BEVERLY BARTON - The Black Widow

The minute he announced himself, he was shown into the sheriff’s office. A broad-shouldered, heavy-set man with a thick, dark mustache and military-short graying hair came from around the desk and offered Rick his hand. In his peripheral vision, Rick noticed a female officer immediately stand at attention.

Sheriff Corbett pumped Rick’s hand in a cordial, good old boy way. “Come on in, Mr. Carson, and meet Lt. McLain. I’m afraid Nolan Trumbo had a family emergency this morning. You’ll meet him later.”

They exchanged a strong cordial handshake; then Rick turned to the lieutenant. “Ma’am.”

She nodded and offered him a hint of a smile, responding in a friendly manner without being flirty. The deputy, probably in her mid-to-late thirties, filled out her uniform quite nicely, with curves in all the right places. She wore her light brown hair cut short with wispy curls framing her heart-shaped face.

“Take a seat.” Sheriff Corbett indicated a chair to the right of his desk as he sat down in his leather swivel chair behind the desk. “I’ve spoken to Ryan and assured him that this office will cooperate with the Powell Agency’s independent investigation.”

“We appreciate that,” Rick said as he lowered himself onto the metal folding chair.

“You understand that the Georgia Bureau of Investigation took over and it was their medical examiner who did the autopsy on Dan, so, in a way, my hands have been tied,” Corbett explained. “Officially, Dan’s death has been ruled a suicide, but with Ryan’s doubts and Haley here not a hundred percent convinced, I’m glad Ryan hired your outfit to dig around and see what y’all can find.”

“I’m working for Jordan Price, too,” Rick said. “She and her brother-in-law hired Powell’s.”

“Yeah, that’s what Ryan told me. He sure hated to upset Jordan so soon after the funeral.” Corbett made a clicking sound with his tongue as he shook his head. “It was hard enough for her to have to accept that Dan killed himself, but if Ryan’s right, it’s going to be even more difficult for her to know somebody murdered her husband. She’s been a pillar of strength for Ryan and Claire. I don’t know what they’d have done without her to step in and handle all the details. She’s a mighty fine lady and Dan was as lucky as a man could be to have had her for his wife.”

How could he reply to that comment? Obviously Sheriff Corbett had fallen under the Jordan Price spell. Rick glanced up at the deputy, who stood rigid and silent. “Do you agree with Ryan Price that his brother didn’t kill himself?”

She looked to the sheriff for permission to speak, and answered only after he nodded. “I have my doubts.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“The evidence points to suicide,” Lt. McLain said. “Senator Price’s right hand showed evidence of firearms residue and trace metal indicating he was holding the gun when it was fired. Also, the skin around the wound showed a powder tattoo, which indicates—”

“That the weapon was fired from no more than two feet away,” Rick completed her statement.

“That’s right.” She nodded. “The GBI ballistics lab did a test firing, and their findings, along with one other fact— that there was a contact wound and an impression of the muzzle on the senator’s head, indicating the weapon came in direct contact—suggest suicide.”

“What makes you think it wasn’t suicide?” Rick looked her right in the eye. “Nothing you’ve told me indicates that the senator’s death wasn’t—”

“You’re right,” she replied. “On the surface, the evidence points to suicide. But since this was my case, I made a point of thoroughly studying the autopsy report— even reading between the lines, if you want to call it that. A few things seemed a bit off to me, but I dismissed them as nothing but my investigator’s curiosity and possibly my imagination. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn’t let it go. So, I told Steve…uh, Sheriff Corbett and he agreed with me.”

“Exactly what seemed ‘off’ to you?” Rick asked.

“For one thing, the autopsy report showed arthritis in the senator’s hands, including the fingers of his right hand, which might have made pulling the trigger painful.”

“Painful but not impossible,” Rick said. “The evidence clearly showed that his finger pulled the trigger, right?”

“Right. He could have pulled the trigger. But there was something else—the senator’s trigger finger was broken and there was bruising on the top of his hand.”

Son of a bitch!

“You think that somebody grabbed the senator’s hand, forced the gun into it, and squeezed their hand over his hard enough to bruise his hand. And this person pressed down so hard when they forced his finger against the trigger that it broke the bones.”

“It’s all speculation,” Sheriff Corbett said. “But coupled with Ryan’s sincere conviction that his brother would never have killed himself, it’s enough to question if the senator might have had a little assistance in shooting himself.”

“The senator wasn’t a small or weak man,” Lt. McLain said. “Either he would have had to have been drugged or the person who forced the gun into his hand had to be quite strong. The autopsy showed no evidence of drugs, but I found evidence at the scene that he’d been drinking.”

“Apparently the GBI didn’t think this info was significant proof of murder or they wouldn’t have ruled the death a suicide.”

“Apparently,” Lt. McLain said. “And you do realize that it’s highly unlikely that we can prove it was murder.”

“But if we work under the assumption that it was murder and not suicide, we can look for a killer. In order to prove our theory, we will have to find the murderer and if possible, get a confession.”

“Then you believe I might be right to question the GBI’s Medical Examiner?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think there’s a good possibility you’re right and he’s wrong.”

“I know what we’ve got isn’t much,” the sheriff said, “but it’s a start. Anything you need from us, just let us know. You can contact Haley day or night while you’re on this case. She’ll be available.”

When Corbett glanced at her, Haley McLain said, “Yes, sir.” Then she looked at Rick. “Our department doesn’t have the budget or the manpower—or for that matter, the authority—to investigate further. The M.E.’s official decision was suicide, but if Powell’s can prove otherwise, then we can reopen this case.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a list of possible suspects, do you, Lieutenant?”

Haley cleared her throat. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Rick figured by the nervous way she cut her eyes toward Corbett and then cast her gaze to the floor that the deputy did have a list, even if it was just a mental tally of who might have had a reason to murder Senator Daniel Price.

“I’d like to take a look at the case files, including the autopsy report,” Rick said.

Corbett nodded. “Haley, why don’t you walk Mr. Carson out and see that he gets copies of whatever he needs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rick fell into step behind the curvy brunette, his gaze settling on the sway of her trim hips, noting how her slacks cupped her firm buttocks, not a panty line in sight. That meant one of two things: either she wasn’t wearing panties or she was wearing a thong. Either was damn sexy. And the thought intrigued him.

While they waited for the sheriff’s secretary to copy the files on the Price case, Haley offered Rick a cup of coffee, which he accepted.

“If Dan Price was murdered, who heads your suspects list?” Rick asked.

“I told you that I don’t have a—”