Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

was a stunning blow.
    She waited a moment to let him catch his breath, then asked quietly, “You and Mr. Kirk were close?”
    “He’s my cousin,” Palmer said in a weak voice. He sank down in the nearest desk chair and put his head in his hands. “We grew up together.” He pulled in his breath, despairing. “What am I going to tell Aunt Jenny?”
    Bartlett lifted an eyebrow, letting Sheila know that this relationship was news to him.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Palmer,” she said quietly. “I’m sure this must be a shock to you. Did you see your cousin today? Did he come to work?”
    “I saw him this morning.” Palmer’s voice was muffled. “He was here until just before noon, then he went home. He usually works there after lunch, and comes back here before closing time. When he didn’t show up, I figured—” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I just figured that he’d gotten involved with what he was doing and wasn’t watching the clock. That’s Larry. I mean, he’s like that. He… he gets involved and loses track of time.”
    “Were you here in the shop by yourself this afternoon?” Bartlett asked.
    “No. Richie was here for a couple of hours. Then Dennis came in. And some guy looking for work.” He frowned. “I called Larry to ask whether he wanted the guy to fill out an application, but he didn’t pick up. Didn’t call back, either.”
    “You were never alone here?” Bartlett pressed.
    Palmer shook his head. “No. Why are you—” He stopped suddenly, connecting with what Bartlett was asking. “He was… shot? Is that what you said?”
    “Yes,” Sheila said. “Do you know if he owned a gun?” The alternating rhythm of their questions—Bartlett’s and hers—felt good. They were in sync, which was something of a surprise, since this was the first time they’d worked together. Usually it took a while to develop the kind of back-and-forth cadence that made for effective questioning. She couldn’t imagine developing the same kind of rhythm with Hardin.
    “A
gun
?” Palmer jerked his attention away from Bartlett to look at her, incredulous. “You gotta be joking. Of course Larry didn’t own a gun. He hated guns. He—” He looked from one to the other of them. “Wait a minute. Where was he shot? I mean, where was he when—”
    “In his kitchen,” Bartlett said.
    “Oh, jeez,” Palmer whimpered, and started to cry. “You mean, somebody—” He choked. “Somebody
killed
him?”
    “We don’t know exactly how it happened, Mr. Palmer,” Sheila said, softening her tone. “It could have been suicide. The shooting is still under investigation.”
    But Palmer only caught the first part. “Suicide?” he exclaimed, turning on her. “Hey, no
way!
Not Larry, Chief. You just get that out of your mind, right now. The guy had everything going for him. He’d never—”
    Bartlett interrupted. “He seemed okay to you when he left here before noon?”
    “Absolutely okay,” Palmer said. “One hundred percent okay. But that means—” He stopped. “What about robbery? Did you think about that?”
    “We’re considering all possibilities,” Sheila said. “Can you think of anyone who might want to kill him?”
    “Kill him?” Palmer repeated incredulously. “But who would want todo that? Larry was the nicest guy. Everybody thought so, except maybe his wife.” He wiped his eyes and his voice took on a bitter edge. “Dana was getting a divorce. It wasn’t a good situation. But she’s not the type to…” His voice trailed away.
    “There was bad blood?” Bartlett asked. “They fought?”
    “Fight?” Palmer was cautious. “Not exactly, at least, not so much. She just… well, she found somebody she liked better. She didn’t want to be married to Larry.”
    “And Kirk was upset?”
    “Well, sure. He was pretty pissed at her. Wouldn’t you be?” Palmer waved his hand impatiently. “I mean, first, she goes out and gets mixed up with this other guy. Then she starts asking Larry for the money she put into this place.” He sighed. “But the only way he could get her what she was asking was to find a business partner, which isn’t easy in this kind of economy. And then there was that house. I’d’ve helped Larry if I could, but what she thought her share was worth was way beyond me. I couldn’t come up with that kind of money.”
    Sheila changed the direction of the questioning. “Did Mr. Kirk ever mention that he was being followed? Did he ever