Chapter Twenty-three

“You see, Lindy,” Diana Richards began once I’d handed around glasses of sweet tea and a plate of Meemaw’s Double Action Chocolate Chip and Pecan Cookies. “I never accepted Sally’s death as an accident. Or maybe I should say, I thought somebody was trying to cover up something. I talked to Elizabeth about it, but she was too sad at that time to even think of such a thing—that’s what she said. I hired a private detective. What he came up with was that they didn’t know whose gun fired the bullet that hit Sally. It seems the game ranch, where they were shooting, only had one guide up in the hills with the whole group. They were shooting sika deer, and wandering around like they probably shouldn’t have been. Everybody said the same thing, that the shot came out of nowhere, up in the hills. Nobody would say they were shooting at that time. I guess, because they couldn’t think of anything else, the local police decided it had to be an accident. I’m still not so sure. And now, look what happened to Eugene.”

I didn’t know what to say, or think, and I was still mad at Hunter for not trusting me with this information and not ready to let it go.

“Why didn’t you tell me who she was?” I turned on Hunter, a hint of suspicion still niggling at me—after all, Diana Richards sure was pretty.

“Couldn’t. Until this morning she didn’t want anybody to know she was in town.”

“Sorry if I caused any trouble,” Diana said, leaning back in her chair, drink in one hand, cookie in another. “I don’t know what really happened to Sally, and to tell the truth, I was a little worried about even coming to the memorial today. If somebody saw me before . . . I mean, I’ll bet anything Elizabeth isn’t too happy with me. She knows I’ve still got questions about Sally’s death and she sure doesn’t want me here asking anything about Eugene’s.”

“I don’t see why not,” I said. “She wants this thing solved as bad as the rest of us.”

“Elizabeth’s kind of an odd . . . person,” Diana went on. “But you know her. Wants everything neat and not messy, like what poor Eugene’s memorial turned into. I’m just another mess to her right now.”

“Too bad,” Meemaw snorted.

“So.” I was more interested in why she questioned Sally’s death than in gossip about Elizabeth. “The police up there, in Ralston, near that game ranch, never got any real answer to who shot Sally. I didn’t know any of that. Sally was a friend of mine. I just, well . . .”

Hunter lifted an eyebrow at me.

I turned back to Diana. “Who was there that day, shooting?”

“There were six or eight people in the group, is what I was told. Eugene and Sally. Elizabeth was there, too. She’s an avid hunter. The rest were friends of both Eugene and Elizabeth.”

“Do you have a list of names?”

She shook her head. “The game ranch wouldn’t give it to the detective I hired. I guess we could ask Elizabeth. She’s the only one who was there we can put a name to, and is still alive.”

“I’ve been working on it, Lindy,” Hunter said. “Miss Amelia’s been checking, too. Even got a few names from Elizabeth.”

I looked over at my meemaw. “How’d you do that?”

“Offered to send out notices of the memorial service to her friends in Dallas. Asked about Sally’s friends. Brought up the hunting accident and came right out and asked her who was out there with them. She named two couples and said to be sure and invite them to the memorial. Said she figured anybody on that hunting trip would want to come see Eugene off.” She hesitated. “Don’t know if any of them were there tonight. In all that uproar, I didn’t get a chance to check the memorial book.”

“Couldn’t you just go ask her, Hunter?” I asked.

“She’s not a whole lot of help. Seems this battle over the money’s made her skittish, like she doesn’t want to give out anything to anybody. Had trouble just getting basic facts about people at the party out of her.”

“Anybody named Curly on the hunt?”

Hunter shook his head. “If he was, then Elizabeth’s been lying to me, that she didn’t know him. Still, I’ve been looking into the man.”

“You know he’s been hanging around town?”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“We saw him right after the memorial. He was standing across from the church, in the woods. I think Elizabeth saw him, too. Anyway, her limo stopped and then sped off.”

“And he was near you yesterday.” Meemaw thought a long time then looked over at Hunter.

“What I think your grandmother is getting at, Lindy, is maybe the man’s after you now. I don’t know why or what’s going on in the man’s head, but you see him yesterday and then today, outside the church. One thing I think we’d better do is make sure you’ve got somebody with you at all times until this is cleared up.”

“Why me? I don’t know him. Never saw him before in my life. I think you’re both jumping at spooks. Coincidence. Maybe he was a friend of Eugene’s and didn’t want to come to the memorial for whatever reason.”

“A friend?” Meemaw’s eyebrows shot up. “He was a waiter at the party, Lindy. Not a friend.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Be careful. Don’t go anywhere alone for a while,” Hunter said. “And I was thinking of something else. What do you say to coming into the sheriff’s office tomorrow morning. I’ll get an artist in there. Maybe you can come up with a sketch that looks like him. I’ll get a BOLO out to departments across Texas. Don’t want to scare the guy. I just need to talk to him.”

I agreed and mentioned Chantal. She’d seen him and could probably identify him better than I could. Hunter agreed to call her and get her into the department in the morning, along with me, to put together a composite picture of “Curly.”

Hunter was going to drop Diana off at her hotel and then offered to take Meemaw back out to the ranch so she could sleep in her own bed. I was grateful all the way around, and especially grateful to Diana, now that I knew who she really was, and was happy to meet Sally’s sister, and just plain glad to have my life settle back into what it used to be, with Hunter in it again. Well, almost. We still didn’t get a chance to talk about how close we almost came to being enemies. And if we were going to get past all of that. And if we had a future. Three questions that kept me awake that night. I hoped they were keeping Hunter awake, too. In his own house. In his own bed—by himself. No, I forgot about his awful dog.