Showdown in West Texas Read online

  He liked a lot of things about Grace Steele, not the least of which was what he’d seen beneath those thin cotton pajamas. Soft, womanly curves…

  “We were talking about why Grace and her sisters never married,” Miss Nelda reminded him. “I was saying I think it must have something to do with their parents.”

  “Did they go through a bad divorce or something?”

  “Divorce? Oh, dear me, no. Their parents were murdered at home while the two youngest girls were just down the hallway, hiding under their bed. Can you imagine how terrifying that must have been for them? A trauma like that is bound to have long-lasting effects.”

  Miss Nelda had brought him back to the present with a hard thud. Grace Steele’s parents had been murdered and now someone wanted to kill her. Cage wasn’t real big on coincidences, but they did happen. He didn’t want to make too much of this.

  “Was the killer ever found?” he asked.

  “No, and for a while after it happened, folks around here spent some mighty uneasy nights. It was horrifying to think that someone in our midst, someone who might live just down the street or go to our same church, could be so evil as to kill innocent folks in cold blood.” She shuddered as she went back to the shadow boxes. “It was a long time ago, but I don’t mind telling you. I still sometimes have nightmares about it.”

  “What makes you think it wasn’t just some stranger passing through?”

  She stopped dusting. “There were…other incidents.”

  “What kind of incidents?”

  Her eyes took on a faraway look, as if she had gone away for a moment to another time and place that wasn’t so pleasant. She tried to shrug off the melancholy with a smile, but she seemed to have lost some of her luster. “It was all such a long time ago. Best not to dwell on the past, I always say.”

  Cage wondered about her sudden reticence. He wanted to hear more, but he didn’t dare press her. Beneath the flirtatious smiles and coy glances, he had a feeling Miss Nelda was really quite fragile.

  “You run on along to breakfast.” She shooed him toward the door with the duster. “And if you see Billy Don, tell him Sister and I need him to come over and change some lightbulbs for us. I happened to notice on my walk last evening that one of the bulbs on the balcony is burned out.” The mischievous sparkle was back in her eyes when she added, “We wouldn’t want someone who might wander out there—for whatever reason—to trip and have a nasty fall, would we?”

  THE DINER ACROSS THE STREET was the typical small-town greasy spoon—a plate-glass front, a long counter inside where men in work clothes sat hunched over steaming cups of coffee and a line of red vinyl booths by the window that allowed patrons a panoramic view of the parking lot.

  The place wasn’t crowded that morning so Cage had his choice of seats. He slid into one of the vinyl booths facing the front so that he could see the door. He’d also noted the exits and taken a quick survey of the customers. No one seemed to pay him the slightest attention except for the man in the booth behind him. And he only gave Cage a cursory glance before he resumed his cell phone conversation.

  A skinny, freckle-faced redhead came over to take his order. She set a glass of ice water in front of him, then turned over the coffee cup on the table and filled it from the carafe she carried in her right hand.

  “Do you need to look at a menu, hon, or do you already know what you want?” She sat the coffeepot on the table and pulled an order pad from the pocket of her apron.

  “I’ll take the special,” Cage said.

  She gave him a wink. “Good choice. Be right back.”

  As she turned toward the counter, the guy in the booth behind Cage said, “Hey, Kel, can I get some more coffee back here, babe?”

  “I just gave you a refill. You got a hollow leg or something?” she teased.

  “Sure do. You play your cards right, I might just show it to you sometime.”

  Oh, brother, Cage thought.

  “No, thank you,” the waitress said adamantly.

  “Ah, now, baby, what’s the matter? You don’t want to see my hollow leg?”

  “I don’t want to see any of your legs, Jesse Nance.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since your old lady came in here and chewed my butt out good just for talking to you. That woman is downright scary when she’s mad. And they say redheads have tempers!”

  “You know what else they say about redheads?”

  “Oh, hush your mouth.”

  “Come on, darlin’,” he cajoled. “Sookie’s bark is way worse than her bite.”

  “Says you,” the waitress grumbled. “What does she think about your ex being back in town?”

  “You mean Gracie?” He gave a low laugh. “Sookie’s got nothing to worry about there, that’s for damn sure. The second happiest day of my life was when that girl packed her bags and left town.”

  “Second happiest? What’s your first?”

  “I’ll let you know, sweetie.”

  “Yeah, you do that, Jesse.”

  Cage hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but once he heard the name Nance, he’d remembered his conversation with Miss Nelda. That was the name of the boy she’d said Grace Steele had eloped with.

  Now Cage found himself just itching to turn around and get another look at the guy. His first impression was of an average-looking man with dark brown hair and a sunburned face. And he also had about the lamest pickup lines Cage had ever heard. Hard to believe that kind of corn had ever worked on a sophisticated woman like Grace.

  But, hey, Cage was no George Clooney, either. Who was he to pass judgment on the guy just because he’d once been married to Grace Steele?

  The bells over the door sounded, drawing his attention to the man who’d just walked in.

  Now there was a guy who could give Clooney a run for his money, Cage thought.

  The newcomer was tall, trim and handsome—in a pampered sort of way—and the expensive suit he wore looked totally out of place amidst all the denim and khaki in the diner. Cage figured he must be from out of town, a businessman just passing through or something, but he sure seemed to know where he was going. Without hesitation, he strode down the aisle toward Cage’s booth, bypassing his table for the one behind him.

  Whoever he was, he set the redheaded waitress all atwitter. She was still standing at Nance’s booth, and Cage heard her gush, “Oh, Mr. McKinney! Nice to see you…good morning! What can I get for you?”

  “Nothing, thanks. I’ve already had my breakfast.” And in a far superior establishment, his haughty tone seemed to imply.

  “Not even coffee?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh. Well…if you change your mind, just holler.”

  “I’ll take my check,” Jesse said peevishly, obviously not too keen on having his thunder stolen.

  “Just hold your horses,” the waitress told him.

  When she saw Cage, she stopped short, grimaced, then mouthed, Sorry, evidently having forgotten all about him.

  Cage unfolded the paper and thumbed through the pages, surprised to find nothing about the shooting. But then, it was a local paper and the editorials seemed more concerned about the dismal prospects of the Jericho Pass Bobcats than about any trouble on the border.

  High school football used to be about the most important thing to him, too, but those days seemed a long time ago, Cage reflected as he refolded the paper and slid it aside.

  Behind him, he heard the McKinney man say in an impatient tone, “Okay, Jesse, here I am. What’s so all-fired important that you had to drag me away from my Rotary Club breakfast?”

  “I’ll order you something here,” Nance offered. “Anything you want.”

  “I’m not in the mood for a heart attack so I’ll take a pass on the grease,” McKinney said snidely. “Tell me what this is about so I can get on with my day.”

  “Okay. I’ll just put it right out there, then,” Nance said. “There’s a rumor going around town that you’ve been sniffing around th
e Steele place.”

  “So?”

  “I thought you and me had a deal.”

  “I repeat, so?”

  Nance paused. “Are you really interested in buying that place or is this just one of your tricks?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” McKinney said.

  “Sookie thinks this is just a ploy on your part to drive down my asking price.”

  “If that’s what Sookie thinks, then she’s dumber than she looks,” McKinney said bluntly. “I’m perfectly willing to honor my original offer. You’re the one dragging your feet.”

  “I told you, I have to clear up that little deed problem first.”

  “Then do it.”

  “It’s not as easy as you make it sound. I have to be real careful how I handle this.”

  “Just stop whining and take care of the problem, for God’s sake.”

  “I’m working on it. But I need a little more time.”

  “How much time?”

  “A few more days.”

  “Forty-eight hours,” McKinney told him. “And I warn you, if I have to get involved in this again, the aggravation is going to cost you. Maybe you ought to see what Sookie has to say about that?”

  McKinney got up and strode past Cage’s booth to the door. Behind him, Cage heard Jesse Nance scramble to his feet to follow him out. The two men continued their discussion in the parking lot. From McKinney’s expression and Nance’s frenzied gestures, the conversation was getting more heated by the moment.

  The redhead brought over Cage’s breakfast, drawing his attention momentarily away from the window.

  “Sorry for the delay,” she said with an apologetic smile.

  “No problem.” As she topped off his coffee, Cage said, “That man out there…the tall one. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”

  “Oh, that’s Colt McKinney.”

  Cage could have sworn she actually let out a dreamy little sigh when she said his name.

  “I’m pretty sure we’ve met before,” Cage said. “Does he live around here?”

  “You’ve probably seen his picture in the paper. He’s kind of Cochise County’s version of Donald Trump. Except way cuter.”

  “Big shot, huh?”

  “Big, big shot. His family owns most of the land and businesses around here. They were cattle ranchers back when there was good money in it, but nowadays, Colt dabbles in a little bit of everything, including politics.”

  “What about the guy with him? Are they business partners?”

  She laughed out loud at that. “Not hardly. Jesse Nance is just about the biggest loser you’re ever likely to run across. Never worked an honest day in his life. He’s been living off the money his old man left him for years, but he’s flat busted now. What little he had left, Sookie Truesdale ran through when they hooked up. Talk about high maintenance,” she said with a disdainful sniff.

  “Takes cold hard cash to keep a woman like that happy,” Cage said, as if he knew Sookie personally.

  “Yeah, well, the only thing Jesse’s got left to his name is that broken-down old ranch.” She leaned down and lowered her voice. “I’ll give you three guesses as to why Sookie hasn’t already dumped his ass.”

  Cage shrugged.

  “I hear Colt’s made him an offer on his land. And you can bet Sookie’s gonna get her paws on as much of that cash as she can before she splits.”

  The waitress straightened and gave Cage a wink. “Anything else I can get for you, hon?”

  Chapter Eight

  Cage decided that conducting a stealth investigation in Jericho Pass might be a little like shooting fish in a barrel. He didn’t need to be all clever and sly to ferret out information. All he had to do was ask a few questions and then stand back.

  If everyone in that town liked to talk as much as Miss Nelda and the redheaded waitress, Cage shouldn’t have too much difficulty finding out everything he needed to know in fairly short order.

  Whether they were just trying to be friendly or whether there was a self-important aspect to their openness, he had no idea. What he did know was that in less than an hour’s time, he’d already learned about the murder of Grace Steele’s parents and her elopement with Jesse Nance. He knew that Colt McKinney was the town bigwig and Grace’s ex was the town loser, and the two of them were cooking up a deal together. McKinney had made an offer on Nance’s ranch, but Nance had a problem with the deed. A problem he intended to care of.

  The only thing Cage hadn’t found out yet was who had paid a hit man five thousand dollars up front to come to town and take care of Grace.

  But he was closer than he had been last night.

  Something about that deal with Colt McKinney and Jesse Nance had set off a few alarm bells for Cage, and he was still thinking about their conversation when he walked into the sheriff’s station a little while later. Sam Dickerson greeted him with another goofy grin.

  “How’s that Caddy holding up in all this West Texas grit?”

  “So far, so good,” Cage said. “Is Sheriff Steele in? I’m supposed to be meeting her here at nine.”

  “She’s on a conference call right now. She’ll give a holler when she’s through. Since you’ve got a little time to kill, why don’t I give you the grand tour?”

  Cage shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  He followed Sam around the station, nodding politely, and occasionally shaking hands when he was introduced to the staff. Deputy Dickerson seemed to have an endless repertoire of stories and anecdotes about everyone in the department, and Cage soon learned to laugh in all the right places without really paying much attention to what was being said.

  The deputy insisted on showing him the whole nine yards of the operation, including the interrogation room, the communications room, the copy room, the break room, the map-lined conference room, and the holding cells in the back. A shoulder-high wall separated the four desks that made up Criminal Investigations from the rest of the department, and Dickerson saved that area for last.

  Two of the desks were nearly covered over with case files, reports and myriad forms, while a third seemed to have the same amount of paperwork but in a more orderly configuration. The fourth desk had only the usual office paraphernalia of paper clips, staplers and pen holders.

  “That’ll be your desk right there if you decide to take the job,” Sam said. “It’s nice and clean right now, but give it a day or two and it’ll look more like that.” He pointed to the mile-high stacks of file folders.

  Cage wasn’t impressed. His old desk hadn’t looked much different. Every cop in the country was probably overworked to a certain degree, especially the ones that investigated crimes against persons. The red tape alone was staggering.

  “Cruz caught a call first thing this morning, and it’s Mosley’s day off. But Lily should be around here somewhere,” Dickerson said. “If you have any questions, I’m sure she’d be happy to answer them. Just hang tight and I’ll go see if I can find her.”

  After he was gone, Cage glanced down at an open folder on the third desk. It was an autopsy report from the county medical examiner.

  “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Cage looked up.

  “Yeah, you. I’m talking to you. Take a step back, slick.”

  The woman bounding toward him couldn’t have weighed much more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but she had a bulldozer quality about her that would probably make most people think twice before getting in her way.

  “You got business here or you just plain nosy?” she demanded. A thick, black braid fell over her shoulder as she leaned across the desk to close the folder.

  “Both,” he said with a grin.

  She glowered until his grin faded.

  “Sorry. I was just waiting around to see Sheriff Steele,” he told her.

  “Then why don’t you go wait in her office instead of mine?”

  “Uh, I think Deputy Dickerson wanted me to meet you.”
r />   “Oh, he did, did he?” Her gray eyes swept over him. “And just who are you?”

  “Dale Walsh.”

  One brow lifted slightly. “Well, well, well. The infamous Detective Walsh finally graces us with his presence.”

  “Why infamous?”

  “Because Charlie Dickerson built you up so much, I was beginning to think you were nothing more than a myth. Or a figment of his imagination. But here you are.” She gave him another quick appraisal. “Not quite what I had in mind.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Not half as sorry as I am,” she muttered.

  The mocking quality of her voice was a nice accessory to her derision, Cage decided. This woman was definitely a pistol.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” he said.

  “Lily Steele.”

  “Are you—”

  “No relation to our illustrious sheriff,” she said before he had a chance to finish his question. “It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that we share the same last name.”

  “Why unfortunate?”

  “Have you met her?” Lily’s taunting gaze slid past him. “Speak of the devil.”

  Cage turned to find Sheriff Steele striding toward them.

  “Sorry you had to wait,” she said. “I see you’ve met my sister.”

  He turned back to Lily who merely shrugged as she plopped down in her chair and reached for a folder.

  “I just got a call about a situation out in the county,” Grace said. “You want to ride along?”

  Cage shrugged. “Sure, if I won’t be stepping on anyone’s toes.”

  “We’re not that territorial around here,” Grace said. Then her gaze dropped to her sister. “For the most part.”

  “What’s going on?” Lily asked.

  “A body was found just off Tombstone Road, east of Red Rock Canyon.”

  “That’s close to Jesse Nance’s place.” Something flickered in Lily’s eyes, a look of fear, Cage thought. “It’s not…Jesse, is it?”

  Grace looked surprised. “Why would you think that?”