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Tiny as Tai was big, the vibrant, white-haired woman greeted them at the door to her single-story home in worn jeans, cowboy boots, and an over-sized work shirt that dwarfed her petite frame. She smiled welcomingly, but the glint in her green eyes told him she was no fool.
“Come in for some lemonade,” she insisted once the three of them had unloaded the hay.
After the niceties, Jane brought the subject around to Pastor Zack’s hiring.
“This have anything to do with that explosion?” the woman asked.
Bridger whistled silently. She was quick, for sure. “The sheriff’s just beginning his investigation.”
Petra didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “I figure someone had it out for the pastor. Poor man. Seems like I was right.”
“What do you mean?” Jane asked.
The woman shot her an impatient look. “I’m old, not stupid. Houses don’t just up and explode.”
Bridger tried to keep the surprise off his face.
Petra swirled her glass, making the ice tinkle as she eyed the three of them before focusing on him. “You think this has something to do with the blackmail.”
Tai poked him with an elbow. “News travels at lightning speed out here.”
Petra grinned. “We might be low on tech, but we’re big on gossip.”
Tai laughed and took a gulp of lemonade.
Bridger considered the woman. From her shining eyes to the determined set of her chin, she radiated interest and intelligence. He bet she was a keen observer, and he liked her style. Measured but to-the-point. She’d make a great intelligence asset, if Redemption Creek were his new assignment.
He set down his glass and fixed her with the full force of his attention. “Do you think it’s someone in town?”
“Not because I know of anyone in particular. A person would have to have a powerful hate to want to blow someone up.”
Or a powerful need the preacher’s death would fulfill. He’d have to chew on that ugly notion for a while. “Jane thought you were on the church council when Zack Myles was hired.”
“Herman was. My late husband,” she added, shaking her head. “That was a bitter business.”
“Because of the Peckhams?” Jane asked her.
Bridger pressed his palms into his thighs, fighting the urge to butt in. He wished Jane hadn’t been so specific. Good interrogators didn’t feed their subjects answers.
Petra sat back against the over-stuffed couch cushions, her gaze distant. “They’re a pig-headed bunch. Bill Senior wanted his son for the position. He tried to bulldoze the rest of the council, but Herman and Warren King weren’t having it. The Peckhams—and a good handful of their friends—left the church over it. Not that it hurt my feelings any.” She drank the last of her lemonade, setting the glass down with a faint click. “That was six years ago, though. Why would someone want to kill the pastor now?”
Tai grunted. “Good point.”
“What about blackmail?” Bridger asked. “That’s been going on for a while. If it’s not someone from the pastor’s past, it’s someone who knew about his indiscretions.”
The older woman pursed her lips. Bridger liked the way she gathered her thoughts before she spoke.
She clasped age-spotted hands in her lap. “Herman had no idea. I can tell you that. The man couldn’t keep anything from me. If he found out, he would have told me. My guess is no one in town knew. I can’t imagine a thing like that staying secret for so long.”
Jane frowned, obviously thinking. Probably the same thing he was. According to Myles, the only person in Redemption Creek who knew was the head of the council, Warren King. And he’d been dead for a couple years now.
Bridger rubbed his chin. He’d only been investigating for two days, and he was already weary of hunting through the weeds for clues.
“I know the Peckhams were bitter about Billy not getting the job,” Jane said, “but they wouldn’t be angry enough to kill over it. Not after all this time. Besides, Nora’s forever bragging about the wonderful position Billy got in San Francisco.”
Petra’s expression softened. “I guess you haven’t heard.”
Something in the elderly woman’s voice made alarm bells clang in Bridger’s head. Her breathing accelerated. Not a lot. Probably not noticeable to most people, but he was on the lookout for tells. And he was good. Trained by the best interrogators in the world. Literally.
