Neighing with Fire: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (20 page)

“That was a joke,” he said, aware of his own attractiveness.

Good. Pinky was his old self again. “Do you know where Autumn’s ex was on Sunday?”

“I believe in Virginia. I understand that’s where he lives with his new girlfriend.”

“If he’s found someone new, why is he refusing to sign divorce papers?”

“Who knows,” he said, and threw up his hands. “Personally, I’ve always found looking back keeps one from moving forward.”

“Very philosophical of you.”

He grinned. “I have my moments.”

“One I never thought I’d see is you and Myrtle as cellmates,” she said with a chuckle.

“I bet Mrs. Crepe gave men trouble in her youth.”

“I don’t know,” she said, not sure she wanted to picture a young Myrtle flirting with suitors. “But she certainly gave us trouble when we were in her class. I still can’t believe you sang with her.”

“She has a lovely voice,” he said. “Although I think she believes I’m some type of mobster.”

“And you didn’t disabuse her.”

He shrugged. “Why ruin the woman’s fantasy?”

“Let’s cross our fingers that she stays out of trouble now that she’s my responsibility.” She noticed his puzzled expression. “Bill released her to my supervision. Can you believe it?”

They shared a laugh. “I’ve missed our little meetings,” he said with sincerity.

“Me, too. But, please, don’t go burning anything to try and get my attention. We’ve had enough fires lately.” It hadn’t been too long ago that Pinky had used burning debris as a way of luring her to his construction trailer in order to flirt with her. “Tell me,” she said. “Do you attend the Chamber of Commerce meetings?”

“Sometimes. Why?”

“Do you know the owner of the Tour-zilla horse tour company?”

“Snelling? A real weasel. Makes Denny Custis look like a Boy Scout.”

“How do you mean?”

“Custis was no prize, but I understood what motivated him … money, power, greed.” Pinky shook his head. “With Snelling, there’s something else going on.”

“Like what?”

“I have no idea. But there’s a screw loose there. The son is bad but the father is worse. If you’re thinking of snooping around Snelling, don’t. I’m telling you, he’s dangerous. Best to stay away and let the sheriff handle it.”

For the second time that afternoon, she heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Let me handle what?” Bill asked, entering.

“Sheriff Dorman,” Pinky said, rising. “We were just talking about you. Were your ears burning?”

“No,” Bill said, not amused.

“I stopped by to apologize to Colleen, or rather Chief McCabe, for my lack of cooperation with the investigation earlier. Your office was next. I’m sure she can fill you in. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” And with that, Pinky was gone.

Bill watched him go. “Why is it that every time I turn around Salvatore is prowling about?”

“I’d hardly call paying a visit to the station prowling.”

“And you don’t seem to mind.”

“He amuses me.”

“You know he’s still a suspect.”

Sparky wagged his tail and leaned affectionately against Bill.

“Sparky’s glad to see you,” she said, eager to change the subject.

“And you?”

She came around the desk and took his hand. “We’re
both
glad to see you.”

He softened and looked at their hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be jealous. We haven’t been down this road before. I’m still figuring it out.”

“So am I,” she said, softly.

How like Bill to take the high road, she thought. In this moment, he appeared vulnerable and unsure, something she hadn’t seen before, and she admired his courage in laying it all bare. She stretched up to kiss him when …

“Whoa,” Jimmy said from the doorway. She and Bill broke apart. “I can come back later,” her captain said, retreating.

“What is it, Jimmy?” she asked, collecting herself.

“Only a work order that needs your signature. It can wait,” he said, rushing down the stairs.

“I guess we’re not the only one this is new to,” she said.

Bill grinned. “I guess not.” He squatted to rub Sparky on the belly. “So, what was it Salvatore was telling you to let me handle?”

“The Tour-zilla folks. He thinks they’re dangerous.”

He looked up with surprise. “Dangerous how?”

“Pinky didn’t get into specifics, but given what Myrtle said about Denny blackmailing them, it makes me wonder if they didn’t have the most to gain with Denny out of the picture. You want to head over there?”

He nodded. “But let me take the lead. If what Salvatore says is true, I don’t want you in jeopardy.”

She resisted the urge to tell him that she could take care of herself. When two people you respect warn you to be careful, it’s wise to listen.

Chapter 18

Colleen’s heart
raced as she trailed Bill in her SUV to the Tour-zilla office. There was something about Pinky’s warning about Snelling and his son that had put her on edge. Could it be that they were finally zeroing in on Denny’s killer and the arsonist?

They slowed and veered into the shopping area where the tour company picked up and dropped off visitors. Sparky wagged his tail at a dog jogging along the road with its owner. Normally, she would have left him at the station for such a trip, but since he seemed to have a scent for the accelerant used in the recent fires, she thought he might be of help. She was relieved Bill was taking the lead on their visit; it would give her a chance to snoop with Sparky.

“Here we go,” Bill said over her cell phone.

It wasn’t difficult locating the company’s office. An enormous Godzilla statue stood out front dwarfing the large tour trucks next to it. People waited in the sun on benches for the next departure to the horse sanctuary.

Bill’s pickup passed Greg, the tour guide driver, painting the signature lizard-type scales on the side of one of the large Tour-zilla trucks. Greg watched Bill pass and then turned and spotted Colleen. He locked eyes with her, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. She pressed on the brake and slowed to a stop. Her heart skipped a beat. The paintbrush and can in his hands … the cigarette dangling from his mouth … both were elements consistent with what she had learned thus far about the burning of Pinky’s house. Greg glared at her through the windshield a moment and then, suddenly, dropped the paintbrush and can, tossed the cigarette, and bolted.

“He’s running,” she said to Bill over the phone.

“I see him,” he said.

Bill made a U-turn and zoomed after the man. She yanked her steering wheel hard to the right. Greg sprinted to a car, hopped in, and sped toward the strip mall exit. She hit the gas in a race to cut him off and glanced out the passenger window. The man drove in a parallel lane of the lot with Bill behind him, lights flashing and siren on. The entrance was only fifty yards away. She clicked on her lights and siren to warn people from entering. Her heart pounded as she approached the exit … forty, thirty, twenty yards away. She held an arm across Sparky’s chest, swung her vehicle in a wide curve to the right, screeched to a halt, and blocked the way out.

Greg maneuvered the car back toward the Tour-zilla office and skidded to a stop, obstructed by Bill’s SUV. She anxiously watched Bill exit, weapon drawn, and inch toward the car.

“Out of the car,” Bill said.

She held her breath, praying that the man didn’t have a gun, and—in that instant—comprehended how deep her feelings for Bill ran. Tense seconds passed. Even Sparky appeared to sense the gravity of the moment and viewed the unfolding action with laser attention. After what seemed like an eternity, the driver’s-side door flew open.

“Hands in the air,” Bill yelled, positioned to fire if necessary.

Greg stepped from the car, hands above his head, and placed them on the top of the car. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, she thought. Bill cautiously approached the car, holstered his weapon, and handcuffed the man. She exhaled, cut her lights and siren, and drove to them.

“You always run when you see police?” Bill asked Greg, who was leaning against the car, hands cuffed behind his back.

She parked and exited with Sparky.

“Nah,” Greg said as Bill removed the man’s wallet from his back pocket.

The man eyed Colleen and Sparky apprehensively.

Bill studied the license and then placed it back in the wallet and returned the wallet to the man’s pocket. “Why were you running, Mr. Snelling?”

“I know the drill.”

“What drill is that?”

“Find the guy who has had a couple of bad breaks and pin something on him. You’re all the same.”

“By bad breaks, you mean arrests,” Bill said.

The muscles in Greg’s jaw tightened.

“Any of those arrests for arson?” Colleen asked, coming forward with Sparky.

“You’re not pinning no fire on me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bill said, taking him by the arm.

“Man, I tell you I didn’t do nothing,” Snelling said, tugging against Bill’s grip.

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about,” Bill said, and opened the back door to his pickup.

A black Lincoln Navigator flew from the direction of the tour office and came to a sudden halt. Seconds later, a man emerged and stomped toward them.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded. “Greg, don’t you say nothing,” he added, directing the comment to the young Snelling in Bill’s backseat.

“Mr. Snelling, is this your son?” Bill asked, stepping forward to intercept the man.

“You know it is,” the older Snelling snapped. “What the hell is he doing in there?”

“He fled,” Bill said. “Know why?”

“Since when is that a crime?”

Bill folded his arms. “In my experience, innocent people don’t run from the police.”

The two men squared off. The Tour-zilla owner was not accustomed to being challenged. It was taking every fiber of his being not to punch Bill. Snelling was not what she had anticipated based on Pinky’s warning. She had expected a man hardened from a life of crime, someone you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley. But the older Snelling was a short, wiry man with a slick of graying hair combed to the side in an unsuccessful attempt to disguise a balding spot … hardly an imposing figure. And yet, she understood why Pinky had warned her. It was the menacing look in his eyes.

“Exactly what do you think he did?” Snelling asked.

“Actually, we were coming to talk to
you,
” Bill said.

That caught the older Snelling off guard and for a second Colleen saw panic in his face. But it was only for a second. “What the hell do you need to see me about?”

“I understand Denny Custis had been blackmailing you.”

Snelling faked a laugh. “Exactly what could that man blackmail me with?”

“You’re saying Custis didn’t threaten to expose your practice of allowing visitors to touch and take pictures with the horses on your tours?”

“Absolutely not.”

Colleen peered at Greg. His father may have been dismissing the notion of being blackmailed, but Greg’s expression indicated he knew exactly what Bill was talking about. She approached Bill’s pickup.

“Do you know what the sheriff is talking about?” she asked the son.

“What’s it to you?” he snapped back.

She felt her cheeks flush red but calmly answered, “I’m the fire chief and there’s an arson investigation … one that involves Denny Custis’s death.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“What’s she saying to him?” the father asked, trying to see past Bill.

Bill looked at Colleen and—realizing what she had in mind—turned back to the father. “Doesn’t sound like you respected Custis much,” he said, trying to distract Snelling.

“Not many people did.”

She leaned closer to Greg. “You won’t mind if I have the arson investigator collect samples of your paint supplies, cigarettes, and matches.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“That’s enough,” the older Snelling said, brushing past Bill. “Don’t say another word, Greg, until I get my lawyer on the phone.”

“But—”

“I mean it,” the father barked.

She glanced at Bill. They sensed there was something more going on.

Greg stared at his father, hesitated, and then said, “I did it. I burned that house. Snellings don’t take nothing from nobody.”

Snelling gaped at his son, stunned.

“I’m gonna have to take him in, Mr. Snelling,” Bill said. “You might want to call that lawyer.”

“I told you to keep your trap shut,” Snelling roared at his son.

Sparky barked and Colleen drew him away, not wishing to add to the tension.

Bill placed his arm out to block the father. “Sir, step away from the vehicle.” Snelling glared over Bill’s shoulder at his son and held his ground. “I’m not going to ask again,” Bill said.

“Idiot,” Snelling hissed under his breath. He pivoted and marched to his Lincoln.

Greg watched his father drive away and then stared straight ahead.

Bill approached Colleen, motioned for them to move out of Greg’s earshot. “How are you?” he asked keeping his voice low.

“Glad it’s all over,” she whispered.

“I have to take him to the station. I expect we’ll be seeing Snelling’s lawyer shortly.”

“You want me to contact Agent Morgan and let him know? He’ll probably want his team to collect evidence samples for the investigation.”

He nodded. “I’ll get Rodney over here to make sure Snelling doesn’t dispose of anything.”

She sighed. “Looks like Denny messed with the wrong family.”

“I’ll give you a call later.”

Bill pulled away and she and Sparky got into her SUV. She drove toward the exit and caught sight of the Godzilla statue in her rearview mirror. She remembered the paint can, brush, and cigarette Greg had tossed to the ground. Maybe she could collect them before Snelling realized his son had dropped the items and had a chance to get rid of the evidence. She steered toward the tour company, reached the area where Greg had been painting, and stopped. She checked to see if anyone had noticed her arrival but, because of the size of the tour truck, she was hidden from view. She found a Ziploc bag in her storage chest, quietly exited, and scurried to where Greg had dropped the paint can, brush, and cigarette.