Chapter Two
Two
Fort Bragg, California
“You got anything on the Foster case?” Howard Bennet asked.
Ronan looked up from his computer to where his boss leaned against the desk next to his. Howard was based out of the Ukiah sheriff’s department headquarters, but often drove over the hill for meetings. Or when it got too hot in Ukiah during the summer and he needed to cool off on the coast.
Howard had been in their Fort Bragg office conducting a staff meeting when Ronan got the call about Dianne Foster.
“Not much. Not yet, anyway. The lab says the bronze award we found next to her body is the murder weapon. Latent got some prints off it and sent them in to be matched. They told me that there was a backlog and to be patient. Which is hard at the moment.”
“You okay to be working this case?” Howard asked quietly.
“I think I’m as okay as anyone else. We all knew her. Half of us had her for English back in the day. It’s going to be personal for whoever leads the investigation. I’m good for now.”
“If that changes, let me know.”
“Will do. I checked out her nephew. Zach’s got an ironclad alibi.”
Howard lifted a brow. “In jail again?”
“Yeah. Down in Santa Rosa.” Ronan shook his head. “He broke Dianne’s heart so many times.”
“I hope he doesn’t inherit the inn,” Howard said gruffly. “He’ll sell it and snort the proceeds up his nose.” He lifted bushy gray eyebrows. “Do we know who does stand to inherit? That inn’s gonna bring in a chunk of change.”
“I know.” Dianne’s inn was on twenty acres of prime real estate, up on a hill with a spectacular view of the ocean.
“I left a message for Dianne’s attorney.
Hopefully he’ll cooperate and just tell us who’s set to inherit.
If not, I’ve got a warrant ready for the probate court.
If Zach did inherit, that was motive for him to pay someone to kill her.
And even if he only believed he was going to inherit, he still might have. ”
“Good point. Are you going to interview him?”
“Yep. On my list.”
“Good. Surveillance video?”
“It was removed from the hotel office, I’m assuming by Dianne’s killer. The inn is remote. There isn’t another camera around for half a mile. So…no dice.”
“What about the guests?”
“I interviewed the fourteen guests currently checked in. No one saw anyone or heard anything last night, but eight of the fourteen have hearing aids, which they weren’t wearing while they were asleep.
All of them claimed that they were in their rooms before ten p.m. and asleep before midnight.
” Most stores on the coast closed by five, and the restaurants rolled up the sidewalks by nine.
Most folks—locals and tourists—were the early-to-bed types.
“Half of the guests hadn’t even met Dianne since she was doing the night shift.
If they did interact with her, it was for a late check-in or early checkout, except for one guest.”
“Is that guest a suspect?”
“No. The guest who talked to Dianne at length is a young mother with a colicky infant. She’s had to get up and walk with the baby every night—except last night.
The baby slept through the night, so the parents did, too.
But the other nights she said she and Dianne chatted at length and Dianne never mentioned being nervous or afraid of anyone.
Mary said the same thing, that Dianne didn’t seem afraid.
Nothing was different, nothing seemed wrong. ”
“Except something clearly was, or Dianne wouldn’t be dead.”
“True enough. The mother did say that one of the nights she was walking with her baby, she saw two of the guests having a pretty serious conversation with Dianne. Dianne was dabbing at her eyes.”
“When was this?”
“Saturday night.”
“And Dianne’s dead two nights later. Did you get a description of the other guests?”
“Yep. Two women, midthirties. One was tall with auburn hair she wore up in a ponytail, the other was short with short, dark hair. The mother didn’t hear their names and Mary Walker has no recollection of them.
She thinks that Dianne must have checked them in.
They’ve since checked out—Sunday morning, or so Mary thought.
I’ve been running ID checks on the guests Mary was able to remember, trying to match the description of the two women.
Lots of women traveling together or two women traveling with men, so it’s taken me some time.
That Mary was understandably rattled when she made the list isn’t helping.
A few of the names are ‘Something like Smith.’ ”
Howard grimaced. “Let me know when you find them.”
“I will.”
Howard tapped the desk with his ham-sized fist. “Keep me updated and if you need any kind of support, just ask.”
“Of course.”
Howard returned to his office and Ronan got back to work.
Mary had given him a list of about fifty names of past guests, and he’d been cranking through them for two hours.
If they’d had her computer files, it would have taken him minutes, because the inn scanned in a copy of each guest’s driver’s license.
The images were stored on their computer—which was now a pile of rubble, the hard disk stolen, just as he’d feared.
He ran his finger down Mary’s list to the next name and had typed it in when his cell buzzed.
Penny. His daughter didn’t call him often when he was working, so he always tried to pick up when she did.
“Penny. What’s up?”
“Is it true? Is Miss Dianne really dead?”
“She is.”
“Oh God. I hoped it was a bad rumor. How?”
“Looks like she was attacked with a trophy.”
“You’ll catch whoever did it.”
His daughter’s confidence always humbled him. “I’m going to give it my best.”
“You always do. Do you know if Miss Mary needs any help at the inn?”
Penny was a helper. She always had been. She’d volunteered all through high school and hadn’t let up now that she was in nursing school. “I don’t know. But I think your plate’s a little full now with your classes.”
Penny sighed. “Yeah, I know you’re right.
But I want to do something.” She exhaled, and he could picture her squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.
“I made a casserole for dinner. You just need to heat it up. If you get in after nine, I’ll be in bed.
I need to get an early start in the morning. ”
Because tomorrow was her day to do home visits in Willits. It was the part of her nursing studies that he really wished she didn’t have to do. Entering the homes of strangers wasn’t always safe. But she and the other nurses were providing a real service to the community. “Drive carefully.”
“I always do. Don’t worry about me.”
“I always worry about you,” Ronan said dryly. “I’m your father. It’s my default mode.”
Penny chuckled. “I’ll be fine. Don’t work too late. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He ended the call and sighed. Penny was all grown up. He couldn’t be prouder of the young woman she’d become, but he sometimes missed the little girl whose biggest concern was which cereal to eat for breakfast.
He returned his attention to Mary Walker’s list of guests and typed in the next name. Ellie Reynolds.
Nothing came up on Ellie, which was no surprise because Mary had several question marks after the woman’s name. Hopefully she’d gotten the woman’s traveling companion’s name correct.
Sara Lambert.
Okay. Wow. Ronan’s eyes widened in surprise at the search results for Sara.
Holy shit.
Sara Lambert was a bounty hunter.
Excuse me. A “fugitive recovery agent.” Some of them got pissy about their formal titles.
Ronan didn’t care what the woman called herself.
If Sara Lambert was after a fugitive in their jurisdiction—and didn’t fucking notify us—she had some serious explaining to do.
Bounty hunters weren’t required to notify local law enforcement until they were ready to apprehend the fugitive, but it was common courtesy and critical to keeping their community safe.
Lambert’s secrecy may have cost Dianne her life.
Because Dianne’s murder two days after Lambert had been asking her questions was too much of a coincidence.
He typed Lambert’s name into the state DMV database and confirmed that he was on the right track. Sara Lambert was five foot two and, in her driver’s license photo, had short dark hair. Just like the mother of the colicky baby had said.
According to Google, Lambert co-owned a company called L&F Enterprises.
He settled into his chair and started digging. The other owner was Felicia Flaherty.
He searched for Felicia Flaherty’s photo in the DMV database. Not the tall, auburn-haired woman with a ponytail. Flaherty was medium height with a head of blond curls. He set the co-owner aside for further investigation later.
He wanted the name of the second woman who’d talked to Dianne.
L&F’s website didn’t list their employees.
It only provided their contact information—an email and a phone number with a San Francisco area code.
He didn’t want to give them a heads-up that he wanted to talk to them, so he didn’t call them directly.
Luckily he knew folks in the city. It had been a long time since he’d been part of San Francisco PD, but he still had his old partner’s name in his phone.
“Hey, Dwight, it’s Ronan Clarke.”
“Ronan!” Dwight Jackson had been his training partner all those years ago. “How the hell are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“Living the good life. Retired last year and I go fishing nearly every damn day. How’s Penny?”
“Twenty,” Ronan said ruefully. “Nearly has her RN.”
“Wow. Seems like yesterday that she was selling me Girl Scout cookies. Now I feel really old. What can I do for you, Ronan? I assume you didn’t call to shoot the shit.”
“Sorry, no. Listen, do you know a bounty hunter named Sara Lambert?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Why? She sniffing up your way?”