Callie's Cowboy by Karen Leabo

“If I hear or notice anything, I’ll give you a call.”
    â€œThat’s all we’re asking.” Sloan sounded relieved.
    â€œDo you have any, um, suspects in mind? Anyone you think might benefit from Johnny’s death?”
    â€œOhhhh, yeah. With that million-dollar life-insurance policy, anyone in that family. Beverly Sanger is about to be a very rich woman, and I can’t imagine that she won’t share with her kin.”
    â€œAt least Beverly will be taken care of,” Callie murmured. “Oh, speaking of suicide, the policy was sitting right out on Johnny’s desk, right?”
    â€œUh-huh. Mighty convenient evidence of a suicide motive.”
    Again Sloan had made Callie’s point for her. He was a sharp one.
    â€œLook,” he said, “I won’t keep you. I’m supposed to be out on patrol. Just wanted to drop that bug in your ear.”
    â€œIf something falls in my lap, I’ll clue you in,” she said, just to be sure they were clear. “But I won’t go digging around unless I have something more to go on—mostly because the Sangers are friends, and I can’t take advantage of that.”
    â€œUnderstood. Thanks, Callie.”
    Callie hung up and looked at the clock again. Hell, she was going to be late to the city council meeting, something that really irritated her boss, who no doubt would also be there because he liked to see and be seen. She’d overslept, big time. She could thank Sam for that.
    She opened the door to the little balcony off her bedroom. It was hard to know how to dress this time of year, but the breeze that caressed her naked body felt pretty warm for a late-October morning. She showered, threw on some cotton slacks and a long-sleeved striped blouse, then, still barefoot, grabbed a pair of socks and her makeup case and ran down the stairs to the garage. She was pretty sure she had some loafers in the trunk of her car.
    During the ten-minute drive to the municipal building, where the council met, she finally had time to ruminate on Sloan’s phone call. If someone in Sam’s family was guilty of murder, it would have to be Will, wouldn’t it? Beverly and Tamra had gone to the store togetherand had found Johnny’s body when they returned. Will, on the other hand, had been close by, working in the fields. He could have done the deed while Beverly and Tamra were gone.
    Callie didn’t consider Sam, because even if she hadn’t known he was incapable of violence, he’d been in Nevada at the time. He would have had to hire someone.… Okay, her cool reporter’s brain said that was possible. Maybe the farm was more of a financial drain on his own operation than she’d imagined.
    â€œOh, come off it,” she murmured.
    Will’s little wife was a more likely suspect than Sam, and Callie couldn’t imagine Tamra having the strength to lift a shotgun, much less wrestle it into Johnny’s hands and force him to shoot himself—which is what would have had to happen.
    The idea of Beverly killing her husband for the insurance was ludicrous. Callie didn’t waste her time considering it. In fact, she decided, all this talk of murder was ridiculous. She pushed thoughts of the matter aside. The council was going to discuss a new proposed zoning ordinance, and she was woefully unprepared.
    After parking illegally in the overflowing parking lot, praying she wouldn’t get a ticket, Callie discovered she didn’t have any shoes, not even sneakers, in her car. Damn, damn, damn. She’d never covered a story with bare feet, but there was a first time for everything.
    The proceedings had already started by the time she made it inside the building. She grabbed the first empty chair she saw and sat down. She slapped a fresh tape into her recorder and pushed the record button.
    Within moments someone sat down next to her.Callie scooted over a bit to give the newcomer room.