Page 8 of Setup In Montana

“Right,” Max said and rubbed the back of his neck. “What about Irma Hanson?” Irma was the neighbor to the north who’d notified Vernon of the sound she’d heard before midnight.

“Irma accused Esther of taking her wedding ring that went missing along with the twenty dollars her daughter had sent her. The money was in the card from Irma’s daughter when she’d left for lunch, but gone when she got back. Irma later found her wedding ring on the floor in her bathroom. But not the money.”

“Didn’t residents lock their doors?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes, but if Esther really was the thief everyone thought she was, then she knew how to get in. The locks aren’t very sophisticated and now you can learn all sorts of nefarious things on the internet.”

“The residents didn’t suspect maybe a member of the staff?” he asked, surprised they all seemed to think it was Esther.

Vernon shook his head. “They all liked the staff.”

Max rubbed his neck. When he’d been in Esther’s room, he’d noticed a box full of jewelry and other odds and ends including a watch. It had appeared that the killer had gone through cabinets in the apartment but hadn’t found whatever they’d been looking for. Or maybe they had found it after they’d killed her.

That thought gave him an idea. “Can you give me a list of the names of the residents and a list of what they claimed had gone missing?”

* * *

CLANCY DIDN’T KNOW how far she’d walked in the pouring rain. She was soaked to the skin, her old down jacket drenched. Traffic had been sparse to nonexistent. What few vehicles there were had roared past, splashing her with even more water.

Now she was cold and wet and not sure how much farther she could go. She hadn’t seen a house for several miles and regretted leaving the shelter of her car. She’d thought for sure that she could get a ride. Now she was thinking she might have to find a large tree to get under to spend the night.

She heard a vehicle shifting down to make a hill and turned to see headlights through the downpour. It was a truck. Her desperation rising, she stuck out her thumb. The lights grew brighter as the truck came closer and closer, and for a moment she thought it would sweep past her as the others had.

At the sound of the driver hitting his brakes, she almost burst into tears. Someone was finally stopping. She was soaked to the skin and so cold she hadn’t been sure how much longer she could keep walking.

The older-model pickup pulling a horse trailer stopped a few yards past her. With no hesitation she ran after the rig, catching up next to the pickup’s passenger side. As the window came down a couple of inches, a man called out. “Where you headed?”

“Billings,” she yelled back. She couldn’t see his face in the shadowed cab, but he sounded older.

“Not going that far, but you’re welcome to get out of the rain.” He reached over and opened the door.

As it swung open, she got her first good look at the man behind the wheel. Somewhere in his late fifties to early sixties, he was hatless and had the distinctive tanned face and never-seen-sun forehead of a rancher. A worn, dirty ball cap sat on the seat next to him. She felt heat pouring out of the cab, flushing her face with warmth. Clancy knew how dangerous hitchhiking could be, but so could dying of hypothermia under a tree beside the road. To be somewhere warm and dry even for a few miles was worth the risk.

“Thank you,” she said as she hurriedly pulled herself up in the pickup’s cab.

“I’ll ride as far as you’re going if that’s okay.” She shivered even as she felt the warmth of the cab. She quickly shrugged out of her wet jacket. Not that she wasn’t soaked under it and couldn’t help but shiver.

The rancher reached over and kicked up the heat before getting the pickup going again. She felt him glance at her and knew he was wondering what she’d been doing hitchhiking in the rain this late. If he only knew.

“My car broke down back up the highway outside of Grass Range.”

“Explains why I didn’t see your rig beside the road. I didn’t go that far. Getting a late start?”

It was late and dark and raining. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have taken off for the long drive this late in the day—let alone with a thunderstorm brewing. “I did get a late start,” she admitted. “Had to finish work and pack. I’m moving to Billings.”

He nodded as if that made more sense than a shopping trip and reached behind the seat to pull out a blanket. “It’s old and probably dusty as all get-out, but it might help warm you up a little.”

Gratefully, she took the worn blanket. It smelled, but she pulled it around her, thankful for what little comfort it offered. “Thanks,” she said as she stared out at the dark rainy night. She could feel him glance over at her as he drove. She couldn’t blame him for being curious, but she was relieved that he didn’t ask any more questions. She tried to relax but couldn’t, even if she hadn’t been wet and cold and on the run.

Glancing in the side mirror, she saw no lights behind them. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that people were looking for her—the sheriff for sure. The killer?

She just hoped she hadn’t made another mistake by climbing into this pickup with a complete stranger.

* * *

MAX MET WITH Hazel Brockman in a small room off the main lobby. A sturdy-looking, gray-haired woman with bright blue eyes, Hazel had no problem talking about Esther. “Esther Mason was despicable. She stole my father’s watch and I’m sure other things I can’t find,” she said without preamble. “The woman was a miserable human being.”

“Did you see her last night after everyone was locked in for the night?” the sheriff asked.