“Sure.” He looked at Bud. “Yell at me if anybody comes in. In the meantime, why don’t you shop? You look like a guy who has a significant other. Emeralds are big this year.”
Bud sighed.
I followed Earl into his office, which was the exact opposite of Jocko’s. The place was sparkling clean, modern, and quite lovely. Once I got him past the fact that I knew about his earlier illegal actives, he opened right up and corroborated everything Jocko had said.
He shook his head. “I have to tell you, I was stunned when Bernie cheated on Florence. He’d been in love with her since he turned eighteen, and I would’ve bet my entire store that he would’ve remained faithful.”
“What if Lawrence drugged him and set up the entire situation?” I asked.
Earl’s mouth opened and then closed, making him look like a guppy. Then he exhaled. “I don’t know. I mean, in our youth, Bernie had quite the temper. He was often the tough guy in our group. Would he kill?” He shook his head. “I just can’t imagine it. Wow. That’s a lot.”
Not only was it a lot so far, but the witnesses for my client seemed to think he might’ve killed Lawrence. Earl, also, had just met Sharon Smith that night and had no idea how or why she’d ended up in Lawrence’s will—and he didn’t want to know any more than that.
“Thank you for speaking with me,” I said, quite dejected.
“You bet. What was the issue with my wrapping paper and boxes the other day on the phone?” he asked.
The thought of the finger made me gag. “You don’t want to know.” I stood and then returned to the retail part of the store where I waited for Bud to purchase a stunning sapphire necklace. He’d been a good sport all afternoon, so I didn’t give him a hard time or ask any questions. Then Bernie decided to buy Florence opal earrings, and Earl was all but humming happily by the time we left and piled into Bud’s car, heading through the now lightly falling snow back to Idaho. Darkness had roared in, and Bud had to use his headlights.
“Do you mind if we take a quick detour?” I asked, hoping Bud was still in a decent mood as I rattled off the address.
“It’s after dinnertime,” he muttered but took the offramp near the border and drove the several miles to the quaint brick apartment building. There were only twelve apartments, and we went to each one, finding somebody home, freezing our butts off in the rapidly strengthening storm. Not a soul knew Sharon Smith. Even the few folks who’d been there more than a few years didn’t know her. One guy thought the far apartment had been owned by a business or a guy who had poker parties where his wife couldn’t find out. But he didn’t know any names. We finally reached the last apartment, the one where Bernie said he’d awoken that day.
A forty-something woman who worked in Washington at the nearest Apple’s Restaurant had lived there for two years, and she had no idea who’d rented the apartment before her.
We thanked her and left, having the name of the rental company now in my notes. “We’ll find out who rented that apartment, Bernie,” I promised as we headed back to the car.
“I know,” he said, not nearly as happy as he’d been earlier. “I just can’t imagine that Lawrence would set me up, but the poker parties at that apartment does indicate that Hoyt or his dad might’ve rented that place. He does like to gamble.”
It was looking more and more like that was what had happened.
Bud stiffened, looking around the quiet parking lot.
“What?” I asked, my nose freezing.
“Duck!” He dove over me, smashing me into the snow.
Bullets pinged all around us.
Chapter 26
Bud tackled me to the snowy ground behind his official vehicle, while Bernie full on dove for the trees, tossing up snow. “Stay down,” Bud yelled.
Snow slid up beneath my shirt and I turned my head, coughing out more of it. Ice chilled my entire body and I scrambled to my knees, keeping cover by the car. Crying and shaking, I pulled my gun from my purse.
Bud already had his unholstered. He pivoted, leaning up and firing over the hood.
Residents emerged onto their decorated balconies, and Bud bellowed for them to get inside and take cover. Everyone seemed to obey.
I edged around the rear of the car, not too far, and looked for the target across the snowy street to the tree filled forest on the other side. “Where is he?” I whispered.
The shooter fired again, hitting the tree in front of Bernie.
“Stay down, Bernie,” I yelled, levering up and firing several times at the guy in unison with Bud.
The shooting stopped, and the guy ducked behind a spruce dropping huge chunks of ice to the ground.
“Get down,” Bud snapped.
