Mattie shared Cole’s news about Garrett’s condition, suggesting they drive over to Willow Springs to interview Wilson Nichol and the Hartmans as well as help Leslie by delivering their truck. “Then I can catch a ride back to Timber Creek with Cole.”
“All right,” Stella said. “I’ll take my car so I can drive on to the autopsy afterward. We’ll talk to Wilson first and then Garrett.”
Mattie felt anxious to be on the way. “I’ll call and make an appointment with Wilson Nichol. I don’t want to give him a chance to avoid us.”
Stella gave her a nod. “Don’t worry. We’ll pin him down.”
* * *
Mattie swung by her house to drop off her vehicle and settle Robo in for the afternoon. She hated to part with him, but it was too hot to leave him in the car for long periods, even if he did have his own air conditioning in the back. After Stella picked her up, they went to get the Hartman truck so that Mattie could drive it to Willow Springs.
It took just under an hour to reach their destination, and they dropped off the truck in the hospital parking lot before taking Stella’s car to the office of Western Colorado Realty, an attractive log building with a red metal roof. The sign out front confirmed that the business specialized in the sale of rural properties as well as rental of vacation homes and cabins.
Before Stella could pull into a parking space, Mattie leaned forward and waved for her to keep on driving. “I’d like to swing into the alley and check out the back of the building.”
“Why’s that?”
Maybe it was her years of patrol or maybe her narcotics detection training, but Mattie usually liked to know the layout of the building before she went inside. Partly to know if there were backdoor exits, and partly just to know what kind of outbuildings were on the property. She explained her reasoning to Stella.
“Okay,” Stella said, “we’ll go satisfy your curiosity. Never hurts to have too much information.”
Stella swung around the block and entered the alley that ran behind the building. There was no fence to block the view, and she slowed to a stop as they came to a dumpster that sat outside a small garden shed. Mattie got out to poke around, and the glint of glass at the base of the shed caught her eye. A flat of old jars, their labels faded and missing from sitting out in the weather. She felt a buzz of excitement. These were the same type of jar as the one used in the Molotov cocktail.
She motioned Stella to join her, and being careful to stay in the alley and not venture onto Wilson’s property, she walked where she could see the edge of the building. Anything found open to the eye from public roadways was fair game and could possibly be used to get a search warrant. Mattie spotted a red plastic fuel can leaning against the side of the shed next to the padlocked door and pointed it out to Stella. The detective swiped her phone camera to zoom in and take photos of both the fuel can and jars.
“This will give us some talking points,” Stella said, shooting Mattie a pleased glance. “Way to go.”
After parking in front, they went inside, where a pretty receptionist with red lacquered nails and silver bangles on her wrists offered them something to drink. They both declined, and she used the interoffice phone to tell Wilson they’d arrived. “He’ll see you in just a few minutes.”
Mattie let her gaze travel around the lobby. Western paintings adorned the walls as well as aerial photos of various ranch houses surrounded by green meadows and mountainous settings. One wall appeared dedicated to photos of rental properties: cabins surrounded by forests or sitting beside lakes and rivers, vacationers in chest-high waders fly-fishing in the water.
As promised, Wilson arrived within a few minutes, his right hand outstretched. When he came close, Mattie could smell the alcohol on his breath with an undertone of peppermint he’d most likely used to try to mask it. She was particularly sensitive to the scent of liquor, an aftereffect of being raised by an alcoholic. It wasn’t a big deal—he might have had a drink over a business lunch—but the odor hadn’t been present when she spoke to him this morning. Maybe Kasey’s rebuff had set him to drinking.
“Did Tara offer you something to drink?” he asked. “Can I get you anything?”
“Tara did offer, but no, thank you.” Stella glanced at her watch. “I have another appointment soon, so perhaps we could speak with you privately?”
“Of course. Come this way.” Wilson escorted them back to an inner office and then ushered them toward a dark leather sofa and chairs that circled a glass coffee table near the window. “Please, have a seat.”
Mattie and Stella sat on a sofa against the wall while Wilson settled into a plush chair. A handsome oak desk dominated the other side of the room, dark leather armchairs poised in front of it. Framed photographs of Wilson playing golf, riding a horse, and posing midhandshake with formally dressed individuals hung on the wall.
“How can I help you?”
Stella sat forward on the edge of the sofa. “I understand that you’ve been friends with Tyler and Kasey Redman for years.”
“We go way back. In fact, the three of us grew up together.”
“So you know them well.”
“Almost as well as my own family. The Redmans have had it tough this past year.” Wilson was shaking his head in dismay. “What a terrible tragedy—Nate’s death. I hope you can find out who killed him.”
“Do you have any information that might help us with that?”
Wilson looked startled. “Me? No, ma’am. I know the Redmans, but I’m not that familiar with Nate. Or the people in his life.”
“Don’t you socialize with Tyler and the Redman family?”
Wilson’s complexion turned rosy. “Well … I did. I mean, I do. Some. But not so much since Kasey and Nate married. I mean, I see Kasey now and then around town or at her parents’ house, but not Nate.”
That was a lot of stammering around just to say “not much anymore.”
“Why would that be?” Stella asked.
Wilson fiddled with the cuff on his tailored blue shirt. “No reason, really. Kasey runs in a different social crowd, I guess. I live and work here in Willow Springs. Don’t go over to Timber Creek as much as I used to.”
It seemed like this line of questioning was making him nervous. To Mattie, his body language confirmed that he had feelings for Kasey, and she thought it was a safe bet that he’d been jealous of Nate.
Stella’s brow lowered as she pursued it. “I understand that you and Kasey were high school sweethearts.”
“Yeah. A long time ago.”
“Some speculate that you might still have feelings for her.”
Above his navy-blue silk tie, Wilson’s neck and face flushed a deep red. “Who said that?”
Stella shrugged. “Someone who knows Kasey quite well.”
“Probably Jasmine,” Wilson said, sighing. “She always sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong. Sure, I still care about Kasey. Like I would care about a sister, you know.”
Men don’t gaze at their sisters the way you looked at Kasey this morning, Mattie thought. “How well did you know Nate?” she asked.
He turned toward Mattie. “I met him a few years ago when he and Kasey married. Went to their wedding and wished them well. But other than that, like I said, I don’t see him.”
Mattie pursued the topic. “You’re friends with Tyler, though. Did he ever talk about his brother-in-law? Did you get to know Nate through him?”
“Nope. I mean, maybe Tyler mentioned him a time or two. He didn’t think much of Nate, but no, we didn’t spend time talking about him.”
Stella picked up the questioning, zeroing in on Wilson’s words. “Tyler didn’t like Nate?”