Part 14 (2/2)
”First off, where would she have gotten it from? It's not like she has a gun rack in her car.” He took a multifunction knife from his pocket, extracted the corkscrew tool, and set to work opening the wine.
”No, but if she knew Weston was going to be at our house, she could easily have taken a rifle from the house and put it in the trunk. Who knows? It's hunting season. She or her husband might have had one in the trunk anyway.”
Nick popped the cork. ”Okay, so we'll a.s.sume Alice had the rifle. She goes to the farmhouse, gets into it with Weston, and bang, she shoots him. What about the recoil? Alice is shorter than you and doesn't appear to be in very good shape. I doubt she has tremendous upper body strength. Few women do.”
Stella started st.i.tching the letter E on a blank piece of ivory Aida cloth. ”What's your point?”
”The point is that a hunting rifle can have a powerful recoil-powerful enough to injure a shoulder if you're not careful or not used to firing rifles.” He retrieved two mismatched juice gla.s.ses from the kitchen cupboard. ”Alice didn't seem to be in pain when we saw her.”
”For all we know, Alice goes hunting with her husband all the time. I'm sure lots of women around here do.”
”Yeah, but she'd still be sore.”
”A sore shoulder is easy enough to hide, Nick. It's not like a leg injury, which would cause a limp.”
Nick nodded and filled each gla.s.s with wine. ”True enough. Still, it will be interesting to hear her side of things. You know, when the police talk to her.”
Stella st.i.tched another letter E three s.p.a.ces to the right of the first one. ”I'm not telling the police anything yet.”
”What? Why? She could be the murderer.”
”She very well could be, but she could also be innocent. I'm not sending the authorities breathing down Alice's neck based on the story of some wire-haired woman we don't even know. Although we may not be close personal friends, we've known Alice for six months now. I think we owe it to her to let her tell us her side of the story before we go calling the cops.”
Nick placed the gla.s.ses of wine on the coffee table. ”I suppose. I just hope we're not getting in over our heads. I know you feel you have something to prove, but this is serious business, Stella.”
Stella put down her cross-st.i.tch piece and grabbed her gla.s.s of wine. ”I realize that, but we're already involved, Nick. I don't see any other option but to move forward with our own investigation, particularly if Mills has a personal interest in keeping the ident.i.ty of Weston's killer under wraps.”
”You mean if Mills murdered Weston.”
”Or if Alma did. It was apparent from Alma's comment that Weston had done something to hurt her. If Mills is protecting himself or her, this case could be open for a very long time.”
Nick sat beside his wife. ”Jeez, I didn't even think of that. We could be out of our house for months.”
”Not only that, but who would bring Mills and/or Alma to justice?”
”Someone would have to report their suspicions to Mills's superior.”
”Exactly,” said Stella. ”In order to do that, someone has to get to the bottom of things first. That someone is us.”
”And to think just last week we were complaining about the stress of moving and buying a house. That seems like a cakewalk compared to this.”
”I know. But if we devise a plan of attack, we should be able to put things together fairly quickly. Tomorrow, we start at the beginning of the alphabet, namely A as in Alice and Alma.”
”Alma? You're not talking to Mills first?” Nick asked.
”Why would I? Given his remark this morning, it's clear he knew something was going on between Alma and Weston. I want to know what that something was.”
”Probably just a fling, because unless there's a side to Alma I'm just not seeing, I can't imagine why she'd go for a guy like Weston.”
”Maybe Weston was a different person around Alma. Maybe she brought out the best in Weston, kind of the way I do for you.”
Nick clinked his gla.s.s against hers. ”I think you have that the wrong way around. If anyone brings out the best in anyone-” he finished the statement by pointing to himself and then his wife.
”Dream on,” she teased and then took a sip of wine. ”Mmm, speaking of dreaming, shouldn't you start blowing up the air mattress?”
Nick swallowed a mouthful of wine and chuckled. ”I'm not using lung power, you know.”
”I know that. But it takes a little while, doesn't it?”
”Nope,” he stood up and walked over to the kitchen table, where he had placed the folded mattress minutes earlier. ”I got the mattress that comes with an air pump. Once we plug that baby in, it'll only take a ...” his voice trailed off.
Stella stood up and joined him. ”What? What's the matter?”
”The pump is electric. We don't have electricity.”
”Oh, no. Isn't there some other way to power the pump?”
”Sorry. I'm afraid I left my pocket generator in my other pair of pants.”
”What about the car cigarette lighter?”
”Only if you want to set it on fire. I don't have a converter.”
”So it's ...” She sighed and flopped back onto the sofa.
Nick flopped beside her. ”Yep. Another night in the Slinky factory.”
CHAPTER.
11.
STELLA AWOKE TO the sound of the camp door slamming shut, followed by the intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She opened her eyes to see Nick perched on the edge of the sofabed, a white paper bag in one hand and a disposable cardboard tray bearing two coffee cups in the other.
He leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder and then her lips. ”Morning.”
Stella smiled and stretched. ”Good morning. What's all that?”
”Alma's to go.”
”Wow, you've been busy. What time is it?”
”Eight thirty. I got up and couldn't go back to sleep.”
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