St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

felt like answering the sheriff’s gutter Spanish with some of her own, but didn’t. The man obviously had enough on his plate without a smart-mouthed bilingual Anglo civilian adding to his troubles.
    Besides, there were some currents running between Dan and Montoya that she didn’t understand. Until she did, she’d be a polite, cooperative seat cover.
    “Within city limits?” the sheriff asked.
    “Yes.”
    “You need to see a city cop.”
    Carly gave Dan a look.
    “It’s part of a pattern of harassment that began at the Quintrell ranch, which is county territory,” Dan said. “So let’s save everybody double paperwork, handle it as a county matter, and you can tell the Taos police chief over beers tonight.”
    Montoya gave Dan a hard look. Then the sheriff stood up, went to the empty desk, and began rummaging through drawers until he found the correct form. He returned to his own desk and gestured at the empty chairs where deputies sat when they weren’t on patrol.
    “Sit down,” he said.
    Carly and Dan chose chairs, knocked knees and elbows, and waited. They answered questions patiently while the sheriff filled in the blank spaces on the form. When he was finished, he glanced up at them.
    “What happened at the ranch?” he asked.
    Carly told herself the sheriff was tired rather than bored or indifferent. Not that she blamed him for being less than excited. The staccato words coming out of the dispatcher’s radios made it clear that the sheriff had a lot more important things to cope with than an ugly prank.
    “Monday night,” Dan said, “somebody left a freshly gutted rat on her pillow at the Senator’s guesthouse.”
    The sheriff narrowed his dark eyes at Dan and said roughly, “I don’t remember reading a report about it.”
    “I blew it off,” Carly said, drawing the sheriff’s attention away from Dan. “Figured it was just some kid having fun with the lady outsider. But after the, um, phone call and—”
    “What phone call?” the sheriff asked.
    “The one at the ranch that played her a symphony of screams and sobs and told her if she didn’t leave town, she’d be next.”
    “Bottom drawer, blue file,” Montoya said flatly, looking at Dan. “I need more forms.”
    Dan pulled open the drawer, found the file, and pulled out fresh forms.
    Without a word the sheriff took them, filled in the personal information from the first form, and began asking questions. When he was finished writing, he pushed back and reached automatically for a package of cigarettes. Then he remembered the no-smoking edict and hissed out some more Spanish.
    “Who knew you were coming to town?” Montoya asked Carly.
    “I assume the entire household did,” she said.
    “Not much help. Who was there at the time the rat wandered in and died on your bed?”
    “It didn’t wander anywhere,” Dan said. “It was gutted on her pillow. It was still warm and its neck wasn’t broken, which means the rat had recently come from a live trap.”
    The sheriff gave Dan a look. “You were the first one in the room, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Was she with you?”
    “No.”
    “Then you could have done it.”
    “Excuse me, Sheriff,” Carly said before Dan spoke. “I’d have noticed if he had a foot-long live rat in his pocket while we walked to my room. Ditto for a foot-long dead rat.”
    Despite the neutrality in Carly’s voice, the sheriff’s mouth flattened.
    “In any case, why would Dan care if Miss Winifred hired me?” she continued.
    “He might not, but his mother sure would.”
    “Why?” Carly asked.
    “She and the Senator were close.”
    “Bullshit,” Dan said calmly. “He threw Liza out before she had Mom.”
    “So I hear.” The sheriff dropped the forms onto a mound of papers on the next desk. His body language said that the reports would be ignored. “Anything else?” he asked.
    How about you kiss my ass?
    But Dan didn’t say it aloud. He had better ways to spend time than having a dissing contest with the sheriff of Taos County.

QUINTRELL RANCH
TUESDAY AFTERNOON
20
    “WHAT ABOUT JIM SNEAD ?” MELISSA ASKED , RESTING HER HIP CASUALLY AGAINST Josh’s desk. “Do you want to keep him on?”
    Josh looked at the employment log, hesitated, and shrugged. “Keep him. He doesn’t cost much and he’s a hell of a shot.”
    “Blaine?” she continued.
    “I didn’t know Jim’s twin was on the payroll.”
    “Not full-time. Just whenever we need an extra hand for odd jobs or running