lay in a pool of blood, one arm outstretched as if she was reaching for help, her eyes wide-open and filled with the shock of death.
Roan polished off the cinnamon roll and thanked Mama Mary. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Mama Mary,” Roan said. “Do you know a man named Morty Burns?”
“Can’t say as I do,” she said with a puzzled look. “Should I?”
Roan shrugged. “How about a woman named Edith Bennett? She was married to Burns.”
Mama Mary frowned. “Bennett? Why, yes, Edith used to be good friends with Grace. Although her brother is Arlis Bennett? And she did used to visit Joe from time to time. Why?”
“That text was the ME’s office. Edith’s husband was found shot to death. I wondered if he worked for Bennett.”
She fluttered a pudgy hand to her cheek. “Well...I don’t know. I can’t imagine Edith and her husband doing something illegal. You think someone killed him because he was sabotaging Horseshoe Creek?”
“At this point, I’m considering all angles.” He folded his hands. “Who else visited Joe?”
Mama Mary wiped her hands on her apron again. “Hmm, well there was another rancher named Elmore Clark. He owed Joe ’cause he got in trouble with his mortgage and Joe bought some of his land to help him out.”
“So he had no reason to hurt Joe?”
Mama Mary shook her head no. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Roan would check out the man. Maybe he hadn’t liked the terms of the sale?
“Did Joe tell you how he’d structured things in his will?”
Mama Mary brushed at the specks of flour on her apron. “Not the specifics. He just said everyone in the family would be taken care of.” She made a low sound in her throat. “I urged him to talk to the boys about Barbara and Bobby, but he had so much guilt over the affair he’d had. And frankly I think he was too weak to face the hurt he’d see on their faces.”
“So you knew about Barbara when he had the affair?”
She blinked and looked away. “I’m not going to gossip about this family. Joe made mistakes, but he was a good man.”
“I’m not judging him,” Roan said, tempted to confide in her that the man had been murdered. She obviously loved Joe and would want the truth.
Although she was protective of the family and probably wouldn’t welcome him into it any more than Maddox or Brett or Ray. “Neither am I, Mama Mary. I’m simply trying to understand the situation so we can catch whoever is sabotaging Horseshoe Creek.”
She relaxed a little. “Barbara and Bobby and Boyle Gates are the only three I can think of.”
Maybe he should have a chat with Boyle Gates. His phone buzzed and he checked the number. Megan.
“Thanks, Mama Mary. If you think of anyone else who visited or anything else that can help, call me.”
She pushed her bulk to her feet with a heaving sound, then caught his arm as he started to stand. “Deputy Whitefeather, is there something you’re not telling me?”
Roan met her gaze. Again he was tempted to confide the truth about the patriarch of the family’s death. But Maddox and Brett and Ray deserved to know first. So he shook his head, punched Connect on the phone and headed out the kitchen door.
“Deputy Whitefeather.”
“Roan, it’s Megan... You should get out here.”
His pulse hammered. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“At the Burns farm...” Her voice cracked. “Edith Burns is dead.”
* * *
MEGAN TOOK DEEP breaths as she stared at the pool of blood on the floor surrounding the woman’s body.
She yanked gloves from her purse and tiptoed inside, listening for sounds that an intruder was still there. The linoleum floor squeaked as she crossed the den to the doorway of the kitchen. She clenched the phone in one hand as she stooped down to check the woman’s pulse. Not that she had any doubt that she was dead. The odors and pallor confirmed her suspicions.
But it was routine and she needed to determine time and cause of death.
“Megan, you’re sure?”
“Yes.” Dried blood soaked the lady’s yellow housedress. “It appears that she bled out from a gunshot wound to the chest just like her husband.”
“I’m on my way,” Roan said. “Wait till I get there to go inside.”
“I’m already inside,” Megan said. “I saw blood from the doorway and had to see if she was alive.”
“Dammit, Megan, what if the killer is still there?”
“He’s long gone, Roan. Judging from rigor and body decomp, she’s been dead several hours.”
“You’re alone?”
She twisted to listen for sounds again, but barring the wind battering the wood frame and windowpanes, everything was quiet. “Yes. I’ll call a crime team to start processing the house.”
“Do you see a bullet casing or weapon anywhere around?”
Megan lifted the woman slightly to search for an exit wound, but didn’t see one. “The bullet must still be lodged inside her. I don’t see a weapon anywhere.”
She did a quick visual sweep of the kitchen, at least what she could see of it. A bowl of fruit sat on an oak table, fruit flies swarming. A kitchen island held a cutting board where potatoes and carrots lay, a knife on the board as if Edith had been preparing dinner when whoever killed her had struck.
From where she stood, she couldn’t tell if the back door had been jimmied or if the killer had broken in.
If so, had Edith heard her attacker?
She checked the woman’s fingernails, but didn’t see visible signs of DNA or skin cells, but she’d scrape and run tests to make certain. No blood or hair fibers.
What about that knife? Had Edith tried to fight off her attacker with it?
She carefully stepped around her body, searching for footprints or evidence, and spotted blood splatters on the floor near the island, although the knife didn’t appear to have blood on it.
She studied the kitchen layout and pieced together a feasible scenario. Perhaps the killer had entered through the back door, which meant Edith was facing away from him. But she’d been shot in the chest.
So...she must have heard a noise and turned to see what or who it was. Maybe she even knew the
