Buffalo Bill's Dead Now (A Wind River Mystery) by Margaret Coel

Author:Margaret Coel
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781101581445
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-09-04T05:00:00+00:00

ANOTHER TIME. ANOTHER man. What else had Trevor Pratt neglected to mention? Vicky kept her foot on the brake along Ramshorn Street, trying to stay a comfortable distance behind the car ahead. The red sedan behind her seemed to be crawling up her trunk. The windows were down. She preferred the smells of the prairie and sage and empty spaces to air conditioning, but exhaust fumes mingled with the air blowing through the Jeep. She tried to focus on Trevor Pratt. The man had hired her to shepherd the artifacts safely from Berlin to Riverton. He wasn’t required to lay out his background. Oh, by the way, I was a thief in another life. The fact he’d been involved in an insurance scam in the past would have raised a lot of red flags, had he told her. She laughed out loud. Why would he have told her? According to his ex-wife, he had never been charged. As a matter of fact, there was no proof it had ever happened.

The line of traffic ahead finally reached the main intersection and Vicky crawled through the turn south. In a few minutes, she was at the edge of town, still following SUVs, campers, and pickups. She dragged her cell out of her bag and called Gianelli. “You have reached the Lander office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Please leave your name and telephone number.” She waited for the beep then told the fed she had just spoken with Julia Hyde, Trevor Pratt’s ex-wife. Then she gave him the names of Trevor’s past associates. “Dealers in stolen artifacts,” she said. “It’s possible they’re the men Father John and I saw racing away from Trevor’s ranch.”

Traffic started to speed up. She ended the call, pressed down on the gas pedal, and went back to trying to figure out Trevor Pratt. She tapped the steering wheel. You never knew about people. Trevor Pratt, expert on Indian artifacts, collector, dealer, rancher. Thief. A chameleon, changing colors. He had left that other life behind, his ex-wife said, but it had still been there, hadn’t it? Still a part of him, like a bag of tricks he hauled around, ready to pull out when the chance to move artifacts on the black market and still collect a million dollars insurance money presented itself?

Too risky. Too many people involved. The words looped through Vicky’s mind. Who had he turned to? A couple of scary white guys who knew how to play the game? Okay, one might be Hispanic. Raphael Luna. She struggled to follow the line of thought to its logical conclusions: something had gone wrong. Trevor could have sold the artifacts right away and held out on his accomplices. The other men had found out. Or the deal Trevor thought he had with a buyer could have fallen through, but the two men still wanted their share. Either way they had gone to Trevor’s ranch and shot him.

The highway opened up ahead, and Vicky gripped the wheel and stared at the asphalt rolling toward her.

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