1 Target of Death (12 page)

“What kind of man was he, or what kind of worker?”
I asked.

“He always came to work, but didn’t always
perform the best. He seemed distracted the last year, but I never knew why.”

“What, if anything, do you know about his
personal life?”

“I knew the talk around town was that he
cheated on Marilyn, but I never knew if it was true or not. He just didn’t seem
to be the type of man women went for. I had to have a chat with him a few times
about harassing the women who work here.”

This sure was a switch. “I see. And did he
correct his behavior?”

“Yes, and about the same time he showed up
at Hank’s Hotspot. He fancied himself in love with one of the strippers. Cindy,
I believe it was, but she never gave him the time of day, really. You can’t
blame a man for that, though.”

“So, from your knowledge, you don’t know of
anyone who he might have had an affair with?”

“Nope. I wish I had more information to
share, but that’s all I know.”

“How about his wife? Did you know her
personally or just know of her?”

“Marilyn seemed nice enough. I’ve seen her
out and about, but I never spoke a word to her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“How well did Clayton get along with his
co-workers?”

“Great. He even went out to smoke with a
few. For the most part, I think he was well liked.”

“Do you do routine drug testing here?”

“If I did, I’d lose half of my help. Plenty
of pot smokers here in town, but I’ve never suspected anyone of coming to work
high. I have a great group of guys and gals working here.”

I stretched for a moment. “Did you know
Clayton was flashing cash around town?”

“Sure, but I figured he must have come into
some money, like an inheritance.”

“So you never had a clue that he had a meth
lab at his house?”

His face paled just enough that I realized even
before he answered that he had known all about it. “I might have caught wind of
that, but it’s none of my business what my workers do on their time off.”

I leaned back in my chair. “That’s rather
naïve of you. You had to have known that he was selling meth here, most likely
smoking it outside in his truck, possibly on a smoke break.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t believe it.
There’s no way my workers are addicted to drugs. I’m sure of it.”

“How about you?” I asked. “Were you helping
him move it, like at Hank’s Hotspot?”

He choked at that. “I would never do
something like that. I have too much to lose. Do you know how many tool and die
places there are? Not many up north. I’d be a complete fool to engage in that
sort of thing.”

“How about your wife? If he sold it at the
Hotspot and she owned it, she has to know something.”

He picked up the phone with a shaky hand
and calmly asked Mariah to come into the conference room. Ten minutes later,
she came in and sat down opposite me.

“Were you allowing Clayton Percy to sell
meth at the Hotspot?” He looked at his wife.

“I caught wind of it, but I never saw him
doing it firsthand, so I can’t say for certain.”

“And you kept your suspicions from me, because…?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. Besides,
Clayton spent plenty of money at the Hotspot.”

“You might look good, honey, but you’re as
dumb as a rock. You jeopardized both of us. If Sheriff Price found out, we’d
both be in prison for the long haul.”

I stood. “I really appreciate your time.
Was there anyone here who might have threatened Clayton?”

Hank frowned. “Nope. It’s just awful about
Clayton’s death. Whatever will Marilyn do now?”

“She’s dead,” I informed Hank. “She was
murdered, just like her husband.”

Hank’s shoulders slumped and Mariah
sniveled. “Oh, my.”

We left then, since there really wasn’t
much else to say. I suppose I should have kept Marilyn’s death to myself, but I
was testing their reactions. They made believers out of me as they were both seemed
equally shocked.

We had talked about Clayton and Marilyn’s
murders until we were blue in the face. There was just no reason for us to
believe anyone other than Cindy and Troy were responsible for their deaths. It
was now in the hands of the sheriff, and hopefully he’d conclude his
investigation with the arrests of both Cindy and Troy. As for me, I still had
plenty of questions that I just didn’t have any answers for yet.

I pulled on my jeans over the long johns
Margarita insisted I wear. Next, I donned a long-sleeved camouflage shirt with
a short sleeve one over it that sported a ‘Bear Archery’ logo on it. As I slid
my feet into my hiking boots, I hoped the extra socks I wore wouldn’t cause me
even more discomfort in the ice-cold temperatures. Dixie came in just as I was
pulling my long hair into a ponytail.

“Looking good, Sassy. Margarita has a
beanie hat for you to wear. She’s been crocheting it ever since we got here.”

I sighed and grabbed my coat, which was a
bit bulkier than I wanted, but if I couldn’t draw back properly, I’d take it
off. At this point I wasn’t as concerned about the cold. I needed to win, not
just for me and the money now, but for everyone. I had a reputation to uphold.

I descended the stairs and Margarita was
waiting in the dining room. She made a production of placing the beige beanie
cap on my head herself.

“Thanks,” I said. “You’re a good person,
Margarita.”

She positively beamed. “I hope you beat
Daniel Adams. He’s won for far too long.”

“Speaking about winning, who won the chili cook-off?”

“Milton Pabis. Somehow I think he cheated,
but there was a man here earlier asking for our recipe.”

“Really. What did you tell him?”

“To get lost. They don’t call it a secret
recipe for nothing. I’ve had so many people in here asking about the chili, but
I guess it will have to wait until after the competition. Besides, we’d need
more deer meat.”

“You could spread the word. Perhaps someone
would be willing to donate some.”

“I love how you think. Daniel stopped by a
few minutes ago and challenged you to a polar bear dip.”

“A what?”

Dixie laughed. “They cut a hole in the ice
and you jump in.”

“That is just nuts,” I spat.

“Sure, but it was a challenge. I haven’t
seen you walk away from a challenge yet.”

“It would have to be after you kick his
butt in the archery competition, though,” Margarita added.

I shook my head and we headed out.
Margarita was at the helm and drove toward Lake Summers, at least if the sign
we had just passed was any indication. “Lake Summers, eh? Stupid name for a
lake in frozen land, don’t ya think?”

“Don’t be such a sissy. You’ll have to buck
up on the course and deal with the cold. Just think about the prize when you
win.”

I hoped. “Oh, shit, I forgot my archery
equipment,” I said, irritated that I could be that scatterbrained.”

“Calm down, Sassy,” Dixie said. “I put
everything in the back you’ll need.”

“Whatever would I do without you?”

“Hopefully, you won’t have to find out,”
Margarita said. “But you girls sure talk more and more like a couple all the
time.”

“We hear that all the time,” Dixie said. “I
sure hope Sassy has it in her to beat Daniel.”

“I’ll beat him all right, like with a
stick.”

Dixie gave me the eye. “Don’t even try to act
like you don’t find him the tiniest bit attractive, because I’ve seen how you
look at him when you think nobody notices.”

I flipped down the visor and gave Dixie the
eye in the mirror. “So what if I admire Daniel’s muscular body and killer eyes?
I’m a woman dead-set on taking that man down.”

“Well,” Margarita said. “Looks like we’re
here.” She pulled into the parking lot and we were directed toward the front of
the lot where the competitors parked. I hopped out and made my way to the back
of the SUV to retrieve my gear. Then I attached my quiver to my bow, as it
would be much easier to get my arrows that way since my jacket was so bulky.

“You might as well keep it in there for
now,” Margarita said. “We’ll mingle for a bit since the competition doesn’t
start for another hour.”

I nodded and slammed the door down. There
was a platform erected with a podium, which I figured was where trophies would
be handed out after the competition, and next to it was a table.

“I think you need to check in,” Margarita
said.

On the far side of the clearing were Porta-A-Potties.
There was also a pathway leading into the woods. I just didn’t know what to
expect here. I felt so out of my element in the frozen tundra, and wondered who
would be in my group.

I stood in line until it was my turn, and
when I gave them my name, I was informed that my group was waiting for me near
the concession stand. I almost dreaded meeting up with them but I was trying to
keep my game face on. I always had to psyche myself up for every competition.
It didn’t come as naturally to me as some people would think. Of course, I had gotten
the nickname Louisiana Sassy because I used to like to give my fellow
competitors plenty of trash talk before their turns. But it was all in good fun
and I never meant any harm. Anyway, I had quit doing that a while ago, but the
name still stuck.

As we walked toward the concession stand, Daniel
met me halfway. “It’s great to see you here. I thought you might turn tail and
run back to Louisiana after the way I licked you the other day.”

Oh’s and ah’s were heard and I wanted to
give Daniel a good smack.

“He means at darts. Jeez. Why do you want
me on your team?” I asked him.

“Because it will be more fun that way. Are
you afraid of a little healthy competition, or wager?”

“You mean, like a bet?”

“Exactly. You win, I’ll leave you alone,
but if you lose, you have dinner with me.”

I sighed. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never said that. You’re a real challenge,
Sassy. I have yet to meet a woman anything like you.”

“Perhaps that’s because you think all women
are exactly alike.”

“Not true, but maybe you should get to know
me better before you form an opinion about me. You might even be pleasantly
surprised.”

I strutted away before I said something I’d
regret, or dropped him onto his ass. What was it about this man that riled me
so? He wasn’t that attractive.

I felt someone looking at me and I glanced
up, staring into the cold eyes of none other than Patsy, the owner of Curls and
Cuts. Next to her was a tall man about Margarita’s age, his steel gray eyes also
boring into me.

Margarita strolled toward me and froze when
she saw Patsy and her male companion. Her face paled enough for me to ask her,
“Who is that?”

“My ex-husband, Winston.”

“I gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Act like
you don’t care.”

“I-I just wish that was the truth, but I
think I’ll always love him. That’s something the divorce didn’t change.”

“You need to forget him and move on.”

Margarita shook her head sadly. “At my age,
dear?”

I waved at a man who stood near the
concession stand. “Sure, why not Bud Haskel? He’s headed this way.”

Bud beamed at Margarita. “Hello, Maggie.
You sure are looking good today.”

She adjusted her stocking hat. “Oh, get
outta here. You better head to the eye doctor if you think that.”

His cheeks reddened. “I see just fine. Why
do you think I’ve been coming to your restaurant all these years?”

“Because you’re hungry?”

“No, I’ve been trying to get up the nerve
to ask you out—ever since that man of yours left. But I just never got up
the nerve, or it never seemed like the right time.” He took a sip from the cup
he was holding. “You know, they’re going to have polka music in the beer tent
later. I’d sure love to have a dance partner for a change.”

“Oh, I d-don’t know.”

I leaned in. “She means she’d love to.”

Margarita smiled. “It’s been years since
I’ve gone dancing. I’m afraid I might embarrass you, or step on your toes.”

“Not to worry. I’m wearing steel-toed
boots.”

Dixie and I strayed away, giving Margarita
and Bud some privacy.

“Those two are too darn cute,” Dixie said
once we were out of earshot.

“I couldn’t help but notice how Bud looked
at Margarita, and I just knew she didn’t have a clue. It’s been years since a
man paid her any attention, most likely.”

“Sorta like you.”

“I kept quiet about the wager Daniel had made
with me, even if I never agreed to it. Honestly, I never had a boyfriend for
long. It’s hard to get close to someone who doesn’t mind if his girlfriend
catches more fish than he does, or shoots a bow with deadly accuracy. Most of
my boyfriends ended up breaking up with me in favor of real ladies who wore
dresses and acted all prim and proper. That’s just not me.