Free Ashes to Dust (Las Vegas Mystery) by Rex Kusler Page B

that was the old man’s favorite destination.”
    “We pulled a lot of walleyes out of that lake,” Donnie said.
    “No, you’re thinking of Osakis,” Dennis said. “All we ever caught at Deebs Lake were sunfish and a few bass.”
    “You never caught any, but I did,” Donnie insisted.
    “I don’t remember that.”
    “You were asleep.”
    Darla came back carrying a tray with four iced tea glasses. “Why don’t you two quit lying.” She set the glasses on the table and the tray next to them. “I swear, they’re like kids. Every time we have company, they start acting up like they’re on a talk show or something.”
    “He’s not company,” Donnie said. “He’s a private dick. And he’s about to tell us who got killed.”
    Darla put her hand on Snow’s arm and gave him a gentle shove toward the chair at the end of the table. “Why don’t you sit down, Jim, and drink your iced tea.”
    He thanked her and sat down. Darla picked up a glass and seated herself at the far end across from Snow.
    Snow picked up his glass of iced tea and took a sip, noticing three sets of eyes trained on him, waiting.
    He set the glass down. “Laura Roberts,” he said.
    Dennis and Donnie looked at each other.
    Darla’s hands went to her cheeks. “Oh, my Lord, no,” she said. “She was just a young thing. How did it happen?”
    “Somebody hit her in the head with a baseball bat,” Snow said.
    Darla’s hands remained on her cheeks, as if her face might explode. “Oh, that’s terrible! Who would do such a thing?”
    Dennis turned his eyes to Snow. “Just about anyone who ever met her,” he declared.
    “Is she the cocktail waitress who owns the house next door?” Donnie asked.
    Turning to his brother, Dennis said, “Yeah, that was her. She was easy on the eyes, but hard on the ears.”
    “Dennis!” Darla snapped. “Would you have some respect for the deceased?”
    “Just stating the truth,” he mumbled, then took a drink of his iced tea.
    “Do you have any idea who did it?” Darla asked.
    “There hasn’t been any evidence uncovered yet that would point to anyone.”
    Darla clasped her hands together and put them in her lap. “I wonder if it was a home invasion. I always worry about that.”
    Out of the side of his mouth to his wife, Dennis said, “Nobody in their right mind would invade our home, Darla. What would they get? Our stereo is a ghetto blaster, the computer runs on DOS, and the television we bought back when Ronald Reagan was president.”
    “Nothing was stolen,” Snow said. He paused, thinking for a moment. “I take it the police haven’t been here to talk to you?”
    Darla shook her head. “If they had, we’d have known about the murder.”
    “That’s true,” Snow said.
    “But now that I think about it,” Darla said, “I’m pretty sure there were some detectives talking to Tyson Dole, next door. There was an unmarked car with those government license plates parked in front of his house, and then a van showed up. They were there inside his house for quite a while. I just thought it was related to Tyson’s usual crazy behavior.”
    “Was that Wednesday?”
    “Yes, I believe it was. So she was killed Tuesday evening? Tyson’s not a suspect, is he?”
    “Had they found anything,” Snow said, “they would have taken him into custody. And yes, she was murdered Tuesday evening. The body was transported out to an isolated section near Red Rock Canyon, and it was set on fire to destroy any evidence there might have been.”
    Dennis piped up. “Tyson Dole didn’t kill that woman.”
    Snow looked at him. “Why do you say that?”
    “I’m pretty sure he was home all night. Tuesday night we had meatloaf.” He turned his eyes to his wife. “Right, Darla?”
    “Yeah,” Donnie agreed. “That’s right. Tuesday night was meatloaf. Wednesday was chicken and dumplings.”
    “I guess that’s right,” Darla added.
    “I remember that night,” Dennis said, “because my memory of it