The Kill Read Free Page B

Richard got shot, but won’t tell me a goddamned thing beyond that.” He pawed at the tweed cap on his head, wagged a hand toward Carol. “Carol here let Thompson up in the stand, I guess because he’s an EMT, but won’t let me get within ten yards of there. Never mind that I’ve known Richard for north of twenty-five years. That—”
    “Smitty.” Margaret looked him in the eye. “Richard’s dead.”
    Smitty sagged as if someone had let the air out of him. The tip of his nose reddened and he sucked the inside of one cheek, making a popping noise with his lips as he blew out a breath. “What in God’s name happened?”
    She glanced at Thompson and the deputy as they approached, feeling fat raindrops mix with tears on her cheeks. “I don’t know. Richard was dead when I found him.”
    “But Carol said Richard got shot. Who shot him? Was it an accident?”
    The round-faced deputy stepped forward. “We’re treating it as a criminal homicide.”
    “A homicide!”
    “Richard’s wallet is missing,” Margaret said. “So is his watch.”
    Smitty frowned. “Are you thinking a robbery gone bad or something?”
    “We haven’t ruled that out,” the deputy replied.
    “Here at Longmeadow?”
    The deputy raised a shoulder in response.
    “But it’s in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Ain’t no one going to just happen by here, find Richard in the stewards’ stand, and decide to rob him.”
    “We’re exploring all possible scenarios,” the deputy replied. “Given the fact that Mr. Clarke had no wallet or watch on him, robbery is a strong possibility.”
    Smitty blew out a breath and his gaze flickered between Margaret and Thompson. “Richard always carried his wallet with him. Even foxhunting.”
    Margaret nodded.
    “But not his watch,” Thompson said. “We all know how Richard felt about not letting the clock dictate the duration of a hunt.”
    “He’d already changed after hunting yesterday,” Margaret replied. “He’d have put his watch back on.”
    “You’re right,” Thompson said. “He probably was wearing it. Still, he did have a way of forgetting it sometimes. But given that his wallet is missing, it’s probably prudent to assume that his watch was stolen as well. Either way, we’re still talking robbery.” He thought for a moment. “What about his cell phone? Did they take it?”
    “No, but it wasn’t on him. We found his cell phone in his Lexus,” the deputy said.
    “I hear what y’all are saying,” Smitty said. “But…a robbery, here? Who would do that?”
    Thompson said, “There’s a road crew paving near here on St. Louis Road. I just drove through there and saw a couple of rough-looking characters. It probably bears checking out.”
    The deputy tilted his head as if weighing the possibility, nodding slowly as he wrote something on his notepad. “Could be. Mr. Clarke might have tried to resist and they grabbed his hunting rifle and shot him.”
    Thompson’s jaw dropped. “
What?
Richard was shot with his own rifle?”

CHAPTER
7

    M argaret saw the ache in Smitty’s eyes as the deputy explained that Richard’s rifle was found beside his body in the stewards’ stand. She knew Smitty was thinking the same thing she had been when she’d first seen Richard’s gun lying next to him:
suicide
.
    The deputy said, “The chest wound is consistent with having been shot from several feet away.”
    “Then that rules out suicide,” Smitty said, his face reddening slightly as if embarrassed for having had the thought.
    The deputy nodded.
    “But why would Richard have had his rifle with him?” Thompson asked.
    “I’ll bet I know why,” Smitty said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pant pocket and blew his nose. “Because of the damn coyote, the one’s been killing Polly Fanning’s sheep.”
    The deputy waved his pen at Smitty. “Tell me more about that, Mr….”
    “Smith. Winfield Smith. But folks call me Smitty.”
    “Okay, Smitty. Tell me about Mr. Clarke