Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

was dragging his kill through the patch of river ferns?
    China came out of the bushes, then left the group and started up the trail. Sheila stayed long enough to be sure that the sheriff’s department would be handling the next-of-kin notification, then went after her, joining her on the deck at the top of the landscaped slope.
    She put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You okay, China?”
    China wiped her hand across her mouth. “Not the kind of thing you want to see right after breakfast,” she muttered.
    Sheila nodded sympathetically. “I hate to say this, but it’s a good thing you came out here this morning. No telling how long it would have been before somebody else found him—what little would have been left of him.” In fact, they might never have known what became of George Timms, until a hiker discovered a litter of loose bones and a DNA test eventually revealed their identity. But after that amount of time, with all the soft tissue gone, it would have been impossible to know for certain how the man had died, or when. His disappearance might have had a major impact on their investigation into Kirk’s death.
    China’s face was grim. “I’m glad he was found,” she said bleakly. “I just wish I hadn’t been the one to find him.” She frowned. “Sheila, I didn’t mention this to the deputies, but Banner saw two cats last night. He shot the male—the female got away. I saw her running across Limekiln Road as I was coming home. A beautiful animal, sleek, strong, wild.” She shookher head. “I didn’t mention her because I hate to think of the sheriff’s office sending out a team to… to slaughter that lovely creature.”
    Sheila regarded her friend. “Then let’s not say anything about her,” she replied. “From your description, it sounds like your neighbor has already shot the killer.”
    Killer
. That was a silly thing to say, wasn’t it? Carnivores were killers. They killed to eat. That was their nature. This carnivore hadn’t deliberately targeted a human: it was simply a wrong-time, wrong-place situation, for which both man and animal would pay a terrible price.
    But China was nodding, and Sheila knew that she understood. “Everybody likes the idea of living at the edge of the wilderness,” she said, “until the wilderness tries to kill us. Then it’s a different story.”
    “A different story,” Sheila agreed. Parks and Wildlife would pick up the cat Banner had killed, and a necropsy and tests of its stomach contents would show whether that was the animal that had killed Timms. There’d be a brief flurry in the
Enterprise
, and letters to the editor suggesting that a bounty be paid for all dead mountain lions. And then the matter would be forgotten until the next time somebody—man, woman, or child—got in the way of a big cat. With more and more people moving into the animals’ habitat, encounters like this one were bound to keep happening.
    “Yeah.” China straightened her shoulders. “Yeah, well, as I said on the phone, you need to take a look in the house, Chief. Did you get that warrant?”
    “Bartlett’s bringing it out.” Sheila looked at her watch. “He should be here pretty soon. Can you stick around for a few minutes?”
    “I called Ruby to tell her I’d be late. Ramona is there—she’s opening the shop for me. So yes, I can hang out here for a while.”
    “Good,” Sheila said. “When Bartlett gets here, we’ll go through the house. In the meantime, I need to radio the SAR unit and see if Martha Meacham can locate some dogs for Parks and Wildlife. I think when they see the cat that Banner killed, they’ll call off the search, but in the meantime, I’ll put SAR on standby.”
    “While you’re doing that,” China said, “I’d like to use Timms’ phone to call Charlie Lipman. You got a problem if I let him know what’s happened with Timms?”
    “Nope,” Sheila said. “Lipman might as well hear it from you as get the word at Bean’s or the diner, wherever he happens to go for lunch.” Once the tracking dogs were called out, this death would be big news, in a big hurry, and Hibler would be all over it for the next issue of the
Enterprise
. Sheila knew that this death was worth at least two domestic shootings, in terms of the newspaper’s readership. It wasn’t just the victim, although that was sensational enough. It was the way he died.
    China turned and gestured toward the table, where Sheila saw a partially eaten sandwich,