She was silent behind me. I thought maybe the hint had sunk in. No such luck.
“People tell me I’m observant,’’ Austin continued. “Maybe I could help you get some evidence against Wynonna.’’
“What’s the deal with you and Wynonna?’’ I asked. “Why do you hate her so much?’’
“Aside from the fact she married Trey’s daddy for his money and she thinks her shit don’t stink?’’
I let that go unanswered. We were coming up to the scene of Doc’s shooting. Sheriff Roberts must have finished with Wynonna, because there he was, arguing with Carlos. The sheriff’s arms were crossed, resting on his big belly. Their faces were inches from one another. Carlos wasn’t yelling. But I knew that quiet, clenched-jaw tone. I’d rather have the yelling.
I wanted to know what was going on, but I wasn’t about to wander into the charged space between the two men. Even the sheriff’s deputies were giving them a wide berth. Plus, if I went over with Austin, she’d surely make some kind of silly scene. So far, Little Ms. Observant hadn’t even noticed the former Miami detective and the Dundee County Sheriff, knocking antlers like two bucks in mating season.
“Why don’t we stop by Wynonna’s, see how she’s doing?’’ I made a quick U-turn before the crime scene. “Maybe you can ask her a few questions.’’
“Well, sure,’’ Austin said, sounding surprised.
As we got closer to the Bramble campsite, I heard the murmur of voices. One man, one woman. The woman’s tone was pleading, though I couldn’t make out the words. I put up a hand to stop Austin behind me, and turned with my finger to my lips.
“Quiet,’’ I whispered. “There’s something going on.’’
I pointed to my ear, and then to my eye. Listen. Look.
She nodded, catching on quickly for once.
We turned off our flashlights and crept toward the campsite, approaching from the rear. An outside light on the RV helped us find our way. We hid in the shadows of the Brambles’ stock trailer, peering at the campsite through the trailer’s metal slats.
Trey was on the bottom step to the RV, with his back to Wynonna. She was just outside the door, tugging at his shirt, trying to turn him toward her. He had a beer bottle in his hand.
“I told you no, Wynonna.’’
“Please.’’ She wiped at the tears on her face. “I can’t help it, Trey.’’
“It’s wrong. Daddy’s not even in the ground.’’
Her voice deepened, turned seductive. “You know you want it as bad as me. We’re both hurting, Trey.’’
Austin’s breath quickened. She took a step toward the RV. I clamped a hand on her arm and shook my head forcefully.
“Listen,’’ I whispered. “Clues.’’
She nodded, her eyes boring holes into Wynonna and Trey.
His shoulders slumped. He hung his head. Dropping the beer on the ground, he slowly turned to Wynonna. She took a step toward him. He reached out and ran his hands lightly over her breasts. The moan that escaped his lips seemed to come more from pain than desire.
Wynonna grabbed Trey’s wrists and pressed his hands more tightly to her. Then she dropped her hands to his belt buckle, pulling his body close.
“C’mon, Trey.’’ She put her lips to his, grinding against him. “Let’s go inside.’’
When the door of the RV closed, I whispered, “Now, that’s the kind of thing you see when you look and listen.’’
I got no response.
“Austin?’’
She stared at the door, her eyes dark with fury. She pounded her flashlight against her palm, so hard I feared she’d break the lens and cut herself. Her whole being seemed focused on what was going on inside that RV. I edged away several steps. Waves of rage were rolling off Austin’s body, and I didn’t want to get drowned.
Whispered murmurs followed me through the crowd at the dinner site. I had the distinct feeling people were talking about me. Then again, Doc had been shot less than two hours earlier. A medevac helicopter swooped in like something out of a movie and plucked him, wounded and bleeding, from our midst. Who was I to think the conversation centered on me?
“Excuse me, Mace?’’ The big cowgirl put a hand on my arm to stop me. She glanced over her shoulder, seeking support from her friend with the tight curls. “People are starting to get nervous about being on this ride. We were wondering if you’d found out yet who shot Doc?’’
I looked at her like she was crazy. “I have no idea. The place is crawling with cops. Why don’t you ask one of them?’’
“Well, the deputies are busy.’’ She fiddled with a braid. “We heard about that note you got telling you Lawton Bramble was murdered. Everyone says you’ve solved a lot of murders.’’
I was about ready to commit a murder. This gossip was getting out of hand. I was certain that, somehow, Mama was behind it. I scanned the crowd, trying to spot her lemon-colored hat.
“I don’t know any more than the next person about what happened,’’ I told the cowgirl.
“So you don’t know who did it?’’
“Not a clue.’’
She turned to shake her head at her friend and who knows how many other people looking on from the crowd.
“Well, I think I know what happened,’’ she said, turning back to me.
Of course you do, I thought.
“I think that cook, Johnny, did it. He owed Lawton a lot of money, so he killed him. But then Doc Abel saw Johnny do it, and planned to blackmail him. He had to shoot Doc.’’
“That sounds like a really good theory,’’ I said. “You should share it with Detective Martinez. That’s Carlos Martinez, from Miami. He’s riding the big black thoroughbred.’’
Puffing out her chest, she strutted away. With any luck, she’d find Carlos and the sheriff together, and regale both of them with her take on events.
Seeing Maddie and Marty in the crowd, I crossed the dinner site to join them.
“Where’d you lose your new best friend, Austin?’’ Maddie asked.
“You don’t want to know,’’ I said. “What’s the deal with this big crowd of riders? Is Johnny getting dinner ready early?’’
“No, despite the fact that a few of us are starving,’’ Maddie grumbled. “Trail boss called a meeting.’’
“I’m sure Doc would feel awful if he knew that him getting shot meant you’d be forced to wait on dinner, Maddie,’’ Marty said.
“Sisters, sisters.’’ I took up Marty’s usual refrain. “You can fight later. You’ll never believe what I just saw over at the Brambles’ RV.’’
Just then, the crowd started jostling and shushing, making a path for Jack Hollister. He climbed onto the open gate of a pickup truck and cleared his throat a couple of times.
“I’ll bet he’s going to announce that the Brambles scheduled Lawton’s funeral services,’’ Maddie whispered.
“He’s probably going to say he’s had enough,’’ I said under my breath. “I’ve already seen a few folks packing up to leave. Jack’s about to hand the boss’s reins back to David Reed.’’
Marty clutched at my hand. “What if he says Doc Abel died?’’
When Jack said Doc was still hanging on, applause rippled through the crowd. A chorus arose of thank Gods. As he announced Lawton’s funeral, a week from Wednesday, people stirred. Then Jack said something that surprised some.
“We’ll be riding out in the morning.’’ He looked to his right, where Sheriff Roberts stood. The lawman nodded, toothpick bobbing. “We’ve got well over a hundred horses and almost two hundred people on a schedule here. All of downtown Fort Pierce is geared up for a big parade tomorrow. The food booths and craft shows and tents are already up at the city’s waterfront. Everything’s ready for the Cracker Trail celebration.’’