Third Grave Dead Ahead
Page 69
I assumed Eric was one of his gang members. Obviously one of the smarter ones.
“I’ll be there. I promise. Will you let me know if anything happens to her?”
“Sure.” He hung up without further ado. Why would anyone do such a thing? My heart broke. I could almost feel the guy’s pain through the phone connection, which would be a first.
I swung by for a mocha latte, then pointed Misery south when Garrett called. I almost didn’t answer, but he’d only call back.
“Where we headed, Charles?” he asked, a grin in his voice.
“Nova Scotia.”
“Looks like we’re headed back out to Corona. You really liked that burger, didn’t you?”
“Farley Scanlon was murdered last night.”
“Damn, you get around.”
“The sheriff’s office wants to talk to us.”
“Can a sheriff’s office really talk?” he asked, stepping up his game. He’d have to if he wanted to keep up with the likes of me.
“Good-bye, Swopes.”
“Wait, where were we?”
I made sure the sigh of annoyance I exhaled was blatant enough, even a child could understand. “Is that a trick question?
“Oh, right, number two. Ready?”
Of course, the list of things one should never say to a grim reaper. I blew out another breath for good measure. “Hit me.”
“This relationship will be the death of me.”
“Okeydokey,” I said before hanging up. Freak.
I called Uncle Bob on the way to fill him in on the situation. “I have to be honest with you,” I said when he answered, “I’m not sure you’ll ever get a woman with that haircut you insist on sporting.”
“Is that why you called?” he asked, only slightly miffed.
“Pretty much. And I might be charged with murder. Just wanted to let you know.”
“You murdered someone?”
Why do people always assume the worst? “No, I might be accused of murder. Big difference, Ubie.”
“Oh, how’s the missing wife case?”
“It’s there and yet nowhere. The guy won’t leave his danged house.”
“What can I do?”
“You can call Cookie. She’s swamped, trying to get information. We need to know where all his property holdings are. He could have Teresa held hostage somewhere. Also, I’d like to know what happened to Xander Pope’s daughter. Find out if she’s okay.”
“Xander Pope?”
“Yes. Yost could have hurt her.”
“In what way?”
“No idea. That’s why I have Cookie checking into it.”
“I’ll look into it and give Cookie a call. Does this murder rap have anything to do with an escaped convict named Reyes Farrow?”
“It does,” I said after taking a big swig of the mocha latte. “I think Earl Walker did it. He’s still alive, Uncle Bob, and he’s tying up loose ends. He killed his girlfriend shortly after Reyes’s trial, and now he’s after everyone else who might know he’s alive. Can you get someone over to Virgil Gibbs’s apartment?” Gibbs was the other name on Reyes’s list, the man I’d visited before I went to see Farley Scanlon in Corona. “He could be next, and while he’s not the most productive member of society, he doesn’t deserve to get his throat cut.”
“Walker’s going around cutting throats?” Ubie asked, alarmed. “Is Swopes still with you?”
I glanced in my rearview at the huge black truck behind me—Garrett was clearly overcompensating—and said “Yes” in the tersest voice I could muster, considering my lack of sleep.
“Good. Keep him close. I’ll get a uniform over to Gibbs’s apartment to check on him. You know what this means, don’t you?”
I was busy dodging a flock of suicidal birds. I swerved and ducked behind the steering wheel, because that would help. “Not really. What?”
“It means I put an innocent man behind bars ten years ago.” His voice had changed, become despondent.
“Uncle Bob, you thought he was guilty. I read the reports and the court transcripts. Anyone would have done the same.”
“He didn’t … I didn’t listen to him, to what he was trying to tell me. He was just a kid.”
My heart contracted at the image that popped into my mind. Reyes at twenty, accused of murder, all alone with no friends, no relatives, no one to turn to. He’d forbidden the only person in his life—his sister, Kim—from seeing him. And he sat there in jail, waiting to be put on trial for a murder he clearly didn’t commit. Where was a time machine when I needed one? But now we could put this right. We had to. “We have a chance to redeem that mistake, Uncle Bob.”
After a long silence, he said, “How do you pay back ten years, Charley?”
My heart broke at the guilt in his voice. I was actually surprised by it. He’d done his job. No one would deny that. Unless he knew more than he was letting on. Surely not. “Earl Walker is apparently really good at covering his tracks. No one will blame you for this.”
He scoffed. “Reyes Farrow will.”
Yes, I supposed he would. I could just imagine my uncle Bob drilling him for information in an interrogation room as he sat there cuffed, stewing in anger and confusion. “What was he like?” I asked Ubie before really thinking about the question, what it might do to him.
“I’ll be there. I promise. Will you let me know if anything happens to her?”
“Sure.” He hung up without further ado. Why would anyone do such a thing? My heart broke. I could almost feel the guy’s pain through the phone connection, which would be a first.
I swung by for a mocha latte, then pointed Misery south when Garrett called. I almost didn’t answer, but he’d only call back.
“Where we headed, Charles?” he asked, a grin in his voice.
“Nova Scotia.”
“Looks like we’re headed back out to Corona. You really liked that burger, didn’t you?”
“Farley Scanlon was murdered last night.”
“Damn, you get around.”
“The sheriff’s office wants to talk to us.”
“Can a sheriff’s office really talk?” he asked, stepping up his game. He’d have to if he wanted to keep up with the likes of me.
“Good-bye, Swopes.”
“Wait, where were we?”
I made sure the sigh of annoyance I exhaled was blatant enough, even a child could understand. “Is that a trick question?
“Oh, right, number two. Ready?”
Of course, the list of things one should never say to a grim reaper. I blew out another breath for good measure. “Hit me.”
“This relationship will be the death of me.”
“Okeydokey,” I said before hanging up. Freak.
I called Uncle Bob on the way to fill him in on the situation. “I have to be honest with you,” I said when he answered, “I’m not sure you’ll ever get a woman with that haircut you insist on sporting.”
“Is that why you called?” he asked, only slightly miffed.
“Pretty much. And I might be charged with murder. Just wanted to let you know.”
“You murdered someone?”
Why do people always assume the worst? “No, I might be accused of murder. Big difference, Ubie.”
“Oh, how’s the missing wife case?”
“It’s there and yet nowhere. The guy won’t leave his danged house.”
“What can I do?”
“You can call Cookie. She’s swamped, trying to get information. We need to know where all his property holdings are. He could have Teresa held hostage somewhere. Also, I’d like to know what happened to Xander Pope’s daughter. Find out if she’s okay.”
“Xander Pope?”
“Yes. Yost could have hurt her.”
“In what way?”
“No idea. That’s why I have Cookie checking into it.”
“I’ll look into it and give Cookie a call. Does this murder rap have anything to do with an escaped convict named Reyes Farrow?”
“It does,” I said after taking a big swig of the mocha latte. “I think Earl Walker did it. He’s still alive, Uncle Bob, and he’s tying up loose ends. He killed his girlfriend shortly after Reyes’s trial, and now he’s after everyone else who might know he’s alive. Can you get someone over to Virgil Gibbs’s apartment?” Gibbs was the other name on Reyes’s list, the man I’d visited before I went to see Farley Scanlon in Corona. “He could be next, and while he’s not the most productive member of society, he doesn’t deserve to get his throat cut.”
“Walker’s going around cutting throats?” Ubie asked, alarmed. “Is Swopes still with you?”
I glanced in my rearview at the huge black truck behind me—Garrett was clearly overcompensating—and said “Yes” in the tersest voice I could muster, considering my lack of sleep.
“Good. Keep him close. I’ll get a uniform over to Gibbs’s apartment to check on him. You know what this means, don’t you?”
I was busy dodging a flock of suicidal birds. I swerved and ducked behind the steering wheel, because that would help. “Not really. What?”
“It means I put an innocent man behind bars ten years ago.” His voice had changed, become despondent.
“Uncle Bob, you thought he was guilty. I read the reports and the court transcripts. Anyone would have done the same.”
“He didn’t … I didn’t listen to him, to what he was trying to tell me. He was just a kid.”
My heart contracted at the image that popped into my mind. Reyes at twenty, accused of murder, all alone with no friends, no relatives, no one to turn to. He’d forbidden the only person in his life—his sister, Kim—from seeing him. And he sat there in jail, waiting to be put on trial for a murder he clearly didn’t commit. Where was a time machine when I needed one? But now we could put this right. We had to. “We have a chance to redeem that mistake, Uncle Bob.”
After a long silence, he said, “How do you pay back ten years, Charley?”
My heart broke at the guilt in his voice. I was actually surprised by it. He’d done his job. No one would deny that. Unless he knew more than he was letting on. Surely not. “Earl Walker is apparently really good at covering his tracks. No one will blame you for this.”
He scoffed. “Reyes Farrow will.”
Yes, I supposed he would. I could just imagine my uncle Bob drilling him for information in an interrogation room as he sat there cuffed, stewing in anger and confusion. “What was he like?” I asked Ubie before really thinking about the question, what it might do to him.
