Chapter Twenty-One
DAY SIX
SATURDAY
Clara picked me up. I had no say in that arrangement. No say in when (earlier than I liked.) No say in where we were going.
When we arrived at the post office, I shaved off a layer of morning unhappiness, thus proving my reasonableness.
The post office was open only a few hours Saturday mornings. Following up with Ruby was now or not until Monday, which felt a long way off, or tracking her down at home, which felt intrusive.
That didn’t mean that I followed Clara into the post office with a spring in my step, but I did follow her.
Ruby was finishing with a man in his twenties who thanked her, while appearing as if he hadn’t totally followed the details of the transaction. I suspected he wasn’t a post office veteran.
Clara and I opened a lane for the young man to leave as we finished our greetings to Ike, then took the two steps to the counter.
Palms flat on the surface, Ruby leaned toward us. “Have you figured it out?”
Clara covered Ruby’s hands with both of hers. “Oh, Ruby, you are so wonderful to have such faith in us that we’ll figure it out at all, much less this fast.”
“Ah, well, I thought if anybody could, it would be you two.”
“Have you heard anything new, Ruby?” I asked.
“Oh, my, yes. Had Tully in here, saying everything he saw. And then a friend of mine overheard a couple deputies — you do know women become invisible at a certain age. Plus, a tidbit or two folks mentioned to me,” she said modestly.
“The word is he was shot with his own gun. Handgun he kept in his truck console.”
Surprised, I asked, “He had a license to keep a loaded gun in his truck’s console?”
Clara snorted. “Don’t need one. Anyone twenty-one and over who’s not expressly prohibited can keep a gun, loaded or unloaded, in a factory-installed container — glove compartment, console, seat pocket.”
“Seat pocket? But that’s open.”
“Yup. Doesn’t need to be closed or closeable.”
“People can drive around with loaded guns?”
“Can and many probably are.” She dismissed that topic by asking Ruby, “What else?”
“There are indications that another vehicle came up behind Swindell’s. But it stayed far enough back that the tire impressions wouldn’t have been great in the first place and then more vehicles were there before the sheriff’s department.
“Deputies weren’t happy about that. Seems like Tully — that’s who spotted Damon’s truck yesterday morning — drove right over the other tire tracks.
They gave him a hard time about that. Though you’d think they’d appreciate him finding the truck at all, because could’ve been a good long while otherwise out there on Gallows Path. ”
“Did they say anything about shoe impressions?”
“Something else they weren’t happy about. Whoever was there stayed on the grassy part, never into the dirt. What I heard was they could see indications of someone else being there, but not enough to identify.”
“Anything outside the passenger door?”
Ruby tipped her head at my question, apparently considering. “Might’ve said that’s where they saw indications of someone else being there, but didn’t make a big point of it. For sure no footprints. Don’t recall more being talked about that area.”
“What else?” Clara asked.
“His phone didn’t show anyone calling him that fit with setting up a meeting at Gallows Path. Possible someone set it up in person.” She leaned across the counter and lowered her voice. “They’re looking for a woman who was involved with Damon.”
Clara and I carefully didn’t look at each other.
Ruby correctly interpreted our non-look. “Not Zoley Georger. Word is that’s been frittering away. Someone new on the scene. New enough it’s not firm on who.”
“Ideas of who—?”
“Not anything I’m confident enough to share,” Ruby said. Then, perhaps compensating for that disappointment, she added, “In addition to talking to Pammy and Zoley, deputies talked to Bryon Georger yesterday.”
The door behind us opened.
Ruby straightened, looking past us.
But then her gaze returned to me. “Other thing I heard was they sure wish Teague was around, but they’re trying not to pull him away from his conference.”
I wondered if he was aware Ruby likely knew more about the thinking at the sheriff’s department than he did at this moment.
* * * *
Walking back to her van, Clara said, “Someone new — that has to be the woman I saw with Damon, the same one outside Zepke’s Thursday night. Plus, the guy who was watching her and Damon.”
“Has to be? No. Worth checking? Absolutely.”
“Mmm.” She didn’t like my caution, but didn’t argue.
Once we were in the van, she asked, “Why did you ask about marks outside the passenger door?”
“Thinking about the gun.”
“Thinking what?”
“If Damon kept it in the console or, say, the glove compartment, how did it get out of there?”
“He took it out himself,” she said promptly.
“To use on himself—?”
“Shot twice in the head,” Clara said.
“Exactly. So if he was trying to use it on himself, someone else would have had to be trying to wrestle it away from him—”
“And managed to shoot him twice in the head while trying to save him?”
“Yup. Nobody’s idea of a successful rescue mission. In giving our lousy rescuer the maximum benefit of the doubt, we can acknowledge Damon wouldn’t be the easiest person to take a gun away from. He wasn’t a bodybuilder, but not a pushover, either.”
She grunted acceptance of that description.
“Another possibility of why he’d take the gun out,” I said, “was to have the option or at least the threat to use it on someone else. Because he was scared for his own safety—”
Her grunt poured skepticism on that possibility.
“—or he wanted the advantage over someone else.”
“More likely, but what does that have to do with the passenger door?”
“If he was afraid for his safety or he wanted the gun to have the advantage over someone else, he’d be on alert,” I said.
“Ah.”
“On the other hand, say, he doesn’t take the gun out. That means — duh, I know — someone else had to. Who?” I didn’t give her time to propose an answer. “Say a man was with him, in the passenger seat—”
“Shotgun, so to speak,” she murmured.
“—and delays getting out, so Damon doesn’t see our mystery man get the gun out of the console.”
“But why would Damon and a guy be out on Gallows Path in Damon’s truck? If they were in cahoots, they might meet there, each in his own vehicle—”
“Which would fit Ruby’s report that there were additional tracks behind Damon’s truck,” I pointed out.
“Before Tully drove over them,” she said. “But no tracks beyond his truck. And Damon’s body was beyond the truck. So our mystery man would have to stop at Damon’s truck, open the door — driver or passenger — and take out the gun. Presumably with Damon seeing this, but not reacting.”
“Unless he has a close friend we haven’t heard about, I can’t see him doing that. Can’t imagine it with Bryon or the guy lurking down the street Thursday night.”
“Agreed. He and Bryon sure weren’t friendly over tic-tac-toe with the dogs Thursday night,” Clara said darkly.
“You’re saying that would be a motive for murder?”
“No. Not really. But a jealous husband — Bryon or this new guy — now that’s promising.”
“How do we know either one was jealous?” I asked.
“Zoley said as much about Bryon. Though there’s still the gun problem. So how do you get past that?”
“Ah.” I tried not to sound too triumphant.
Clara’s next words proved I’d failed. “You’ve been waiting for that, haven’t you?”
I skipped that question and answered her previous one. “Consider if it’s a woman he’s meeting, who pulls up behind his truck. Say, he’s already out of the truck and a woman says she needs a tissue or something, he wouldn’t think anything of her going in the truck, even the console.”
She was nodding. “He wouldn’t think she presented any threat. Could be that he was being led around by the, ahem, hope of a romantic encounter. Something to think about.”
“And we will think about it. But for right now . . . Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Clara wouldn’t tell me more.