1 Target of Death (11 page)

Marty shook his head as tears appeared.
“It’s so awful. I can’t believe my buddy went down like that.”

“He was killed by an arrow, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand why he’d have
gone out there with a snowstorm on the way. It just makes no sense.”

Barry cried into his beer. “He was my best
friend.”

“I heard he ran around on his wife,
Marilyn.”

Marty slapped the table, spilling the
drinks. “Oh, her. I have no idea why he even married her. She thinks she’s too
good to even get a job.”

“So, you don’t think much of her, then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know her, but she
frowned on Barry and me stopping by.”

Barry nodded, a huge frown on his face.
“How true you are, buddy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was the one
who killed Clayton.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, she was always spending his money,
for one. She had packages delivered about daily to the house via UPS or FedEx.
She was an HSN and QVC addict.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I heard Clayton
only gave her a weekly allowance.”

“And that’s why,” Marty said. “He took
control of the purse strings about a year ago. Clayton kept it pretty quiet,
though. He didn’t want anyone to know his business. That’s when he began to
step out on Marilyn.”

“Okay, so he started cheating on her only a
year ago?”

“Yes.”

“I see, but I don’t think Marilyn has a
good reason to want Clayton dead. If she didn’t even have a job, how would she
support herself?”

“Hard to tell, but I just don’t trust that
woman, that’s all I’m saying,” Marty said. “Isn’t the spouse always a likely
suspect when a husband is murdered?”

“Usually, but Clayton was murdered with an
arrow. Unless you know first-hand that Marilyn knows how to shoot one.”

“I doubt that. She’s not into the outdoors
and barely goes outside in the winter.”

“I thought all you northern folks were used
to the cold.”

Margarita laughed. “So not true. I can feel
the cold in my bones and it makes my knees ache something fierce.”

“Do either of you have any knowledge about
where Clayton got all of his money from?”

Marty’s mouth dropped open. “News to me. He
had money?”

“How don’t you know? I thought you were his
friend.”

“Yes, but it’s not like I went through the
man’s wallet.”

“No, but Clayton gave you the money to get
your Jeep back from the repo man, remember?” Barry reminded Marty.

“Sure, and I paid him back, but he did have
a job at Hank’s Tool and Die.”

I nodded. “So, neither of you remember that
Clayton was flashing cash in town?”

They both shook their heads and I had no
other option than to believe them. “Do you know of anyone who would want Clayton
dead?”

“I sure wish I did. I’d go after them
myself. I miss Clayton so much,” Marty said, swiping his tears away with the
back of his hand.

I thanked the men, suggesting that someone
run them home. They nodded, but I knew that most likely they’d drive
themselves. Drinking and rational thought just didn’t belong in the same
sentence.

***

On the way back to the restaurant, I said, “It
makes no sense that Clayton’s friends didn’t know anything about him flashing
cash around town.”

“Maybe they weren’t as close as Marilyn
said,” Dixie pointed out.

Margarita tapped the dashboard and added,
“They sure added some details that will be hard to check out—like, did
Marilyn overspend Clayton’s money to the point that he had to close the purse
strings?”

“Yes, since these two clowns were the only
ones saying so. From the sounds of it, neither man cared much for her. The only
way we’ll be able to sort this out is if we question Marilyn again.”

“I’d hate to do that, Sassy. She’s been
through enough already.”

“Perhaps, but I haven’t cleared her in my
mind just yet. I think she knows more about where the money came from than
she’s letting on.”

“Hopefully you meant tomorrow. I’m bushed,”
Margarita said.

“I am, too. And that tequila went straight
to my head.”

We drove past the now-completed ice
sculptures that glistened in the moonlight. Once we were in bed at last, I fell
asleep wondering if Marilyn indeed might have been responsible for her
husband’s murder.

Bright and early the next morning,
Margarita, Dixie, and I stood at Marilyn’s door, pounding to be let inside. I
worked my fingers inside my gloves, trying to keep them from freezing. This
morning was colder than any other since we had arrived. The wind was whipping,
spraying us with blowing snow.

“I can’t feel my toes,” Dixie complained.
“Maybe she’s not home.”

“Her car is in the driveway,” Margarita
pointed out.

My guts knotted in my stomach. “We need to
get inside. I have a bad feeling.”

Margarita rummaged through her purse,
coming back with two metal rods. “What on earth are you planning to do with those?”
I asked.

“Pick the lock.”

“What do you know about lock picking?”

“Oh, let’s just say I’ve locked myself out
more than a few times. Plus, I watched some YouTube videos.”

YouTube explains it all. You can learn just
about anything on there. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Margarita took her gloves off and picked
around at the lock until it opened. She smiled in triumph. “See. I told you I
could do it. Lucky for us, the deadbolt wasn’t on.”

I pushed open the door, and as I stepped
in, my eyes widened at the mess. The couch had been overturned and the fabric
had been ripped open.

“Marilyn, are you here?” Margarita said
with widened eyes. Not a sound could be heard; only the whistling wind outside.

“We should call 911,” Dixie suggested.

“Not yet. Let’s take a look around first,
but try not to touch anything.”

We made our way down the hallway, checking
all of the rooms, but Marilyn was nowhere to be found. The bedroom was in the
same condition as the living room. All the drawers were opened, the contents
scattered on the floor.

We gathered in the dining room, where all
the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen were visible next to it with the same
mess that was in the other rooms.

“Where is Marilyn?” I mused aloud.

“It’s obvious that whoever’s money that was
came looking for it,” Margarita said. “We should leave. For all we know, the
perpetrators might still be here.”

I agreed with her, but froze when I spotted
something lying in the snow just outside the patio door. I whipped open the
door and made my way to a body that was on the ground, with an arrow protruding
from it.

“It’s Marilyn,” I said, dropping to my
knees in shock. This finding a dead body was for the birds. I felt just sick
that we hadn’t gotten there in time. And to think that I thought Marilyn might
be guilty of killing her own husband. Not that I can say I’d blame her.

“I knew it was a mistake leaving her here,”
Margarita said, as she stood near Marilyn’s body while Dixie called in the
discovery that was just a few feet away from her.

“We did our best, but she was insistent
that she stay here. There just wasn’t anything we could do.” I breathed deeply
and smelled chemicals coming from the shed, and as I walked toward it, we were
thrown to the ground as it exploded with a “Boom.” Debris flew into the air and
peppered us with wood chips and paper.

“Is everyone okay?” I asked.

Sirens sounded not too far off from us, and
I helped Margarita and Dixie to their feet. We were all wide-eyed by the time
the sheriff and the deputies entered the backyard.

Sheriff Price stared from us to the body on
the ground to the now burning shed. We stood together, shivering, and the
sheriff suggested we go inside and wait for him.

Deputy Jackson kept a watch over us until
the sheriff joined us inside.

“Killer wind-chill out. What brought you by
today?”

“I was just following a few leads and we
had hoped to question Marilyn about her husband’s death. We were told she was
quite the spender about a year ago and I wanted to find out if we were given
the right information.”

“And who told you that, may I ask?”

“Clayton’s friends, Barry Haskel and Marty
Novak.”

“What else did they tell you?”

“Nothing of much use. They didn’t seem to
know much about Clayton at all. We were told that he was flashing cash around
town and they seemed to be clueless about it, which surprised me.”

“So you came here again why?”

“We came here to ask her if it was true
about her spending habits. She led us to believe that her husband kept her on
an allowance. I wonder now if her spending habits might have been the reason. I
wasn’t completely convinced that she was clueless about who might have wanted
her husband dead. Shoot, she might have been the one who killed him, for all I
know.”

“Except for the fact that she hasn’t been
known to go bow hunting, and, of course, she’s now dead. I think that
exonerates her as the killer.”

Margarita raised her hand. “There was
something else I’d like to share with you, Sheriff. It’s about Clayton’s friends;
neither of them much cared for Marilyn. They might even be people of interest
in her death.”

“In the same manner as Clayton? Are you
also insinuating that they killed Clayton?”

“No, but—”

Sheriff Price fingered his chin in thought.
“Whoever killed Clayton killed Marilyn and I don’t see either of those lushes being
capable of that. From my knowledge, Marty only uses arrows with blue fletches,
not pink and white. He’s a real man’s man. Not only masculine, but too chauvinistic
to ever use anything pink in color.”

“How right you are, Sheriff. I guess you
could teach me a thing or two about investigations,” I said.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You girls are
doing a fine job of finding your way onto the top of the suspect list.”

My brow shot up. “You have to be kidding
me? There is no way we had anything to do with Marilyn’s death. We simply came
here to question her and found her dead. From the looks of it, she’s been dead
quite a while. I’m sure one of the workers can tell you what time we left the
restaurant this morning, too.”

“I see, but please explain to me how you
got inside, then?”

Margarita opened her mouth, and I said in a
rush, “The door was open. We did a room-to-room search, and when we couldn’t
find Marilyn, I caught sight of her outside on the ground. Whoever did this was
obviously looking for something.”

Margarita nodded. “You might not know this,
but Marilyn is my cousin. I haven’t seen her in years, though. That was, until
the other day after you informed Marilyn of Clayton’s passing.”

His face tightened. “And you’re telling me
this why?”

Margarita shook her head at the sheriff. “I
was getting to that, if you would quit interrupting me. Anyway, she found a bag
filled with cash. She told us she had planned to hide it.”

“She seemed surprised about finding the
money,” I added. “Also that day, we found an insurance policy that Clayton had
taken out on his wife. A stripper at Hank’s Hotspot said that Clayton told her
he had come into a large sum of money and had planned to leave his wife.”

The sheriff took out a notebook and asked,
“Do you have a name?”

“Cindy. It also appears that Troy, the
bartender, was Cindy’s boyfriend. He insisted that Clayton had slept with his
girl. From what I gathered, Cindy and Troy broke up over the situation. While I
thought Troy might be a person of interest, I really didn’t have much to go
on.”

“So you never grilled him, then?”

“No, I was more concerned about what Cindy
had to say.”

“And what did she have to say?”

I wasn’t about to spill my guts about
Deputy Jackson. He was in enough trouble with the sheriff. “Nothing much, she
just denied sleeping with Clayton.”

“So, she never mentioned that he had a meth
lab at his house?”

“Wh-What?” Dixie sputtered. “Is that why
the shed blew to smithereens, then?

“It appears to be, which means that Marilyn
had to have known all about it. I bet she never just happened to find that
money, either. My bet is that she knew all along. What I need to figure out is
who else was involved, and if they were responsible for Clayton’s death.”

“So, Marilyn might have put someone up to
murdering her husband, but who?” I mused aloud.

“Well, whoever it was sure turned against
her quick,” Margarita said. “You just can’t trust people these days. I bet she
took out that life insurance policy herself to make Clayton look like he was up
to no good.”

“I agree with you there, but I don’t know
how we’ll figure it out now. Whoever her co-conspirator was seemed to have
turned against her. And from the way the house was torn apart, I’d say that
they didn’t know where the money was. I’m betting they
knew
about it, though,” I insisted.

“Thanks for the tips, ladies, but we’ll
take it from here. It’s safe to say we now have a viable suspect.”

“Oh?”

“Sure, the stripper and the boyfriend look
good for it. Cindy and Troy, right? It shouldn’t take long to wrap this one
up.”

“So you think Cindy and Marilyn knew each
other?”

“This is how I see it went down,” the
sheriff began. “Troy knew Marilyn; damn, he might have even involved himself
with Marilyn after he broke up with Cindy, but somehow I believe that he had
Cindy lure Clayton into the woods. Clayton was found with his pants down, so it
fits.”

“Oh, my,” Margarita said. “I had no idea.”

Sheriff Price rocked back on his heels. “No
need to protect my deputy any longer. I’m perfectly aware of the information he
leaked.”

“Are you planning to fire him?”

“Lord, no, Margarita, but I’ll censure him.
I think a week off without pay ought to straighten him up. It’s hard to keep
deputies in Bear Paw, for some reason.”

***

Instead of going back to the restaurant, I
headed to Hank’s Tool and Die. We never had a chance to ask Hank any questions
about Clayton. Once I had pulled in, Dixie asked, “Why are we here?”

“To chat with the boss man. I need to tie
up loose ends, if only in my own mind.”

“Great idea, Sassy. It can’t hurt. Who
knows—we might find out some more useful information.”

The SUV screeched to a stop and we clamored
out, making way for the front door where the letters spelled ‘office’ above the
door. I led the way inside and I tapped my fingers on the counter until a
secretary looked up. She sauntered over and my brow arched at the short skirt
she wore. She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “How can I help
you, ladies?”

We’re here to talk to Hank, the owner,” I
said.

“Nobody talks to Hank,” she said. “You can talk
to me, though. I’m his wife, Mariah.”

That made sense. Of course she was Hank’s
wife. “Thanks, doll, but we need to talk to Hank. It’s about Clayton Percy’s
murder,” I informed her.

She bit her lip as she reached for the
phone, and told whoever was on the other end that Hank was needed in the front
office ASAP.

I glanced around the small room. It had
only two desks with a few file cabinets, nothing too fancy. A rather short man
hobbled into the office through another door. He swept a hand over his nearly
bald head.

“What’s so important?” he asked his wife.

She motioned in our direction. “These
ladies are here to talk to you about Clayton Percy.”

His face tightened. “What about?”

I leaned across the counter slightly.
“Isn’t there someplace a little more private where we could talk?”

He nodded. “Sure.” He lifted a latch and
the counter folded back enough for us to enter. When we walked through another
door, the fragrance of shaved metal was all I could smell. Margarita froze and
I about ran smack into her.

“Margarita, really? Get a move on,” I said.

We gathered in another office, this one
with an oval conference table. We sat and declined the offer of coffee. “I hate
to bother you, Hank. I can only imagine how busy you are.”

“Thanks, I’m sure the rumor mill going
around already informed you how Hank’s Hotspot was shut down by the cops.”

“Yes,” Margarita said. “Some people should
just mind their own business.”

I about bit my tongue off at that. “Yes,
they should,” I agreed. “Perhaps you’ll be back open before long.”

“When pigs fly,” he said. “But I own a
space of land out of town. It will probably be better suited for that type of
business. I never meant to steal all of your business away, Margarita. I
promise when I reopen I won’t open until nighttime, so it shouldn’t hurt your
business.”

“Thanks, but there’s nothing like a little
friendly competition. Of course, I don’t have strippers, so we’re really not
exactly in the same business.”

“True. I’m sure you didn’t come here to
talk about business plans. What would you ladies like to know about Clayton
Percy?”