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Dawson glared at him. “Maddie didn’t want to live here anymore. She’d been through hell and back with me. The last bust came, but then things started picking up again. But she’d had enough by then. She wanted out come hell or high water. We had a few dollars left. So we were going to buy a little villa in France and spend our golden years there. But then—”
“We understand she died in an accident,” said Jamison.
He nodded. “I was out of the country and she ran off the road during a blizzard. She didn’t realize that the rear of the car had run up against a berm. It had bent her tailpipe and clogged it,” said Dawson, the misery clear in his eyes. “She breathed in all that crap. And . . . died.”
“Why were you out of the country?” asked Decker.
“I was buying the place in France. Caroline was with me.”
“So she was going to live there with you?”
“She was tired of this place, too. Fresh start all around. And it’s what Maddie wanted.” He glanced at Decker. “But, again, why would any of that be relevant to your investigation?”
Decker rose. “I take the position that everything is relevant until it isn’t.”
“And you didn’t answer my question from before. I still don’t know why you Feds got called in on a local killing.”
“Well, on that one, you can join the club,” said Decker as he headed for the door.
AS THEY DROVE BACKto town, Jamison glanced at Decker and said, “You should fill Kelly in on what you found.”
Decker proceeded to tell Kelly about what he had done with Cramer’s corpse.
The local detective’s eyes kept widening the longer that Decker talked.
“Okay, I thought I had heard it all, but you just took it to another level.”
“Wasn’t on my wish list, I can tell you that.”
Kelly said, “You really think she was carrying something inside her?”
“It would explain why her intestines and belly were sliced open. I think the rest of the ‘autopsy’ done by whoever killed her was just to cover that part up.”
“It would have to be a lot of drugs to justify killing someone.”
Jamison shook her head. “But these days you don’t need mules to transport drugs. The U.S. Postal Service unwittingly does it. Or FedEx. Or UPS.”
“Which is why I don’t think it was drugs,” replied Decker, causing Jamison to gape.
“Well, thanks for sharing, Decker,” she groused.
He looked back at Kelly. “Tell me something. How well do you know Walt Southern?”
“Pretty well. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
Jamison caught a look from him that said not to comment further.
“And now, let’s head out and do something we should have already done,” said Decker.
“What’s that?” asked Kelly.
“Go to the scene of the crime,” answered Jamison.
* * *
It was a breathtakingly beautiful view, made ugly only by the purpose of the visit.
