Chapter Three #2
As it swung open, she got her first good look at the man behind the wheel.
Somewhere in his late fifties to early sixties, he was hatless and had the distinctive tanned face and never-seen-sun forehead of a rancher.
A worn, dirty ball cap sat on the seat next to him.
She felt heat pouring out of the cab, flushing her face with warmth.
Clancy knew how dangerous hitchhiking could be, but so could dying of hypothermia under a tree beside the road.
To be somewhere warm and dry even for a few miles was worth the risk.
“Thank you,” she said as she hurriedly pulled herself up in the pickup’s cab.
“I’ll ride as far as you’re going if that’s okay.” She shivered even as she felt the warmth of the cab. She quickly shrugged out of her wet jacket. Not that she wasn’t soaked under it and couldn’t help but shiver.
The rancher reached over and kicked up the heat before getting the pickup going again. She felt him glance at her and knew he was wondering what she’d been doing hitchhiking in the rain this late. If he only knew.
“My car broke down back up the highway outside of Grass Range.”
“Explains why I didn’t see your rig beside the road. I didn’t go that far. Getting a late start?”
It was late and dark and raining. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have taken off for the long drive this late in the day—let alone with a thunderstorm brewing. “I did get a late start,” she admitted. “Had to finish work and pack. I’m moving to Billings.”
He nodded as if that made more sense than a shopping trip and reached behind the seat to pull out a blanket. “It’s old and probably dusty as all get-out, but it might help warm you up a little.”
Gratefully, she took the worn blanket. It smelled, but she pulled it around her, thankful for what little comfort it offered.
“Thanks,” she said as she stared out at the dark rainy night.
She could feel him glance over at her as he drove.
She couldn’t blame him for being curious, but she was relieved that he didn’t ask any more questions.
She tried to relax but couldn’t, even if she hadn’t been wet and cold and on the run.
Glancing in the side mirror, she saw no lights behind them. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that people were looking for her—the sheriff for sure. The killer?
She just hoped she hadn’t made another mistake by climbing into this pickup with a complete stranger.
* * *
MAX MET WITH Hazel Brockman in a small room off the main lobby.
A sturdy-looking, gray-haired woman with bright blue eyes, Hazel had no problem talking about Esther.
“Esther Mason was despicable. She stole my father’s watch and I’m sure other things I can’t find,” she said without preamble.
“The woman was a miserable human being.”
“Did you see her last night after everyone was locked in for the night?” the sheriff asked.
Hazel chuckled. “I didn’t kill her. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I figured it was just a matter of time before someone did it for me. So no, to answer your question, I didn’t see her. I avoided her every chance I got.”
“Why didn’t you call the authorities on Esther?”
“What would be the point? She would lie her way out of it and then I’d be one of her targets.” Hazel shook her head. “I didn’t want her to turn her venom on me the way she did on Alice Chambers.”
Max made a note of the name Alice Chambers, thanked Hazel and walked her to the door as Irma Hanson pushed past with her walker.
Small and frail-looking, the woman shuffled into the room and awkwardly took a seat.
She didn’t look strong enough to kill Esther, but then again, anyone could wield a knife—especially if the victim was close and didn’t see it coming.
“Did you see Esther yesterday evening?” Max asked.
Irma shook her head, which was covered with white hair that resembled goose down. “She wasn’t at dinner. She often ate in her room, which was fine with me and everyone else.”
“You didn’t see her after that?”
Another headshake.
“You live in the apartment to the north of Esther’s.” The last one before the exit, he recalled. “Can you tell me what you heard last night?”
“Just a loud thump like she’d hit the floor.” She leaned forward confidentially. “She was a big woman. I thought she might have fallen,” Irma said in her small voice. “Is it true she was stabbed?” she asked inquisitively. “I heard the cook say her best carving knife was missing.”
The sheriff considered the woman for a moment before asking, “You didn’t hear anything else? Someone coming and going from the room? Voices?”
“Nothing,” Irma said. “After I called Vernon and he said he’d take care of it, I put in my earplugs and went back to bed.”
Back to bed? “So you had already gone to bed to sleep. Is it possible that when you heard what you thought was Esther hitting the floor, it woke you up?”
She cocked her head as to consider that. “I didn’t think I was asleep, but you could be right.”
It would explain why she hadn’t heard anything before that. Max thanked her, then watched her navigate her way out of the room slowly with her walker. He left the room and went down to the kitchen.
The cook, a woman in her late fifties named Diana Turner, confirmed that her “best carving knife” was indeed missing. “And I just had it sharpened. I don’t know what I’m going to do without it until I get it back.”
“Can you tell me when you last used it?”
“Used it yesterday evening when I made dinner. I cleaned it when I was finished, like I always do, and put it up on that magnetic strip over my prep area.”
“Do you remember if it had been there when you left for the night?” Max asked.
She shook her head, looking distraught. “You don’t know how hard it is to hang on to things in a place like this.”
“Have you lost knives before?”
“No, mostly just food. Have to watch this bunch like a hawk. They eat like a bird at dinner because they’ve been snacking on everything they can lay their hands on.”
“What about Esther Mason? Was she one that came into the kitchen to steal food?”
“Only saw her when she came in to tell me to make her a tray because she wasn’t eating with the others.
There was nothing wrong with Esther’s appetite, I can tell you that.
Her plates were licked clean when they came back to the kitchen.
” She stopped talking and sobered for a moment.
“Someone really did kill her and with my good knife?”
“You have any idea who might have wanted her dead?” Max asked.
“Probably anyone who knew her. She wasn’t very nice, except to me.” Diana winked. “I always gave her an extra treat on her tray. I knew to keep on the good side of that woman! So when do I get my knife back?”
Max hated to disappoint her. “Sorry, but you’re not getting the old one back. Vernon’s promised to replace it.” The murder weapon was now part of the evidence.