“So, I started trying to find out who this guy was. Once Cal and I figured out the ‘Willard’ part, Chris was able to ID him as Willard Gray, Simpson’s resident grumpy hermit.”
“I think more than one person qualifies for that position,” Rory said dryly. “The town is made up of about seventy percent grumpy hermits.”
Lou laughed. “True. Once we knew who the victim was, though, we couldn’t figure out a possible motive, much less narrow down the suspect pool. No one knew Willard well enough to hate him, at least that we’ve been able to find out. I mean, his Esko development protests were really minor, as far as irritations go.”
“So there haven’t been any suspects at all?” The Gray case was much more interesting than the tiny bit of information that Chris had given her had suggested.
“A few.” Lou shot an amused glance at Rory. “Ian was arrested for a minute.”
“It felt like much longer than a ‘minute’ at the time,” Rory grumbled.
“Ian?” It shocked Daisy to think that her neighbor had been a suspect.
“His pendant,” Lou said, “which is not to be called a necklace—at least not in front of Ian or he’ll get pissy—was found in the reservoir, attached to the weight holding down the body. The cops theorized that he’d lost it while disposing of the evidence, but Rory managed to prove that he’d still had possession of his pendant long after the body was dumped.”
Scowling, Rory added, “Someone stole the pendant while he was showering at the clubhouse, then planted the evidence.”
“Whoa.” This was better than any mystery novel.
Ellie gave her a wide-eyed look. “I know, right? Isn’t this just crazy?” Daisy nodded before turning back to Lou, who’d flipped to the next sheet of paper on the oversized pad and seemed to be scribbling some sort of timeline.
As she wrote, she kept talking. “The main suspect right now is Anderson King, a local drug dealer.”
Rory explained, “When the Liverton Riders—the local motorcycle club—started falling apart, Anderson was right there trying to fill the criminal void. He came to talk to me at my shop one day about buying—” She stopped abruptly, swallowing the rest of what she’d been about to say and looking so discomfited that Daisy’s curiosity shot through the roof. “Uh, buying guns. He killed the guy who headed up search and rescue, and now Anderson is after Ellie and her dad.”
“I was just getting to that part,” Lou jumped in. “Willard’s one friend, Baxter Price—”
“My dad,” Ellie interrupted.
“The one who’s missing?” Daisy instantly regretted asking when the woman’s face dropped.
“Yes. He checked himself out of a mental-health facility north of Denver almost a month ago. I haven’t heard from him since then, though we’ve been looking everywhere. He’s schizophrenic.”
It was Daisy’s turn to reach for Ellie’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
Ellie gave her a watery smile before turning back to Lou.
“He’s okay, El,” Lou said firmly, as if she could will her words into being. “He’s tough and wily.”
“I know.” Ellie gave a quick nod and then gestured for Lou to continue.
“When Baxter doesn’t hear from his friend, Willard, for a while, he comes to Simpson to investigate.” Lou frowned. “Ellie, this part gets a little confusing. Would you mind taking over?”
Ellie’s laugh was a little shaky. “Sure, although I don’t know if I can make it any less confusing. My dad called me out of the blue one night and told me that someone was after him, so he was headed to my grandpa’s old cabin to hide. I didn’t take him seriously about the someone’s-after-him part, but I didn’t want him wandering around the mountains alone, so I went searching. It ended up that two men were trying to kill him—Anderson King and his…uh, his brother.” She ducked her head for a moment, her expression tight with what looked like sadness and guilt. Before Daisy could ask Ellie what was wrong, she continued. “They are—were—local meth dealers who were informed by someone else that Dad had witnessed a sale. I overheard Dad saying the informant had lied to the dealers, sending them after him because Dad knew this person had killed Willard.”
“Chris really has been holding out on me,” Daisy breathed, trying to take in the story. All this had been happening while she was shut up in the house, unaware of the drama. Frustration surged through her, surprising her with its strength. She wished so badly to be normal, to be able to grocery shop and visit someone else’s house and follow the local gossip and date…
Shutting the mental door on the unexpected flood of self-pity, she refocused on Ellie. “What happened?”