“Bandit?”
Jaimie’s eyes narrowed. “How’d you know?”
Tess nodded to the poster. “That’s the only Australian shepherd you’ve got. Right?”
Jaimie said, “That’s right.” She added, “If you see her, let me know.”
She got into her truck and drove off.
Jaimie had called Bandit a “her.”
After a nap, the watcher woke up hungry. He had a blinding headache and needed to eat something. The diner in Patagonia was pretty good, and he was thinking biscuits and gravy.
He drove into Patagonia and parked across from the post office.
Surprise surprise, Jaimie Wolfe was stapling posters to the telephone poles.
He became aware that someone else was watching her.
He had a well-developed sixth sense. He could feel it when there was, for want of a better term, involvement from another party. Even if he didn’t expect it, and in this situation he did. He could feel it as if someone had taken a comb and gently rippled the hair on his arms.
The other watcher had turned in a few minutes ago and parked near the old railroad depot.
He squinched his eyes against the light, which at this time of day was so bright it hurt to see.
The other watcher was a woman cop.
He’d seen her before, at George Hanley’s funeral.
He’d even talked to her.
Now he watched her watch Jaimie Wolfe stapling flyers to telephone poles.
The cop walked over and had a short conversation with her, then went back to her vehicle.
Jaimie got into her truck and drove off.
He followed her at a discreet distance as she roamed the two or three streets that made up the south side of Patagonia, and the two or three streets that made up the north side of Patagonia. That’s what he assumed. Today was Poster-Put-Up Day. It was the day when a grieving Jaimie Wolfe would obsess on something smaller than the death of her brother in California.
Her little brother, Chad.
He knew that it was easier to focus on something smaller—bite-size. Easier to do something than just stay home and mourn.
She should thank him. Losing the dog was akin to therapy.
Tess had lunch, but she wasn’t very hungry. She was thinking about the DeKoven family and how to crack them.
Walking back to her vehicle, she called Danny to see how Theresa and Elena were doing.
“Great on all counts. I can’t believe she’s here.”
Tess smiled at the sound of his voice. He was trying to sound normal, but he seemed to be bursting at the seams with good feeling.
“So they’re both doing great?”
“Better than great! You need to come over here and see her.”
“Tell me when and I’ll be there.”
“Maybe later this afternoon? Wait till you see her. She’s the most beautiful baby girl in the world.”
“I expected as much,” Tess said.
Danny said, “Pat Scofield called me.”
“She did? I thought she dropped off the planet.”
“I had some downtime while Theresa was sleeping, so I went over there earlier.”
He told her about the son-in-law driving by, how Pat had been rattled by it.
“She’s afraid of this man?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s terrified. Why don’t we meet over there and talk to her?”
Tess met Danny outside the Scofield house. Their car was parked out front, not yet garaged.
Bert Scofield answered the door. He didn’t look happy to see them. His expression said plainly, “Again?”
“We’d like to talk to you about your father-in-law,” Danny said.
Bert stepped back—reluctantly. “Come out on the back terrace. Pat’s knitting and she likes being out there.”
They walked through the small house. Tess noted several framed photos on the fireplace mantel—one might have been Pat’s sister. Pat’s hair was faded blonde, but this woman’s hair was dark. The studio picture was many years old—a portrait of the young bride with her bridesmaids.
Tess noticed there was no photo of the bride and groom.
They followed him out to the patio. It was tiny, with a high wall. Pat sat near a round glass table, her knitting bag at her feet. When she saw Tess she said, “Have you found out who killed Dad?”
“Not yet. You mind if we sit down?”
“Sure. Please.” She sat forward, her knitting forgotten. She looked at Danny. “First he drove down this street…”
Bert blew air through his pursed lips, did everything to show his exasperation but roll his eyes.
“Bert, you know I saw him!” she turned back to Tess. “He thinks I’m being silly. But it was like a goose walked over my grave. And after what we’ve been through with Dad…” She started to tear up.
Tess said, “Why are you afraid of your brother-in-law?”
“He’s a bad person.”
“He’s not a bad person, Pat,” Bert said. “You just got off on the wrong foot with him. He’s a good guy.”
Tess kept her concentration on Pat. “Why is he a bad person?”
“He was cruel to my sister, Karen. Mean. He’d
“Pat, you’re painting a pretty ugly picture here. Besides, he lives in California and we haven’t seen him in over ten years.”
“I saw him, Bert! I saw him slow down and drive by. Maybe he found out that Dad was dead and it brought him here.”
Tess asked, “Did they not get along?”
“Oh, they got along great! Even though I think Wade was using him. My dad had a soft spot for him, I guess because they worked together for so long. But Karen said he has a mean temper. And once I saw it. Just for a minute. They were at a party at our house and he was holding her hand. Just leaning over her. She’d gone in to get something—a drink, maybe—from the fridge, and I was coming in with some dirty plates, and he was holding onto her hand and it looked like he was crushing it. She looked up and called my name. And he just relaxed his hand and smiled at me without a by-your-leave. But I know he hated me. And you, too, Bert. He didn’t think much of you, either.”
Bert shook his head and wandered away.
Tess said, “He was good friends with your dad, though?”
“Yes. But I got the feeling Dad cut him off after what happened to Karen. Like he didn’t think Wade cared enough. And that was true. Wade got married not six months later.”
“You think he victimized her?”
Pat wiped at a tear. “I
Tess asked her how Karen died. She told her about the convenience store, the robber in the ski mask. How she was shot. “Poor Karen. She was such a great sister. I can’t stand to think of it. And I know
