Page 43 of Dark Hearts

“Sure.” Styles slid behind the wheel and made the call. He brought Wolfe up to speed.

“Y’all have found a honey hole.”Wolfe sounded impressed.“I have some information for y’all as well. As I’m involved in the Night Creeper case, the ME out of Helena sent me the autopsy report on Deputy Dryer. He died of cyanide poisoning. It wasn’t ingested. It was spilled on his pants. They found residue mixed with bourbon, so I guess he had a drink spilled on him at a bar. He had no alcohol in his system at the time of death. No other injuries were apparent apart from what could be scratches on his neck. They are old, maybe a week or so. As the Hooper girl was embalmed and is now buried, the chances of checking under her nails is remote. There was nothing under the fingernails of Layla Cooper. This would suggest the Tarot Killer was in a bar with Dryer the night he died.”

“Thanks, we know exactly where he was the night before he died.” Styles glanced at Beth. “We’ll check it out now. Thanks. We’ll drop the evidence to you on our way home.”

“I’ll see y’all then.”Wolfe disconnected.

Beth blew out a long breath. She’d be heading into the Dancing Lady Saloon to ask if anyone had seen her on the night Dryer died. Well, that had to be a first. She leaned back in her seat, trying to get her head around the problem. Of course she looked completely different. She wore no makeup and had blonde hair, different eye color as well. She gathered up her hair and, using the hair tie she kept around her wrist, pulled it into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and pushed on her Stetson. Sheliked the hat and pulled it low over her eyes. Her antics hadn’t missed Styles’ eagle eye.

“You don’t like going into saloons, do you?” Styles flicked her a glance.

She shook her head. “Not really, no.”

“It’s all part of the job.” Styles flashed her a smile. “Just keep it together. Guys in these small towns don’t have a city filter.”

Snorting, Beth shook her head. “And there I was worrying you might start a fight. Although, you’ve been tame of late. I must be a good influence on you.”

FORTY-SEVEN

The drive out to the Dancing Lady Saloon seemed different than the last time, faster in the daylight, but Beth recognized the backstreet where Dryer had attempted to run her down. She had barely escaped with her life. As they pulled up out front of the bar, she zipped up her jacket against the wind blowing down from the mountains. She glanced up at the sky. “I hope it doesn’t rain again.”

“The way the climate is changing, I’m more concerned about a blizzard. I don’t want to be trapped here for days.” Styles pushed down his Stetson and headed into the saloon.

Beth followed him to the bar and waited for the bartender to walk slowly toward them. It was the same man who’d served her the night she poisoned Dryer. She pulled out her cred pack and held it up. Most people’s attention went straight to the badge, likely he wouldn’t even recall her face. “Agents Katz and Styles. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Deputy Dryer. He was a regular patron here, I believe.”

“Yeah, Branch dropped by to pass the time before he went on patrol most nights.” The bartender’s face dropped. “I heard about him dying sudden. Shame, he was a good man.”

“Do you recall him speaking to anyone the night before he died?” Styles leaned on the bar.

“He spoke to everyone.” The bartender frowned. “Is there something about his death that we haven’t been told about?”

“No, we’re just trying to get a timeline of what happened. His vehicle has some damage.” Styles shrugged. “Do you recall anyone spilling a drink on him?”

“He didn’t take a drink, maybe a soda.” The bartender shook his head. “I do recall a woman knocking her drink over. The glass smashed all over the floor. I swept it up and dumped it in the trash.”

Although Beth knew the answer, she looked at the bartender. “You didn’t touch the glass?”

“Where is the glass now?” Styles lifted his chin.

“Nope, I didn’t touch the glass. I have a long-handled brush and pan. I don’t like cutting myself and the garbage was picked up this morning.” The bartender shrugged. “What does a broken glass have to do with Dryer’s death?”

“Nothing at all.” Styles tipped back his hat. “You mentioned a woman. Is she a regular here as well?”

“No, not a regular, but I figure I’ve seen her drop by before.” The bartender scratched his head. “We have karaoke on Saturday nights. I can’t swear on a Bible, but I figure she came last week. Dark hair and eyes, full figured, high heels and tight jeans. Every man’s dream. If you know what I mean?”

Beth stepped closer. “Did she leave with Dryer?”

“Nope. She spoke to him and left.” The bartender picked up a cloth and wiped the bar. “He left just after. Maybe he had something going with her, maybe not.”

“Okay, thanks for your help.” Styles handed him a card. “If you see her again, give me a call.”

Beth followed him out of the saloon and frowned. “We all know the Tarot Killer is a man. This is a waste of time.”

“We know the Tarot Killer is a master of disguise. I’ve seen female impersonators become the most beautiful women with the right wigs and makeup.” Styles raised both eyebrows. “This is a lead we need to pursue.”

Climbing back inside the rental, Beth shook her head. “No, it isn’t. That woman is just a local. We know the Tarot Killer doesn’t hang around and as sure as heck doesn’t make himself known to the locals prior to the hit. He is long gone. We’ve found the corrupt cop and made a case against Dryer for the murders. Can we just go home?”

“Not yet.” Styles looked at her. “If the woman shows tonight at karaoke, the barman will call me. This will prove she isn’t the Tarot Killer. Like you said, he doesn’t hang around to be caught. He’s way too smart for that.” He smiled at her. “One more night, Beth. You can relax, have a hot bath, watch TV. Order room service and a bottle of wine. All I need is a phone call and we’ll be on our way home first thing in the morning.”

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