Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [127]
Kerney pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “At Shaw’s neighbor behind us.”
Leo made a U-turn and stopped at the farmhouse where Kerney, on his earlier trip to Virden, had seen a woman hanging wash on a clothes-line. Before they could gain the porch steps a man and woman stepped out the front door. Both in their late middle-age, the man was lean and blue eyed with lips that sagged at the corners. The woman, round in the torso with a sharp face, directed her attention to Leo. “How can we oblige you, Sheriff?”
Leo touched the brim of his cowboy hat. “I have a few questions, ma’am. Can I have your names?”
“Isaac and Priscilla Klingman,” the man said grudgingly, casting a wary eye at Leo. “What is this about?”
“We’re trying find a fellow who may have stolen a saddle from Matt Thornton over in Duncan.” Leo handed Mr. Klingman Martinez’s photo. “Do you recognize him?”
“Isn’t Arizona out of your jurisdiction?” Klingman asked as he scanned the photo.
“A bit. Does he look familiar?”
Isaac Klingman shook his head and handed the photo to his wife. “I’ve never seen him,” she said.
“Who leases the Shaw land?” Kerney asked.
“I do,” Klingman replied. “Can’t get him to sell it to me.”
“Do you have use of the barn?”
“Shaw keeps it locked up tight. I don’t go near it, or the house. That’s the deal.”
“Have you ever seen a white van parked outside?” Kerney asked.
“Yep, but not for long. After it pulls in, it gets put away in the barn. Stays there until he leaves.”
Leo took the photo back from Klingman’s wife. “Until Shaw leaves?”
“Can’t say that I know who comes and goes all the time. Sometimes it’s Shaw, sometimes not. There’s another man who shows up about twice a month driving the van. Comes in the evening, so I’ve never gotten a good look at him. Parks in the garage and then leaves after an hour or so. Heads west on the highway.”
“How long has this been going on?” Leo asked.
“A year or more. Maybe two.”
“Can you remember the last time you saw the panel truck?” Kerney asked.
Kingman shook his head.
“I remember,” his wife said. “I was driving back from town and it was stopped on the side of the highway with a flat tire. I didn’t get a good look at the driver, but Nathan Gundersen’s truck was parked behind it.”
“When was that?” Leo inquired.
“A week ago last Thursday, the evening our ladies’ quilting society meets.”
“Gundersen lives down the road.” Isaac Klingman nodded to the left, eager to be rid of his visitors. “Maybe he can help you. Turn in on the second lane. His house is the third one on the right.”
“Thank you,” Leo said.
Klingman grunted.
Gundersen wasn’t home, but Kerney spotted his pickup truck parked on a farm road that cut through the pastureland toward the river. He had the tailgate down and was encouraging a six-month-old calf up a ramp into the bed of the truck. He nodded in recognition at Kerney as he tied the calf to a side railing, dropped the ramp, and closed the tailgate.
“What brings you back here with the sheriff? Is it about Walt Shaw?”
“Not exactly,” Kerney said. “That calf looks sickly.”
“It is,” Gundersen replied. “The vet thinks it’s influenza, but he can’t come out until tomorrow, so I’m taking the patient to him. Don’t understand it, though. The calf was vaccinated along with all the others.” Gundersen glanced at Leo. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“I understand you recently stopped to help a man driving a white van with a flat tire.”
“Can’t say I was any help at all.”
Leo held out the photo of Martinez.
“That’s him, all right,” Gundersen said.
“Was that a week ago last Thursday?” Kerney asked.
Gundersen nodded. “I’d say so. Are you a police officer too?”
“Yes, I am.”
Gundersen pulled off his gloves. “Sure had me fooled.”
Leo put the photo in his shirt pocket. “Did anything unusual happen when you stopped to help?”
“He wasn’t a very pleasant fellow. When I pulled up behind him, he scowled and waved me off before I could even get out of my truck. Sent me on my way without so much as a word.”
“Were you able