Let Loose (12 page)

After a moment of somewhat stunned silence,
Ethel saved me. “Leave Lucy alone, girls. Besides, you know our
game is capped at six. So unless one of you has plans to cross the
rainbow bridge in the next few months, we’ll have to work out our
differences without another body to sway the vote.”

The light that had been in their eyes when
they’d thought I might be new blood for their causes died.

“But I’m happy to help as I can!” I
chirped.

They looked back at me again, assessing, and
I took another step back, wishing once, just once, I’d learn to
keep my mouth shut.

Ethel smiled again and waved her hand over
her head. “We know that. Now, you’d best check your messages.
You’ve had calls. One from that rude boy from the newspaper and
another from some detective at the police department.” She twisted
her head so her gaze caught mine. “He sounded rather
interesting.”

Under her steady, knowing gaze, I flushed and
shuffled backward until I bumped into the open door to my office.
Then as quickly and gracefully as I could, I grabbed the knob,
back-stepped into my office and pulled the door closed behind
me.

With the door closed, I waited until I could
hear the women’s voices once again, talking, I hoped, about some
good deed or another and not about me.

o0o

I called the rude boy first. Not because I
had a great desire to talk to Daniel, crime beat reporter at
The Daily News
, but because it put off calling Peter. And
I was all about putting off that which made me uncomfortable. It
was one of my many redeeming qualities.

I opened my conversation as I hoped to
continue. “I heard someone rude called.”

“And you thought of me? I’m hurt.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled out my chair.

“I need to know what you know about Red
Benson. How you found the body, how you killed him, that kind of
thing.”

Smooth. I set the phone down for a minute and
picked up a magazine. It was an old one, but the idea of tightening
my abs in ten minutes or less a week really did intrigue me.

“Lucy!” Daniel yelled from the receiver.

I turned the page.

“Lucy! I don’t have time—”

I glanced at the phone, thinking maybe he’d
disconnected the line, but there was no dial tone. I turned another
page.

“Okay, fine. What do you want?”

Was that defeat? It sounded a bit like
defeat. I waited another five seconds and then picked up the
receiver.

“I said—” Daniel bellowed into my ear.

“You don’t have to yell,” I replied, setting
the magazine down and feeling quite proud of myself. I really was
learning.

“Have you seen the paper?” he asked.

I hadn’t. With the sled team in my life, I
hadn’t really had time for anything that didn’t involve feeding
them or wrestling one of my pillows from under someone’s furry
butt.

“The police took Frank Kelly into custody
last night.”

“Really?” I’d heard the rumors and seen the
altercation between Red and Frank at the fund-raiser, but I really
hadn’t thought the head of the Skyers shot Red over a trail.

“Why?” I asked. Yes, I knew about the rumors
and argument, but open ended questions, even ones that made you
look a bit uninformed or even stupid, usually reaped better
information than ones designed to make you look informed and
smart.

“Because of the fight? You were there, right?
At least I heard you were there.”

It was more than a little disturbing that
Daniel was tracking my appearances this closely.

“You mean at the fund-raiser? That was
nothing.”

He harrumphed. “Not what I heard.”

“The police must have more than that.”

“Opportunity?”

“What do you mean? Red was eight miles out of
town, down a dirt road. Are you saying someone saw Frank
there?”

I could hear Daniel’s smile, a greasy, slimy
movement of his lips over his teeth.

“Not very informed about your neighbors, are
you?”

“My neighbors? Frank Kelly is not my
neighbor.” I might not be a social queen, but I also didn’t have
many neighbors. If Frank Kelly had been one of them, I would have
known.

I could hear computer keys clicking.

For a minute I was stymied. Then I realized
what he was doing: checking himself. Property tax records were
public information and searchable online. If Frank Kelly owned
property on my road, it would be listed.

I tapped my own keyboard and waited
impatiently while my computer churned to life.

“Interesting,” he said. “So, you’re saying
you’ve never seen Frank Kelly on your road? Or heard any of your
neighbors mention him?”

I hadn’t, times two, but I was quickly
becoming concerned that I was giving Daniel useful information
without intending to. Which meant giving him useful information
with no payoff for me.

My computer came to life. I did a quick
search, turning up the state property tax database and typed in
Frank Kelly.

Frank, it turned out, was quite the property
baron. Five addresses showed up, two on my road.

“Have you seen Kelly out there?” Daniel
repeated, interrupting my thoughts.

I paused, this time giving his question extra
thought. My road didn’t get a lot of traffic, especially at my
house/past the campground, but I certainly didn’t know every person
who drove past. Since I had never met Frank Kelly before the
fund-raiser, he could have been down my road and I wouldn’t have
remembered him. But instead of answering Daniel directly, I turned
the question back on him.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because... he was taken into custody.”
Daniel was using his “dummy” voice. I didn’t really appreciate
it.

“Well, he obviously uses the trail or he
wouldn’t have objected to the race closing it down,” I said.

“The part the snowmobilers use, that they
were objecting to, was the second leg. Not near your house or the
campground.”

Oh, yeah. I’d been told that before. Stupid
slip on my part.

“What about the gun?” I asked.

“What gun?”

Apparently Daniel had decided to get coy.

“The one that was used to shoot Red,” I said
with no trace of an unspoken “dummy.” I didn’t need to stoop to
Daniel’s level. I was above that.

Daniel sighed. “They haven’t found the
weapon, but a gun of the same caliber was registered to Frank.
You’d know that if you bothered to read the paper.”

I ignored the jab. “That explains why they
arrested him,” I said.

“Maybe, but he says it’s been missing for a
few weeks.”

“A few weeks?”

“He had two snowmobiles stolen. He claims he
hasn’t seen the gun since before that.”

“He kept his gun on the snowmobile?”

“He’d been ‘target shooting.’“

“And he left his gun on the snowmobile.” It
bore repeating.

“According to him. It was a .480
Glockner.”

Knowing very little about guns, I didn’t know
whether to be impressed or horrified.

“People use them for elk.”

“So a rifle?” That completely changed what
I’d envisioned when I was at the campground.

“Could be, but Frank’s was a handgun.”

“People use handguns to shoot elk?” I was
both shocked and appalled. It felt so personal.

“Some do.”

Still a bit off-kilter, I opened the door for
Daniel to get ahead of me again.

“I hear you have the dogs.”

I paused, deciding how much I wanted to tell
him. Finally I decided telling him might benefit me more than not.
Kind of a priming the pump kind of thing; sometimes information
beget information.

“So they were loose?” he asked, like I hadn’t
just said that.

“Yes.”

“Why were they loose?”

“Because someone opened the doors to their
kennels.”

“Why would someone do that?” he asked, more
to himself than to me. “Unless they were making a statement against
the race.”

I heard him typing again.

Another mark against Frank. I could
definitely see the case that was being built against him. As could
Daniel. We hung up, both at least somewhat satisfied with our
conversation.

Frank was in custody. This was, whether I’d
been the one to finger Red’s killer or not, good news for me. It
meant I was that much closer to getting the dog-to-person ratio at
my house down to something a bit more manageable.

Of course to hear the good news officially,
I’d have to call the station.

George, God bless him, answered.

“I heard they made an arrest in Red’s
case.”

“Been reading the paper, have you?” George
knew my dark past as a newspaper employee who didn’t actually read
anyone’s work except my own.

“I talked to Daniel,” I admitted.

“Oh, did he shimmy over your fence or lure
you with donuts and butter churns?”

“I don’t eat donuts.” Much. “And I prefer
jugs to churns.”

George grunted or laughed. It was hard to say
which.

I pursed my lips. “So?”

“So...”

“Frank Kelly?”

“Sitting in a cell waiting for your buddy
Gregor.”

Avery Gregor was a local attorney who had
represented me during a little misunderstanding that had landed me
in the middle of a murder case a few months ago.

“And...”

“And... Gregor is late. Frank was hoping to
get out before dark. There’s some kind of a rally in Bozeman
tomorrow.”

“Get out?” That didn’t sound good.

“Yep.”

“But... what about the dogs?”

“What about them? You haven’t lost them, have
you?”

“Of course not.” I was insulted he would say
such a thing. “It’s just Ethel said someone from the station called
and then when I heard Frank had been arrested, I thought...”

He sighed. George didn’t sigh a lot. It made
me a bit wary. “The dogs will be evidence until after someone is
tried and found guilty. Besides I didn’t say what Frank was
arrested for.”

I brushed aside the bit about not saying
Frank was arrested for the murder. He might be being held on
something else right now, but George and I both knew the real
reason. The tried and found guilty part though? That was
disturbing. “But that could be months.”

“Over a year probably.”

A year? I couldn’t keep a sled team for a
year. I could feel my heart skipping more than a few beats. What
would I do come spring? Otherwise known as fur spurting season? One
lone little malamute was bad enough, but an entire team of huskies?
I’d be lucky to find my way out of my house through the dog
down.

“Did you talk to the Humane Society?” he
asked.

“I did.” And I didn’t want to get into where
that had led me. A big fat nowhere.

“Guess they couldn’t help.”

He sounded downright cheerful about it. Damn
him.

Busy snarling at the phone, I almost missed
his next statement.

“Anyway, it wasn’t anyone calling you about
the dogs, but it might have been Blake. He’s in his office.” Then
the line went blank, in that too cheap to pay for muzac way, and
ten seconds later, Peter was on the line.

“Blake.”

“Uh...” I silently cursed George again. Then
I realized I could just hang up. Neither Peter nor George would be
able to prove I hadn’t just gotten cut off during the transfer.

“Lucy?”

I stared at the phone. My “uh” was that
distinctive?

“Did you find the boots?”

He didn’t sound angry, but he didn’t sound
friendly either. But then that’s how Peter was.

I sucked in a breath and put on a smile that
I hoped showed in my voice.

“I did.” The “did” came out a bit
squeaky.

“That’s good.”

“They fit!” Chipper... too chipper.

“Good.”

The fact that the number of words he used per
sentence was going down with each exchange was not promising.

“I can’t wait to wear them. What with the
snow, I didn’t want to wear them today. And I should probably treat
them with something. My mother always treated leather before she
would let us wear it. It changes the color some though and the
boots are such a great shade of red—”

“Lucy?”

His words went down. Mine went up. I was
pretty sure his was the better tactic. It was a lot harder to sound
like an idiot if you didn’t say much.

“I have to cancel.”

“Cancel?” My throat felt dry. Cancel what?
Our relationship? Leave it to Peter to use a word like cancel when
he dumped me.

“Yes. I’m not going to have time to see you.
I had a bit of time this weekend, but that... didn’t work out.”

Didn’t work out. His way of saying he’d seen
me in a near lip-lock with another guy. Subtle, but effective. I
cringed.

But wait... it also didn’t sound like he was
dumping me, at least not right now. Maybe I didn’t want to see him.
Despite what motivational speakers might tell you, putting of the
inevitable did have merits.

“Sure,” I blurted. “Of course.” I babbled
some more, something about needing to check on my pipes and toilet
paper supply.

Then, quickly as I could, I hung up - without
giving him time to set up an official cancellation date.

I lowered my head to my desk and sucked in a
breath.

“Lucy!”

The tone was way too close to one I’d heard
from my mother on multiple occasions. I snapped to a sit.

Ethel walked into my office, her cane tapping
against the floor with each step. “Did you call that
detective?”

I blinked, nodded and resisted the impulse to
rub my wrist over my eyes.

“He’s not appreciating you, is he?” She ran
her finger over the coyote’s head, a small but somehow intimidating
gesture.

I licked my lips. “It’s not that. I... I did
something stupid.”

She didn’t look surprised. “Fancy that. Young
girl in love and she does something stupid. I don’t guess this
detective of yours has ever done anything stupid.”