Page 44 of Rocky Ride

“Down in Oilmont. You probably passed the service center on your way up here. Nate runs the place. Why do you want to talk to him?”

“I need to ask him a few questions, ma’am. Just routine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah. I stopped worrying about Nate a long time ago, Sheriff. No point to it, is there?”

Billy and I jumped in the squad. “She was testy,” I said. “Should we drive down and talk to him at the service center?”

“Yep. Let’s see how well Nate knew Sandra Ellington.”

“Nate is the killer or the guy we’re talking to next in Shelby.”

“Or the guy in the dark red pickup,” said Billy. “We haven’t found him yet, but we’ve narrowed it down to three possibilities.”

“Three is better than we had before,” I said. “Could have been anybody in the whole county.”

“Or beyond,” said Billy.

Oilmont Service Center.

When Billy and I got there, Nate was behind the counter in his convenience store serving a lineup of customers. Billy flashed his badge and Nate raised an eyebrow.

Tall guy with black hair and a day’s scruff on his face. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“Just a couple of quick questions, Nate. Do you know Sandra Ellington in Coyote Creek?”

“Who? I don’t think I’ve heard that name.”

Billy leaned on the counter and asked Nate about the date and time of the murder and Nate had a solid alibi. He was working at his store with two other employees who verified he was there the entire time.

“Thanks for your time, Nate.” Billy left a card on the counter, and we moved on to the owner of the second black Wrangler in Shelby.

Slater Residence. Shelby.

Mick Slater’s wife was a redhead with short shaggy hair, and dark-rimmed glasses. She yanked the door open when I rang the bell and seemed pissed off we were standing on her doorstep.

“Mick Slater here?” asked Billy.

“Mick’s at work. What do you want him for? What has Mick done?”

“I’m not sure Mick has done anything, Mrs. Slater. Where does he work?”

“Downtown at the car audio place. You can find him there. It’s the one on Birch Street.”

“Thank you.”

“She was bitchy,” I said as we drove to the business section of Shelby looking for the audio shop. “Are all wives bitchy like that, Billy?”

He chuckled. “They can’t all be bitchy, Harlan. There have to be some sweet ones out there or no guys would bother getting married.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Shelby Car Audio.

Billy parked the Bronco behind the building. Not too many vehicles in the lot, but parked next to the black Wrangler was a dark red pickup. I pointed it out and Billy said, “Yep, I see it. Jot down the tag. Run it and get a name for the owner before we go inside.”

“Yep.” I punched the tag in, and the pickup was registered to a guy named Paul Granby with a Shelby address. “Got it. Paul Granby.”

“Great. Let’s go talk to these guys and find out which one of them killed Sandra Ellington.”

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