Vivian rubbed her face. She shouldn’t have asked him about Ellen.
“Damn it…” Where could she turn? She had no idea what she could do to help Rex. She hated the thought that her brother was hurting as badly as she was. And she could no longer justify canceling her evening with Myles.
Jake’s voice out in the yard brought her around to face the door. He was home. She could see him charging toward the house and was glad that Vera was behind him, hobbling up to say hello instead of just dropping him off.
“Mom?” Jake flung the door wide only to find her standing about three feet away from him. “Oh, there you are. We had so much fun!”
She wanted to hug him. To hold him close and never let go. But he was wet and didn’t smell all that pleasant. And these days he wouldn’t tolerate more than a short squeeze. “Did you catch anything?”
“Three rainbow trout! They’re in the cooler. But I don’t know how to gut them and neither does Nana. Do you think Sheriff King’s at home?”
Great. Another reason for him to turn to Myles. “Not yet,” she said. “But I can go online and look for a tutorial. Want me to do that?”
“Nah, Sheriff King will know how.” He glanced toward the stairs. “Where’s Mia? I want to show her.”
Vivian propped up her smile with a bit more determination. “In her room.”
He dashed around her, yelling his sister’s name as Nana Vera reached the front door. “He had such a good time,” she said, using the doorjamb to help her get up that final step.
Vivian held out an arm to steady her. “I didn’t realize you knew how to fish.”
She shrugged her bony shoulders. “I don’t. But there was a book on it at the library. I read it last week. Then I went down and bought what it said I’d need. Somehow…it worked. Jake and I both learned something today,” she added with a tired laugh.
Vivian shook her head. “I’m impressed.”
“I’m a better fisherman than I thought. But I don’t have the foggiest idea what to do with those poor creatures now that they’re in my ice chest. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to catch a thing.”
“Beginner’s luck.” Considering the smell, the mess and the revulsion factor, maybe they should let her son seek Myles’s help. “I’m sure we can get Sheriff King to teach the kids.”
Vera adjusted her wide-brimmed hat. She was also wearing long pants and a lightweight yellow jacket to protect her from the sun. “I doubt he’ll have time,” she mused. “Not today.”
“Why’s that?”
“He’s probably at the autopsy. And who knows what he’ll have to do afterward.”
“The autopsy’s today?” Myles hadn’t mentioned it when he stopped by earlier. He was so careful to keep the details of the case to himself.
“According to Lawrence Goebel.”
Goebel was the county coroner. He was also Vera’s ballroom dance partner. They went down to the veterans’ hall once a month and took a few turns around the dance floor, but a decade earlier, they’d entered numerous competitions. Vivian thought they owned every ribbon that could be won in this region. She’d once asked Vera why she’d never gotten romantically involved with Goebel—they made such a handsome couple—and Vera had whispered that she and Goebel were both interested in the same man. To their mutual disappointment, that man had recently married a third party. “What does he have to say about the murder?” Vivian asked.
“Pat was killed by blunt-force trauma.”
Vivian raised a finger to indicate silence. Jake was bringing Mia down to see his prized fish. Although the children would hear about the murder eventually, Vivian didn’t want them to be frightened by the more gruesome details—probably because of the images that still haunted her.
Only after they’d brushed past and run outside did she resume the conversation. “What kind of blunt-force trauma?”
“Who knows? But the killer used something to bash in his head.”
“A rock? A lamp?”
“Could’ve been either, I suppose. It was a furnished rental. But…”
“What?”
She looked around as if double-checking that they were alone. “Gertie had to go through the place this morning and take inventory, poor thing.”
“Was she able to do it?”
“With her sister’s help.”
“Was anything missing?”
“Just an electric can opener.”
Vivian backed up a step. “That’s the murder weapon?”
“Used with enough force, an electric can opener can crush a skull as easily as a bat or a rock, I suppose.”
Sickened by the thought, Vivian bit her lip. Poor Pat. Had The Crew done this to him? If so, would she be able to find out before it was too late?
“Did Larry say if the sheriff has his eye on any particular person?” She needed a hint of reassurance, something to tell her she was overreacting.
But she didn’t get it.
“They have no motive and no witnesses,” Vera said, “which means they have no suspects and very little chance of tracking down the culprit.”
9
The motorcycle vibrated beneath Vivian as she clung to the man driving it. Sheriff King seemed to be taking the winding road too fast. But maybe it only felt that way because she hadn’t been on a bike in years. She wasn’t used to the exhilaration, the sense of freedom and power, or the other feelings that arose as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him…?.
He’d given her a leather jacket and a helmet to wear. She hadn’t asked where he’d gotten them but they were obviously closer to her size than his. She assumed they’d belonged to his late wife. It was too sad to imagine what Amber Rose must’ve gone through before she died, and what Myles and Marley must’ve suffered. So Vivian chose not to think about it. She told herself she was simply grateful that he’d been practical enough to bring them. Warm as the day had been, the temperature was dropping rapidly as they barreled through the mountains.
“You okay?” he yelled when she kept shifting.
Her gun, which she’d shoved into her waistband, was cutting into the small of her back. She’d been trying to ease the discomfort and put some space between them at the same time. The gun she could move. But with the bike leaning this way, then that, it required constant effort not to plaster herself against him.