LITMIR.BIZ

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      Chapter Four

      Ignoring Savannah’s shocked expression, Seth raced out into the hall, crouched and ready to fire. Only problem was, there was no one in the long, deserted hallway.

      It made no sense, he thought as he returned to Bill Grayson’s suite and called the coroner and J.D. Savannah was as still as a painting.

      He went over to where she sat on the couch, stark white and staring blankly into space. He took her hands in his. She was trembling.

      “He was shot with a .22. Where’s the gun, Savannah?”

      His question brought her out of her fog. “The gun? I don’t have a gun! I didn’t shoot him.”

      Seth frowned deeply, trying to make sense of her proclamations of innocence and the conflicting facts.

      The facts were he had received a call of shots fired at the inn and was inside the elevator in less than ten seconds after the call. It was maybe a total of thirty seconds before he kicked in the door to Grayson’s bedroom. The room still smelled of gunpowder. Meaning the fatal shot had been fired within the last few moments. He checked his watch, noting the time was 9:33.

      Though there was a second exit from the bedroom, Seth had already noted that it was bolted from the inside. Which meant the killer had to run past Savannah to make his quick escape. Or—

      Or she was the killer.

      “I have to search you and your bag,” Seth explained.

      Savannah’s ire had begun to rise. She held her arms out to her sides and said, “Search away.”

      Seth had her turn so her back was to him. She felt him grab a handful of her vintage dress and pull it taut against her body. “You break it, you bought it,” she snidely commented. “Those seams you’re straining were sown when people like you were busy chasing Al Capone.”

      Using his nightstick, Seth ran it along her entire body. She should have been furious at the indignity of it, but for some reason, she wasn’t. Maybe it was just that it had been too long since she’d had any close contact with a man. Savannah almost laughed aloud at that absurd thought. What she was inappropriately feeling had nothing to do with men in general. It had to do with this man. Mainly because she could hear the slight catch in his breath when he checked the more intimate areas of her body. She only hoped the reverse wasn’t true. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

      Dr. Hall, the coroner, and J.D. arrived then, moving into the adjoining bedroom on Seth’s command. Dumping the contents of her purse on the coffee table, Seth found nothing of interest—except for a foil-wrapped condom. Savannah wanted the floor to open and swallow her as Seth gave her one of those “Big plans, eh?” looks.

      “Better safe than sorry,” she said, realizing it was a pretty lame comment. But it sounded better than That thing’s been in my purse for years and I’d forgotten about it until just now. She was sure he wouldn’t believe the truth.

      “Stand up, please.”

      “Why?”

      His expression was a mixture of frustration and restraint. “I have to cuff you.”

      “Cuff me?” she parroted, unbelieving. “But I didn’t do anything!”

      “I have to take you in for a paraffin test and another statement.”

      Savannah let out a deflating sigh. “Not again.”

      Seth met her exasperated gaze. “I don’t have a choice, Savannah. Unless you can explain how someone else managed to shoot Bill, then vanish.”

      J.D. entered the room. “That ain’t all that vanished. The safe is open and there’s nothing in it. We found an invoice in his briefcase. Said he had more than a million in gems on him.”

      Savannah felt the cold, hard handcuffs being snapped into place.

      Dr. Hall emerged and said, “Judging by the body temperature and the air temperature measurements, this guy’s only been dead for about ten minutes. Not even enough time for any lividity to begin.”

      “Let’s go, Savannah.”

      She struggled against his hold. “Hasn’t it occurred to any of you geniuses that Seth didn’t find a gun or any jewels on me? He was here within minutes of the shot being fired. When did I have time to hide the murder weapon and the gems?”

      “Good point,” Seth said.

      Savannah relaxed a bit.

      “J.D., tear this room apart. The murder weapon and the gems must still be here.”

      Savannah called him a hateful name as he led her out of the suite and down through the gauntlet of gawkers to his Bronco. She hadn’t killed Bill, but she would gladly have killed Seth in that instant.

      HE WAS IMPRESSED. She hadn’t shed a single tear. Savannah had taken the paraffin test, then asked permission to make a phone call. Seth guessed she had more class in her little finger than most folks had in their whole bodies. It had about killed him to send her downstairs to the matron, Mable. But the cavity search was necessary with a million bucks worth of gems missing.

      Seth locked his hands behind his head and squeezed his weary eyes closed. Save for the lack of the weapon and other evidence, Savannah was the only logical suspect. Then why do I feel like I’m putting together a jigsaw puzzle with one piece missing?

      “Uh, Sheriff?” J.D. hesitantly questioned from the doorway.

      Seth let out a breath and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “What!”

      J.D. jumped a bit at Seth’s harsh tone.

      “I mean,” Seth began more amicably, “What do you have?”

      “The matron didn’t find any gems during the search. She suggested we take her to get an X ray in case she swallowed them. There was nothing at the hotel. We didn’t find the suspect’s fingerprints in the room. Just the dead guy and a partial thumbprint on the door.”

      “Which one?”

      “The main door,” J.D. answered.

      “Great,” Seth groused. “Who knows how long that’s been there? Send it to the state police and ask them to run it.”

      “Yes, sir.” J.D. turned to leave.

      “And while you’re at it, ask them when I can expect the background reports on Fowler and Whitlock. Ask them to start the drill on Bill Grayson, too. Maybe he didn’t have a million dollars worth of gems, which would explain why we can’t find them.”

      “Okay. You look tired,” J.D. observed.

      “Beat,” Seth concurred. “But since I just awakened Judge Duckett for a search warrant for Savannah’s home and workplace, my night isn’t over yet.” Seth slipped on his department-issue parka and started toward the door. He hesitated briefly at the top of the stairs leading to the cells below. He was secretly glad Mable hadn’t found the gems.

      Who was he kidding? He wasn’t standing there thinking about gems. He was thinking about the necessary invasive procedure that had been done to Savannah. He was remembering the look of unbridled hate in her multicolored eyes when he was performing the paraffin test. For some reason, her hatred cut to the bone.

      Just like the frigid January air that battered him as he walked the few steps to his Bronco. He’d have to drive an hour into Helena to get the warrant, then two hours to Savannah’s cabin. He decided to stop at the Cowboy Café off Jasper Park to have Ruthie fill him a thermos of coffee. It was going to be a long night.

      The parking lot was filled with pickups and semis. No matter what time of day you went in, the place smelled of bacon and coffee. He sauntered up to the chipped Formica counter, squeezing between two turquoise Naugahyde stools. One of the stool cushions was being held together with a worn, curled piece of duct tape.

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