The Monuments Men Murders (The Art of Murder 4)

For a moment Jason was so enraged, he considered tackling the guy and beating him with his own camera. And it must have shown on his face because the reporter stepped back, spreading his arms like all’s fair in love and news, right?

And yeah, that was right, but Jason still wanted to kill him, not least because for one shocked instant, he had thought something very different was happening. He had not been ready for it, which scared him a little.

He had to stay ready. Kyser could come at him again at any time.

No harm, no foul. This had not been Kyser, this had not been that moment, but whether today’s photo op had to do with yesterday’s shooting or with word leaking out about why he and Russell were in town, having his picture in the paper was a bad idea.

Shit.

He continued into the office, made his way through the mini maze of cubicles and desks and offices. It was funny how every satellite office looked basically the same. Potted plants on desks, bulletin boards with calendars showing days checked off to the next vacation, framed family photos. By now even the people in the family photos were starting to look familiar.

As he passed the conference room, he glimpsed Sam leaning back in his chair, arms folded, watching approvingly as Agent Petty drew what appeared to be astrological symbols on a whiteboard.

It did not improve his mood any.

“Good, you’re back,” J.J. greeted him when he walked into their office. “How’d it go?”

“I’m going to have to talk to him again. De Haan arrived as I was leaving.”

“De Haan? What the hell with that guy? You’re going to have to do something about him.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be the diplomatic one. And if diplomacy fails, shoo—”

J.J. cut off mid-word. They stared at each other. J.J. picked up a notepad. “Here’s what I’ve got so far on our principals. Quilletta, get this, is a former Miss Montana. That’s her second claim to fame. She’s never had any trouble with the law. She’s an administrative assistant—a well-paid administrative assistant—at the Big Sky Federal Credit Union.”

Jason nodded, only half listening. He was still rattled by the incident outside the building. He hadn’t even noticed the man lurking in the hedge. How could he not have noticed? He had to be more vigilant.

“Her first husband ran off with his high-school sweetheart. They live in Arizona now. I’ve got a call in to him. Her second husband ran off with some bimbo he met online. I guess it wasn’t just online, because he got her pregnant, from what I hear. Anyway.”

Jason looked up. “What about Bert?”

“Clean slate there too. He married late in life. His wife’s a lot younger. Same age as his niece, as a matter of fact. She was pregnant when they met. That baby grew up to be Patty, the girl Brody Stevens was trying to kill, I guess, when he shot up the Big Sky Guest Ranch.”

Jason didn’t miss that trying to kill, I guess. That was the awful truth. Brody Stevens might not have meant to kill Patty or anyone else.

He might have just been trying to get her attention. That was the trouble when you mixed guns and bozos.

“What’s Bert’s credit report say?”

“He’s a better cowboy than he is a businessman. Even with the money he inherited from his uncle, they’re underwater financially. Everything’s mortgaged to the hilt.”

“Interesting. Okay. He needs the money the sale of the art would bring.”

“Urgently.”

“What about the niece? The great-niece, I mean. Quilletta’s daughter.”

J.J. consulted his notes. “Oh. Right. Terry “Baby” Mayhew. Thirty-nine, married, a stay-at-home…housewife, I guess. She doesn’t work. No kids. Her husband, Gary, is forty and owns what appears to be a profitable garage here in town. But here’s something interesting. Gary has a record.”

Jason looked up. “He does?”

“Yep. B&E with a side of burglary. He did time. He was twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one?” Jason weighed and discarded. “He hasn’t been in trouble since?”

“He hasn’t been caught since.”