Reining in Murder (21 page)

M
ONDAY
, M
ARCH
7
^TH

“Well, if that don't beat all.”

Dan absentmindedly scratched his receding hairline and handed the manila folder back to Annie.

“Don't know how we missed this in the search,” he went on. “It's important evidence, Annie, and I appreciative your bringing it to our attention so promptly.”

Annie gave Dan a halfhearted smile. She still felt immensely guilty over the way she'd covered her second sleight of hand with Hilda's murder case file. At 8:00
A.M.
on Monday, she'd arrived at the ranch and, after a few words with Dan, had slipped into Hilda's office, this time alone.

“I can't spare a single deputy to babysit you, Annie,” the sheriff told her. “Deputy Lindquist is en route to the King County jail as we speak. Couple of miscreants got into a brawl at the Roadside last night. Someone called nine-one-one, and wouldn't you know, when Lindquist came calling, he found out they both had outstanding warrants on the mainland. I figured since he'd made the collar, he deserved the pleasure of bringing them in.”

The rest of the “excavating crew,” as Dan called them, were busy cranking up the machines that had been left out in the rain since Saturday.

“So you're working on your own recognizance,” Dan told her sternly. “Don't take this personally, but don't let me down.”

Annie nodded meekly and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the unnamed brawlers, whose perfect timing had put them in the pokey but placed her in the position to remedy her own crime.

At least the downpour had finally ceased. The bone-chilling dampness that had permeated Annie's skin the past three days was gone, along with most of the overcast sky. The sun was starting to play around the edges of the clouds, and although the temperature wasn't much above forty, Annie felt that the weather was positively balmy compared to the last few days' onslaught. That, and being able to hand over the original Latham/Colbert correspondence to Dan made her feel fairly buoyant.

On the other hand, Dan looked tired beyond his years. Annie badly wanted to ask him what Dory was asking for in the divorce papers, but she knew it was none of her business. Instead, she asked him what he intended to do about the papers she'd uncovered, and that had presumably been left in situ over the weekend.

“Talk to Latham, of course,” was his predictable answer. “Although this fellow Juan is still a viable suspect. We've tracked down the four other workers who skedaddled after Hilda's murder. But they've all just taken up working at neighboring farms. They said they didn't like the vibes around this place, and I can't say I blame them. But Juan seems to have vanished into thin air.”

Annie had carefully prepared for this conversation. She'd hurriedly replaced the Latham/Colbert correspondence in its original drawer, then tossed the horse files on Hilda's desk and began to methodically make the copies she'd told Dan she needed. It had taken her the better part of the morning, and she'd cursed the scourge of technology more than once whenever Hilda's copier machine jammed, ran out of paper, and once, God forbid, required a new toner cartridge. Fortunately, she'd found a new one in the credenza, and aside from ruining her sweatshirt with black ink smears that she was certain would never come out, she'd managed to complete the job before he'd come in to check her progress. Besides, finding the toner in the credenza gave her the viable excuse for “uncovering” the Latham/Colbert correspondence.

The tedious task of photocopying Jockey Club records, pedigree histories, and various other documents had given Annie plenty of time to think. And the more she thought about Latham's not-so-veiled threats, the more likely it seemed that he was responsible for Hilda's death—and Wayne Johnston's, as well. Hadn't Latham said that he would make sure no horse made it onto Hilda's property? Well, by derailing Wayne's trailer, that's exactly what he might have attempted to do—although why wait until now, when eighteen horses already were on the ranch? The curious part was the similarity in Latham's writing style with the threatening voice mail. Dan might not make the connection now, but eventually he, or some other sharp deputy in the Sheriff's Office, would.

But even if Marcus had actually
said
those words to Hilda—which Annie still refused to believe, although she acknowledged that the voice
was
a dead ringer for Hilda's husband's—why would Marcus parrot the language used by a rival for Hilda's ranch? It simply didn't make sense. Except. . . Marcus had told Annie that he'd wanted Hilda to start spending more time with him in California. In fact, if she remembered correctly, he'd described it as “an ultimatum.” But who would resort to murdering his wife simply because she wanted to spend time with her horses more than she did with him?
Plenty of people,
she could hear Dan saying.
Nonsense,
Annie silently responded. Annie's short-lived marriage had revolved around the same issue. Her husband had merely walked out and never looked back. The last she'd heard, he was living in Eugene with his new wife and four kids. Annie couldn't have been happier for him. If Hilda had refused to start commuting more to San Jose, Marcus would have simply filed for divorce.

Besides, how had Marcus ended that conversation? Annie thought back and remembered,
“To tell you the truth, if Hilda were still alive, I'm not sure where we'd be right now. But whatever happened in our relationship, I always assumed that she would still be among the living.”
There. Did that sound like someone who'd kill his wife? Sure, she could hear Dan telling her, if he'd already done it and wanted to convince someone he was innocent. Well, she didn't buy it.

After Dan had left, she'd had just about as much paperwork as she could handle for the moment. Carefully locking the office door behind her, she whistled for Wolf, who had been patiently waiting in the back of her truck, and took off for a walk around the property, far away from the grinding noise of the machines that were still so methodically looking for what would only be a gruesome treasure.

She started up the hill that she and Marcus had once walked, a walk that now seemed to have occurred a lifetime ago. There was the same small, rusted gate that led to the overgrown road that obviously hadn't been used in more than twenty years. She stood by it, thinking about her last conversation with Marcus. Wolf, on the other hand, had no appetite for ruminating about the past. He rushed by her and pushed his way through the hanging gate.

Annie gave a small jump as he flew onto the overgrown trail beyond. She hadn't seen Wolf take off, but more to the point, the gate hinges hadn't made a sound. Odd. Most rusted gates creaked. This one didn't. Annie examined it more closely. Clearly, someone had recently oiled it. In fact, it had probably been oiled on the day she and Marcus had first walked through it. She distinctly remembered Marcus's opening the gate for her, gentleman that he was, but try as she might, she couldn't recall its making a single begrudging squeak.

But who would have oiled the gate, and why? At the time, neither Marcus nor Annie had thought anything of it. Both were too intent on Marcus's predicament, and in Annie's case, hearing Marcus explain his relationship with his deceased wife. But now, without Marcus to distract her, Annie knew she must tell Dan.

Calling for Wolf, she retreated down the hill and found Dan deep in conversation with Tony, who was relating the efforts being made to locate the missing stable hand. Annie stood by quietly and listened.

To Annie's practical brain, Juan as a viable suspect made even less sense than Marcus. After all, she'd seen the guy quiver by Hilda's home, and Dan hadn't. Juan didn't have the gumption to tackle Hilda, whether it was in her house or in the dressage arena. She'd also seen how lovingly and carefully he'd inspected the bay after its arrival. He'd unabashedly doted on the animal as soon as it stepped out of her trailer. There was no way he could be involved in murder. Why couldn't Dan see that? Latham had to be his guy. As soon as Dan talked to him, he'd realize that he'd imitated Marcus's voice and left the message for Hilda. Somewhere down the line, Latham must have met Marcus and realized the Colbert marriage was going south. Why not make the husband the fall guy for his murders? It was the only logical conclusion. She had to make Dan believe this.

“Juan's probably in Eastern Washington right now, waiting for the apple-picking season to begin,” Tony was saying to Dan as she walked over. “He's an illegal immigrant, right? Why should he hang around to be a witness in a murder case, then get deported for his trouble?”

“Maybe,” said Dan. “We've reached out to every law enforcement agency in the state, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him. We've even got INS working on his family back in Mexico. They haven't heard from him, either.”

An uneasy silence passed among them. All of them, Annie knew, were wondering if Juan would end up being the fourth victim in this unholy mess of a crime. As she pondered Juan's whereabouts, Annie's curious tale of the non-squeaking gate went right out of her head.

* * *

With Dan in tow, Annie returned to Hilda's office and loaded the copies she'd made of all the horse files into an empty box. She did not ask to make a copy of the Latham/ Colbert file. Dan wouldn't have given it to her, and besides, she'd already jotted down Latham's address and phone number from his personalized stationery and tucked the note into her saddlebag purse.
It's okay, Annie. Dan didn't say you couldn't copy down information and take it with you,
her Bad Angel reminded her. The Good Angel declined to comment.

“Hold on, Annie.”

She had just grabbed the knob of the door leading outside when she heard Dan's voice.

“Did you happen to see this note in the file?”

What note? Had she forgotten to put Latham's information in her bag? She clutched it closer to her.

“What note, Dan?”

“Looks like it might be from Marcus. Can't be from Hilda; it's dated after her death. And to my knowledge, no one else worked here, unless it was Todos.”

Annie was at Dan's side before she knew how she got there.

“What? What is it?”

“Don't know. It just fluttered out when you put down a file. Do you recognize the handwriting? As I recall, the man wrote you a check.”

Annie glared at him, willing herself not to remind him he knew full well the check would not be honored as long as Marcus's bank accounts remained frozen. Then she attempted to grab what Dan was holding.

“Not so fast, Annie. You can look, but don't touch. This is going to the crime lab.”

Annie noticed that Dan was holding the note by its edge and was wearing his thick work gloves. She peered over his swathed paw. It looked like Marcus's handwriting, all right. It contained the same big block letters that Marcus had used when he wrote down his hotel and cell number the day they'd walked around the ranch. Annie's heart melted as she saw the precise way in which he'd jotted down his thoughts. On the top of the notepad was the date—March 3—the Sunday Marcus had disappeared. The rest of the note read:

“Aww. Ain't that sweet,” Dan said when they were both done reading.

“Spare me, Dan. You see? Marcus
was
going to have dinner with me that night! He didn't skip out. Something happened to him.”

“A reasonable assumption; otherwise, we wouldn't be tearing up Hilda's property looking for the man.”

Annie felt sick.

* * *

The brightness of the day was gone, even though the sun had finished its battle with the clouds and was shining brightly overhead. Annie crawled into her truck, eschewing Dan's offer to drive her home. She felt mortified beyond belief. Only a week ago, she'd scoffed at the deputies who'd hurried out of Hilda's house, upchucking over seeing a dead body. Now, it only took a mere note written by a missing man to make her queasy. She was losing her grip.

She drove home slowly, deciding to forgo her visit to Johan Thompson to talk about an exit date for her Rambouillets. She could do that by phone, although by rights she should be looking at her ewes and gauging for herself how long it would be before they would lamb, as well as checking for any potential issues.

No, that task would have to wait a day or two. Right now, she could only think about the possible meanings behind Marcus's short but poignant checklist. She wished like hell that she'd been the one to discover it, then retracted the thought. It would have been difficult to turn over that little item to Dan, especially since she was still kicking herself for deleting Marcus's last voice message to her more than a week ago. Better that it remained in the hands of the county. Certainly there was nothing incriminating about any of the items, although “Dinner with Annie” was sure to be titillating gossip throughout the Sheriff's Office before nightfall.

The other items had her stumped.
Ask about hay?
As far as she could see, Hilda's horses dined on the best money could buy. Hilda had probably pulled strings and managed to obtain the Eastern Washington Timothy and alfalfa that now, regrettably for local ranchers, was largely being compressed and sold to Asian markets.
Latch?
Now that was a clue that resonated with her.
Damn!
How could she have forgotten to tell Dan? Although knowing the sheriff, he'd probably have tried to convince her that one of Hilda's workers probably oiled all the gates once a week and not to worry her silly little pea brain over the trifling matter.
Au contraire,
Annie thought.
I just know it has something to do with Hilda's murder. But what?