Forged (Gail McCarthy Mystery) (15 page)

Reluctantly, I dragged myself to the door and let the detective in.

He didn't bother with civilities. "Did you see Barbara King today?"

"No. Why?"

"She's gone. No one seems to know where. She didn't show up for work at noon, didn't call. Her boss says it isn't at all like her."

"Uh-oh," I said. "So you never got a chance to ask her if Sam Lawrence called her on Friday."

"Not exactly." Detective Johnson grimaced. "I didn't tell you this morning when you called, but I had already asked Barbara King if anyone had asked Dominic Castillo's whereabouts on Friday."

"And?"

The detective gave me a look, but he answered. "Three people did, apparently. Sam Lawrence was one. Lee Castillo was another. The third didn't give a name but was described as possibly either a young man or a woman with a deep voice."

"And they all asked where Dominic was?"

Detective Johnson looked down at his ubiquitous notepad. "Sam Lawrence called near the end of the day and asked where Dominic was, said he needed to see him. Barbara told him that you were Dominic's last appointment. Lee Castillo called earlier in the day and asked for a list of all Dominic's scheduled calls. Said she needed to talk to him about money he owed her. Barbara read Lee the schedule. The unknown caller phoned right before Sam, said he/she was a client with an emergency, horse had thrown a shoe and was due at a horse show the next day. Barbara told this person that Dominic was probably on his way to your place and explained where that was."

"Oh," I said. I'd forgotten all about dinner. Blue had turned off the stove and was sitting next to me.

"Lee Castillo does not deny making the phone call, but says that she saw Dominic earlier in the day while he was shoeing at a boarding stable. She says she tried to talk him into paying some child support he owed and 'got nowhere as usual,' end of quote.

"Sam Lawrence also doesn't deny that he called, but said that he never went to look for Dominic in the end, just went down to the bar."

"Sounds right," I said.

"After talking to you this morning," the detective went on, "I decided to question Barbara King again. I got up to her place about noon; no one was there. I checked at the school where she works as a teacher's aide-no show. I went back to her home several times in the afternoon, and I've just come from there now. Still no one. No horses, either."

"No horses? That's weird."

"Her neighbor states that a white dual-wheel pickup pulling an enclosed horse trailer drove into Barbara King's place early this morning. The neighbor thought that the truck had some kind of logo on the door panels."

"Oh," I said slowly. "Sam Lawrence drives a rig like that. And no one's seen Barbara since?"

"Apparently not. I thought I'd just ask if you'd happened to see her, Dr. McCarthy."

"Since I just happened to be right there when Dominic and Tracy were killed?"

"That, and you called me this morning with the suggestion that I talk to Barbara King."

"I can't say I blame you," I admitted, "but, fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, I didn't see Barbara today. I had a full day of calls and can pretty much account for every minute of my time."

Detective Johnson nodded and produced a pen. Looking down at his notepad and then back up at me, he said, "All right. Let's begin at the beginning. You left home at what time?"

Half an hour later, even the detective seemed satisfied that I hadn't had so much as twenty minutes' slack in which to murder Barbara. "Will you get in touch with me immediately if you hear of anything that pertains to Barbara King?" he asked me formally.

"Of course," I said.

"I'll leave you to your dinner."

He stood. Blue and I stood. The dogs woofed and wagged their tails simultaneously. Detective Johnson stomped out of the door.

Blue stepped over to the stove and turned it back on. I went to the refrigerator and poured us both a glass of chilled Fume Blanc wine.

"Damn," I said. "I don't like that."

"You think Sam Lawrence killed her." Blue served sauteed chicken onto both our plates, along with rice and snow peas.

"Pretty stupid, wouldn't you think? Drive into her place in broad daylight to murder her. And why the horse trailer?" I took a swallow of white wine and started on the chicken.

"If," Blue said, "Sam killed Dominic, he got away with driving into your place in broad daylight without being noticed."

"True enough," I agreed. "This is delicious, Blue."

"It's not too bad."

We both ate in appreciative silence for a while. Finally I said, "The last time I saw Barbara, she made a comment that sounded as though she was thinking of suicide. I guess that's what's got me really worried."

"Do you think she killed herself over Dominic?"

"I don't know what to think. But there isn't any question in my mind that Barbara was truly devastated when Dominic was killed. I never saw anyone look more destroyed. And I just keep having this image of her riding off into the woods and shooting herself."

"What about her horse?"

"Maybe she'd shoot the horse first."

"Really?" Blue swallowed some wine and met my eyes.

"I can picture it. Barbara is, or was, a tough lady. She's a really effective team roper and as intensely competitive as any man I ever knew. She never seemed particularly sentimental about her horses. I've seen her beat them up pretty thoroughly for what she considered a transgression. I can imagine her shooting her horse and then herself in some kind of quixotic gesture. She did describe herself to me as a drama queen. I think somebody ought to go look in Lorene Roberts Park for her."

"Is that where you think she went?"

"She used to ride in the park. She told me. And it's sure big

enough that a body could lie there for a long, long time and not be found."

"That's true enough. Not many people get up into the far reaches of that park. But what about the truck that looked like Sam Lawrence's?"

I shook my head. "Why would Sam kill Barbara?"

"Maybe he thought she knew something that would incriminate him."

"I can't imagine what it could be. And lots of horse people own white dually pickups with a logo on the side. Lee Castillo does, for one. Hers says Freedom Arabians instead of Redwood Ranch, but otherwise they look a lot alike. Not to mention, the truck and trailer might not have had anything to do with Barbara's disappearance."

"On the other hand," Blue countered, "it would be pretty easy to haul a body away in a horse trailer, and no one would be the wiser."

"True," I admitted.

We sat in silence for a minute, our dinner finished. I gave Roey and Freckles each a tiny piece of meat I'd saved for them. "I just have this image of her riding away into the park," I said at last. "I can't get it out of my mind."

"Should we go look for her?" Blue asked. "I'm a fair tracker."

"You are?" I was surprised. "You've got all kinds of hidden talents."

"My grandpa was the county trapper. There wasn't anything he didn't know about tracking. He taught me some, though I'm not a patch on him."

My mind was already skipping ahead. "Let's try," I said. "It's a cinch no one else will. I have a feeling our friend the detective is hot on Sam's trail. And this is something we can do that won't get us in the way of the investigation or do any harm."

"It won't take long," Blue said, "to see if she rode out recently, as long as you know where she started from."

"I'm pretty sure I can figure it out. But it's too dark now. We'll have to go in the morning. That means taking time off work."

Blue shrugged one shoulder. "It's up to you, Stormy. I can take some time off if it's important to you."

I thought about it. "Maybe it is," I said at last. "I feel involved in this whole thing already, so much of it's happened around me. But I also feel passive, almost helpless. Things happen, and I seem to be a part of them, but I'm not doing anything purposeful. I think I need to do something.

"So yes," I nodded firmly. "Let's take Friday off and look for Barbara."

SIXTEEN

Blue and I drove up Rider Road at nine in the morning. The apple orchard at the top of the hill was in full bloom, the twisted gray limbs covered with rose-tinted white flowers, a flock of butterflies. Even this early in the day, the air was heady with scent.

I took a deep breath as I stepped out of the truck. "I think I love the scent of apple blossom the most of any flower smell," I said appreciatively. "Of course, I say that about all kinds of things when I'm smelling them. Wisteria, my favorite roses, sweet peas, jonquils, lupine, elderberry, even the basil and cilantro in the vegetable garden."

Blue laughed. "You've got lots of favorite smells."

"True enough. Let's not forget onions simmering in olive oil. But this," I breathed in again, "it's so clean. Kind of spicy and fresh, almost like laundry in the sun."

Blue laughed again. "I agree with you. It is wonderful. Now, which way do we go?"

I pointed through the orchard. "Barbara lives down that way. You can't see her place from here. But, the way she put it, I think she usually rides right across this orchard and comes out on a trail over there." I gestured at the redwood forest on the far side of the orchard. "So we just have to poke around in that direction looking for the trail."

Blue glanced up and down. "I don't see any 'No Trespassing' signs."

"If we meet the owner, we can just pretend to be a courting couple. Surely he'll be sympathetic." I grinned.

Blue put an arm around my shoulders. "We ARE a courting couple. I hope you haven't forgotten, under the influence of all this investigating."

"I haven't forgotten," I assured him. "Why don't you prove to me what a mighty tracker you are? Sure way to win my heart."

"You're on."

Starting off across the orchard, I was conscious of a feeling of something not right. Something missing. "It feels weird to be here without the dogs," I said. "No dogs, no horses-I feel naked."

"I wish. What a sight you'd be, striding through this orchard like some sort of pagan goddess."

I laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You know what I mean."

"I do. But dogs wouldn't be an asset on this expedition. Nor horses."

"I know. But I miss 'em."

"Me, too." Blue smiled. "They're our little family, aren't they?"

I nodded. Almost without volition, my mind presented me with an image. Blue and I and the two dogs and a little child, all running happily across this orchard. Our child. A family.

"Here's where we need to start looking," I said roughly. "Right here along the edge of the orchard."

It didn't take long. Blue walked maybe fifty feet, half bent over, peering at the ground, and then pointed. "Here's the trail."

I stood next to him and looked where he pointed. The orchard ground, which had been rototilled at some point this spring, showed the obvious dusty battering of hoofprints. A well-worn trail led off between the redwoods to our left.

Blue squatted and stared at the crumbly dirt in front of him, then reached out and gently touched a spot with his index finger.

Standing back up, he said, "I think someone rode this way yesterday. No one's been along it this morning; the dew's unbroken. But the most recent tracks are pretty fresh. Yesterday morning would be about right."

I followed him into the redwood grove, watched him bend and stoop and peer and occasionally brush the dust with his hand. I was careful to walk outside the main body of the trail, treading only on the redwood duff alongside.

Periodically Blue would make a comment. "Deer crossed here," or "See that coon," and I would look and register the track. Ten minutes of slow reconnoiter later, we emerged from the redwoods into a scrubby meadow. The trail was a smooth, dusty stripe between grassy banks.

"Ah," Blue said, and spent a good long time examining a wide spot. Finally he spoke. "I'm pretty sure two separate shod horses came through here yesterday. One with bigger feet than the other. The smaller-footed horse had half-round shoes in front and squared toes behind."