I looked around outside. Deputy Sammy and Horace were standing outside the horse barn, so I deduced that’s where the chief had taken Mrs. Winkleson for their private chat. I strolled over.
“You can’t go inside,” Sammy said, stepping in front of the door.
“Wasn’t planning to,” I said. “Just wondering if you had any idea how long the chief’s going to be with Mrs. Winkleson?”
“No idea,” Sammy said. “Do you need her for something?”
“I could live without her indefinitely, but the rose show can’t,” I said. “I have to give her a full forty-five more minutes to finish her roses before the judges can start. While I realize arresting a murder suspect is more important than judging the rose show, I have a whole barn full of people back there who might not get it.”
“Well, we’re not exactly arresting him for murder just yet,” Sammy said.
“Who’s him, and what are they arresting him for, then?” I asked.
They both glanced involuntarily at a nearby police car. Mr. Darby was sitting in the back seat, while another officer was leaning on the fender, keeping his eyes on the prisoner.
“Mr. Darby?” I exclaimed. “The chief thinks he did it?”
“Why? Who do you think did it?” Horace asked.
“I have no idea who did it,” I said. “If I did, I’d tell the chief. I’m just surprised. He seems like a nice man.”
“It’s always the nice ones you have to watch,” Sammy said.
“That’s the quiet ones, not the nice ones,” Horace said. “And I agree. A very nice man. Look how much he loves animals.”
“It’s because of the animals,” Sammy said. “I’m sure that’ll turn out to be the reason he did it.”
“I don’t think he did it at all,” Horace said. “The cattle rustling, yes, but—”
“Cattle rustling?” I repeated. “So this is related to what I saw last night?”
“And what your grandfather and Caroline discovered yesterday afternoon,” Horace added.
“We got a lead on the truck you reported,” Sammy said.
“From my tire tread impressions,” Horace said.
“And we went over to Mr. Darby’s place early this morning,” Sammy continued. “That’s why we couldn’t be here to help.”
“No problem,” I said. “You did plenty yesterday, and what with the murder and the attempted murder, I assumed you’d both be pretty busy today. What happened this morning?”
Sammy glanced behind him, as if to make sure the chief was safely inside, and leaned closer.
“Dr. Blake and Caroline discovered that Mr. Darby and his cousin have a small farm over in Clay County with dozens of those fancy cows and goats on it,” he half-whispered. “And his explanation of how he came by them sounded fishy.”
“He had a bunch of sale papers, but they were all made out to other people’s names,” Horace put in. “He claimed it was because Mrs. Winkleson wouldn’t have sold the cows and goats if she’d known it was him.”
“Which could be true,” Sammy said. “You know how she is.”
“Lot of work proving anything,” Horace said. “Hunting down all those people whose names are on the bills of sale, and finding out if they really did buy goats and cows, and if so, if they really sold them to Mr. Darby, and if not, if they knew Mr. Darby was using their names. And what if it turns out that you can’t find those people?”
“Then maybe that would mean the sales weren’t legit,” Sammy said.
“In other words, he stole them,” Horace said.
“And tried to kill Mrs. Winkleson to cover it up,” Sammy added.
“Now that’s the part that doesn’t make sense to me,” Horace said, shaking his head. The two of them appeared to have forgotten that I was there, and I was almost holding my breath, trying to keep it that way. “Surely he’d have known that as soon as anything happened to Mrs. Winkleson, we’d be crawling all over the place to investigate, not to mention her attorney taking an interest in all her business records to prepare for probate. If I were him, the last thing I’d want to do would be to stir up a hornet’s nest before I’d managed to hide the stolen livestock and cover my tracks.”
“But that’s because you know how a murder investigation works,” Sammy said. “And hindsight is twenty-twenty. Even he probably realizes now that it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Especially since he blew it twice in one day.”
“Three times if you count that last cow-stealing trip,” Horace said.