Free Stranger in My House (A Murder In Texas) by Mari Manning Page A

he’d do you a favor if you asked?”
    Her gaze sharpened. “What kind of favor?”
    “I’d like to talk to him, but it would have to be off the ranch.”
    “’Cause Miss Bea and Seth would have your ass if they caught you bothering him again.”
    “I just want to talk. Since he’s your friend, I’m sure he’d say yes if you asked.”
    “Yeah, right. Why do you want to talk to him?”
    “Maybe he’s seen something that will help me figure out where my momma’s gone off to.”
    Brittany snorted. “You’re pissing on my boots and telling me it’s raining.”
    “I’m being straight with you. I could meet him in town. In the, uh, restaurant.” There had to be a coffee shop or diner on the main drag. “I’ll buy him a burger or a cup of—”
    “You mean the Limestone?”
    “Exactly.”
    “I’m not doing you any favors.”
    Kirby glanced out the kitchen window. It had to be at least two. Her stomach ached for a piece of meat and something—anything—fried. By the time she talked to Maguire, went into town, had lunch, and stopped in at the station, it would be dark. She patted her purse. The money envelope crunched. “I’ll give you twenty dollars.”
    Brittany’s eyes glittered greedily. “Maybe you should ask him yourself.”
    “Thirty dollars.”
    The girl nodded. “Sure. Why not? But I get paid even if he says no.”
    “Of course. Thirty dollars just for the asking. I really appreciate it.” She pulled open the door.
    Brittany’s eyes took on a sly gleam. “I’m supposed to tell Miss Bea if you leave the house.”
    Kirby’s stomach soured. What kind of people were these? The intimidation, the cruelty, the threats. No wonder Frankie tiptoed out in the middle of the night. “I’m just going to talk to Seth.” And drive into town. Alone.
    “Miss Bea will fire me.”
    Kirby couldn’t find it in her heart to care, and that bothered her. She’d always cared. About everyone. It was why she’d joined the force, and why she’d lived with Grandy until he died, and why she was here now. “Please.”
    Brittany snickered. “For a hundred dollars.”
    Kirby could barely stand to look at her. “Deal. Set up the meeting, then I’ll pay you.”
    “But—”
    Kirby was out the door before Brittany could object. Let her tell Miss Bea if she wanted to. The nasty old woman could hardly hold Kirby against her will.
    Kirby headed across the back lawn toward the Mercedes, which beckoned her from the open garage. Ducking inside, she dropped her purse onto the front seat. Beside her, a short flight of steps rose to the coach house. The solid door and two shiny brass dead bolts seemed to holler at would-be visitors, Keep Out .
    On a wall beside the steps, a pegboard hung. A dozen keys dangled from its hooks.
    “Seth, are you there?” No answer.
    Police work could be very satisfying. Very, very satisfying. Like now. She lifted the Mercedes key from a hook, palmed it, and headed for the barn where Maguire had disappeared after his skirmish with Miss Bea.
    Deep in the barn, Maguire hosed down giant screens. Kirby watched him lift the large frames as if they weighed nothing then maneuver the nozzle in an efficient S pattern. His movements were graceful and sure beneath his sweat-dampened shirt. No mystery why this man had Frankie and Brittany falling all over themselves. A small spark of desire warmed her belly. If he was a better man, a decent man, she might be falling all over herself, too.
    She turned away from him and inspected the barn for any obvious places to hold a hostage. As far as she could see, there were none.
    On her right, two stalls spread with fresh hay awaited Old Tom and Darby’s return from the paddock. Reins, feed buckets, and other horse gear hung from the wall beside them. Below the horse gear, the rifle from the ridge lay across a tack box.
    Bang!
    Kirby jumped.
    Maguire had dropped the metal screen. He pulled a long brush from a bucket and scraped the frame.
    A single bead of