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“I hope someone on that list can shed light on how that woman got where she was when you found her.” She glanced at the paint on her walls. “It’s not coming off. Looks like I’ll be painting.” She shrugged. “I was tired of white, anyway. I’m thinking eggplant purple with summer squash trim.” She laughed. “That should have the historical society in fits.”
Drake left Margaret talking to herself about paint colors and laughing out loud. He worried that she wasn’t taking the threat seriously. After Earl’s gruesome death, he wouldn’t put it past the killer to make good on his threat and off the spunky septuagenarian.
First stop was, as promised, the sheriff’s office, where he made a copy of the names, leaving one with the sheriff. They put their heads together to come up with addresses for those who still lived in the area.
“I’ll give the rest of the list to Hank Patterson,” Drake said. “From what I’m told, he has a computer guy who works miracles with databases.”
Sheriff Barron snorted. “I suspect he engages in some forms of hacking to work those miracles. I can’t prove it. Frankly, I don’t want to. As long as his intentions are pure, I see no need to interfere. Besides, if one of my loved ones was in trouble, I’d pull every string, access every source, legal or not, to save them.”
“Has Cassie asked Hank to help her find her friend Penny?” Drake asked.
The sheriff’s brow puckered. “To my knowledge, she’s never tapped on the Brotherhood Protectors as a resource in her search.”
Drake’s eyebrow rose. “Perhaps it’s time…?”
“Perhaps.” The sheriff took all the names of the men living on the south side of town.” I’ll check with each of them and slide by Margaret’s place to see how she’s doing.”
“Good,” Drake said. “I’m worried she’s not doing enough to protect herself.”
“She’s a stubborn woman. I know for a fact she has a 357 magnum her first husband left her. He died of a heart attack when he was only thirty-seven years old, leaving her a widow at thirty-two.” The sheriff shook his head. “Quite the looker, too. She had all the wives worried their husbands would stray.”
“Did they?” Drake asked.
“Not with Margaret. She sought companionship in other towns and didn’t bring them home to Eagle Rock. I think she never found someone she loved as much as her first husband.”
“I like her,” Drake said. “I’d hate to see her hurt.”
“I’ll do my best to check on her throughout the day.”
Drake nodded. “But you’re short-staffed. I’ll go through as many of these workers as I can. Just let me know which ones you get to so we don’t overlap.”
“Deal.”
Drake walked with Sheriff Barron out of the office and stood on the sidewalk in front. “Where did you say Deputy Douglas was?”
“She’s out at the Crooked Creek Ranch, checking on a potential property theft.” Sheriff Barron grinned. “Bobby Joe Tarpin claims his still was stolen. I suspect his wife got tired of him spending more time with the still and his buddies than he was on chores and her. The deputy should be heading back before her shift ends at five.”
That gave Drake several hours to work his way down the list.
He headed north while the sheriff turned south.
They might be chasing shadows, but doing something was better than doing nothing. And apparently, their poking around was stirring up trouble. Already, it had cost one life. Drake would emphasize to the men he interviewed that their lives could be in just as much danger as Earl’s had been. That might get tongues wagging. Any clues, no matter how big or small, had to help.
Knowing the identity of the original victim was still the biggest clue of all that would help them find the one responsible.
He hoped that would happen soon, preferably before anyone else turned up dead.
