Page 45 of Death on Gallows Path

Oh, hell, yes.

“Never mind,” I added aloud.

She snorted at my slowness in reaching that never mind, then ordered, “Talk.”

I told her what I knew of the murder of Damon Swindell.

You might say it was because of what the Borg say about resistance — that it’s futile. Though, have you noticed how often they’re wrong about that? Another instance when someone tries to con you by saying the same thing over and over, expecting you to fold.

On the other hand, the collective doesn’t have Aunt Kit.

Plus, I wanted her to be up to speed for when we wanted to dip into her reservoir of connections and knowledge.

I also exacted a measure of retribution for what she called her discretion and I called her failure to share, by going into lots and lots of detail about dog-training.

* * * *

Teague messaged that he’d tried to call and would call again in half an hour.

I wrapped up with Kit to be available.

Gracie eased back into my orbit. She rolled onto her side, keeping her rear end angled well away from my left hip, but with her chin propped on my ankle. How she could get comfortable on that bony pillow I had no idea, but she appeared to find it relaxing.

“So, what do you guys think about this murder stuff, huh?” I asked my furry audience.

Four ears flicked, two on each side of me.

“Sure, keep it to yourselves, I know you pick up a lot more about these people than Clara and I do, with all our searching. And you’re not off the hook, Murph, because I know Gracie tells you everything about what happens at training. Have you already decided who did it? Have suspicions? Or—”

My phone interrupted.

Teague.

“Hi.” I answered by saying the word unlike I say it to anyone else.

“Hi, yourself. What are you doing?”

I realized I’d bent over to lightly apply the brush to my dog’s shoulder, going out of frame for the video call. “Brushing Gracie — trying to. And asking your dog and mine what they know about a recent . . . death. You were called, right? The sheriff’s department—”

“Uh-huh. Figured you and Clara would know by now.”

“Heard it this morning from Ruby at the post office.”

He breathed out. “Of course you did.”

“Did you know Clara and LuLu and Gracie and I are in the same training class at Zepke’s with the Swindells and their best friends, the Georgers — that’s Bryon and Zoley? Zoley is like Zoey with an L in the middle.”

He grunted. Its tone told me he knew and wasn’t entranced with the coincidence. He also had already heard that explanation of Zoley’s name, and he wasn’t entranced with that, either.

He packed a lot into a grunt.

It also hinted to me that Deputy Hensen had shared the news with him.

Hensen, because I couldn’t imagine Eckles or others I knew at the sheriff’s department including the Zoey with an L in the middle tidbit.

“When you called before, I was talking with Kit.”

“She already knew about the murder?” he asked. “Or you told her?”