“How do you know Fox reported back?”
“Pfft. How else is he going to get out of telling Jones where I am? He can’t just tell him he’s surfing in San Diego. Anyway, they sent another hitman out to get me, or Fox, or both of us. That guy definitely reported back.”
“Flavia! I don’t think you should go back on that plane!”
“It’s all right. I’m sure Randy Blankenship will be waiting for me.” I sighed heavily. “Besides, I hate to give up all my cloning research there. It’s pretty fascinating, the wild world of marijuana.”
Shelda stood too. “But you have to give it up.”
“I guess so. Hate to, though. Like I hate to go now.”
It wrenched my heart to have to leave Shelda and Monstro. I put one foot in front of the other as I willed myself to get into the back of the taxi. I was drunk and it only served to remind me of that Blue Nun incident. The taxi driver had red hair. Everything, it seemed, reminded me of Fox Isherwood.
Of course I couldn’t sleep on the plane. I’d never been able to do that. And there was a layover in Denver where I had to get out and switch planes. Whatever happened to the days of nonstop flights? I grabbed an egg and hash brown burrito that I wolfed down, then I stared at my darkened phone. I glanced around as if someone would be following me in Denver. When I turned the phone on, my heart actually flip-flopped with nerves.
Ignoring the voicemails and texts, I quickly went to internet and googled Travis McShane Taos. What I read would’ve knocked me to the floor if I hadn’t already been sitting.
The Taos News reported in 2014 that
Lawyer for the District Attorney’s office, Travis McShane, 33, has allegedly jumped bail on his manslaughter charge. McShane has been indicted with first degree manslaughter in the murder of Ben Kightlinger, 31. McShane’s wife Lola reported the attorney as missing the morning of June 21, saying he’d driven off the night before and never returned. Bail had been set at $500,000.
McShane had been indicted in January for the murder after what appeared to be a duelling incident left Kightlinger for dead in the backyard of his White Lane, Taos home.
With shaking hands I googled for more on this Kightlinger affair. Earlier articles shed more light on the duel. It appeared that Travis McShane did not try to run from charges that he’d shot Kightlinger, who was found with a pistol in his own hand, shot through the forehead. There seemed to be some intimation that Kightlinger had been screwing around with Lola McShane, so the charges were reduced to manslaughter. But no one could avoid the reality that McShane had actually done the deed—that wasn’t in question. Yet his wife seemed bitter after he ran.
“I’m not surprised Travis ran,” reported Mrs. McShane. “He’s been under tremendous pressure since the incident. He can’t stop blaming himself for committing such a heinous crime.” That didn’t sound terribly supportive of Mrs. McShane. And then there was the tidbit buried way down in a very short article after Lola reported Travis missing. Mrs. McShane reported no news in the affair from her White Lane, Taos home.
So after losing her husband several times over and in more ways than one, she’d apparently taken up residence in the dead guy’s home?
I couldn’t wrap my head around the entire thing. A bunch more google hits had Travis McShane defending various scumbags around town, hang gliding off some cliffs, going to fundraisers for societies against child abuse and for the arts, and even guest DJing on the local radio station. It seemed he was a regular member of society until the Kightlinger incident.
And he’d given me his real name.
My tired, half-drunk brain couldn’t put these pieces together. Too soon it was time to board the plane for Phoenix and I had to put the phone in airplane mode again. If Randy Blankenship had pinged my location, I wouldn’t be there for long.
I kept sighing heavily as I looked out the window at the rising sun. The guy next to me must’ve thought I was in mourning or coming down off some drugs. I wasn’t really shocked that Fox had been married. He was too big of a catch not to be. A hunky DA who defended the indigent and looked suave as hell in a tux? Of course he was married. I was relieved, though, there was no mention of any children.
And it was evident he’d loved Lola passionately to challenge this Kightlinger to a duel. Kightlinger was a fellow attorney in private practice downtown. I judged from satellite mapping his Taos home that he defended the rich. His website said he specialized in criminal, tax, and insurance law.