Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

Sheila straight in the eye. “And remember what I told you and that ex-sheriff of yours. ’Til death do you part.”
    “We’ll give it our best shot,” Sheila said, with immense gravity.
    “See that you do,” the judge snapped. “You young folks got to learn to take your vows serious. Won’t work ’less you do.”
    As the judge left, Sheila turned to see Jack Bartlett watching her with a quizzical look on his face. She lifted her hand.
    “Detective Bartlett, may I have a word?” They stepped over to the side of the garage. Sheila cleared her throat. “Captain Hardin is taking a few days’ vacation.”
    “He told me, Chief,” Bartlett said. “Also told me to report direct to you while he was gone.”
    The young detective was taller than Sheila, with crisp dark hair, olive skin, a slender build. Not much over thirty, too craggy to be handsome, but with a reputation as a ladies’ man just the same. And a hard drinker. Sheila had heard a couple of stories about his good-time style, although tales of that kind had a way of snowballing as they rolled around the department. He had come from the San Antonio PD a couple of years back, bright, ambitious, self-confident, with an air of danger about him and tales of a temper with a dangerously low flashpoint. He was dressed in plainclothes today—pressed jeans, dark shirt, and dark tie, tan corduroy jacket, and cowboy boots.
    He gestured toward the house. “We don’t get many like this one. Looks like suicide. My guess, it’s a homicide.”
    “No note anywhere?”
    “No, although I haven’t checked the laptop.” He paused. “Think we should let Captain Hardin know? He might want to postpone his trip. Hell, for a homicide, he’d probably even turn around and come back.”
    “The captain has the time coming to him,” Sheila said. “Anyway, I’d like to assist on this investigation, Jack. Not because you couldn’t handle it alone or with Matheson, but because I want to get out from behind the desk for a while. Put in some time in the field.” She paused. She could tell him that she’d had it up to here with politics and paperwork, but complaining to the troops was probably not a good idea. “Do you have any problems with that?”
    “Problems?” Bartlett gave her a calculating, narrow-eyed look, then relaxed into a crooked grin. “Hey, I’m happy to hand it over, Chief. It’ll be a pleasure to work with you.”
    She knew Bartlett just well enough to guess that he meant what hesaid, and she was glad. But she shook her head. “I’m not taking this case, Detective Bartlett. I said ‘assist.’ This one is yours. You call the shots.”
    He frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “That isn’t necessary, Chief Dawson. I’ll be glad to backstop you, same way I’d backstop Captain Hardin.” He added, matter-of-factly and without judgment, “Case like this, he’d take the lead for sure.”
    Take the lead and take the credit, Sheila thought, out in front of the team that did the work. “Do I have to pull rank?” she asked. “Look, Detective. I want to get my head out of the office for a while. Do some footwork, talk to people, take notes, do some serious police work.” She shrugged. “Not that what goes on in the office isn’t serious. But… well, you know. Anyway, you’re taking the lead. It’s your show. I’m here to assist.”
    He studied her with a wary mistrust, as if he were trying to figure out her real motives. “Yes, ma’am. I hear you. But Captain Hardin isn’t going to like—”
    “Noted,” she said briskly. “And for the duration, can the ‘ma’am.’ It’s Sheila when we’re together. Okay?”
    He hesitated, guarded, cautious. “Roger that.” He looked around, then added, testing the word, “Sheila.”
    “You got it, Jack.” She straightened. “Judge Porterfield said she didn’t notice any powder burns. What did you see?”
    “I did a close visual before the county team got here. Looked for stippling but didn’t see it. I did spot a thirty-two cartridge casing on the floor.” He frowned. “I’m thinking that we should have the autopsy done locally, rather than sending it to the Travis ME’s office. We’ll get the report back faster.” Adams County autopsies could be done either at the county hospital or sent to the Travis County Medical Examiner’s Office, which served a forty-two-county region in Central Texas. There,the out-of-county corpses got in line behind the local traffic, which could mean a