15

Rick Shaw lost cigarette lighters the way small children lose gloves. He used disposable lighters because of this. Pulling a see-through lime-green lighter from his coat pocket, he studied the corpse in the truck.

Cynthia Cooper scribbled in her notebook, weakened, and lit up a cigarette herself.

The ambulance crew waited at a distance. Kenny Wheeler, Jr., who had found the body, stayed with the sheriff and his deputy.

“Kenny, I know you’ve told me this before but tell me again because I need to have the sequence right,” Rick softly asked the tall, deep-voiced young man.

“I was checking a fence line. Kinda in a hurry because I was losing light and running behind, you know.” He stared down at his boots. “This old road is really on my neighbor’s property, but I have use of it, so I thought I’d swing through to get to the back acres. Save a minute or two. Anyway, I saw this truck. Didn’t recognize it. And as I drew closer I saw him”—he pointed to the body—“in the bed. I thought maybe the guy fell asleep or something—I mean, until I got closer. Well, I stopped my truck, got out, kinda peeped over the sides. I mean, I knew the man was dead, deader than the Red Sox, but I don’t know why I called out, ‘Hey.’ I stood there for a minute and then I got on the mobile, called you first off, then called Mom and Dad. I described the truck. They didn’t know it. Dad wanted to come right out, but I told him to stay put. It’s better that I’m the only one involved.

“Well, Dad didn’t like that. He’s a hands-on guy, as you know, but I said, ‘Dad, if you come on out here, then you’ll get caught in the red tape, and you have enough to do. I found him, so I’ll take care of it.’ So he said okay finally, and here I am.”

Cynthia closed her notebook. “Rick, do you need Kenny anymore?”

“Yeah, wait one minute.” Rick, gloves on, pulled out the registration. “The truck is registered to Coty Lamont. That name mean anything to you?” Rick leaned against the open door of the truck.

“Coty Lamont.” Kenny frowned. “A jockey. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that name before. We don’t race, but . . . that name is familiar.”

“Thanks, Kenny. You’ve been a tremendous help. Go on home. I’ll call you if I need you. Give your Mom and Dad my regards. Wife, too.” Rick clapped him on the back.

As Kenny turned his truck around and drove out, Rick looked back into the bed of the truck. “Notice anything?”

“Yeah, he was shot in the back for good measure. Probably struggled.” Cynthia answered.

“Uh-huh. Anything else?”

“Same M.O. as the last one, pretty much.”

“The card, Cynthia, check out the card.”

“The Queen of Spades.” She whistled. “Lot of blood on this one.”

“Spades, Coop—the other card was clubs.”

Cynthia rubbed her hands on her upper arms. The sunset over the Southwest Range and the night air chilled to the bone. “Clubs, spades—are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Diamonds and hearts to go.”