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“This is where I found your cousin last week. I really am sorry, mister…?” she let the mister hang as a question, like she expected an answer.
“Martin. Jake Martin. And this is Bo
The ranger looked horrified. “Oh, please excuse me, Bo
Bo
“My name’s Christine, but everyone calls me Chris. And who is this handsome fella?” she asked, bending down to pet Fred.
“That’s Fred,” I answered. “Show her how you shake hands, Freddie.”
Fred sat and extended his left paw while wagging his tail.
Chris squatted down to his level and returned the handshake, using her left hand to match Fred’s. “Aren’t you a smart doggie? I’ll bet you’ve got your handsome owner well-trained, don’t you?”
Was she flirting with me? I saw a ring on her wedding finger when she’d grasped Fred’s paw, so I assumed she used that particular adjective to describe all men. Still, it made me uncomfortable, so I started to change the subject, but Bo
“He sure does. Jake would make someone a good husband, he’s even house trained.”
Chris laughed. I couldn’t help notice two small dimples holding the smile in place. “I better get back to my patrol, but if you need anything, you can call the Open Space number posted at the entrance and leave me a message.”
Watching her walk back to her truck reminded me of Julie again. My melancholy quickly faded when Bo
“Stay, Fred,” I said, letting go of his leash and walking over to Bo
She stuck her index finger in the oil then rubbed it between her finger and thumb. “It’s not engine oil, that’s for sure, and it is red. I wonder if there is any test they can do to match it to the Datsun?”
“How do you know that, Bon?”
“Greg never let anyone change his oil. I remember it was a lot thicker than this. I had a devil of a time getting his clothes clean.”
I bent down and did the same test, only I had to grab Fred with my free hand before he did it too. I’d have to work on that ‘stay’ command later. “Yep, no doubt about it. Only I don’t need a lab test to confirm it. I’m sure it was the Datsun.”
She stood up slowly, making me realize she was in no shape to walk back to my Jeep. “And how did you come to that conclusion, Sherlock?”
“A couple clues, Miss Watson. First, the oil spot is close to the parking curb. That tells me the oil leak isn’t from a transmission, which would be further back, it’s coming from a power-steering pump. Second, it’s fresh. Notice Fred’s paw prints. He didn’t leave any prints when he walked on the other spots. Those oil stains look like they’ve been cleaned by a street sweeper, so they must be much older.”
Bo
Fred ate it up. I doubt he knew why he was getting the attention, but he loved it anyway. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the case wasn’t cracked. All he had done was confirm, at least to me, that the Datsun had been here.
Bo
“You going to call him and tell him about the Datsun, Jake?” Bo
“Not yet. Maybe when we give our statements, but then I doubt if Deputy White will be there.”
She gave me her blank look then must have realized I misunderstood. “Not White, silly. Paul Wilson. You said he asked you to call him if you got any new information on the kids.”
“I forgot all about him, Bon. No. I suppose I’ll help him out if the parents sue him, but I don’t see how keeping him in the loop is to anyone’s benefit. We need to concentrate on finding more evidence to keep White off our backs.”
“And Margot. Don’t forget that lawyer of hers,” she added.
“Who can forget Margot?” I said, in a sarcastic tone as I pulled into Bo
Bo
***
I felt bad for bringing up Margot and the statement again. It obviously ruined Bo
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cory and Je
I parked across the street from their house, and pretended to read a map. The yellow police tape and crime scene signs I expected to see didn’t exist. Nor were there any police cars parked in the driveway. I even checked up and down the street thinking the house might be under surveillance by an undercover team. Nothing. There were no unmarked cars, no vans, nothing that television cops use during a stakeout. Maybe real cops used cameras or satellites instead.
What was I thinking? I could feel my heart racing and blood pressure rising. Who would take care of Fred if I got caught or had a heart attack? “Calm down, Jake,” I said aloud.
Fred turned his head at an odd angle when I spoke. He had taken Bo
I had reasoned that since the Datsun was sitting in an impound lot and I couldn’t check it for a power-steering leak, the next best thing was to look for indirect evidence. My chances of getting away with snooping were much better here than in some impound lot, but I couldn’t simply walk over there and look for oil spots. Someone would surely see me, and my Jeep wouldn’t be hard to trace. I doubt if there were fifty of the old Wagoneers still registered in Colorado. And what if the police did have the house under surveillance?
When Fred started whining to be let out, I had my answer. I drove back to Colfax and parked in Casa Bonita’s lot. Fred and I could walk the three blocks back to the kids’ house, pretending to be locals out for a walk.
We hadn’t gone a block when an older couple stopped us. “What a good looking doggie. What’s your name, big fella?” The old man was bent over like a cartoon caricature and wasn’t much taller than Fred. He surprised me when he stuck his hand out to pet him, but then, Goldens seem to have that affect on people.
“Say hello to the nice man, Freddie.”
“That’s an odd name for a dog.” It was the old guy’s partner, who I assumed was his wife. The grip on her purse told me she still didn’t trust me.