Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

turned to me. “China—”
    “And that information about Mrs. Wauer and the gunshot—you need to be sure it gets to the police before it gets to the front page of the
Enterprise
. There might be nothing to it, or it might help establish the time of death. Okay?”
    “Okay.” Jessica raised her hand in a wave, turned, and jogged off in pursuit of more human interest.
    The little knots of onlookers had begun to disperse as the neighbors found better things to do than hang around gawking at a flock of police and emergency vehicles that didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Ramona, Ruby, and I began to walk back toward Ruby’s house.
    Ruby was musing over the information Jessica had given us. “Mrs. Wauer says she heard the gunshot at two o’clock. Ramona, what were you doing at two? Did you hear it?”
    Ramona shook her head. “I was having a nap,” she said guiltily. “I had an appointment to talk to somebody about a business opportunity, but I thought I’d lie down first. Just for a few minutes—but I fell asleep. When I finally woke up, I had to hurry and get dressed, so I wouldn’t be late. And then I went to the Kirks’ to take back the dish and then—”
    Ruby looked at me over Ramona’s head and rolled her eyes.
    “And to think that while I was napping,” Ramona went on in a dramatic voice, “poor Mr. Kirk was—” She stopped, shivering. “What if I had walked in on him just as he was deciding to do it? Maybe I could have stopped him. Maybe—”
    “Hush, Ramona,” Ruby said. “You didn’t and you couldn’t, so don’t go making out that you’re responsible. Larry Kirk was a grown-up. He was going to do whatever he was going to do.”
    Ruby wasn’t talking to me, but I was listening, and I appreciated her advice. She was right. Even if I had answered Larry’s email when I got it, likely the outcome would have been the same—which didn’t make me feel any better, of course.
    Ruby turned to me. “I couldn’t help overhearing. It sounds like Sheila is planning to take this case herself. That’s a little unusual, isn’t it, China?”
    “Clint Hardin went fishing,” I replied, “so she’s stepping in for him.” I meant what I said to Sheila about getting out from behind the desk. She has done a lot for the police department since she became chief, but she has a tendency to stay in the office, almost as if she’s hiding out. That’s just my opinion, of course, but McQuaid shares it, I know. He’d mentioned to me that Sheila should get out on the street more often.
    “That police chief,” Ramona remarked thoughtfully. “She is certainly a beautiful woman. And young.”
    “Sheila isn’t as young as she looks,” I replied. “She’s nearly forty.”
    Ruby linked her arm into her sister’s. “Didn’t you meet her at the picnic last week, Ramona?”
    “I did. Met that hunky husband of hers, too. The one who used to be a sheriff.” Curiously, she looked from Ruby to me. “How did you guys get to know her?”
    “Well, let’s see,” I said. “Ruby and I first met Smart Cookie when she—”
    “Smart Cookie?” Ramona interrupted, surprised.
    “That’s what China and I call her,” Ruby replied. “But don’t say it where her officers can hear. They wouldn’t understand.”
    “We met her when she was the chief of the security service at CTSU,” I went on. “Before that, she was deputy chief of security at the University of Texas campus in Arlington.”
    “No kidding.” Ramona sounded impressed. “Chief of security.”
    “And before Arlington,” I added, “she was a detective with the Dallas Police Department. She moved into campus security after she got shot for the second time. Can’t say I blame her.”
    “Eek,” Ramona said faintly. “You mean, really shot? Like, with a gun?”
    We were approaching Mrs. Wauer’s house. Oodles was out on the front porch, bouncing up and down behind the folding baby gate that keeps him from running out and biting passing pedestrians on the ankle. He was yapping at the top of his lungs, telling us exactly what he was going to do if we had the nerve to come within reach of his killer teeth and claws.
    “Really shot,” I replied, “with a gun. She doesn’t like to talk aboutit, but I know that she almost died. She’s had a long career in law enforcement—although it hasn’t been an easy one. There are more women in policing than there used to be, but it’s still a man’s world. A woman has to be plenty tough