Sign Off by Patricia McLinn

Author:Patricia McLinn
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: cozy mystery dog, mystery romance humor series, TV journalist mystery series, traditional western mystery series, mystery novels best sellers, female sleuth, western murder mystery series
ISBN: 9781939215468
Publisher: Craig Place Books
Published: 2016-10-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

The green tailgate of Foster Redus’ pickup appeared over the edge of the broken-off ground like an action scene in slow-motion reverse. It even had sound effects—the grinding and whirring of the monster-sized tow truck that inched Redus’ pickup upward with the help of stabilizing side-wires.

Alvaro had herded Cagen and Needham Bender from the Independence, KWMT’s cameraman Jenks, Mike and me behind crime scene tape that kept us backed up against the mountain. But the road was narrow, so we could see almost everything, right down to the chrome wheels, broken spotlight on the cab roof and scratches in the stylized flame racing stripes. As long as the state crime lab guys didn’t whisper to Alvaro, who was taking notes, we could hear, too.

The bed of the pickup, they described as empty. In my notebook I itemized the contents of the cab as they read them off:

—A handgun in a special holder under the driver’s seat.

—A second handgun in the glove compartment.

—Handgun and rifle ammunition, shotgun shells.

—Various maps, an owners’ manual and maintenance schedule.

—Four boxes of super-ribbed condoms.

—A scattering of keys broken loose from their ring.

—One interior gun rack, partially detached, apparently during the trip down the mountain.

No one said it, but for all the looks exchanged, it might as well have been shouted: There was a gun rack and ammunition, but no rifle or shotgun.

—The hinged, metal box used for forms, citations and reports.

—One carbon copy of a Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Department arrest report.

The state guy put that in a plastic sleeve, which Alvaro picked up. The paper looked as if it had been previously crumpled in a fist. He kept his back to us, but his shoulders seemed to tense, and the back of his neck reddened. I had a hunch whose arrest report it was.

Something else nibbled at the edge of my mind, but I couldn’t entice it to the forefront.

When the lab guys started buckling down to the painstaking jobs of checking for fingerprints, fibers and other trace evidence, I said, “Let’s go” to Mike.

“How about if we talk to each of the suspects,” he suggested when we were in his four-wheel drive. “See how they’re reacting.”

I agreed, because I figured it wouldn’t pay to irk the driver on these roads. Besides, it would be interesting to see whom he considered suspects.

* * * *

“I thought we’d start with the official version,” Mike said as he pulled his four-wheel drive into a spot behind the courthouse after a quick stop at the Dairy Queen. We ate inside this time, and I didn’t spill.

“No one’s going to get away with the murder of one of my deputies,” the sheriff declared as soon as we were ushered in. “No, sir. Not going to happen. Bob Widcuff personally guarantees it.”

“So, it was officially murder? Redus’ truck didn’t go off the cliff by accident?” Mike asked. That was a nice touch, since we weren’t supposed to know about Redus’ head.

Widcuff’s cheeks puffed out. “Well, now, let’s not get hasty. That’s not an official statement.

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