Mattie retrieved a notebook from her pocket to jot down what he’d said. That fact would be easy enough to check.
“Were you participating in the rodeo?” Stella asked.
He glanced away and then back, narrowing his eyes. “We were entered, but we didn’t make it on time to check in.”
And there goes his alibi. Mattie’s pulse quickened with that bit of information.
Stella paused for a moment. “Was there someone you met there or someone in the crowd who could confirm you were present?”
“My buddies can confirm it.”
“Do you have receipts from your trip?”
“I don’t keep receipts.”
None of this would lead to establishing an alibi for the possible dates that Willie had been killed.
Stella switched direction of the interview. “You still have California plates on your truck. How long have you lived here in Hightower?”
“A few months.”
“Where did you live in California?”
“Bakersfield. I told all this to the guy at the sheriff’s station.”
“Do you have any friends, family, or acquaintances in the Hollywood or Los Angeles area?”
He studied Stella, a perplexed look on his face. “No.”
“Not anyone in that whole city, huh? Do you know or have you ever heard of a man named William Cobb?”
He gestured toward Mattie. “Any relation to her?”
“Just answer the question.”
He ground his boot into the dirt, looking down at his feet. “No, I never heard of a William Cobb.”
That looked like deceptive behavior, and Mattie wondered if he was telling the truth.
“Do you hunt wild game, Mr. Galloway?” Stella asked.
He pretended to startle at the change in subject, holding up his hand. “What’s that got to do with anything? Oh I know, I know, just answer the question. I do like to hunt—deer and antelope—and I plan to this fall.”
“What’s your gun of choice for hunting?”
“I use my Remington.”
“And the ammo?”
He threw her an impatient look. “I use a .300 Winchester Short Magnum.”
Not the same round used on the ram, Mattie thought.
“One of the guns listed on your arrest report is a Winchester 70 rifle. Do you use it to hunt?” Stella asked.
“Not usually. It’s a varmint gun. I want something with more power for big game.”
“But you carry it with you.”
He shrugged. “It was already in the truck.”
“I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Galloway. I need to know where you went last Sunday after you were released from the sheriff’s station?”
“We came straight home, of course.” He raised his hands slightly, palms up. “You and your people threw a wrench into our plans. Delayed us getting back.”
Stella continued in a pleasant manner, refusing to rise to the bait despite Galloway’s sour expression. “Just one more thing. What ammo do you use in your Winchester 70 rifle?”
He crossed his arms. “Why do you want to know?”
“Curiosity.”
Mattie could tell that he was starting to shut down even a semblance of cooperation.
He took a step back. “Look, I’ve answered your questions, but I’m done with this now.”
“Could I see your rifle, Mr. Galloway?” Stella asked.
“No, I’m done. If you come back, you’d better have a warrant. Because otherwise, I’m not letting you on my property.” He turned and strode toward the barn.
“Sorry you feel that way, Mr. Galloway. We’ll leave now,” Stella said to his back.
They retreated to the Explorer.
Mattie felt more positive about this interview. Maybe it would lead somewhere. “No alibi for Willie’s dates, deceptive behavior when you asked him about knowing Willie, and he seemed pretty sensitive about that Winchester.”
“Maybe.” Stella looked dubious. “Or maybe just fed up with me and my questions. I’ll check out that rodeo in Dodge City for a start. We can’t get a warrant yet, but if the casing doesn’t match Lovejoy’s Winchester, we might team up with the Wildlife Department and see if we can get our hands on Galloway’s gun for testing.”
Feeling like they’d made a tiny bit of progress, Mattie started the engine, turned onto the highway, and headed back toward Timber Creek.
Stella took out her cell phone. “I’ll check in with Sheriff McCoy and see if he connected with Tucker York.”
Mattie kept an eye on Robo in the rearview mirror while she listened to Stella’s side of the conversation. At first, he was sitting up front staring out the windshield, but then he yawned, circled, and plopped onto his cushion, content to settle in for the ride.
Stella disconnected her call. “This is our lucky day. Tucker York is on his way down to Timber Creek from Denver, and he’ll meet with us at the station this afternoon.”
“Do you know if this was a scheduled trip? Why is he coming back to Timber Creek so soon?”
“Apparently he’s concerned about the ram shooting, and he’s touching base with Ed Lovejoy about it.”
“You’d think he could’ve done that by phone.”
Stella paused to consider it. “Do you think it’s suspicious that he’s coming back here for this?”
“Actually, I don’t know what to think.”
Back in her office, Mattie filled a water dish for Robo, settled him onto his cushion, and sat down at her computer. She took out her spiral notebook and flipped the pages to retrieve the name of the rodeo Galloway had mentioned. Stella would be doing the exact same thing, but Mattie didn’t want to wait.
The search results listed the rodeo at the top, and by following the link she learned that it actually did exist, and had run from last Wednesday through Sunday. It was possible that Galloway had told the truth about attending it. That didn’t clear him for the ram shooting, but it could give him an alibi for Willie’s death if he could prove he’d been there.
She decided to leave it up to Stella, and turned a couple pages back in her notebook to find a phone number for Joseph Quintana, Willie’s boss. She hoped that connecting with one of Willie’s friends would uncover something useful. She used her own cell phone instead of a department line to make the call.
Someone with a gruff voice answered after the first ring. “Joe’s Auto Repair.”
“Could I speak to Joseph Quintana, please?”
“That’s me.”
“Mr. Quintana, this is Mattie Cobb. I’m William Cobb’s sister.”
The gruff tone immediately turned sympathetic. “Oh, Will’s sister? I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good guy.”
The detached facade she’d built up throughout the morning cracked around the edges, and she swallowed against a lump in her throat. “It’s a comfort to know you thought well of him. So he was doing a good job working for you?”
“He knew his way around a car engine. We’re going to miss him.”
Mattie had already decided what her strategy would be, but a quiver in her voice that she couldn’t control had not been part of it. “Mr. Quintana, I’m hoping to talk to one of William’s friends, someone who knew him well. You see, we were separated as kids and had just recently found each other again. We didn’t have a chance to get together in person before he was killed.”
“Oh, man.” His voice was filled with compassion. “That’s awful. Let me see—Carlos might be the one you should talk to. But one problem, he only speaks Spanish.”
“That’s not a problem for me. I speak it, too.”
“Let me get him on the phone.”
Mattie waited, trying to regain her composure. She wanted a lead that would help her with the case, but at the same time, she feared that she might learn something about Willie that would be disappointing or even hurtful. What if he had returned to the drug scene? What if she found out something about him that was even worse?