Heart of Gold - B.J. Daniels Page 0,47
hadn’t worked out, and she’d fallen into administrative jobs until she went to work for Greg Shafer at a design company in Colorado as an office manager.
There was much less information available on Greg Shafer. He appeared to be a self-made man, majoring in design at Colorado State, opening his first company right out of college. By Shep’s count, the Bozeman design company was his fourth. On paper, he appeared to be a successful man. The kind a woman would be attracted to, maybe especially a woman like Amanda.
Shep looked up the restaurant where Charlie had been served chocolate mousse. The call went through. He inquired about anyone calling in to say the mousse had made them sick. A woman assured him that they’d had no report of anyone getting sick.
Placing another call, this one to Paul Wagner, the man who had lived down the street from Charlie fifteen years ago, Shep’s mind buzzed with worry about her. Someone had doctored her mousse. If not Amanda, then who did that leave?
A thin elderly voice answered the call. “Hello?”
Shep introduced himself and then said, “I need to talk to you about the murder of Lindy Parker. Do you mind if I come over?”
“I’ll be here,” Wagner said and Shep headed for his pickup.
Like Edna Trenton, Paul Wagner still lived in the same house he had fifteen years ago. Having an unsolved murder just doors away hadn’t seemed to worry either of them. Probably because most everyone believed the killer had been a vagrant passing through town. Except for Mulvane. And possibly Kat Ramsey.
The farmhouse back off the street had seen better days. It looked odd with all the new development around it. Bozeman had always been a desirable city to live in, hitting a lot of the Ten Best Places to Live lists over the years. Recently the city had taken off again with home prices shooting skyward.
Shep wondered why Wagner hadn’t cashed in yet. His large piece of property was worth a small fortune.
A mangy mutt of a dog limped out, barking as Shep parked and started to get out. The dog began to growl in warning.
“Bruce!” a man called from the sagging farmhouse porch. “Knock it off!” The dog skulked away and Shep got out onto the unplowed drive.
“Paul Wagner?” he asked. The man was small and wiry with a shock of white hair and a scraggly beard that dropped clear to his protruding belly.
The man leaned on his walker, craning his neck to look at Shep. “Who’s asking?”
“My name’s Shepherd, Westly Shepherd. I called earlier. I’m looking into the murder of Lindy Parker.” The man’s brown eyes took him in as Shep climbed the steps to the porch. “It happened fifteen years ago in that old Victorian that used to be down the road from here.”
“So you’re the one who called. Wondered when you’d be getting around to me. Heard you were asking questions around the neighborhood. Best come inside,” Wagner said, and he opened the door and led the way in.
As Shep followed the man, he realized that time and possibly disease had whittled the man down to just the potbelly.
“Pay no attention to the mess,” Wagner said as he slid his walker along the worn wood floor. “I live alone and I’m used to it. It’s my mess, as I keep telling my well-meaning stepsons who want me to tidy up. Well, the ones who bother to visit, that is.”
Shep followed him into the small living area. It was a mess, cluttered with newspapers and magazines and books piled everywhere.
“You’re a reader,” Shep said, noticing the books that took up most of the wall space as well as the floor. “I’ve read a lot of these.”
“Takes a reader to appreciate another,” the man said as he carefully lowered himself into a well-worn recliner. He motioned for Shep to take a nearby chair.
But Shep had gotten distracted by a framed newspaper article on the wall titled “Local Hero Saves Girl’s Life.” A nine-year-old girl had fallen into a pond near Wagner’s house. He had jumped in when he realized she didn’t know how to swim and dragged her out to save her life.
“That was right before the murder,” the man said. “Back when I was capable of saving someone. Not much hero left in me.”
Shep took the chair he’d been offered. “Did you know the Farmington family?”
Wagner shook his head. “Never met ’em. Just saw ’em coming and goin’.”
“I’m sure the police already asked you this fifteen