A note from Wyatt sat on her desk. On it were the results of his research into the black SUV seen the night of Dupont’s murder. Apparently, there were more than two thousand black SUVs registered in a thirty-mile radius. Good. That would make it nearly impossible to trace the vehicle to Mick.
Lucy had her nose in the trash can beside Jo’s desk. She was sniffing hard enough to make the discarded doughnut bag crinkle. Jo leaned over and nudged the bag open.
“There’s nothing in here but crumbs,” she said to Lucy.
Lucy wagged her tail and cocked her head to the side.
“No, you eat enough treats. We don’t want you to get fat.”
The fur on Lucy’s brow crinkled into a frown. She cast a longing glance at the bag then glared at Jo before trotting to her dog bed and pulling it into the pool of sunlight that streamed in from one of the large windows.
The dog really did have a good nose. Had Lucy smelled something important in the trash at Scott Elliott’s, or had all that spoiled food drawn her interest? In previous cases, Lucy had proved that she’d had a nose for clues and not just food.
“What are you thinking?” Sam stood beside her desk, looking down at her.
“Just about Lucy sniffing the trash at Elliott’s. Could be a clue in there.”
“Or food. But anyway, Reese is putting the warrants together today. I’m going to have Kevin see if Scott Elliott was planning a trip.”
Reese appeared in the squad room. “I’ve got that paperwork all set for the judge. Wyatt’s out on a call, and Rita is coming in twenty minutes. Sheriff Hatch is on her way.”
As if she’d been summoned by her words, they heard the lobby door open, and Bev Hatch came into the squad room. Reese went back to her desk after the two women exchanged greetings.
“Any luck with that contact?” Bev asked.
“Wasn’t home. Looked like he’d been gone a while,” Sam said.
Bev’s left brow quirked up. “Left in a hurry?”
“Maybe.”
“Interesting. Well, I have a couple of new things to report. The blood on the leaf matches Dupont’s, so if we can match the fingerprint, we can tie that person to the crime scene.”
“That will come in handy if we pull in some viable suspects,” Sam said. “What’s the other thing?”
“The lab found a small fragment of black hair in the chamber of the gun.”
“A hair?” Sam asked, his eyes flicking to Jo. “Great! Then we can get DNA from it. Narrow down the suspects by hair color.”
Bev shook her head. “Not human. It was an animal hair.”
Jo glanced at Lucy. Lucy hadn’t been with them.
“Not sure the hair will help much. It was in the chamber, so it got in when the gun was loaded unless the chamber was opened after. There could have been animals in the mill, but I have no idea why the killer would open the chamber again. The presence of animals might explain some of the odd smudges the guys at the lab noticed when they blew up the photographs to do some mockups of the murder.” Bev slid a suspicious side-eyed look at Sam and Jo. “Did you guys notice that?”
“We suspected the killer had moved stuff around the scene. So smudges didn’t seem out of place,” Sam said.
Bev nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with his explanation.
“I guess that makes sense.”
The lobby door opened again, and Jo heard Reese greet Rita Hoelscher and direct her to the squad room. A few seconds later, Rita shuffled around the post office boxes, her hands full of miniature fruitcakes wrapped in colorful cellophane. Rita was a short, thin woman with a wild shock of white hair and wrinkles on her wrinkles. Her eyes flitted from Sam to Bev to Jo. Then she looked at the empty desks. “Where’s that nice Officer Wyatt?”
“He’s out at a fender bender,” Sam said.
Rita’s face collapsed in disappointment as Sam accepted the fruitcakes.
“But it’s nice of you to come by, Rita,” Sam said. ”We’ll see that he gets these.”
Rita looked down at the fruitcakes. “Oh these are for all of you, not just Officer Wyatt.”
Sam feigned excitement. “Oh, really? I get one too? That’s awfully nice of you. Thank you so much.”
Rita eyed them suspiciously, especially Bev. “Well, did you want something? Reese told me to come down.”
Bev stepped forward, holding out her hand. “I’m Bev Hatch, the county sheriff. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Rita Hoelscher. Nice to meet you too.” Her eyes slid to Sam. “Am I in trouble?”
Sam pulled out a chair and gestured for Rita to sit. “No, not at all, Rita. Wyatt told us that you saw a vehicle the night that Mayor Dupont was ... well, the other night.”
Rita slowly crumpled into the chair. “I did. That’s true.”
“Could you tell us about it?” Bev asked.
Rita sat straighter. “Why, yes, I’d be happy to. I was walking Bitsy because she likes to walk in the woods. She loves to munch on those curly fiddlehead ferns.” Rita stopped, slapping her hands to her cheeks and looking at Bev and Sam. “Oh dear, I hope those aren’t endangered or anything. Is that why you called me in here?”
Sam smiled and patted Rita’s hand. “No, not at all. We just want to hear about the vehicle.”
“Oh, right. Well, we were walking along, and I heard the siren in the distance. It’s always disturbing, you know.” She glanced up at Sam and Bev. “So anyway, the walking trail that Bitsy likes is parallel to that old road that leads to the mill. I guess people use it as a shortcut, though I hardly ever see any cars except the UPS truck, the mailman, and of course, the garbageman.”
Bev glanced at Jo and raised a brow. Sometimes it took witnesses a while to get to the point.
“I know the road,” Sam said. “Now, do you remember what kind of vehicle it was? Did you see the driver?”
Rita scrunched up her face, causing her wrinkles to battle with each other for surface space. “No, I didn’t see who was driving. The leaves were in the way, and it was going too fast. These young folks these days, they really need to slow down. Maybe you should put a speed trap up on that road,” Rita suggested.
“We’ll take that under advisement,” Sam said.
Bev laid out photos of different SUVs on the desk in front of Rita. “Do you recognize what kind of SUV it was?” She pointed to a large photo of a Tahoe. “Was it a big one like this or a smaller one like this?” Bev’s finger moved to a Kia Soul.
Rita put a forefinger to her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure. They all look the same to me. I don’t see how anyone can drive these big things. I can barely handle my Dodge Dart.” Rita paused for a moment and looked thoughtful. “I do remember one thing, though. It had those big racks on the roof. You know, for luggage and stuff.”
Bev nodded. “And you’re sure you saw it when you heard the sirens.”
“Yes, ma’am. The sirens were loud, and Bitsy doesn’t like loud noises or fast cars. She was spooked, so we had to turn around and go right home.”
“Did you see where it came from or which way it went?” Bev asked.
Rita looked at Sam as if Bev had just asked the stupidest question. “Only one place it could come from: that old mill. Reed’s Ferry. And only one place it could go to: Foster Street.”
Sam looked at Bev. “Foster Street leads out to the main road. Could’ve been headed anywhere.”
Sam turned his attention back to Rita, crouching down to talk to her at eye level. “Okay, Rita, you did good. Now I want you to go home and think about this and let us know if you remember anything more.”
“Okay.” Rita got up. “I can go now?”
“Yep. You have a nice day.”
“Nice to meet you,” Bev said.
“You too. Enjoy the fruitcake.”
Rita shuffled off, and Bev turned back to Sam and Jo.
“Well, that wasn’t much help. There have to be thousands of black SUVs around.” Bev picked up the photos of the SUVs and sighed.
Jo held up the note from Wyatt. “Two-thousand-three-hundred and forty-one, to be exact. At least that’s how many have been registered in a thirty-mile radius, according to Wyatt’s research.”
“Let’s not forget the SUV might not be one registered around here,” Sam said.
“Yeah, it’s not much of a lead,” Bev said.
“So we’re not much more ahead of where we were yesterday,” Sam said.