Free Champagne for Buzzards by Phyllis Smallman Page B

over Joey’s side. “Clay says he was bred for country like this — a little scratch won’t harm him none.”
    Marley and I walked in silence back to the house. Now was the time to tell Marley about the man I’d seen. I owed it to her.
    And I should phone the sheriff so they could begin the manhunt. But something didn’t seem right with this scenario. I was left with one nagging thought. If he was the murderer, why was he hanging about? Why was he staying? And what was Boomer Breslau doing out there? Looking for someone would be my guess.
    Marley held the screen door to the kitchen open. “If you’re not mad, why are you so quiet?”
    â€œWhat?” I thought we’d already covered this conversation.
    â€œDo you want me to leave?”
    â€œWhat? Why?”
    â€œI ran out on you.”
    â€œNo you didn’t; you did just what I wanted you to do.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œDidn’t I tell you to go for help?”
    â€œYeah, but…”
    â€œYou did exactly the right thing.”
    â€œI’m not very brave,” she said, following me into the kitchen and letting the screen slam shut behind her.
    â€œThat makes you smart.” Her words were another good reason for not mentioning the face in the woods. “Brave is just another word for stupid.” If I told the sheriff what I’d seen, Marley would have to be told, that was for sure. I couldn’t keep a search party quiet. And if Marley knew there was someone hiding in the woods, she’d take off for Jacaranda and there would be no one to help me. See how selfish I am?
    I headed straight for the shower, distance being the best aid to silence. It would also give me time to think things over.
    I wanted to present Clay and myself as a real couple. Nothing too fancy, just down home and settled. I was even going to have family present. Although Tully and Ziggy were a risk, I was trusting them to be at their most charming. I’d even bought them both new shirts to wear.
    Having the sheriff’s men around would interfere with my plans. And, after all, there was nothing to bring the murderer back to Riverwood, was there? That was the last place he’d want to be.
    Whatever was happening way out back of beyond, it had nothing to do with me. Just as in Jacaranda what happened a block away was none of my business, same thing in the country. If it happened way out there, it was none of my business.
    After my shower, I’d checked all the doors and windows in the big old house, thinking I could lock it up and make us safe. It was a crazy hopeless chore, with five entrances and double that number of windows on the ground floor, some of which couldn’t be locked.
    And it didn’t stop there. The house had porches, the true living space, all around it. Anyone could climb up on the roof of the porches and get to the second floor that way. Any idea I had of keeping intruders out was quickly evaporating. No way could you secure this house. We were sitting targets for anyone wanting in.
    I knew Clay kept a handgun in the closet of our bedroom but if I started carrying it around with me it would take some explaining. Besides, my record with firearms wasn’t good — they always ended up in the wrong hands. Best not to go armed.
    In the kitchen Marley announced, in a tone of disgust, “She fell off again.” Seemed she’d gotten over her worry about deserting me.
    Tully shook his head in disappointment. “You used to be so athletic, always winning things in school, what happened?”
    I poured a cup of coffee. “Well, you see, back then there was no horse named Joey involved.” I took my coffee with me and went to try the bolt on the back door. “That horse is a waste of space.” The lock had been painted over multiple times and probably hadn’t been used in years. “What are you doing?” Tully asked.
    â€œThere’s a murderer