Brenda nodded, her hands kneading the yarn in her lap, ruining the neat stitches she’d just put in. Finally she spoke. “I wish the sheriff’s office had found someone else to arrest.”

  “Don’t we all!” Mandy jumped to her feet. “There certainly were enough people who had a reason to hate him or were at the campsite. But everyone has alibis that Quintana hasn’t been able to crack yet.”

  She ticked them off on her fingertips. “Jesse Lopez was working at his gas station. Ira Porter was visiting his mother in Colorado Springs. Newt Nowak was collecting cans at Hecla Junction. And Arnold Crawford just walked into the Quintana’s office to vouch for you two men.”

  “Yeah, we heard,” Lee said. “Sounds like Arnold will be in the

  doghouse with his wife for quite a while. I’m glad he finally showed up to vouch for Craig and me, though.”

  “And I was cleaning house and cooking a chicken dinner,” Brenda added softly.

  Lee reached over to pat her shoulder. “No one’s accusing you, dear. The house looked great and it was a good dinner.”

  “Yeah, that was the best chicken you’ve ever made,” Craig said. “It was really juicy.”

  Lee smiled. “Or we were just really hungry after a day of fishing.”

  Mandy stood with her hands on her hips watching the three of them. Their alibis sounded just a little too pat, a little too convenient, especially with Lee and Craig’s good friend appearing all of a sudden to say he’d been fishing with them. He was a gambler, probably with debts. Maybe Lee had paid him off to vouch for them.

  Lee had already insisted that he would never have killed Howie, but Craig hadn’t said anything one way or the other. And Mandy knew he had a temper. When Mandy caught his eye, his gaze slid from hers, as if unable to stand up under too much scrutiny. And Brenda’s gaze flitted around the room like a nervous bird trapped indoors and looking for a way out. Maybe she knew something, something she wasn’t telling. Something about Craig, perhaps?

  Mandy focused on Brenda, the one she thought most likely to crack. “So who else could have killed your brother, Brenda? Who else besides a family member?”

  Brenda shook her head violently. “I don’t know,” she wailed. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Just tell them to go away and leave us alone. Leave me alone! Howie’s dead, and Faith’s dead, and nothing anyone does is going to change that.” Tears started running down her cheeks. She dropped her face in her hands and sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

  Lee reached over to clasp her hand, then looked at Mandy. “Why does it have to be someone who knew Howie? Why not a vagrant, or a psycho just traveling through town who stopped by the campground? Has Quintana thought of that?”

  “There’s no evidence that anyone was there other than Howie, Ira, and Newt,” Mandy said, “besides a family from Texas with small children.”

  Brenda’s face shot up, her eyes wild. “Yes, yes, it was a madman, a serial killer. That’s who they should be chasing. Not Cynthia. Not us.” She stood and grabbed Mandy’s arm, her hand a claw that dug in deep. “You tell that Detective Quintana to let Cynthia out of jail. Tell him a crazy person killed Howie.”

  Mandy glanced at the painful red marks on her arm under Brenda’s quivering fingers, then at Lee and Craig, who stared at Brenda in alarm. The chances seemed slim that a crazy serial killer murdered her brother, but the chances seemed great that grief was driving this woman over the edge of sanity.

  _____

  Lucky jumped on Mandy when she opened the gate to her yard, smearing mud on her jeans. A short rain shower had blown through while she was at the Ellis home. She absently bent down to hug and pet the damp dog while visions of Cynthia spending another lonely night in jail swirled in her head. The musty and somehow comforting smell of wet fur brought her back to the moment. She stood.

  “C’mon, Lucky, let’s towel you off.” She glanced at her muddy jeans. “And me, too.”

  She walked around to the back porch, left her water sandals there, and grabbed an old beach towel off a hook inside the door that she kept there for just this purpose. After toweling off the dog and herself, she filled Lucky’s food and water bowls. Then she changed into a pair of old sweatpants cut off at the knees and an oversized FIBArk T-shirt. She’d just opened the refrigerator door to see what she could make herself for dinner when the front doorbell rang.

  When she opened it, Rob stood there with his swollen bruised nose, a six-pack of Pacifico, and a brown paper bag that steamed with a delicious aroma. He waved the bag under her nose. “You eaten yet? I brought moo shu pork and egg foo young.”

  Her mouth watering, she pulled him into the house and stood on her toes to kiss him. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  She turned to go into the kitchen then realized he wasn’t following her. When she looked over her shoulder at him, he was standing stock still with a bemused expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “That’s the first time you’ve said you love me,” he said. “If I’d known all I needed to do was bring Chinese food over, I would have done it a long time ago.”

  Her statement had just slipped out, but Mandy realized as she watched him approach that yes, she loved this man. She loved him deeply, had for a while and had never admitted it to herself or to him.

  She grinned as he put the food on the kitchen table and pulled her into his arms. “It’s not the food. It’s you, Rob, and how you always seem to know exactly what I need.”

  “And I know you need this.” He thoroughly kissed her, then drew back to gaze at her. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached up to caress her cheek with his thumb. “Did you really mean it, then, when you said you loved me?”

  Mandy put her hand over his, kissed his thumb, and looked steadily into his eyes. For once, Rob needed reassurance from her, and she could give it to him. “It slipped out, and I should have picked a better moment to tell you, a more serious one. But I meant it, Rob. I love you.”

  A little sigh escaped his lips. “I love you, too, mi querida.” He hugged her tight, held her for a long moment, then pulled back. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  Mandy grabbed plates and silverware while Rob emptied the bag. They plowed into the food and beer until they sat back with full bellies, Lucky at their feet contentedly munching on half of Mandy’s fortune cookie.

  Her fortune had read, “Something you lost will soon turn up.” She had a niggling feeling that she had overlooked some important detail in the case of Howie Abbott’s murder, something that might save Cynthia. She desperately hoped that the fortune was true and that the answer would turn up soon. To get her mind working on the puzzle again, she told Rob about her visit with the Ellis family.

  After she finished, he took a thoughtful drink of beer. “So, you’re thinking Craig might have found out about Howie lusting after his sister and taken an ax to his uncle?”

  “Think about it, Rob. That murder was obviously a crime of passion, one done in extreme anger. And what could cause more anger than finding out your sister was being sexually abused by her uncle?”

  Rob spread a hand wide. “Finding out that your daughter was?”

  “True, but Lee has already said he wouldn’t have killed Howie, that he would have let the law put Howie away, in prison where he belonged. His statement rang true to me.”

  “You sure?”

  Mandy exhaled. “No, just a feeling in my gut. And unlike his father, Craig has never outright denied killing his uncle, at least to me. He even said after Howie’s funeral that if Howie hadn’t already been killed, he’d take great pleasure in doing it himself. And you know, his mother seemed to be hiding something tonight, some secret. Made me think she knows Craig did it.”

  “So how do you prove it?”

  “There’s the rub. Unless Craig confesses, I don’t see how I can. Arnold Crawford provided him with a strong alibi and there’s no physical evidence linking him to the crime scene. Unlike Cynthia.”

  Rob rinsed his beer can at the sink, then crushed it and dropped it in Mandy’s metal recycling bag. “I don’t see Craig being callous enough to let Cynthia go to prison in his place.”

  “Maybe he’s hoping she’ll get off, that the evidence won’t be enough to convict her.” Mandy stood and began clearing the table. “He could be thinking that they’ll get a good lawyer to convince the jury of Lee and Brenda’s wild theory, that some unknown serial killer or psycho vagrant could have done it instead.”

  Rob nodded. “The lawyer might plant enough doubt that someone on the jury wouldn’t vote to convict Cynthia. Or he could go for the sympathy ploy, claiming she went temporarily insane because her uncle raped her in the past, and she thought he would do the same to Faith.”

  “I’m not willing to take that chance, though. Sure, Cynthia had plenty of motive, with Howie abusing her and going after her cousin. But after visiting the Ellises tonight, I suspect one of them killed Howie, most likely Craig. I just need to find a way to prove it.” Mandy clenched her fist.

  Rob came up behind her and started massaging her shoulders, releasing waves of tension that she didn’t know she was holding in. “Faith’s funeral is tomorrow, right? You’ll get another chance to observe the Ellises then. You won’t solve anything tonight, though.”

  Mandy sighed. “You’re right, and there’s something else important I need to tell you tonight.”

  “More important than saying you love me?” Rob leaned over her shoulder and smiled at her.

  Mandy tilted her head back to kiss him then dropped her chin so his wondrous fingers could resume their work on her rigid neck muscles. “No, not more important than that. And keep on rubbing, lover boy. What I have to tell you is that I made a decision this morning.”

  She told him about stopping at her Uncle Bill’s house with Steve. “When that bluebird stole a bite of my sandwich on the river bank then chattered at me, I took it as a sign from Uncle Bill. A sign that that’s where he would be for me, on the river, whenever I needed him. Not at the house.”

  She turned to face Rob and put her arms around his waist. “So, I’m ready to sell it now. I’m going to call Bridget on Monday and accept the counteroffer.”

  Rob’s gaze searched her face. “And you’re really comfortable with this? It’s not because you’re feeling pressured by me, is it?”

  Mandy shook her head. “I feel at peace. I spread Uncle Bill’s ashes on the Arkansas River. Whenever I need to talk to him, that’s where I’ll go. Sure, I have lots of fond memories about things that happened in that house, but it’s just a building. It doesn’t hold his spirit anymore. And I don’t need to hold onto it anymore.”

  Rob hugged her tightly, his chin resting on top of her head. “I’m glad, mi querida. And not just about getting the money we need for RM Outdoor Adventures. I’m very happy you can still feel Bill’s presence and talk to him when you need to.”

  Mandy smiled against Rob’s chest. “Now, if he could only talk to Howie Abbott’s spirit, then let me know who killed him.”

  _____

  In the middle of the night, Mandy was suddenly awake. She lay there for a moment, listening, trying to hear the echo of a sound, of what might have startled her from her slumber. Rob lay snoring gently beside her, his swollen nose still giving him breathing problems. And Lucky lay on his pillow next to the bed, his doggie’s snuffles a quiet accompaniment to Rob’s more sonorous wheezes.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could make out vague shapes of furniture, her dresser and chair, the doorway to the bathroom. But nothing seemed out of place, nothing stirred, except the chests of her fellow sleepers. So, it must have been a dream. Mandy shut her eyes, eased her breathing to drift back into a relaxed state, and tried to remember where she’d been in slumber land.

  An image of something swishing through the air flashed through her brain, then a wet thwock as it hit flesh. A cry of agony, and a wet gush of red puddled on the ground. Then the whole scene repeated, as if on instant replay. The “something” was an ax, and the flesh was Howie Abbott’s neck.

  The next time the scene replayed, Mandy swallowed back her revulsion and tried to pull her mind’s camera back, to see who was holding the ax. The look of fierce rage on the wielder’s face distorted it enough that Mandy was unsure who she saw. But the scene didn’t replay again.

  Wide awake now, she picked apart the alibis of the suspects until a crack opened in one. She rolled over and smiled. She could check out her hunch tomorrow before Faith’s funeral.

  Eighteen

  Good things come to those who bait.

  —AUTHOR UNKNOWN

  Mandy threw on her clothes for Faith’s funeral, her trusty black skirt and a matching black twin sweater set she’d bought before stopping by the Ellis home the evening before. She finally had a decent outfit to wear to the funerals she seemed to be attending more frequently these days. Rob had left earlier that morning to open RM Outdoor Adventures and run the shuttle for the morning raft trip. After that, he was going to meet her at the church—the same Baptist church where Faith’s uncle’s service had been conducted.

  Mandy was rushing because she had an important hunch to follow-up on before she went to the service. And she needed to do it that day, a Sunday, the same day of the week when Howie was killed. After Rob had left, she’d used her laptop computer to search for Lee Ellis’s name on the Internet, hoping to find a news photo of the family in relation to the articles about Howie’s and Faith’s deaths. She finally lucked out with one of the whole family taken at a charity event a couple of months ago, and she printed it out on her small, slow printer.

  The research had taken longer than she thought, and she would have to move quickly to get her errand done before the service started. Clutching the photo, she settled Lucky in the yard with a rawhide bone and headed for the Safeway grocery store downtown. It wasn’t the closest grocery store to the Ellis home, which was the Wal-Mart. However, that Wal-Mart didn’t have a fresh deli counter like the Safeway did.

  At the Safeway, Mandy went to the deli counter and introduced herself to a white-haired woman behind it, stretching the truth a bit. “Hi, I’m Mandy Tanner. I’m a ranger with the AHRA, and I’m helping the sheriff’s office with a joint investigation. Were you working here on Sunday two weeks ago?”

  When the woman said yes, Mandy asked, “Was anyone else also behind the counter that day? I’d like to talk to everyone who might have waited on a customer then.”

  “Kathy was here, too.” She waved over a young woman with dark hair who had been ladling potato salad into plastic containers.

  Kathy came over and gave Mandy a friendly smile. “How can I help you?”

  Mandy introduced herself again and held out the photo of the Ellis family to the two deli workers. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

  The white-haired woman pointed to Brenda. “Her. She shops here every Wednesday morning. Buys sliced ham and Swiss cheese religiously, for sandwiches for her husband and son. We shoot the breeze a little most times she comes.” She turned to Kathy. “You don’t work on Wednesdays, do you?”

  Kathy peered at the photo. “No, but I recognize her, too.”

  “Was she here Sunday two weeks ago perhaps?” Mandy asked.

  “The day that fisherman was killed?” Kathy gave a shiver. “I read about it in the paper the next day and tried to remember what I was doing about the time he was killed. You ever do that?”

  Mandy and the white-haired woman nodded.

  Kathy snapped her fingers. “So I went back over all the people I waited on, and she was one of them. I especially remember her because she came in all flustered and acting weird.” She turned to the white-haired woman. “You were in the back, making macaroni salad.”

  With her heart beating faster, Mandy asked, “What time did she come in and what did she want?”

  “It was late afternoon, around five. She said she needed a rotisserie chicken right away, and some mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and rolls. When I said that sounds like a great dinner, she told me she hadn’t had time to fix a homemade dinner and was in a rush to get something in the oven before her men came home off the river. I remember her because she seemed so desperate and looked kind of wild-eyed. Almost made me think her husband was going to blow up at her, maybe even hit her or something if she didn’t have a meal waiting for him.”

  The older woman tsked. “It’s a shame how some men mistreat their wives still, in this day and age.”

  Kathy looked at Mandy. “Why do you need to know this? Did something happen to this poor woman?”

  Mandy shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t tell you anything yet, but a Detective Quintana may be by later to ask you to verify what you just told me. Thanks.”

  She rushed out of the store, almost shaking with excitement. Her theory was confirmed, as unbelievable as it seemed. Brenda hadn’t cooked the Sunday dinner herself. And she probably dashed through some cleaning chores to make it look like she’d been working hard at home all afternoon. It didn’t take long to run a vacuum over the carpet, especially if you were rushing, and she could have just tossed the towels in the dryer with a scented dryer sheet to make it seem like they’d been freshly laundered. Mandy had pulled that trick once or twice when her brother had come to visit and she hadn’t had time to wash towels.

  While Mandy drove to the church, her heart rate increased as her suspicion solidified. Brenda was about the same size as Cynthia, in fact had about twenty pounds on her. She could have hefted the camping ax. And if she’d found out that Howie was abusing her daughter, that was motive enough, even though he was her own brother. Maybe even especially so.

  The horrific certainty landed with a thud in the pit of Mandy’s stomach. Brenda had been acting very strange lately. Sure, her brother and daughter had both recently been killed, but more than just grief seemed to be driving her to distraction. Maybe guilt had been worming its way into her psyche, especially since Cynthia had been arrested.