Loose Screw (Dusty Deals Mystery) by Lori Devoti, Rae Davies Page B

time. —Charlie Brown.
    Seemed like as good of a life philosophy as any.
    It was 11 a.m. Which meant I had six hours, if I skipped lunch (not likely), to find out anything new and news worthy (not always the same thing). If I was lucky, I could wrap this thing up today and get Ted out of my life for good.
    With that golden motivation in mind, I got to work.
    First, I needed to follow up on what the TV news had reported this morning. That meant a visit or call to the police station. I decided to try the phone first. Maybe George would answer. He would probably be willing to leak a few details if it wasn’t obvious he was talking to “the press.”
    My luck was turning; George was back on phone duty.
     “You haven’t found another body have you?”
    “Not yet.” I stammered for a moment. “I... uh... I... .”
     “Lucy?” Concern and confusion, quickly followed by suspicion. “Why’d you call?”
    I hesitated for a moment, but I couldn’t lie to George. Besides, working for the paper should be a mark in my favor. “I’m helping the Daily News out.”
    I could almost hear George weighing what he should say next. “Well, I’m not too surprised. Marcy wouldn’t have the sense to run with an avalanche on her tail.” He inhaled loudly. “Hold on a sec, will ya?”
    Silence filled the other end of the line. I guess the Helena Police couldn’t afford Muzac.
    “Had to change phones. You called on the line we record.”
    I adjusted my weight in my seat.
    This was it. George was going to spill everything, I was going to write the story of the year, and Ted would take back every nasty unfair thing he’d said about me.
    Or not . 
    “I can’t believe you went back to work for Ted. What were you thinking?”
    Great, a lecture.
    “I... .” I had nothing. No explanation, no excuse.
    “You need the money?” Understanding. “That shop can’t be making you much.”
    He was right. It wasn’t, but, of course, I hadn’t been making much at the paper either. “It isn’t,” I replied, forlorn.
    He sighed. “Well, if you need the work... ” Almost a question, but not quite. I felt no compulsion to answer. Finally, he sighed again.  “You didn’t hear any of this from me, right?”
    I sat up a little straighter. Why did I leave this job? It is so easy. “Right.”
     “Seems this Crandell had just made a big purchase at that auction this weekend.”
     “He bought the medicine man outfit,” I confirmed.
    “That’s it. Well, part of it is missing.”
    My heart raced a little. Denton Deere’s medicine man outfit missing. I felt sick.
    “His luggage was in the car. He checked out of his hotel around 3:30, but the only signs of this ‘outfit’ he’d bought were a few feathers and some kind of dried up rodent on a string.”
    “You mean the dried weasel?”
    “I guess that’s what it is. Looks more like a turd on a rope to me.” George chuckled.
    I pulled an old reporter’s notebook out of my lap drawer and flipped it open. “Do you think the rest of it was stolen?”
    “We don’t know for sure. He could have dropped the rest off somewhere before he got killed, or he could have had it with him and the killer took it.”
    “So his clothes were there...  was anything else missing?” I picked up a pen and made a few notations on the pad. Getting information out of George was almost as easy as getting it out of Rhonda. I really should have played the starving reporter thing earlier.
    “Just his car keys. They weren’t on the body, and we scoured the area around him and his car.”
    That was interesting.
    I thanked him and prepared to hang up.
    “Lucy?”
    I paused.
    “Watch out for Blake. He’s on the war path with this one.”
    “Oh.” My earlier nausea returned. “Where is he?”
    “He’s out talking to some couple that was at the auction. They bid against the victim. They were due to leave Helena this morning. Last I heard he was still at their hotel.” I heard muffled sounds as