Page 27 of Rocky Ride

She was pretty before she was dead. Thirty-something. Blonde hair splattered with a lot of blood. Not dressed yet. Robe hanging open showing a lot of tanned leg.

Was there a tanning place near here?

I took pictures for Billy for the file while we waited for Doc Olsen. Molly had called from the station and dispatched the doctor when we got the call. I figured he should be arriving soon.

“Let’s wait for the doc out front,” I said to Virge.

He held his hand up for me to wait because he was listening to Billy question the husband.

“You said your wife was fine when you left for your office at eight fifteen.”

“That’s right. I left at my usual time, not going directly to my office on Main, but to see a client in Shelby. I was driving in that direction when I realized I’d set my briefcase down in the foyer when I put my snow boots on. That’s when I turned around.”

“Right,” said Billy. “You turned around and came back for the briefcase. How much time had elapsed, sir? Give me your best estimate.”

“Fifteen minutes, tops.”

“So in fifteen minutes time, someone entered your home, killed your wife in a violent manner and was gone without a trace when you got back for your briefcase.”

“That’s exactly what happened,” said Ellington. “That’s the honest truth of it.”

“I believe you,” said Billy. “Any thoughts on who would want to kill your wife?”

“Nobody in this town. I’m an attorney and Sandra is a housewife. She didn’t work outside our home. She had a few hobbies and loved to cook. She was an amazing wife, and we were happy together.”

“Did she belong to any clubs? Book club? Group of girls getting together? Anything like that?”

“No, but she had a few close friends in town she met for drinks once in a while. They’d go for a girls’ night to the Inn or to the roadhouse. There’s not a lot of nightlife in Coyote Creek.”

“I’ll need names and addresses of her closest friends, sir, if you don’t mind giving me those.”

“Sure. Who would do this to my wife, Sheriff Johnson? It makes no sense at all. Coyote Creek is a quiet town. A safe place to live.”

“Any children, sir?”

“No. We have no children.”

The interview wound up and Virge nodded his head like he had the answer. I tried not to laugh out loud at my brother. Virge liked to solve cases on the first day and the theories he came up with were sometimes so crazy, I had to laugh.

Doctor Olsen arrived next, and Virge and I helped him with the scene and with bagging Mrs. Ellington’s body. The Doc preferred shootings and strangulations to stabbings. Anybody would. Not so messy.

Worst of all, Doc hated bear deaths. Bodies all mangled and torn up. He kept track of the bear deaths in our county. Something he liked to do.

Music Row. Nashville. Tennessee.

Ardal and Casey had their work cut out for them. In their search for Bobby Prescott, the Interstate Rage Killer, all they had to go on was a songwriter hanging with a guy who was hurt. They had an eight by ten picture of Bobby to show in the bars and they were also able to say the two men they were looking for may or may not be driving a black Freightliner cab.

Casey found them a hotel room in downtown Nashville and after a good night’s sleep, he and Ardal started at the far end of music row.

They planned to ask their questions in every bar on the long street of music venues—up one side of the street and down the other. Somebody in Nashville must have seen Bobby Prescott and his new friend, the unknown songwriter.

Black Wolf Mountain. Montana.

Travis sat at the kitchen table. His leg elevated—propped up on the wood box. There were only two chairs and Sunday sat on the other one.

The stove cranked out a great heat and the cabin was warm and cozy. Sunday kept it that way. Travis couldn’t get up to get the wood.

“I have to get home tomorrow,” said Travis. “I’ve been gone too long.”

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