“What you fixing to shoot?”
He laid it on the table. “Pheasant. You want to fix me up some pheasant?”
“Might could do.”
“We’ll have us a feast tonight.”
CHAPTER 12
Claire didn’t know the Sticklers very well. She had met them once or twice, but they were pretty quiet people, farmers, and didn’t get in any trouble. She hated to bother them about Andrew, but it had to be done.
She could have sent Amy—after all, Claire was the sheriff now and should be sticking around the department more than she was—but she felt like this was her call. She wanted this interview to be handled just right. Andrew wasn’t telling her everything, and she needed to know what he was keeping from her.
The farmhouse was set back a good distance from the road, with a stand of pine trees growing on the north side of the house, a solid windbreak. The house was an old four-square with a front porch, probably built at the turn of the last century, a big front door right in the middle of it.
But as with most houses, the door that was used the most was around the back and led into the kitchen. Claire parked so that she wasn’t blocking the driveway and knocked on the back door. No answer, but there was a truck and a Buick LeSabre parked next to each other. Someone should be home.
Claire knocked again, tried the door and found it open. She was just about to walk in when Mrs. Stickler came to the door. Although her hair was streaked with gray, she moved like a younger woman, full of energy. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that had a horse on it, and had a laundry basket propped on her hip. “Sorry. I was in the basement, doing the wash.” Her face blanched. “Andrew okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. Mind if I come in?”
Mrs. Stickler scooted back out of the way and showed Claire to a chair at the kitchen table. “We’re so glad to have him back, and now with this good job and everything … well, I just can’t tell you.”
Claire could imagine. Just thinking of Meg going away to college was turning her upside down, but to send your child around the world to fight in a war where he might get killed? Too much to ask.
“And we’re glad to have him. He’s a great addition to the force,” Claire said, and was surprised how rote she sounded. “But I’m going to have ask you a few questions about his whereabouts the other night.”
“What night?” Mrs. Stickler sank into a chair opposite Claire.
“Friday night.”
“Oh, we were all here. Watching some TV. Clarence and I try to make it to the news. Doesn’t always happen, but then we went to bed.”
“Andrew too?”
“Well, I suppose. He stayed on in the living room. Lets us use the bathroom first, you know. I thought I heard him come upstairs. Hard to be sure. Some nights I just go out like a light. But where would he go?”
“Does he ever just go out for a drink?”
“Not much. Most of his old friends aren’t around anymore. Plus, he doesn’t like to drink if he’s gotta work the next day. He’s real conscientious that way.”
“You know Tammy Lee Johansen, Mrs. Stickler?”
“Sure I know her. Since she was a little girl. Andrew and she were real close for a while, but it was hard when he went off. I think they stayed in touch. I’m not quite sure what happened there.”
“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but Tammy died on Friday night.”
“Oh no.” Mrs. Stickler brought her hands up to her mouth. “Car accident? She drinks a lot, I know.”
“No, unfortunately someone hit her and killed her.”
Mrs. Stickler stood up as if she’d been shot. “Not Andrew,” she said in a wail. “Never would he do that.”
“I’m not saying he did. I’m just checking on things. According to Tammy Lee’s sister, they’d seen each other.”
“Yes, that’s right. I think Andrew ran into her at a bar, and Tammy did call here once or twice recently, asking for Andrew. I didn’t think too much of it. I heard she’s engaged to be married to
He laid it on the table. “Pheasant. You want to fix me up some pheasant?”
“Might could do.”
“We’ll have us a feast tonight.”
CHAPTER 12
Claire didn’t know the Sticklers very well. She had met them once or twice, but they were pretty quiet people, farmers, and didn’t get in any trouble. She hated to bother them about Andrew, but it had to be done.
She could have sent Amy—after all, Claire was the sheriff now and should be sticking around the department more than she was—but she felt like this was her call. She wanted this interview to be handled just right. Andrew wasn’t telling her everything, and she needed to know what he was keeping from her.
The farmhouse was set back a good distance from the road, with a stand of pine trees growing on the north side of the house, a solid windbreak. The house was an old four-square with a front porch, probably built at the turn of the last century, a big front door right in the middle of it.
But as with most houses, the door that was used the most was around the back and led into the kitchen. Claire parked so that she wasn’t blocking the driveway and knocked on the back door. No answer, but there was a truck and a Buick LeSabre parked next to each other. Someone should be home.
Claire knocked again, tried the door and found it open. She was just about to walk in when Mrs. Stickler came to the door. Although her hair was streaked with gray, she moved like a younger woman, full of energy. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that had a horse on it, and had a laundry basket propped on her hip. “Sorry. I was in the basement, doing the wash.” Her face blanched. “Andrew okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. Mind if I come in?”
Mrs. Stickler scooted back out of the way and showed Claire to a chair at the kitchen table. “We’re so glad to have him back, and now with this good job and everything … well, I just can’t tell you.”
Claire could imagine. Just thinking of Meg going away to college was turning her upside down, but to send your child around the world to fight in a war where he might get killed? Too much to ask.
“And we’re glad to have him. He’s a great addition to the force,” Claire said, and was surprised how rote she sounded. “But I’m going to have ask you a few questions about his whereabouts the other night.”
“What night?” Mrs. Stickler sank into a chair opposite Claire.
“Friday night.”
“Oh, we were all here. Watching some TV. Clarence and I try to make it to the news. Doesn’t always happen, but then we went to bed.”
“Andrew too?”
“Well, I suppose. He stayed on in the living room. Lets us use the bathroom first, you know. I thought I heard him come upstairs. Hard to be sure. Some nights I just go out like a light. But where would he go?”
“Does he ever just go out for a drink?”
“Not much. Most of his old friends aren’t around anymore. Plus, he doesn’t like to drink if he’s gotta work the next day. He’s real conscientious that way.”
“You know Tammy Lee Johansen, Mrs. Stickler?”
“Sure I know her. Since she was a little girl. Andrew and she were real close for a while, but it was hard when he went off. I think they stayed in touch. I’m not quite sure what happened there.”
“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but Tammy died on Friday night.”
“Oh no.” Mrs. Stickler brought her hands up to her mouth. “Car accident? She drinks a lot, I know.”
“No, unfortunately someone hit her and killed her.”
Mrs. Stickler stood up as if she’d been shot. “Not Andrew,” she said in a wail. “Never would he do that.”
“I’m not saying he did. I’m just checking on things. According to Tammy Lee’s sister, they’d seen each other.”
“Yes, that’s right. I think Andrew ran into her at a bar, and Tammy did call here once or twice recently, asking for Andrew. I didn’t think too much of it. I heard she’s engaged to be married to
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