Read Defiled: The Sequel to Nailed Featuring John Tall Wolf (A Ron Ketchum Mystery Book 2) for Free Online Page A

homicidal maniacs revered their eccentricities, Ron had never heard that one before. But if you thought about it …
    “No urine, feces or blood,” he said. “Looks like the guy could have a signature.”
    “Might be a hemophobe,” Tall Wolf offered. “Maybe avoids all the nasty stuff.”
    “Yeah, could be. If there are other killings like this on record, we ought to be able to find them and make comparisons.”
    “You agree this is a professional hit?” Tall Wolf asked.
    “A pro with a kink or twelve, yeah.”
    Tall Wolf inclined his head at Tibbot and asked, “This man have any enemies you know of?”
    Ron’s mind returned to the first suspect he’d considered, Clay Steadman.
    John Tall Wolf saw the grimace on the chief’s face. “If it’s as bad as all that, I’ll leave it to you to handle.”
    “Yeah, I have to.”
    “You want me around when you talk to the housekeeper?”
    Glynnis Crowther was waiting for Ron in a patrol unit outside.
    “Yeah, but don’t say anything, okay? Just watch.”
    Special Agent Tall Wolf nodded.
     
    Ron fetched Glynnis Crowther from the patrol unit and sat across a circular glass-topped table from her. They were on Hale Tibbot’s patio. The view of Lake Adeline and the mountains behind the opposite shoreline deserved a happier topic of conversation, but working cops more often dealt with life’s blunt force traumas.
    Shootings, slashings and puncture wounds, too.
    As it was, Glynnis got in the first question.
    “Who’s he?” she asked.
    A tall man with a copper complexion wearing sunglasses was bound to attract notice. John Tall Wolf had positioned himself just aft of Ron’s right shoulder. He remained on his feet, looking down at Glynnis, not saying a word. Ron had set the stage. Not exactly good cop, bad cop but Tall Wolf was an imposing presence. The chief felt Ms. Crowther, an unknown quantity to him, would be more forthcoming with Tall Wolf looming over her than if she faced a solitary, seated local copper.
    “He’s a federal agent,” Ron said.
    Ron left it at that, feeling Glynnis was unlikely to guess said agent was from the Bureau of Indian Affairs.
    She glanced up at Tall Wolf, then turned to Ron.
    “I don’t know anything, really.”
    “How long have you worked for Mr. Tibbot?”
    “Four years, would have been next month.”
    “Your responsibilities were?”
    “In old-fashioned terms, I was his housekeeper.”
    “And in contemporary terms?”
    “I managed the house. It wasn’t just a matter of keeping it clean. I hired and oversaw the household staff and the tradespeople who came in as necessary.”
    “Plumbers, electricians, like that?”
    “Yes.”
    “Groundskeepers?” Ron asked.
    “Yes.”
    “How about catering or party-planning, did you oversee that?”
    “No.”
    Glynnis Crowther’s cold tone said she could have handled those responsibilities well, if only they’d been entrusted to her. With an air of resentment, she gave Ron the name and phone number of the woman to whom the glittering moments of Tibbot’s life had been bestowed. One Meghan Grace.
    “How about security for the house,” Ron asked, “was that your responsibility, too.”
    “Yes.” A sense of pride returned to Glynnis Crowther.
    Ron got the name of the security company. Pinnacle.
    You lived in the mountains, people liked to remind you of the elevation.
    Pinnacle, Ron knew, had cornered the market on high-end residential security in Goldstrike. They’d earned it. They were pros. Their employees had all their references double checked, going back to high school. They were bonded. The company’s electronics were the newest technologies available.
    Pinnacle was also the company that protected Clay Steadman’s house.
    Glynnis Crowther could not be faulted for choosing that security company.
    Still, one thing bothered Ron.
    “Did you work yesterday, Ms. Crowther?”
    “I have Sundays off.”
    “Saturday then.”
    “Nine until noon.”
    “Pinnacle, as I