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Dela kept telling herself the only reason she’d asked Quinn to come along to talk to the wife was so he would drive and she could rest her leg. After realizing she’d been staring at the man who hadn’t said a word since they’d left the casino, she averted her gaze and clenched her hands to keep from rubbing her missing leg that ached. They’d told her in the hospital it would be years and possibly her lifetime that her body would think her leg was still there. Right now, it felt like her leg from her knee down was on fire.
“You haven’t said a word other than drive you to see the wife. What’s up?” Quinn glanced her direction as he eased off the freeway and down into Pendleton.
She didn’t say anything, afraid his kindness would make her lips loosen and tell him more than she wanted him to know.
“Are you still mad that I’m shoving my way into your investigation? You know the reservation is federal land, which means Federal Bureau of Investigation will be involved.”
She didn’t want him to pull the card he should be the one in charge, so she cleared her throat and said, “I haven’t had a full eight hours of sleep since Tuesday. I really don’t want to argue about anything. I just want to sit here and get ready to question Mrs. Pomroy. Did you happen to dig up anything about her?”
“Didn’t realize you were working two people’s shift. When will they make the decision you are head of security?”
She stared at him. “What makes you think they aren’t looking for a head of security?”
He laughed. “You don’t play the martyr well. You are more than qualified for the job and you know it. They would be idiots to not make you head of security.”
His compliment meant a lot, but she wasn’t going to let him know. “The Board of Trustee’s words to me were: We will be looking for either a replacement for you or a replacement for Godfrey. If you prove you deserve head of security in the next six months, it’s yours.” She held up her hands. “And now I have a homicide on my hands which could cause bad publicity for the casino.”
“We’ll figure it out and not cause the casino any bad publicity.” He pulled into a driveway of one of the homes in a newer subdivision in town.
She stared at the house. If only she could find something like this on the reservation. There were some new homes but they were, again, too close to one another for her comfort. She sighed. “What do I need to know before we go in?”
“Paula Pomroy has been married to Tristan for five years. They have a small child, a son, and she works part time at a store downtown.”
“Then she may not be here?”
“This is her day off.” Quinn opened his door and slid out.
Dela heaved a sigh, opened her door, and stood. She hoped her tiredness didn’t keep her from asking the correct questions.
Her phone beeped. A text message.
The dog came through surgery like a champ. Will fill you in when I see you.
Thanks.
She smiled. The dog had made it. Her mood brightened and she walked up to the front door with Quinn, feeling a bit more optimistic.
Quinn pushed the doorbell and they waited.
A baby cried then went silent.
Quinn glanced at her then pushed the doorbell again.
The door opened.
“I’m here, you woke the baby.” A woman in her thirties, brown hair, about five-five and a hundred and thirty pounds glared at them.
“Mrs. Tristan Pomroy?” Quinn asked, holding up his badge.
The woman stared at his badge then at Dela.
She didn’t have a badge. Instead, she held out her hand. “I’m Dela Alvaro with the casino security. May we come in and talk with you?”
“S-sure.” The woman backed up allowing them to enter the house.
Dela led the way into a living room that still smelled of wood and new paint. The furniture appeared as new as the house. There was no way to avoid what they’d come to tell the woman.
“Have a seat, Mrs. Pomroy,” Quinn said.
The woman glanced from one to the other then sat down in a chair. Dela took the couch and Quinn sat beside her.
“I’m sorry to tell you that your husband, Tristan, was found murdered this morning.” Dela started to reach out to pat the woman’s hand.
Paula Pomroy recoiled. “I told him working on that reservation wasn’t good. Who did it? Was it one of them?”
“Them who?” Quinn asked as casually as if they were talking about the weather.
Dela’s anger started to build. The woman was talking about the people she’d grown up around and respected like family.
“You know. The Indians. He said there were some really lazy ones and some sneaky ones that he worked with. Tristan must have seen something he shouldn’t and they killed him.” The woman believed what she was saying.
“I can guarantee you that he wasn’t killed by a co-worker,” Dela said, barely restraining the anger from her words.
The woman peered into her eyes. “You’re one of them so you would say that.”
“Do you mean a co-worker or an Umatilla Tribal member?” she asked coolly.
“Both.”
Quinn put a hand on Dela’s arm stopping her next words. “Ms. Alvaro is the head of security at the casino. However, she is not a tribal member. Meaning, you are wrong about her. She is here to find out who killed your husband. How has he been acting lately?”
“Excited. Like he had a secret he wanted to tell but didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” She sniffed and pulled two tissues out of a box sitting on the table next to her chair.
“Any idea what the secret was?” Quinn asked.
“It could have been anything. We have an anniversary coming up.” Her eyes teared up. “Had an anniversary.”
“Did he get excited about things often?” Dela asked, not wanting Quinn to do all the questioning.
“At least once a month when he’d think he’d seen someone wanted in a crime.” The woman blew her nose.
“What was an accountant doing thinking he’d seen a criminal?” Quinn asked.
“He liked to watch the real crime shows and movies. He was always thinking he saw someone in a store that looked like a person on a wanted poster.” She rolled her eyes. “At least he didn’t go out drinking and watch football all day long.”
“What day did he start acting excited?” Dela asked. If they could pinpoint what show he’d watched, maybe he had found a real criminal hiding here in Pendleton, Oregon. Had he reached out to the person first, and they killed him to remain anonymous?
“I don’t know. Last week sometime? He said we’d be able to spend our anniversary where we wanted to go for our honeymoon.”
“Where was that?” Dela asked.
“The Caribbean. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Did your husband have an office here at home?” Quinn asked.
“Yes. Well, it’s more of a den. I didn’t like watching the crime shows.” Mrs. Pomroy stood and led them out of the living room and back to the entry where she opened a door to a man cave.
The room was the same size as the living room but one wall held bookcases. In the middle of the bookcases hung a large flat screen television. A recliner was directly in front of the tv against the opposite wall. A small desk with a laptop set against the wall opposite the door.
“May we see if we can discover what shows your husband watched?” Quinn asked.
Dela liked how friendly he’d been to the woman.
Mrs. Pomroy nodded. With her consent, they didn’t need to get a warrant which could get this brought up in the news.
While Quinn messed with the television remote, Dela scanned the books in the book cases. Most were about true crime and murder investigations. Some dealt with forensics. She moved to the desk and found printed out pages from several websites with information about wanted criminals. In a drawer was a list of four names. One name was Jeff Twigg, a dealer at the casino. The other three she didn’t know but took a photo of the paper.
“What did you find?” Quinn asked, his breath hot on her neck.
She held up the paper. “The top name is a dealer at the Spotted Pony.”
Shoving the papers around, she said. “He was definitely into ratting out criminals. He has printouts on several here.”
“I think I’ve figured out which crime shows he watched the most. I’ll get a tech to watch the episodes from the first of last week and see what pops up.” Quinn touched her arm. “Ready to go?”
Dela pulled out a drawer in the desk. A ledger caught her eye. “You wouldn’t think he’d be this old school.” She pulled the book out and scanned the list of numbers and letters. “What do you think this is? I know it’s not his income from work. And he doesn’t show paying any bills from it.”
“Let’s ask the wife.” Quinn plucked the book from her and walked out of the room.
Dela only fumed for a second before following him. The nerve of the man taking over the evidence she’d found. If it had been up to him, they would have walked out of the room and never found the book.
She entered the living room as Quinn held the book out to the woman.
“Do you know what the information in here means?” he asked.
The woman’s eyes widened as if she recognized the book.
“No, I have no idea what this is. Where did you find it?” She studied the page.
“It was in the drawer of the desk,” Dela said, walking farther into the room. “The expression on your face when Special Agent Pierce showed it to you, proves you know what it is.”
The woman shook her head. “No. I haven’t a clue what it is. Maybe household expenses? Tristan kept track of all our money.”
Dela drew the book out of the woman’s grasp and took a photo of the page before returning it to the woman. “If you can think of anything else that may help us catch your husband’s killer, please give me or Special Agent Pierce a call.” She wiggled her fingers for Quinn to hand her one of his business cards. On the back she wrote her name and cell number.
“Yes, call either of us at any time if you think of something.” Quinn snatched the card from Dela and handed it to Mrs. Pomroy.
They walked out of the house and slid into the car.
“I take it head of security at a casino doesn’t get a perk of a business card?” Quinn asked, a grin on his face as he started the car and backed out of the driveway.
“I’m not head of security, yet. And no, we don’t really have anyone who we normally ask to call us.” Dela flipped back and forth between the photos she took. “I think our mild-mannered true crime enthusiast was blackmailing.”
“Why do you say that?” Quinn asked, driving them out of the subdivision.
“The letters on the ledger page match the initials of the people on the list.” She glanced over at him.
“Or, being as he deals with money, maybe he gave out loans?”
Dela peered out the window. “Where are we going?”
“I’m hungry. Thought we’d grab lunch.” Quinn was driving through a neighborhood with older homes.
“As far as I know, there isn’t a restaurant in this area.” She tromped on her panic with a dose of reassurance her gut was rarely wrong about a person. While she still held Quinn responsible for an injustice, she knew he would never hurt her. That he might dig into her thoughts and find out things she hadn’t told anyone... that’s what worried her.
“I’m not abducting you. It will be quieter and you can put your foot up at my place. And I can make phone calls without someone eavesdropping.”
Quiet did sound good. But his place... That she wasn’t too sure of.
Until he pulled up to an 1800s two-story home with a turret front.
“This house is gorgeous!” She sat in the car staring at the home. It needed some TLC but the bones of it looked like a storybook house.
She hadn’t realized how long she’d been ogling the house until the door opened and Quinn offered her a hand. Dela slapped his hand away and shoved out of the car. “Are you buying or renting?” She noticed a ladder up against the side of the house.
“Bought it. I figured might as well put my money into an investment and live here while I’m fixing it up.” The pride in his voice told her he loved the house.
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“You’re looking for a house? Where do you live now?” He unlocked the front door, and they stepped into a large entryway. Off to one side was a room that had to be the parlor. The other side had a sheet up across the doorway.
“What’s through there?” she asked, pointing.
“I’m working on that room at the moment. The turret windows were leaking and the floor needs replaced. It’s a mess.”
She stepped around him and swept the sheet to the side. “Oh! This would be my favorite room.” The turret windows looked out into an overrun yard and flowerbeds. She took a step inside the room, wary of the flooring that had been pulled up. “So this is what you do when you aren’t FBIing.”
Quinn chuckled. “Yeah, I like fixing up houses.”
“I think you picked a good one here to keep you busy.” She glanced up at him. The wishful smile and far-off gaze had her wondering what he was thinking about.
Her stomach grumbled. “Where’s that lunch you promised me?”
“In the kitchen.” He held the sheet back and she stepped through, waiting for Quinn to lead the way to the kitchen.
The room was at the back of the house. The counters hit Quinn mid-thigh.
“It looks like you need to remodel the kitchen,” Dela said, taking a seat at the round wood table with four matching chairs. She shifted her body to place her right leg on the chair next to her.
“Yeah, whoever this house was built for must have had a short wife.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice. “This okay?”
“Yeah.”
He poured two glasses and left the pitcher in the middle of the table. “I can whip up a salad or I have sandwich stuff.” He peered at her from over the refrigerator door.
“Sandwich fixings are easier. I’m not here to be impressed.” Though she was impressed by the house he had purchased and was renovating and the fact he had salad and sandwich ingredients that were fresh enough to serve to a guest.
He placed bread, meat, cheese, and condiments on the table. Then he set the head of lettuce on the table. “If you want some in your sandwich.” He pulled his phone out of his suit pocket. “I need to make this call. Help yourself.”
Dela nodded, reaching for the bread. But her ears were focused on the conversation.
“Special Agent Tucker, this is Pierce in Pendleton.”
She spread mustard on her sandwich and picked up the turkey.
“Yes, I should have asked for your help in the human trafficking ring. But in all fairness, it was running through Seattle and not Portland.”
She grinned. Sounded like he was getting reamed for not letting his Portland counterparts in on the action.
“What I need is a technician to take a look at the true crime shows that ran the first of last week and send me the names and photos of the suspects in those shows.”
She layered the turkey, added a slice of cheese, and then a leaf of lettuce.
“Because we have a homicide on the reservation and the victim was a true crime buff.”
Frustration seeped into his voice.
Dela winced as she moved her leg and pain shot all the way down to non-existent toes.
“Yes, we are looking at other angles. This is just one.”
Picking up her sandwich, she caught a glimpse in the kitchen window above the sink as Quinn walked back into the room. He looked as worn out as she felt.
He took off his suit coat, hung it on the back of a chair across the table from her, and sat down. He rolled up his shirt sleeves.
“The agent in Portland thinks you’re crazy?” She smiled and bit into her sandwich.
“Doesn’t know how I could have brought down a trafficking ring when I think a man was killed for watching true crime shows.” He gave her half a grin and started making a sandwich.
Her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket. Mom.
“Hi, Mom,” she answered with more enthusiasm than she felt.
“You need to come home and get some sleep. You were at that casino all night. How can you heal if you don’t rest?”
Quinn’s eyebrows rose.
“Mom. I’ll be home when I can. We had a homicide at the casino. As head of security, it is my duty to help solve it. You may not see me for a few days. I’m going to stay in a room at the casino so I can grab sleep when I have an hour or two.”
“What about clothes and food? And Silas asked me about the dog. He thinks he’s found the owner and wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll give him a call when I get the chance. Molly told me about the dog. I’ll swing by and get some clothes in a couple hours. I want to check in with Molly, too. Don’t worry. I’m a grown woman.”
“A bullheaded woman who doesn’t realize your body is compromised.”
Dela closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Mom. You are the only one who believes that. Good-bye.”
Hitting the end button gave her satisfaction. Then guilt. She knew her mom only wanted what was best for her. However, mom didn’t have to live with the realization that if she allowed people to treat her differently, she could end up as helpless as they treated her.
Quinn cleared his throat.
She peered across the table at him.
“Mom problems?” he asked.
“More like life problems. I am trying to find a place to move to so my mom doesn’t know what I’m doing every single minute of every day. It’s suffocating after being on my own for so long.” She bit into her sandwich and chewed.
“There are half a dozen places like this in town.” He cut the sandwich he’d made in half crosswise.
“That’s the problem. I want to be on the rez. Closer to the casino, and it’s my home. It’s where I grew up and where I want to be.” She shrugged.
His eyes narrowed. “I thought you weren’t Native American.”
“I’m not, but I wish I were. It’s what I grew up around and feel comfortable with.” She swallowed juice. “There aren’t very many houses for sale or rentals that aren’t five feet away from another one. I like my space.”
He nodded. “Besides the architecture, that’s what I liked about this place. The neighbors aren’t butted right up to my eaves.”
“I could probably live with my neighbors the distance yours are. But nothing closer. I don’t like to know their business and I don’t like them knowing mine.”
He stared at her and laughed. “And you think you’ll get that living on the reservation?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I know.”
“Do you really plan to stay at the casino until we figure out who killed the victim?” He bit into his sandwich and studied her.
“Yeah. It’s easier than running back and forth to my mom’s house if I can crash for a couple of hours.” She finished the sandwich and pulled out her phone. “Do you mind stopping at the vet clinic in Riverside and then my mom’s on our way back to the casino?”
“I think we can take the time. We’re waiting on forensics and information anyway.” He started cleaning up the table.
Dela dialed Grandfather Thunder.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hi, it’s Dela. Mom said you found the owners of the dog.”
“Yeah, I did. Otis Deerstalker. He said he hasn’t been able to keep the dog home since he got it. Doesn’t want to pay the vet bill and doesn’t want the dog back.”
“I see.” She felt bad for the dog. “Did he say how old the dog is or what its name is?”
“Yeah, he thinks he’s about eight months and his name is Eats a Lot.”
Eight months and Eats a Lot? That meant it was going to get a lot bigger. “Any idea what kind of dog?”
“He just said a mutt. What you going to do?” Grandfather Thunder asked.
“The dog has had his leg amputated. I’m paying the bill, so I guess he’s my dog now.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about having to take care of a dog when she was still trying to find a home for herself. But she felt a kinship to the animal.
“It’s how it should be. I’ve been asking around about a place for you to live.” Grandfather Thunder sounded pleased with himself.
“How did you know I was looking?” She thought it was only her mother and now Molly and Quinn who knew she was looking for a place.
“Your mother told me. Well, she complained to me that you wanted to move out.” He chuckled. “I told her, how were you supposed to catch a man if you lived at home with her.”
“Grandfather!” she exclaimed. “That is not the reason—”
He cut her off. “It is what made your mother more accepting of the idea.”
“Thank you for that and the information about the dog. I have to get back to work.”
“I heard. You had a body at the hotel.”
She didn’t even ask how he knew. “Yes. Thank you.” She ended the call and found Quinn watching her. “What?”
“You don’t have a house but you have a dog?” He slid his arms into his suit jacket.
“It’s a long story.”
“Which you can tell me on the way to Riverside. Why are we stopping there?”
“To see the vet and my dog, Eats a Lot.”