Reservations for Murder - Tim Myers [7]
Alex said, “Sheriff, where else would you expect her to be? And why should it matter where she was last night?”
“My investigator just informed me that the time of death was most likely sometime between midnight and four a.m.” The sheriff added, “Alex, I’ve agreed to let you sit in, but you’re going to have to keep your comments and questions to yourself if you want to stay.”
“Sorry,” Alex said contritely. He didn’t believe for one second that Shantara was guilty of murdering Jefferson Lee. She had too much to lose, even granting the wildly remote possibility that anything could push her to such a desperate act.
Armstrong nodded once, then said, “Ms. Robinson, can anyone verify that you were home last night?”
Shantara said, “Are you asking me if I’m sleeping with anybody at the moment, Sheriff?”
Armstrong blustered, “Now, ordinarily, that would be none of my business. I don’t much care what grown, consenting folks do behind closed doors, but I’m trying to see if you’ve got any kind of alibi for the murder.”
Shantara shook her head. “I’m sorry to say that I sleep alone these days, Sheriff.”
Armstrong pushed on. “Did you make any calls or get any during those hours? Can anybody verify you were home?”
“I turned off the ringer on my phone and put the answering machine on last night. I was whipped from moving the fair yesterday at the last minute, and to be honest with you, I’d just about had my share of people for the day.”
Armstrong wrote something else in his notebook, then said, “Okay, let’s move on. Did you have any reason to kill Jefferson Lee?”
Alex had a tough time keeping his mouth shut. The very nature of the crime most likely cleared Shantara in his mind. He doubted she’d have the physical strength to skewer the blacksmith, even if she had motive enough to do it.
Shantara said calmly, “I knew him, but I had no reason to want him dead. Even if I were going to kill him, why would I do it at my own fair? I’ve got everything riding on this, Sheriff.”
That was a point Alex had wondered about himself.
Armstrong said evenly, “Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly. He goaded you into a rage, and you killed him. If it was self-defense, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I work out at Tracy’s Gym sometimes, but I’m not that strong.” Shantara turned to Alex. “You saw how he was pinned to that post. Do you think I could possibly do that?”
Remembering Armstrong’s warning, Alex merely shook his head.
“Alex, I warned you—”
Shantara interrupted. “He didn’t say a word, just like you told him.”
Armstrong studied Alex a second, then turned back to Shantara. “Have you ever seen the metal rod that was used to kill Jefferson Lee?”
“I’ve seen a dozen of them, Sheriff.”
“Where?” Armstrong asked as he sat up abruptly in the chair.
Shantara said reluctantly, “If I don’t tell you, I’m sure somebody else will. That shaft had Bill Yadkin’s swooping curlicue on the end. It’s one of his. There’s no doubt about it.”
It was amazing how fast the sheriff wrapped up the rest of his interview with Shantara. As Armstrong hurried out the door, he said, “You’re free to go for now, Ms. Robinson, but don’t leave town.”
After the sheriff rushed out, Shantara said wearily, “I hate sending him after Bill Yadkin, but he was bound to find out sooner or later.”
“It’s not your fault, Shantara.” Alex had recognized the distinctive pattern on the shaft as well, but he’d refrained from telling Armstrong about it until he had a chance to talk more with the young blacksmith himself. Knowing Yadkin’s gruff nature, it would be all too easy for the sheriff to take his responses as hostility, and Armstrong did not respond well to attitude from anyone.
In less than two minutes, Armstrong was towing the young blacksmith into Alex’s office.
“I need some privacy for this interview,” Armstrong said. “You’re both going to have to clear out.”
Alex tried to protect Yadkin as best he could. “Do you want me to get you a lawyer?” he asked before the door could close. Alex’s former girlfriend Sandra Beckett was the only