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Shandra had glanced at the clock when Ryan slipped into bed. Three-thirty.
She crept out of the room at seven to make breakfast and wait for him to wake. Mornings after his late nights he usually was up by eight and headed out by eight-thirty. She wanted to have breakfast ready for him so she would have time to ask him about his questioning.
Sleep had been long coming after the dream the night before. It had taken all of her control to not pick up the phone and call Ruthie, just to make sure her friend was okay.
When her grandmother first came to her in dreams she’d thought she’d gone crazy. With Ryan believing in the dreams and the clues Ella gave her helping them solve murders the last couple of years, she now believed and viewed them as a way to help Ryan.
Which was why she planned to hang out with Ruthie today.
Right on cue, Ryan walked into the kitchen dressed and ready for work. “Something smells good in here.” He kissed her cheek and picked up the plate piled with hot cakes, eggs, and bacon. “I missed dinner last night.”
She filled a cup with coffee for him and took her tea over to the stool next to where he sat. “Long day.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you learn anything helpful?” She sipped her tea, watching him over the rim.
“Not really.”
She could tell by the way he didn’t look at her, he knew something he didn’t want to tell her. So, he had learned something. He didn’t keep information from her unless he thought doing so would keep her safe.
“Is this more than a crime of passion?” she asked.
His gaze latched onto hers. “Why do you ask?”
“If it was a crime of passion, you would be telling me what you learned.”
His eyebrow rose as he studied her. “What makes you think I learned something?”
She laughed. “We’ve been together long enough and through some tough times. I can tell when you aren’t telling me something, thinking it’s for my own good.”
He sighed. “I should have known you’d see through me.” Ryan drank his coffee and picked up a piece of bacon. “I’m not sure if what I learned is harmful to you, but I don’t want you telling Ruthie. If she knew what I learned last night, she might muck things up.”
This intrigued her. What could he have learned that would upset Ruthie? “You’re withholding this information from me to make sure she doesn’t find out about it?”
“Yes.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I know you can be trusted, but she is a good friend and you may feel compelled to help her.”
Shandra nodded. He knew her too well. “But you will tell me what you learned?”
“When it won’t hinder my investigation.” He stood. “Got to go. They pulled Mrs. Kerby in last night and she was so drunk I couldn’t tell her about her husband, let alone question her. We put her up in a motel in Huckleberry overnight.”
Shandra stood. “I’m going to check on Ruthie this morning.”
Ryan put a hand on her arm. “I don’t think she knows why her father is back or why he left. Don’t go poking around for information.”
Her face heated. She’d been poking around on the internet last night and had come up with information about the uncle.
“What have you found?” His gaze became intent.
“I searched the local newspaper archives for nineteen-seventy to nineteen-seventy-four. There was a brief story about Orin Kerby being found with a body in his car. He worked for a corporation that I’m pretty sure I discovered while checking out Mrs. Narvel’s husband.”
Ryan held up his hand. “Stop. I have police checking all of this out. Don’t go near anyone who worked for Narvel or this corporation or bring it up to Ruthie. All I need is the three of you nosing around where you shouldn’t be.”
“Three of us?”
“You know wherever you and Ruthie go, Maxwell will be right with you.”
She smiled. That was true. He wouldn’t let them dig around without him.
He grasped her chin. “Promise me.”
The concern and warmth in his eyes made her heart smile. “I promise to not dig into Mr. Kerby’s past. And I won’t say a thing to Ruthie.”
“Good.” He kissed her on the lips and backed away. “I’ll let you know if I’ll be home late.”
She nodded. If anyone had told her three years ago she’d be engaged right now and looking forward to marriage, she would have told them they were delusional. But she could hardly wait for June.
~*~
Ryan walked into the Huckleberry Police Station, expecting to see the daytime dispatcher, Millie, instead, Hazel sat behind the desk her eyes barely open.
“Where’s Millie?” he asked.
“She’s under the weather. Called in sick.” Hazel waved her hand. “I’m too old to pull two shifts.”
“I agree. I’ll talk to Chief Sandberg.” He strode toward the hallway.
“Mrs. Kerby is in the interview room.”
“Thanks.”
Ryan entered the chief’s office. The big man with a Nordic ancestry sat behind his desk a pair of small reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He glanced up. “Detective Greer. What can I do for you? Sounds like you picked up another homicide at your fiancée’s.”
It had become a bit of joke around this station and the county office that he was marrying Shandra because she kept him busy with murder investigations.
“Yes, I have another homicide. Any chance you could send Hazel home? She was here all night and won’t do us any good if she falls asleep.”
Sandberg set his glasses on the desk. “I would if I had someone to take her place. With this investigation, we have deputies in and out, calling here, and our two officers helping out as well as doing their duties. We need a dispatcher.”
“Maybe you need to find someone to come in and learn the ropes so you can call them in when you need a third dispatcher.” He had wondered at the efficiency of this station from the first time he’d worked with them. It was a small force that was spread thin. Hazel was a volunteer.
“I’ll make some phone calls.” Chief Sandberg put his glasses back on his nose and glanced down at the papers on his desk.
Ryan understood he had been dismissed.
He backtracked to the interview room.
Mrs. Kerby’s upper body sprawled across the table. A soft snore was the only sound in the room. Whoever brought her in, must have picked her up and carried her. She still wore the nice pants suit she’d worn yesterday. Only now it wasn’t as pristine.
He left the room, walked to the break room, filled two heavy paper cups with coffee, and returned to the interview room. With a grip on the hot cups, he kicked the leg of the chair the woman sat in.
“Mrs. Kerby? Mrs. Kerby, I have coffee.” He gave the chair another kick.
The snoring stopped and she rubbed a hand over her face.
“Mrs. Kerby. This is Detective Greer. I have coffee for you,” he said louder.
“Huh?” She shoved a hand over her face again as if the motion would make things work and wake her up.
He placed the cups on the table as far away from the woman as he could set them and grasped her shoulder, giving her a good shake. “Mrs. Kerby. You’re in the police station. I have information for you.”
“What? Information?” her eyes opened tentatively and slammed back down. “Go away!”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I need to talk with you. It’s important.”
She slowly pushed with her hands, righting her body and leaning back in the chair. With the same measured steps, her eyelids raised. The dark brown irises masked the pinpoint pupils. “Where am I?”
Ryan sighed and started over. “We brought you in to the Huckleberry PD last night. You weren’t in any condition to talk with. We put you up in a motel. An officer brought you here this morning.” He handed her a coffee cup.
She sipped and winced. “Why did you need to bring me to a police station?”
“I have some bad news—”
“Ruthie? What happened to Ruthie?” The woman slopped coffee over her hand and the table when she slammed the cup down.
“Ruthie is fine. It’s your husband.”
“Donald? I haven’t seen him in over twenty years.” She picked the cup back up, ignoring the light brown liquid sliding down her hand.
“He was at the wedding yesterday.”
“No, he wasn’t. I didn’t see him.” Her eyes widened and fear emanated from their depths.
“He was. He talked with Ruthie.”
“No!” she yelled. “He wasn’t supposed to come back. Ever. He told me if he came back he’d be a dead man. He said to keep us safe, he would stay away.”
“What was he afraid of?” Ryan latched onto the ominous threat that kept popping up.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He said if he told me, I’d also be in trouble like he was. He said leaving was the best thing he could do for the people he loved.”
“And he sent you money?”
Her head jerked and her eyes narrowed. “Who said he sent money?”
“He told Ruthie he sent her money.” Ryan could see the woman trying to figure out what to say.
“He told Ruthie? Shit!” She ran a hand over her short dreadlocks and stared at a spot on the wall over his shoulder.
“Why didn’t you tell Ruthie about the money? Why didn’t you give her his address to write to him?”
“I didn’t want her writin’ him back and tellin’ him she was took from me. He would have stopped sending money.” She glanced up. “Nattie give her a better life than I could. I’ve got an addiction I can’t shake.” Her mind seemed to finally catch up with the conversation. “Is he here? In Huckleberry?”
“No. He was murdered yesterday behind Shandra’s barn. Sometime after the wedding disbanded.” He was still waiting for the report from forensics.
“Murdered? As in dead?” Her face drooped and her saggy jowls jiggled a bit.
“Yes. Can you think of anyone who was at the wedding who would want him dead, besides you?”
“Me!” She shoved back in the chair. “Why would I want him dead?”
“He left you and your daughter.”
“But he sent money. I didn’t care he was gone. Less work cooking and cleaning.”
He believed her. She wasn’t the domestic type. Or the mother type. “Can you think of anyone else there who would be angry enough to kill him?”
Her eyes widened, then she shuttered them and shook her head. She’d thought of someone. Who?
“You’re sure?”
She nodded and took a sip of her coffee.
“Where did he work before he left?”
“Odd jobs. Gas station. Helped some putting in the ski resort.”
He decided to change tactics. “Why didn’t you tell Maxwell about Ruthie’s Uncle Orin?”
“He’s in prison. She doesn’t even know she has an uncle. That’s the one thing Nattie and I agreed on. Not telling her about Orin.”
“Why?” He was beginning to think poor Ruthie had been lied to her whole life.
“Because her daddy ran off and her uncle was in prison. We didn’t want her dwelling on the fact she could have bad blood in her.” The woman stared at him as if this was a scientific fact.
He shook his head. “A good stable environment, like she had, is all a child needs to grow up to be a good person. And even some of those go bad. It isn’t in the blood.”
The woman stared at him as if he didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Did Orin also work building the ski resort?”
She nodded. “He drove the architects and bigwigs around. Orin never did anything that got his hands dirty. He said, we weren’t slaves anymore and shouldn’t have to do manual labor.”
“But your husband did?”
“Yeah. Donald did anything that brought in money. He was a laborer which didn’t set well with Orin. The two of them got into arguments all the time. The last one was the night Orin was arrested. Donald left several days after that.”
Ryan jotted this information down in his notebook. “Do you think Donald knew something about the body found in Orin’s car?”
Her face paled. “I hope not. Orin killed that man. That would make the daddy of my child a murderer.”
“Any idea how the man was involved with Orin or your husband?”
“I never heard of the man when I read about it.” She finished off the coffee. “Can I see Donald?”
“His body is in Coeur d’Alene determining cause of death.”
“You said it was murder?”
“We’re trying to determine what the murder weapon was.” He stood. “Thank you for coming in. I’m sure Treat and Son Mortuary will contact you when the body comes back.”
She nodded but didn’t stand. “Do you mind if I sit here a spell?”
“I’ll give you ten minutes and an officer will take you home.” Ryan walked out of the room and straight to the desk and computer he’d been given when working cases in Huckleberry. He logged in and checked his emails for the reports on Orin Kerby’s arrest.