St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

and again. His hand twitched inside Zach’s palms.
    Zach felt Frost’s thumb poke at him weakly. He released Frost’s hand. The older man’s hand shook as he thrust his thumb up beneath Zach’s nose.
    “Are you saying you’re okay?” Zach asked.
    Frost’s head rolled in a negative. He mouthed a word.
    “More oxygen?” Jill guessed.
    Again the painful negative movement of his head. Groaning, he jabbed upward with his thumb, staring into Zach’s eyes like he wanted Zach to read his mind.
    Suddenly Frost went slack.
    “No,” breathed Zach. “Damn it, no!”
    He put his fingers over Frost’s jugular and felt a pulse. Weak, but it was there.
    “Get him to the hospital,” Zach said to the med-tech. “Now.”
    No sooner had he spoken than the second med-tech called out to the firemen. Two men leaped for the truck and ran toward the house, litter basket at the ready. They loaded Frost aboard and took him past the ruined car to the ambulance.
    “We’ll go to Holy Cross Hospital,” the female med-tech said. “If you can find the daughter, tell her to get over there quick.”
    Zach’s lips flattened with what hadn’t been said. “I’ll do that.”
    “We’d like to ask a few questions about this shooting,” said a cop as he walked in the open front door.
    “Talk to her first,” Zach said, jerking his thumb at Jill. “I’ve got to call the next of kin.”

52
    TAOS
SEPTEMBER 16
2:30 A.M.
    Z ach started up Frost’s old Travel-All. The engine fired with a smooth rumble. Frost still kept his vehicles in good repair.
    “Do you think the cops believed us?” Jill asked.
    It was the first time they’d been alone since the guesthouse.
    “Close enough,” he said.
    “I got real tired of repeating the same answers to the same cop, over and over again.”
    “Standard. The cops have a shooting and an arson to solve.” Maybe a murder, too. But, God, I hope not. “A prominent citizen is involved. Until Frost corroborates our story, we’re as close to a suspect as the cops have.”
    “Why would we call them if one of us shot Frost?”
    “Why wouldn’t we?”
    Jill opened her mouth, then closed it with a sigh. “Forget I asked. My brain isn’t in top form.”
    He lifted his right hand and ran it down her cheek. “You did fine, Jill. Better than I had a right to expect of a civilian. You kept your head and helped instead of getting in the way.”
    “With that and four hundred dollars…” She made a sound thatcould have been laughter, but probably wasn’t. “Do you think Frost will make it?”
    “He’s tough.” Way too much blood. Damn near bled out in the hall. “If they get blood into him quick enough, he’ll be up and swearing in no time.”
    “What did his daughter say?”
    “She’s on her way. It will be two hours, maybe more.”
    Jill watched streetlights slide by either side of the windshield. There were few people out, and fewer still were sober.
    “Why?” Jill asked after a minute.
    Zach knew what she was asking. “It wasn’t a hot prowl gone wrong. The car was the target, which meant the shooter was after the paintings.”
    “They’re in the house.”
    “The shipping cartons were in the car. Add paraffin, gasoline, and light it off. Step back before it explodes in your face.”
    “But why shoot Garland Frost?”
    “He was home,” Zach said grimly. “And he’s a maverick. The thought of Lee Dunstan pissing all over his appraisals wouldn’t bother Frost a bit. Hell, he’d enjoy it.”
    “Then you think Frost was actually the target?” Jill asked, her voice strained.
    “I’ll ask the shooter just as soon as I get his neck between my hands.”
    She looked at Zach’s profile. In the random illumination of streetlights and dashboard lights, he looked like a bleak stone carving. He might have argued a lot with Garland Frost, but he still cared about him.
    “How did the shooter know we were here?” she asked.
    “That’s the problem with flight plans and rental cars. You leave a paper or electronic trail that any decent computer hacker can follow.”
    “All the way to Frost’s house?”
    “That’s what I said to Faroe. He’s trying to get through to the rental company, find out if our rental had a locater beacon in it, and if so, was it active.”
    “Why would they—never mind, Mexico.”
    “Yeah. A short run to the border and the thief is several thousand bucks richer.”
    “You think the shooter is still around here?” she asked uneasily.
    She