Trouble at the Red Pueblo (34 page)

Then he returned to the patio.

Laurie looked up as he stepped through the kitchen door. She said something softly to Jack and went to meet him. “I think we need to stay here with him,” she whispered.

“What? Stay here with Jack? Why?”

“Keep your voice down. He’s very weak, and he hasn’t got anyone to take care of him.”

“There’s a card—”

“Shh. Whisper.”

Spider whispered. “There’s a card for hospice care on the counter. Call them.”

“Spider!” Laurie opened the kitchen door and pulled him in, closing it behind her.

Spider spoke in a normal tone. “I’m serious, Laurie. We’ve got a man in jail that needs our best efforts to find a way to get him out. What do we tell him? Oh, I’ve got to tend to my sick fourth cousin who, by the way, was well enough to drive ten hours three days ago?”

“The man in jail needs Spider Latham’s best efforts. I’m not telling you to quit that. You’re the one Brick Tremain hired for the job, so go do it.” She put her hands on her hips. “But I’m staying here, and I’m taking care of Jack.”

Spider looked down at her and smiled. “Dang but you’re cute when you go all righteous indignation on me.”

He reached to pull her closer. She stepped back, though a smile was threatening. “Get that look out of your eye,” she warned, “because you’re going to be sleeping alone at the hotel while I’m sleeping over here.”

Spider threw up his hands in surrender. “I’ll go get the bags.”

“You might as well just check out and bring everything over. We’ll stay here for the next few days until—” She looked away.

Spider gathered her in his arms, and this time she didn’t resist. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. He was just singing with you four days ago. Remember?”

She sighed. “It seems like a lifetime ago. So much has happened.”

“Yeah, and so much has yet to happen. We’ve got to pull a rabbit out of a hat.”

They both jumped when Spider’s phone beeped. She stepped away, and he pulled it out and checked a text from Marshal Thayne.

“He says he’s got the gate log,” Spider told her. “And guess what? Tiffany Wendt spent Saturday night in beautiful Defrain Estates.”

THE NEXT MORNING
found Spider watching the sunrise in his rearview mirror, intent on making it to Hurricane, Utah, before Tiffany Wendt had a chance to leave the el cheapo hotel where she was staying. The night before, Spider had talked to Tiffany’s friend in Fredonia. She said Tiffany had left the area, so Spider and Laurie had spent an hour sitting on Jack’s patio, calling a list culled from the Internet. Spider soon grew weary of asking the same question over and over, but Laurie persisted and found Tiffany at an older place in the downtown area. The motel name sounded familiar to Spider, and when he arrived, he recognized it as a place the basketball team had stayed when he was in High School. It looked like it had had minimal upkeep since that time.

The red convertible was parked in front of room 105. Spider pulled in beside it and checked his watch. Eight o’clock. Tiffany was probably still in bed. Should he knock on the door or wait until she came out? What if she slept until noon? Better operate on his own timetable.

He got out and walked to the door, noticing as he came closer that the bright blue paint was peeling from both the door and the doorjamb. He knocked and waited, but no one answered. He knocked harder and then rubbed his knuckles against his pant leg to take away the sting. After a moment he heard what sounded like something falling to the floor and someone called, “What? Who is it?”

Spider didn’t answer but knocked again. He wasn’t going to have this conversation through a motel room door.

“All right. All right. I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.”

Spider waited a few moments more. He had just raised his fist to knock again when he heard the door knob turn. The door opened a crack.

A tousled Tiffany Wendt peeked through with one mascara-smudged eye. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I saw you at the museum in Fredonia when I was there talking to Matt Taylor.”

“Oh.” Her disinterest was palpable.

Spider edged the toe of his boot toward the crack in the door. “I’d like to talk to you a minute. Maybe I could buy you breakfast?”

That seemed to be the magic word. The crack became larger, revealing a bare shoulder and Tiffany’s hand holding the bedspread wrapped around her. Spider kept his eyes on her face. “How fast can you get ready?”

“Does breakfast depend on my speed?”

“Yes. How about ten minutes?”

She grimaced. “I don’t guarantee the results.”

“I’ll chance it. See you in ten.”

The door closed, and Spider sat on a nearby bench, enjoying the cool of the morning. He took out his phone, and as he did so, the farrier’s business card fell out. After picking it up, he stared at it, flicking it with his index finger as he considered. Finally, with no real reason to do so except a niggling in the back of his mind, he called the number.

A woman answered and in response to Spider’s inquiry said her husband was the farrier, but he was gone until ten. Spider made an appointment, wrote the time on the back of the card, and sat back to wait for Tiffany.

It took her fifteen minutes to dress, but the results were tolerable. She wore a pair of good-looking slacks and a turquoise blouse, with large hoop earrings of the same color dangling from her ears.

“There’s a restaurant a block down the street,” Spider said when she emerged from the room. “Shall we walk?”

She fell into step beside him. “What happened to your eye?”

Spider touched the area around his cheekbone. He had forgotten to wear his sunglasses. “I fell afoul of Austin Lee.”

She sucked in a breath and stopped in her tracks, staring at him with eyes as big as her hoop earrings. “Why did you say that?”

She had grown so pale that Spider reached out and took her arm. “Because it’s true. He had somebody plant a bomb in the car I was driving. You need to be careful about the people you hang around with.”

She shook his hand off and continued walking. “I don’t suppose you said anything when Little Earth Mother at the museum was dating him.”

“Actually, I wasn’t around when that happened.”

“You’re lucky.” She continued walking without saying anything until they reached the restaurant, but as he opened the door, she said, “You know he’s dead, don’t you?”

“Yeah. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Her eyes cut to the door, and Spider stepped between her and an easy exit.

“I’m just interested in information. They’ve got Matt Taylor in jail for Austin’s murder, but I don’t think he did it.”

“Matt? Kill Austin? You’ve got to be kidding.”

Obeying the sign that asked them to sit wherever they wanted, Spider chose a corner booth and slid in over the slick plastic upholstery. He picked up one of the menus that sat behind the sugar holder and gave it to Tiffany.

“I think you might be one of the last people to see Austin alive. Can I ask you some questions?”

“I remember you now,” Tiffany said. “You were at the museum when I came by to pick up Matt one day. Was that your wife that was with you? She could be a stunner, if she just wore a little more makeup.”

Spider paused as the waitress took their orders. Ham and eggs for him, the same for her but with two orders of toast. And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

“Okay,” Spider said when the waitress was gone. “Once again. Can I ask you some questions about Austin?”

“You can ask, but I won’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

“Well, oftentimes it turns out that it’s better to answer in an informal situation like now rather than be subpoenaed to have to testify in court. When that happens, you either answer, or you’re cited for contempt.”

Tiffany unwrapped some silverware from a paper napkin. “Is that a threat?”

Spider shook his head. “Statement of fact. I can almost guarantee that if Matt goes on trial, you’ll be called to testify.”

“Because you’ll make sure of it?”

“Because your name is in the guardhouse log as probably the last person to see Austin.”

“Alive. You said before I was the last person to see him alive.”

“Was he alive when you last saw him?”

Tiffany gave a sly smile. “Oh, boy. Was he ever!.”

“Tell me about when you left him.”

“What’s to tell? We spent a beautiful night together. Makes me wonder why I spent so much time and energy trying to land the upright and chaste Matt Taylor.”

“Trying to land him?”

“Marry him.”

“Why did you? You and Austin seem better matched.”

She smiled and batted her eyelashes. “You think so?”

“Yeah. So what was with Matt?”

Tiffany leaned on an elbow. “I don’t know. I remembered him all these years, ever since high school. He seemed so in control, so manly. Always driving his pickup into the schoolyard like he owned the hills, but he’d come spend time with us lesser mortals. He was the strong, silent type, and I’d have given anything to be his girl.”

“Did he have a girl?”

Tiffany shook her head. “And now I know why. He hasn’t a clue about how to treat a woman. His idea of a great date is to drag her up a canyon to look at some rocks.”

“But you remembered him, and that’s why you came back from California after your divorce?”

“Yeah. First I looked him up on the Internet and found out he was single. Assistant Director of a museum. That sounded like a pretty secure job. Boy was I wrong.”

“So why did you tell him you were going to donate all that money?”

“I said that early on, when I was still seeing him through high-school glasses. It was an impulse. I wanted to help him, and the words just came out. Then I didn’t know how to get out of it.”

“I imagine you were glad when Matt found out.”

“I almost did cartwheels. Especially since I knew that Austin and Linda weren’t an item any longer.”

The waitress brought their order, and Spider intended to continue talking, but Tiffany was eating so hungrily that he let her get through her breakfast before he picked up the subject again.

He watched as she wrapped her second order of toast in her napkin and stowed it in her purse. “Insurance,” she said.

“Can we go back to Austin?” he asked.

Tiffany closed her eyes. “It’s like one of those romance novels. He was so beautiful. So rich. I spent one night with him, and then he died.” She sighed and opened her eyes. “I’ll go to my grave with him imprinted on my heart.”

“Well, he went to his grave with some imprints, too,” Spider said dryly. When she looked questioningly at him, he said, “Never mind. I want you to tell me about your parting. What happened when you left his house? Who saw you leave?”

“Mmm.” Tiffany smiled, showing her even, white teeth. “The good-bye was delicious.” She almost purred. “He kissed me on the doorstep, and he walked me to my car. He kissed me again and kind of pressed me against the car, if you know what I mean? And he whispered such things that I almost didn’t leave.”

“And why did you leave?”

Tiffany looked at her fingernails. “He said he had some work to do. He’d be busy all day.”

“It was Sunday.”

“Was it? He said it was something about the land development. He had an office in his house.”

“So, when you drove away, did you see anyone? Someone walking on the sidewalk or in their yard? Another car driving by? Anything?”

She shook her head and spread her hand on her chest. “I was watching Austin in the rearview mirror. I’ll remember that image until I die.”

Spider caught the eye of the waitress and signaled for the check. “Can I ask you a few questions about your ex-husband?”

“Wendell? What do you want to ask?”

“Is he the jealous type?”

Tiffany’s mouth dropped open, and Spider could almost see the wheels turning as she figured out where this line of questioning would lead. “You think Wendell might have murdered Austin because he was jealous?”

“It’s a thought.”

She giggled. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“What makes it so funny?”

“Wendell takes the Ten Commandments very seriously. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not commit adultery. That’s why he divorced me.”

“So there was another man involved?”

“How do you think I came up with that red car? Unfortunately, he died on me.”

“The family is saying you stole it.”

“Hard to do when it was in my own name.”

Spider felt things were getting away from him. “Okay, back to Wendell. I understand he’s a truck driver.”

She cocked her head to the side. “I guess you could say that. He does drive a truck. What he does is service porta potties all around Modesto.”

“So you can’t see him coming over and killing Austin?”

“I can’t see him driving that far on a Sunday. He’s very strict about such things.”

The waitress brought the check, and Spider slid out of the booth to go to the cash register.

“Do you want your leftover toast?”

Spider looked around and saw the triangular pieces disappear into Tiffany’s purse. “No. You go ahead.”

He paid the check, and they left, walking side by side back to the hotel. “Things are pretty lean, are they?” he asked.