“Sully.”
“I wake you?”
“Nope.”
Sully was quiet then he said, “Shit, Colt, we got another one.”
Colt closed his eyes and sat up in the couch. “Talk to me.”
“Guy’s name is Butch Miller. From the history Feb gave yesterday, she’d worked at his bar years ago. Idaho Springs, Colorado. His body was found by his girlfriend. The minute it hit the system, it came up with big, honking ping. Warren and Rodman are already on a plane.”
“God dammit,” Colt swore. “I’m guessin’ it’s the same MO.”
“Down to the letter to Pete’s,” Sully told him, “including the tulips and the frickin’ Pottery Barn vase. Means this guy did Pete, came up here, did Angie, spent the last two days takin’ a road trip and did this Butch guy.”
“Also means he knows her better than we expected, he’s goin’ after folks from the last seventeen years, not just folks in town,” Colt replied.
“Yep.”
“This is not good,” Colt stated the obvious.
“This is not good,” Sully repeated.
“Are you getting anywhere?”
“Lore’s in town and has been without leaving, alibis for every move he makes. You know Lore, he’s not much into bein’ alone.”
This wasn’t a surprise. “What about the other three?”
“Two, we’ve had conversations with. They’re unlikely. Denny Lowe, though, right now is prime suspect.”
Colt thought about Denny Lowe.
Denny had lived in that town most of his life. Pipsqueak of a kid, no meat on him, always had greasy hair, grew up late, took a whole helluva lot of shit in the meantime and was teased viciously, mostly by Susie Shepherd and her gang. But when he grew, he grew. Susie had graduated by then but everyone was shocked at how he’d turned out. Good-looking guy, not tall, average height, built lean but tough. He was painfully shy like Amy, but once he came into his own, he seemed to shake it off. He wasn’t the most popular kid in school but he wasn’t a whack job either. Sully’s search into him showed he’d gone to Northwestern and got out doing something with computers, moved home, making a mint, lived on The Heritage in a big house off the golf course with a wife, no kids. Colt didn’t see him much, sometimes at Frank’s having dinner with his wife, sometimes at the grocery store, again always with his wife, a couple of times at the liquor store, not with his wife.
He’d been in J&J’s but he was nowhere near a regular. Colt hadn’t seen him there in years. Definitely not since Feb got back.
Still, he fit the profile.
“Colt?” He heard Feb call.
He was looking at his lap and thinking about Denny Lowe and missed Feb coming out of his room. His head came up and he saw her dark silhouette in the hall.
Damn it all to hell, now he was going to have to tell her about this.
“Give me a second Feb,” he muttered, twisted and turned on the light behind him then twisted back, saw her wearing nothing but a big t-shirt, her cat in her arms. He aimed his eyes at his lap so he wouldn’t get another glimpse of her legs and said into the phone, “Why’s Denny on your hook?”
“He’s disappeared. His wife has too. No one answering the door and he’s not been to work. They said he has the week off.”
“So maybe he’s on vacation.”
“Maybe. His car sure as f**k is gone but no airlines have him or his wife on their reservations list. Family and friends don’t know anything about a vacation. And you use your credit card on vacation. No transactions on hers or his. Funny thing, though, last coupla months Denny Lowe has been making hefty withdrawals from their joint account. Sum total, he withdrew fifteen G’s.”
That cold slithered around his chest and he asked, “Where’s he got his account?”
“County Bank.”
Shit, where Amy worked.
“Sounds like that hook’s in deep,” Colt remarked.
“Deep enough for you to talk to Feb about him,” Sully said.
Fucking shit.
He lifted his head, found her eyes, noticed she’d leaned a shoulder against the wall and her cat was purring as she scratched his neck and said, “She’s here. Just in from J&J’s.”
“After the scene at the Station maybe you should get some bourbon in her before you do it.” Sully was trying to make a joke.
Colt didn’t feel like laughing. “Feb drinks rum.”
“Right,” Sully still thought it was funny. “Heard about today at J&J’s, man. That shit’s flying around town faster’n snot. I know you like that house, hope you two can live under the same roof without that roof blowin’ clean off.”
Colt was losing patience. “You wanna chat or you want me to talk to Feb?”
“Get the rum. Talk to Feb.”
“Later.”
Colt started to take the phone away from his ear but Sully’s call stopped him. “Colt?”
“Yeah.”
“I know you don’t wanna hear it but I’m gonna say it. Accordin’ to Lorraine, you two were born to be together. And what I heard Feb say yesterday…” He let that hang but before Colt could get in word one, Sully continued. “You don’t sort your and her shit out, man, it’ll be a tragedy.”
“You done?” Colt asked.
“I’m done.”
“I’ll call you if there’s something to report. Later.”
“Later.”
He flipped his phone shut and threw it on the coffee table. His eyes went to Feb and she was still leaning against the wall, holding her body like she was bracing.
“You still drink rum?” he asked her.
“Just tell me,” she replied.
He threw back the blanket and got up, walking to the kitchen. He flipped on the lights and went to the cupboard where he kept his spirits. Dee drank rum like Feb, he knew he had a bottle and he was right. He pulled it down along with the Jack and grabbed some glasses.
“Colt, seriously,” she said to his back.
“What do you cut it with?” he asked.
He heard her sigh then she said, “I’ll get it.”
He twisted to her. “You mix enough drinks. What do you cut it with?”
She stopped moving toward the fridge, stood still for a moment then headed to the opposite counter. He watched her lean against it but drop her cat.
“Diet,” she finally answered.
“I wake you?”
“Nope.”
Sully was quiet then he said, “Shit, Colt, we got another one.”
Colt closed his eyes and sat up in the couch. “Talk to me.”
“Guy’s name is Butch Miller. From the history Feb gave yesterday, she’d worked at his bar years ago. Idaho Springs, Colorado. His body was found by his girlfriend. The minute it hit the system, it came up with big, honking ping. Warren and Rodman are already on a plane.”
“God dammit,” Colt swore. “I’m guessin’ it’s the same MO.”
“Down to the letter to Pete’s,” Sully told him, “including the tulips and the frickin’ Pottery Barn vase. Means this guy did Pete, came up here, did Angie, spent the last two days takin’ a road trip and did this Butch guy.”
“Also means he knows her better than we expected, he’s goin’ after folks from the last seventeen years, not just folks in town,” Colt replied.
“Yep.”
“This is not good,” Colt stated the obvious.
“This is not good,” Sully repeated.
“Are you getting anywhere?”
“Lore’s in town and has been without leaving, alibis for every move he makes. You know Lore, he’s not much into bein’ alone.”
This wasn’t a surprise. “What about the other three?”
“Two, we’ve had conversations with. They’re unlikely. Denny Lowe, though, right now is prime suspect.”
Colt thought about Denny Lowe.
Denny had lived in that town most of his life. Pipsqueak of a kid, no meat on him, always had greasy hair, grew up late, took a whole helluva lot of shit in the meantime and was teased viciously, mostly by Susie Shepherd and her gang. But when he grew, he grew. Susie had graduated by then but everyone was shocked at how he’d turned out. Good-looking guy, not tall, average height, built lean but tough. He was painfully shy like Amy, but once he came into his own, he seemed to shake it off. He wasn’t the most popular kid in school but he wasn’t a whack job either. Sully’s search into him showed he’d gone to Northwestern and got out doing something with computers, moved home, making a mint, lived on The Heritage in a big house off the golf course with a wife, no kids. Colt didn’t see him much, sometimes at Frank’s having dinner with his wife, sometimes at the grocery store, again always with his wife, a couple of times at the liquor store, not with his wife.
He’d been in J&J’s but he was nowhere near a regular. Colt hadn’t seen him there in years. Definitely not since Feb got back.
Still, he fit the profile.
“Colt?” He heard Feb call.
He was looking at his lap and thinking about Denny Lowe and missed Feb coming out of his room. His head came up and he saw her dark silhouette in the hall.
Damn it all to hell, now he was going to have to tell her about this.
“Give me a second Feb,” he muttered, twisted and turned on the light behind him then twisted back, saw her wearing nothing but a big t-shirt, her cat in her arms. He aimed his eyes at his lap so he wouldn’t get another glimpse of her legs and said into the phone, “Why’s Denny on your hook?”
“He’s disappeared. His wife has too. No one answering the door and he’s not been to work. They said he has the week off.”
“So maybe he’s on vacation.”
“Maybe. His car sure as f**k is gone but no airlines have him or his wife on their reservations list. Family and friends don’t know anything about a vacation. And you use your credit card on vacation. No transactions on hers or his. Funny thing, though, last coupla months Denny Lowe has been making hefty withdrawals from their joint account. Sum total, he withdrew fifteen G’s.”
That cold slithered around his chest and he asked, “Where’s he got his account?”
“County Bank.”
Shit, where Amy worked.
“Sounds like that hook’s in deep,” Colt remarked.
“Deep enough for you to talk to Feb about him,” Sully said.
Fucking shit.
He lifted his head, found her eyes, noticed she’d leaned a shoulder against the wall and her cat was purring as she scratched his neck and said, “She’s here. Just in from J&J’s.”
“After the scene at the Station maybe you should get some bourbon in her before you do it.” Sully was trying to make a joke.
Colt didn’t feel like laughing. “Feb drinks rum.”
“Right,” Sully still thought it was funny. “Heard about today at J&J’s, man. That shit’s flying around town faster’n snot. I know you like that house, hope you two can live under the same roof without that roof blowin’ clean off.”
Colt was losing patience. “You wanna chat or you want me to talk to Feb?”
“Get the rum. Talk to Feb.”
“Later.”
Colt started to take the phone away from his ear but Sully’s call stopped him. “Colt?”
“Yeah.”
“I know you don’t wanna hear it but I’m gonna say it. Accordin’ to Lorraine, you two were born to be together. And what I heard Feb say yesterday…” He let that hang but before Colt could get in word one, Sully continued. “You don’t sort your and her shit out, man, it’ll be a tragedy.”
“You done?” Colt asked.
“I’m done.”
“I’ll call you if there’s something to report. Later.”
“Later.”
He flipped his phone shut and threw it on the coffee table. His eyes went to Feb and she was still leaning against the wall, holding her body like she was bracing.
“You still drink rum?” he asked her.
“Just tell me,” she replied.
He threw back the blanket and got up, walking to the kitchen. He flipped on the lights and went to the cupboard where he kept his spirits. Dee drank rum like Feb, he knew he had a bottle and he was right. He pulled it down along with the Jack and grabbed some glasses.
“Colt, seriously,” she said to his back.
“What do you cut it with?” he asked.
He heard her sigh then she said, “I’ll get it.”
He twisted to her. “You mix enough drinks. What do you cut it with?”
She stopped moving toward the fridge, stood still for a moment then headed to the opposite counter. He watched her lean against it but drop her cat.
“Diet,” she finally answered.
