Death on Heels (32 page)

“You don’t have any sources. You just rewrote my story, didn’t you?”

He grinned like the jackal that he was. “Imagine you finding a silver bootheel belonging to poor little Rae Fowler. Sheer dumb luck. Not many people would pick up a dirty old broken heel and put it together with a dead girl.”

“Dumb luck?”

“What are the odds Cole Tucker would take Lacey Smithsonian to the same cabin where Rae Fowler was killed? You think that was coincidence?”

“Was she killed there, Muldoon? I only know that her boot was broken there.”

Muldoon clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “If she was killed there, Tucker killed her! It’s logical, isn’t it? She couldn’t run away with a broken heel, now could she? Looks bad for your Tucker. You suppose
he returned to the scene of the crime, like in the books? Took you along for the ride?”

“So why do you think I’m still alive?” She pulled a copy of the latest edition of
The Daily Press
from a pile by the door. It had another bad picture of her in it.

“I figure you got nine lives, Scoop. What are you doing here anyway? You got a story for me? Guaranteed front page. No hard feelings. Well, maybe a few.”

“No. I have questions for you.” Lacey stepped into the cramped office. It was paneled in the same cheap wood she remembered from her first day on the job. Vic listened in the hallway, out of sight, letting her take this wherever she wanted.

Muldoon wore his own familiar uniform: slacks, polo shirt, and the ever-present cardigan sweater, which he equated with being a newspaper editor. The very picture of a professional newspaperman, but still a relaxed good old boy who would listen patiently to all your stories. He set himself apart from the town; he didn’t sport Western wear. He was above all that. His clothes told Lacey a lot, but it didn’t tell her whether Muldoon was a killer.

“You have questions?” Muldoon leaned back in his chair and propped his shoes on his desk. “Some things don’t change.”

“Did you have an affair with Ally Newport just before she died?”

“Where’d you hear that?” He stretched out and put his hands behind his head.

“Around.”

“Ally was sociable. But don’t go believing everything you hear.”

“Is that like not believing everything you read in the newspaper?”

Muldoon laughed. “Since you left, no one else here has had your kind of spunk. God, you come in here and ask the boss if he had an affair!”

“You are not my boss. Did you have an affair? Ally was the kind you like, young and friendly and none too bright. Remember, Dodd, I
knew
you.”

“Oh, hell.” He put his feet on the floor and sat up
straight. “We had a little fling, no big deal. She was a friendly gal. I am a friendly guy. And I’m a free man, since my divorce came through.”

“Was your affair going on when Ally disappeared and ended up dumped on one of those lonely roads?”

“Matter of fact, it was well over. She saw other guys. Lots of them. Alley Cat, they called her. Did you know that, Scoop?”

“Did the cops question them? Did they question you?”

“I ask the questions in this town. I may have had a chat with the sheriff about Ally, but that was an interview for
The Daily Press
!” The color was rising in Muldoon’s face. “Nobody knew who killed Ally, until Tucker was arrested.”

“After evidence was planted on his land. You know anything about that?”

“Just what I read in the paper. Come on, next question.”

He’s a newspaperman, all right,
Lacey thought,
albeit a piss-poor one.
Journalists always want to stick around to the bitter end of an interview, just to make sure they don’t miss anything, even when they’re the ones being grilled.

“I heard you made an offer for Tucker’s ranch.”

“You must have had quite a chat with Tucker out there in the wilderness. Must have been cozy, the two of you back together again. I’m flattered you had time to think about me, Scoop. I’d think you’d be too busy catching up on old times. But I’d be happier if you wrote a story for
The Daily Press,
for old times’ sake.”

I’d rather kick you in the head.
“You knew about the potential for mineral leases, Muldoon, before anyone else did. You made a grab for his land.”

“Grab, schmab. I made him an offer. Tucker turned it down. Big deal.”

“But now that Tucker’s been arrested, it might take selling the ranch to buy him a decent defense.”

Muldoon paused. “There’s a thought. Think I should make another offer?”

Swine
. She wanted to slap the smug look off his face. “No, I’m saying Tucker was set up. Framed to squeeze him and his family out of his land.”

“By me?” Muldoon looked astonished. “Me, set him up? Why, to frame him, I’d have to have the evidence that was found on his property. Things that belonged to the dead women. If I’d found any damn evidence, you’d have read about it in
The Daily Press
!” The wheels were beginning to turn. “Or you think— You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with their deaths.”

“Can’t I? Muldoon, I suspect you of everything from lousy proofreading to the Great Train Robbery.” She leaned against the doorjamb. She could feel Vic’s presence next to her, out of sight, in the dark hallway. He touched the fingers of her hand that lingered outside the door.

“Sure, I wanted to make some money off those mineral leases,” Muldoon said. “But I didn’t set Tucker up. If he was set up. Good story though. Front page stuff.” Muldoon scratched his head. All this thinking must have made it itch. “I didn’t even know Rae Fowler. Saw her around a time or two, strutting on those silver heels like she was a big, grown-up girl. Playing dangerous games.”

“What kinds of dangerous games?”

“Working in bars like the Little Snake when she was just a baby. Flirting with big bad boys.”

“Did you know Corazon too?”

“Small town. You don’t see many as pretty as her in Sagebrush. Corazon Reyes was kind of snotty though. Reminded me of you. Now, listen to me, Scoop. I am seriously hurt. I gave you your first job. I was good to you. Taught you everything you know.”

“All you taught me was to get the hell out of this town.” She threw the newspaper on his desk. “And I’m not convinced you didn’t have something more to do with those women’s deaths.”

He jumped up suddenly and moved around the desk. Lacey took one step back into the dark hallway. Muldoon loomed in the door. He stopped when he saw Vic.

“I’ve had it with you, Scoop. Let me tell you one
thing. You ever mention me in print, except in a good way—in a positive light—as a public-spirited citizen of this town—I will kick your pretty little ass from here to the Wyoming line.”

She laughed in his face. “Keep reading
The Eye Street Observer
, Muldoon.”

“Start talking,” Vic said.

Lacey waited until they had ordered their pepperoni, artichoke, and black olive pizza. They were in a new little Italian restaurant she hadn’t seen before, a block off Sundance Way. They were tucked into a corner where they could talk.

“If Tucker’s criminal defense runs to hundreds of thousands of dollars for his trial for murders he didn’t commit, the family will have to sell the ranch.”

“So how is just making an offer for the Tuckered Out squeezing the family, and just how does this frame work?” He smiled at her. “Call me skeptical. And I don’t like the way Muldoon stormed after you.”

“Good thing you were there. I’d have had to kick him where it counts. Anyway, Tucker believes someone, possibly the killer or someone who stumbled onto the killer’s cache of the victims’ property, planted evidence on his ranch and gave the anonymous tip to Grady, to force Cole’s arrest.”

“It’s a stretch. In that case, the killer could have framed anyone.” Vic sipped a glass of Chianti. “And the cops must have looked for DNA on those women’s belongings.”

“Cole did go out with Corazon, so there might be some kind of physical evidence from him. Somewhere.”

“Are you saying someone might have targeted her
because
she dated Tucker and then killed her?”

“God, I didn’t think of that. That’s horrible.” Lacey leaned back in her chair. “At any rate, now they can make an offer to buy the ranch when the family gets desperate and can’t turn it down.”

“Or wait for the state to take the rights.”

“Maybe there’s some reason to hurry. In any event,
that’s bad public relations. Maybe someone knows the killer and wants to get the heat off him now.”

“The family could simply lease the mineral rights on the Tuckered Out Ranch,” Vic pointed out. “Or are you saying that wouldn’t be enough money?”

“I don’t know. The Tuckers turned down every offer. Cole said they have this crazy idea that you should own the land all the way up to Heaven and down to the center of the Earth, including the water rights and the mineral rights, not just the surface.”

“Most ranchers out here feel that way,” Vic said. “But in order to frame Tucker, Avery or Muldoon, or even Stanford, would have to be involved with the crime, or somehow luck into the evidence. And then there is Zeke Yancey. He doesn’t seem to be after anything but his next hangover. But then there’re his cracks about ‘Little Miss Silver Heels.’”

“And Zeke seems to be friends with Grady. What if someone knew Yancey was a killer and was keeping souvenirs?”

“What if? Lacey, I know you’ve got that famous instinct of yours. Cops have gut instincts too, but they still have to go on the facts. Hard cold facts.”

“You want to hear me out, or are we just here for the lecture?”

“Lacey, darlin’, we’re here for the pizza. I have not yet begun the lecture part of this evening. Believe me, you will know it when it happens, because it’s going to come complete with charts and graphs.”

“I may want to take notes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay. Who did it, who killed those women?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who do you suspect?”

Lacey blew out her breath. “Everybody.”

“The Averys?” She nodded. “Virgil’s the slick one. And Homer, he’s unusual. Maybe a high-functioning autistic. He knows things, in spite of appearances, whatever his ability or disability might be.”

“He was way too interested in my boots. And Virgil?”
Lacey shook off the chill traveling down her neck. “I don’t know. Creepy. Don’t trust him, don’t like him. Now maybe we should consider Deputy Duck.”

“You’re talking about Grady Rush?” Vic asked. “The way you ladies talk.”

“Deputy Rush caught the anonymous tip about evidence on Tucker’s land.”

“Yeah, Owens told me that.”

“Okay. Has Grady come up with a reasonable explanation for how and when he got this tip? Is there any proof there was an anonymous tipster?”

The pizza came steaming to the table. Vic put a slice on Lacey’s plate and helped himself. “You’re mentioning Rush because?”

“He knows something, Vic. I really think he does. Maybe he knows something about Yancey. Maybe something about the Averys, or that cigar-chomping, turquoise-wearing carpetbagger, Mitch Stanford. And something else. Grady was at the Amarillo yesterday, even though he had to know T-Rex would turn purple at the very sight of him. And last night when he showed up at the Blue Ox? I think he’s afraid I’d tell he unlocked Tucker’s restraints.”

“That is just impossible to believe.” Vic shook his head. “A lawman would never do a thing like that.”

“A
dumb
lawman would! I saw him do it. Maybe he did it because he knew Tucker was being railroaded. A favor, so Tucker could kiss me or something. He didn’t think Tucker would take off.”

“All different breeds of weasel, I’ll grant you that. But that is not enough to base a murder accusation on. And you, darlin’, have to consider the possibility that Tucker might have killed those women.” Vic dug into his pizza.

“Then why did he put me on a horse and send me back to town? Sentimental reasons?”

“I don’t know, but I was so relieved I could’ve leapt tall buildings with a single bound.” He put the pizza back down. “It slays me you were with Tucker all that time. I died a thousand deaths just thinking of you and him.” She squeezed his hand, and he kissed her fingers.

“That’s how I feel about Montana,” Lacey said. “And Tucker never for a moment behaved like anything but my friend. He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t touch me. Except for hauling me out of the courthouse over his shoulder, where he may have single-handedly provided me with the most humiliating moment of my life.”

And except for that, Tucker really didn’t touch me—except for that kiss.
But Vic didn’t need to know about that kiss. It was only fair. She had never told Tucker about Vic’s kiss on that long-ago New Year’s Eve.
Why complicate things?

“If we never see him again, Lacey, I’d be okay with that. But I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.”

Lacey took a deep breath. He was probably tired of hearing about those boots. “You know, everyone’s saying the killer kept the women barefoot just to keep them helpless. It took me a while to persuade T-Rex to even consider that the silver heel I found might have something to do with the victims. He thought it was crazy.”

“I did too. I don’t anymore. Okay. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Well—” The map in her bag was one more little thing she hadn’t mentioned. But she couldn’t be blamed; she’d almost forgotten about it. “After I found the heel, Tucker and I talked about where the women might have been taken. He didn’t think the cabin where we stayed could have been a murder scene. Too many people use it.”

“Maybe Tucker knows where the women were killed because he killed them.”

“Will you give the poor guy a break for half a minute?”

“Okay! The guy who knows
nothing
about the murders has a prime theory.”

“The cabin where we stayed was too busy. After the owner died a couple years ago, it apparently became a sort of teen hangout. A place to go party.”

“Some of the cops mentioned that.”

“Tucker said there are a couple of old line camps in the area, near the roads where the bodies were found.
But way off the road. And before you say something, everyone in the county knows where the bodies were found. It was in
The
Daily Press
.”