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Dela walked up to the door of a small single-wide mobile home in the area where Mugshot had been hit by a teenage driver. She was glad she’d been there for the dog and even happier she’d purchased the house in Tutuilla. The crowded mobile homes were depressing to her. She liked having space between her and her neighbor. Even her mom and Grandfather Thunder had a row of bushes between their properties for privacy.
The bark of a large dog sounded on the other side of the door before Dela knocked. She glanced over her shoulder at Marty. He shrugged and she rapped on the door.
The dog’s bark became deeper and more threatening. Dela stepped off the small porch and stood on the ground beside Marty. She hoped the dog didn’t come barreling out when the door opened.
“Quiet, Angel!” a woman’s voice shouted above the barking. It sounded like Jacee but Dela wasn’t certain.
The barking stopped.
“Who’s there?” Jacee asked.
Dela motioned for Marty to speak up.
“It’s me, Marty. I wanted to talk to you about work,” he said.
The lock on the door clicked and Jacee peeked out. Her brows met above the bridge of her nose at the sight of Dela. “What is she doing here?”
Marty stepped forward. “We need to talk to you. Some information has turned up about you and it could be harmful to your job at the casino.”
Jacee’s eyes widened and she pulled the door open. “What are you talking about? What information?” She backed up, allowing them to enter.
A large black and red dog, that Dela recognized as a Rottweiler, stood in the hallway. The animal’s bowling ball sized head came to her waist. The dog eyed them but didn’t make a sound or attempt to move from the hallway.
Jacee sat on the couch and made kissing sounds. The dog trotted across the room and lay down sprawling the length of the furniture with its head in the woman’s lap.
Dela took the rocking chair, and Marty sat on an overstuffed chair that looked about fifty years old.
“What could possibly interfere with my job?” Jacee asked.
The fact the woman seemed completely oblivious to her being surveillance at the casino and having a felony record made Dela wonder if, perhaps, she had been at the wrong place at the wrong time in both instances.
Marty cleared his throat. “Because of Paul’s death, the Feds have been looking into everyone close to him. They came across your felony misdemeanors of lighting two houses on fire.”
Jacee’s eyes widened. “But I thought those were taken off my record. They both happened before I was eighteen.” She glanced at Dela and back to Marty.
“You were a minor when they happened?” Dela asked, wondering why Shaffer hadn’t mentioned that when he brought it up.
“Yes. I hung out with the wrong crowd in high school. I didn’t set those houses on fire. I was there when both happened, but I didn’t do it. However, when I was brought in, I protested I didn’t do it, but I wouldn’t point any fingers.” She hiccupped. “Not if I wanted to stay safe and my family to stay safe.” The dog started growling as Jacee became noticeably more and more agitated.
“Calm down. We need to know all you know about Paul’s cooking meth and why Daniel took off,” Dela said, hoping by changing the subject the woman would become less upset and the dog would be lulled into complacency.
Jacee sniffed, wiped the tears from her cheeks on the top of the dog’s head, and said, “I told you all of it before.”
“No, you didn’t.” Dela stared at the woman. “Do you use meth?”
“No! It’s nasty stuff.”
“Then why is your boyfriend making it?” Dela asked.
Jacee hung her head. “Daniel said he’d learn how to cook it from Paul, then go out on his own until we had enough money to start over somewhere else. He knows that even though he isn’t using, just being around the fumes is harmful, not to mention the whole thing could blow up.” She shuddered. “I told him I would rather we just took off and figured out how to live when we landed somewhere. But by then he’d already talked to Mr. Sander and couldn’t get out.”
Dela narrowed her eyes. “I think it was more like Daniel didn’t want out. Because right now he’s in Wyoming not worrying about making money by cooking.”
The woman’s eyes bore into Dela. “He’s hiding from Mr. Sander because you told him lies.”
“I only told Sander the truth. The one telling lies is your boyfriend.” Dela leaned forward. “Do you think Daniel killed Paul to take over the business of selling to Sander?”
The pause told Dela the woman hadn’t ruled out her boyfriend had killed her cousin’s husband.
Jacee shook her head slowly. “He told me he didn’t do it. But it was good for us.”
“Were you with Daniel the morning Paul was killed?” Dela asked.
“No. He’d said he had to go to town. I didn’t go to work until the night shift, so I stayed home to get some laundry done.” The woman patted the dog’s head in her lap.
“Then you can’t say that Daniel didn’t go to Paul’s that morning,” Marty said.
“No.” Jacee slid her gaze over to her boss.
“What kind of vehicle does Daniel drive?” Dela asked. She hadn’t seen any vehicles at the Winter residence, nor parked out on the road. She would have noticed since she wanted to be sure no one was there when she retrieved Jethro.
“He has a green Ford truck.” Jacee played with the dog’s ears as she talked. “I’m sure he would have told me if he’d killed Paul. He knew how much I hated Ina’s husband. Lately, Daniel has been doing things to make me happy because he knows how much I hate what he does to make money.”
“He would have bragged about killing a man you despised?” Marty asked.
She nodded.
Dela stood. “Thank you for talking with us.” She started for the door and had a thought. “Has Daniel ever had conversations with Detective Jones of the Tribal Police?”
Jacee moved the dog off her lap and stood. “That’s funny you asked. I’m pretty sure that’s who was talking to Daniel the night before he left. I didn’t get a good look at him. It was when I was getting ready to go to work. I looked out the door to see where Angel was and saw Daniel and a man standing next to a tribal vehicle. My first thought was he got caught cooking meth. But when I went out to go to work, the vehicle was gone and so was Daniel and his truck.”
“You may have a visit from FBI Special Agent Quinn Pierce. He is trying to get information on Detective Jones and his involvement with the drugs on the rez.” Dela walked to the door and opened it.
Once she and Marty were seated in his vehicle, Dela pulled out her phone and texted Quinn.
Jacee Bing has information about Det. Dick and his involvement with Daniel Booth.
“Now where to?” Marty asked.
“Let’s go have a visit with Mr. Sander.” Dela punched in the phone number she’d saved for the Sander residence and listened to the dial tone and ringing.
“Hello?” the same female voice from the other night answered.
“Mrs. Sander, I’m trying to schedule a meeting with your husband. Where could I do that?” Dela asked.
A hiss came over the line. “He has an office number for that.” She rattled off the number and hung up.
“I’m not scoring any points with Mrs. Sander,” Dela said as she dialed the number the woman had given her.
“Sander Construction, this is Genie, how may I help you?” asked a young female voice.
“I’d like to talk with Mr. Sander about a job I’d like to hire his company for, can I get in to see him today?” Dela asked.
The woman said there was an opening at four-thirty. “What name shall I put down?”
“Marty Casper.” Dela ended the call and glanced at Marty.
The man was staring at her. “I don’t need my name in that man’s schedule when the Feds bring him down on drug charges.”
“I couldn’t give him mine, he would make sure he wasn’t in the office when we arrived. I’ll let Quinn know we used your name to talk to him.” She then googled Sander Construction to find out where the office was in Pendleton. “Let’s grab a late lunch,” she said as Marty drove back to Pendleton on Mission.
“We could stop in at the clinic and get a sandwich there,” he said.
Knowing she had ruined his vacation by having him play bodyguard, Dela agreed that was a good solution.
♠ ♣ ♥ ♦
Dela and Marty sat in the reception area waiting for the clock to tick 4:30 and the receptionist to usher them into Mr. Sander’s office.
They couldn’t talk about what they were going to say. The woman glanced up at them every minute as if to see if they were still seated.
The phone buzzed, the woman answered, and said, “Yes, your four-thirty is here. I’ll bring them right in.” She replaced the phone and stood. “Follow me.”
Dela and Marty walked behind the woman down a hall to a large wooden door.
She knocked and held the door open, motioning for them to enter.
Dela walked in first.
Sander’s face reddened and his cheeks puffed out as he stood. “What are you doing here?”
The man who seemed to be the drug dealer’s shadow appeared to Dela’s right.
“We have some questions to ask you.” Dela continued into the room with Marty behind her. She took one of the chairs in front of Sander’s desk.
“I don’t have to answer any questions you ask. You aren’t the police,” Sander said, motioning for the bodyguard to move them out.
“You’re right, we aren’t the police, and I don’t plan on saying anything about your other profession to any cops. I want to find out if you called last night and threatened me.” Dela wasn’t going to let this man shove her out the door without some answers.
Sander stared at her. “Why would I do that?”
“To keep me from finding out you killed Paul Winter.”
The CEO slapped a hand on the desk.
Marty flinched.
She didn’t. Dela had seen Sander’s theatrics before. She wouldn’t have expected anything less than his outburst.
“I didn’t kill Paul. He made me money.”
“Except when his wife ran off with the front money.” Dela kept her gaze on Sander.
It was as if someone punched a hole in the dealer’s body and he slowly deflated down into the chair behind his desk. “You brought that money back to me. I had no reason to kill Paul.”
“Ahh, but the money was given to you after he was dead.” Dela wasn’t going to let Sander think she could be deterred from the reason she was here.
“I did not kill Paul.” He glared at her.
She hooked a thumb toward the bodyguard. “Did you ask him to kill Paul?”
“No. I didn’t want Paul dead. He made me money. Lots of money. Why would I kill the person making me rich?”
“Fair enough. What about Detective Richard Jones? I understand he has been keeping your business on the reservation under wraps for you.”
