh." Brenda eyed the glass Wendy sipped from again, then glanced at her own sitting empty on the coffee table.

I was glad Tom didn't take the hint. I didn't want her falling asleep for the night in my living room.

"Like anyone around here would be any good." That reflection of her remaining Eastern snobbery was said with more of Wendy's usual snap. At least between that and the whiskey her color was better.

"What did they ask?" I asked.

"Nothing that made sense." She sipped the whiskey. "All sorts of things about if Keefe and I had a relationship. A relationship. Like we were lovers or something, had been for decades, then he broke up with me — and that's supposed to be why I killed him?"

Her voice rose with the last part. She took another sip.

"What made them think that?" Brenda sounded astonished.

I wondered which part she referred to — the relationship, the breakup, or the killing — but apparently Wendy had no issue parsing that. "They had something they said I'd written and given to Keefe. Never did. In my whole life, never did."

"Why would you? If you had something to say to him, he was right there and you said it. Like any normal person."

Wendy expelled a sigh. "Who knows what those idiots are thinking. I just want to go home now."

"I'll take you." Tom stood. To me he said, "I'll call."

He'd be going back to the ranch, relieving the neighbor watching Tamantha, and preparing for an early start to a long day of work.

Wendy drank off the rest of the whiskey. Brenda gave her glass another look, then stood, too.

I accompanied them.

At the door, Tom kissed me on the forehead.

"What about—?" he tipped his head toward Suzie Q lying by the fire.

Wendy said, "If she comes back to the ranch, she'll mourn herself to death." Her stark words were true and not devoid of sympathy.

Wouldn't have mattered what she or Brenda said, though. Suzie Q was not going back there.

Neither of them looked at Suzie Q and she never lifted her head at their departure.

****

I sat onthe floor by the fireplace, offering Suzie Q food from my hand.

Her nose twitched slightly but she didn't move.

I looked at Shadow. He was looking at the food. It was his.

"Sorry, buddy."

I offered the food to him.

He accepted happily.

Suzie Q raised her head. Careful not to crow, do a happy dance, or otherwise upset the equilibrium, I took two more portions from the dog food dish by my knee, one in each hand. I held out the Shadow hand slightly before I opened my fingers from around the Suzie Q hand.

She looked over at him as he ate his.

Still watching him, she took a piece of food from my hand and swallowed it. Her next mouthful took it all.

She hadn't eaten for days and if she wolfed this down, I was afraid it would come right back up.

Altogether, I'd probably given her about a sixth of Shadow's daily intake. He'd had about the same. All extra for him, but he wasn't complaining.

****

"What are youdoing?" Tom's warm voice made up for the cold of the phone near my ear.

"I have the dogs out for last call."

Even here in town, stars glittered so sharply against the depthless dark of the sky that I found myself holding my breath, waiting for it to shatter like a frozen pond.

"How's Suzie Q doing?"

"She's better, I think. No. For sure. She's definitely better. She's eating a little. She followed Shadow outside just fine."

"But..." he prodded.

"But she's so sad."

"Uh-huh."

Two syllables that said that was to be expected, that the grieving process took time, that perhaps it was even harder on an animal who could not apply the band-aid of justice for the dead to the wound of loss.

"She has that routine with the fence..."

He knew what I meant. He'd seen it the first time we'd let her outside while we waited for Richard bringing Wendy.

Suzie Q stood and stared at the fence for the longest time. After she did her business, she walked along it, circling one way, then the other, while Shadow sniffed and explored all over the yard.

Again this time, she made her circuits and stared at the fence like it was as unexpected and unwelcomed as an alien spaceship, but she couldn't work herself up to really care.

I sighed. "I hope she'll get past this."

"She might not. She's no puppy," he said. "And she's used to a certain kind of life. Can be hard on an animal adding that kind of change to what she's already gone through with Keefe being gone."

That kind of changemeant my little house in town and its fence.

We'd agreed that trying her at the ranch house was a non-starter. Tom wasn't there enough to watch her, while having Zeb and Iris next door here as backup was a godsend. Not to mention Shadow.

"Not going to solve it tonight," Tom said. "Get some sleep."

We said our good-nights.

Not a lot later, as I was drifting toward sleep, I heard his voice in my head, as I often did.

Not going to solve it tonight... Did he mean only Suzie Q's situation?

He was right, whether he did or not.