she was supposed to be seen and not heard on this outing. When the woman shook her head, the detective said only, “Wait here. I’ll send someone over right away.”
Bixby’s voice was plaintive as Nate walked away. “But why? I really gotta get to work.”
Following a hunch she didn’t question, Risa stayed behind. “It’s in case they find hair on the scene. They need a sample from your dog, so they can eliminate it in the identification process.”
“I didn’t let Buster get close enough for there to be any of his hair on that . . . thing.” If Bixby didn’t seemed resigned to waiting, the dog did. It flopped down on its belly, drooling copiously.
Risa shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and gave the woman a knowing smile. “So what time were you supposed to meet him?”
“Who?” Heather frowned.
“The guy you were planning to meet this morning. What time did you have scheduled?”
She had the woman’s attention now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I said I didn’t see anyone. You heard me tell that to the detective, right?”
“But you were lying. Or least not telling the whole story.” Risa squatted down on her haunches and offered the dog her hand to sniff. “If you left the house at five, you would have had to get up shortly after four. Because first you showered, dressed, put on makeup before taking the dog out to a place you had to know would be a bit messy.” She nodded at the woman’s attire. Her sneakers were muddy, as was the hem of her tight jeans. “You’re not a runner, at least not today. You aren’t dressed for it.”
“Jesus, I got ready for work first, okay?” Bixby folded her arms over her ample chest.
“You said.” Risa nodded. “Dressed and ready to go three hours before your shift. Stacy’s Diner is only a few miles from here. Walking the dog for thirty minutes still has you back home at five thirty, two and a half hours before your shift begins. Plenty of time to sleep in for another hour or two and wait for daylight. So I’ll ask you again, who were you meeting here?”
The woman smirked. “Can tell you’re no cop. Your detective skills suck. And I know when a person is just fishing. So go to hell.”
Buster was much friendlier than his owner. He gave her hand a lick and Risa stroked his massive head. “No problem. What time does your husband go to work? Maybe I’ll have better luck fishing with him.” She didn’t relish the flicker of panic on the woman’s face, but she’d also never been fond of being lied to.
“There’s no reason to bother Frank. He drives all night and needs some rest before going on the road again.”
Rising, she contemplated the other woman. “Then don’t make me.”
Moistening her lips, Heather said, “He never even showed up. We were supposed to meet but he was running late. I called him when I found . . . that. He said call nine-one-one but he turned around and went home.”
Instincts she’d thought lost and buried were humming now. “Because he didn’t want to be around when police showed up.”
“It’s not like that.” But she could tell from Bixby’s expression it was exactly like that. “He’s still on parole. Just a misunderstanding,” she hastened to explain. “He used some of the company’s money for a couple weeks, and even though he put it back later, when the head of accounting figured it out, they nailed him on it. Bastards cost him two years in prison.”
Risa didn’t point out that two years was practically a gift for embezzlement charges. “His name.”
Heather’s mouth set in mutinous lines. “That’s all I’m going to say. I don’t want to jam him up. He wasn’t even here and doesn’t know anything about this.”
“Your husband is Frank Bixby, right? On Kellogg Street?” Risa turned away. “Thanks for your time.”
“Wait!”
When Risa faced her again, the woman was staring at her with open dislike. “You’re a real bitch, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
After several moments obviously spent waging an internal war with herself, Bixby finally said, “His name is Sam Crowley. But I swear, if you make trouble for him, I’ll hunt you down and kick your ass.” She smiled thinly. “I can be a bitch, too.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
It had been far easier, Risa thought grimly, as she approached the crime scene, to play Bixby than it was to force herself closer to