“Mick got to our house Sunday afternoon around three,” she said.
“I ate dinner with them and stayed the night.”
“You said homicide. Who died?” Vicki asked.
“A man’s body was found burned to death in the Nixes’ home Monday morning. There was no identification on the body.”
“No kidding? In their house?” Mick asked.
“Have you heard of anyone in the music community or around town who’s missing? Maybe someone who left during the evacuation and hasn’t returned?”
Vicki returned her hand to her lap, and studied Mick with her eyebrows drawn together as she contemplated the question. She finally looked back at Josie and said she couldn’t think of anyone.
“Burned to death?” He winced and shook his head as if to clear the image. “I haven’t heard anything. Rumors spread like the plague around here. We’d have heard if someone was missing.”
Josie had no doubt that by dinnertime the Hell-Bent would be buzzing.
“I didn’t think the fire moved through that area of the county,” Vicki said.
“You know where the Nixes live?” Josie asked.
She looked surprised by the question. “Well, yes. We redid a couch for them last year. Mick and I both delivered it.”
“I thought your two bands didn’t like each other.”
“I don’t dislike Billy. I just don’t think he’s God’s gift to country music,” Mick said.
“Can you imagine Billy having the kind of house that someone would stop by and crash for the night? Maybe some guy’s wife kicked him out and he needed a place to stay. Can you imagine someone going to the Nixes for help?”
Mick laughed out loud and Vicki grinned. She spoke first. “I can’t imagine Brenda giving anyone the impression that they were free to stay at her house without an invitation.”
“What about close friends?”
“They know everyone,” Vicki said. “Brenda networks like a politician. That doesn’t mean they’re friends with anyone though.”
“There’s a kid who hangs out whenever Billy’s playing. He’s probably late twenties. Cocky little shit. He tries to play himself off as a personal assistant for Billy.”
“Brenda’s the manager though, right?”
He nodded and looked perplexed. “That’s the weird thing. I can’t figure out why Brenda hasn’t put an end to this kid. Maybe she’s tried and can’t. He’ll even sit with her sometimes when they’re playing. You can tell she can’t stand him though.”
Vicki made a face as if she wanted to say something.
“Go ahead,” Josie said. “This is a private conversation.”
“I don’t think Brenda would put up with someone, no matter who it was, if she didn’t have something to gain.”
“What’s his name?”
Mick sneered. “Ferris Sinclair. What a name, right?”
“Do you know where I can find him?”
Mick glanced at Vicki and they both shrugged. He said, “No clue. I don’t really think he’s from here. I’ve only seen him hanging out at the bar.”
FOURTEEN
Josie found Otto sitting at the conference table, surrounded by piles of file folders and a stack of what looked like billing statements.
“What’s the word, Chief?”
“I talked with Mick Sinner and his business partner for a while,” she said. “Vicki Macke provided Mick a solid alibi for the night of the evacuation. The only odd piece to the interview was that they were both in the Nixes’ house in the past year to deliver a couch they had reupholstered for them.”
“Didn’t Hank say they hated each other?”
“I think they dislike each other intensely. It seems odd you’d let someone you hate fix your couch. You’d have to think about them every time you sat down to watch TV.”
“Maybe Billy’s clueless,” Otto said. “He might not have any idea Mick hates him. He doesn’t strike me as someone who’s very self-aware.”
Josie walked over to her desk and pitched down her notepad. “You’re right. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
“Nothing more?”
She sat down and faced him again. “This is a little better. Some kid named Ferris Sinclair hangs around the band. Apparently Mick’s seen him in the bar.”
“A fan?”
“Something like that.” Josie said. “Mick says the kid’s infatuated with Billy and the band. And he’s a ‘cocky little shit’—Mick’s words, not mine. And Mick says Brenda doesn’t like him.”
“Better get an interview with him.” Otto pursed his lips in thought. “I went out to the Nixes’ to search for the box containing the stun gun. Want to guess what was inside the box where the Zaner was supposed to be kept?”
“Nothing?” she asked.
“Exactly.”
* * *
Otto spent the next four hours logging information from the Nixes’ computer files. When Marta came on duty at 3:30 p.m., she systematically checked each document on the Nixes’ computer. The files were extremely well organized, with expenditures tediously noted. Fortunately, like most people’s, the Nixes’ information was woefully unprotected. She found a spreadsheet under “Home Files,” with tabs that contained an identity thief’s gold mine. One tab contained credit card numbers, expiration dates, and security codes. Another tab included all of the online sites they frequented along with logins and passwords. One of the tabs included all of the family’s insurance policies and health-care information, all wide open to any hacker in the world.
Marta called each credit card company and found a total credit card debt, at least using the cards listed on the spreadsheet, of $9,467. Not too out of line for a couple trying to grow a small business. Payments were up to date and on time each month. Incredibly, Marta even found the Web site and password for their online free credit check. She logged in and discovered that their credit was within the “Good” classification, not surprising given Brenda’s managerial skills.
Otto found life insurance policies in the manila file folders that were paid up. Each carried $100,000 in insurance, with the spouse as the sole beneficiary. No new insurance had been obtained over the past eleven years, assuming they would have kept paperwork on such a policy. Otto also finally made phone contact with the landlord of the Nixes’ home. He lived in Idaho and hadn’t even heard about the wildfire, and was shocked to discover that his old family home had been demolished.
Otto also found a ledger with information about booking dates and earnings. There were notations about how much each band member made after each performance. It appeared that Billy made about thirty to fifty percent more than the other band members for each gig, but it also appeared that his money paid Brenda’s managerial fees. Otto intended to ask other band members their opinions on Brenda’s role as manager and keeper of the finances.
While Marta and Otto worked on the Nixes’ files, Josie ran a background check on Ferris Sinclair and found nothing of consequence. Since Ferris’s connection to Billy was the Hell-Bent, she opted to try there first for background information on him and his relationship with the Nixes.
She pulled into the parking lot of the Hell-Bent just before 3:00 p.m. She figured two cars in the parking lot were probably typical for a Wednesday afternoon. It was too late for the lunch crowd, and too early for the after-work crowd. She found Hank sitting in his office pecking two-fingered on his computer keyboard. He looked up and stood from his chair when she knocked.
“Come on in, Chief.” He came around to the other side of his desk and cleaned a stack of rolled-up posters and what appeared to be mail and magazines off the two chairs next to a small table.
“What’s the word on Billy and Brenda? I finally got ahold of them yesterday and Billy was a mess. He said you think they killed someone in their own home. Killed him and set their house on fire. That’s insane! You ought to know Billy better than that.”
“No one has been accused of a crime. Our first priority is to find out
the identification of the victim.”
He looked relieved. “You oughta tell Billy that. He’s convinced it’s a witch hunt and he’s headed for jail.”
“If he didn’t kill the victim he has nothing to worry about.”
Hank grimaced. “Tell that to the guy who fried on death row an innocent man.”
Josie had no intention of talking politics. “Do you know a man by the name of Ferris Sinclair?”
Hank rolled his eyes. “He’s a hanger-onner.”
“A what?”
“Ask any bartender with live music. They know the type. The kind that takes up seat space and never buys a drink. They come in hoping to connect with the band and get someone to buy them shots along the way. You ever heard of moochers?”
She laughed. “You don’t think much of the hanger-onners.”
He smiled. “Okay, that was a little rough. This kid gets under my skin though. He takes advantage of Billy and Brenda both.”
“How so?”
“Brenda catches a lot of hell for some reason. I really don’t get it. She’s fair to deal with. She doesn’t come in here making unreasonable demands. She and Billy don’t walk around like prima donnas. I know people don’t like her, but she’s a manager. Plain and simple.”
“What’s that have to do with Ferris?”
“His latest stunt was to tell people he was Billy’s personal assistant.”
“Is he?”
“Not hardly.” Hank chuckled and shut his eyes at the thought. “Do you know Billy very well?”
“Just through his music.”
“He’s a big kid. He can’t take conflict. He can’t say no. So Brenda deals with anything negative in Billy’s life. I couldn’t do what she does. And I guarantee Ferris couldn’t.”
Josie gave him a quizzical look, still not understanding why Hank said Ferris got under his skin.
“Ferris loves the scene. He loves to hang out with the band. He likes for people in the bar to know he’s close to Billy, a personal friend, and Billy doesn’t have the heart to tell the kid to take a hike. He’s obnoxious, overbearing, lies when it benefits him.”
“Why doesn’t Brenda deal with him?”
“She’s tried! I’ve heard her tell him she’s saving a seat when Billy and the Outlaws are getting ready to take the stage, but Ferris laughs it off. Sits next to her anyway. It’s just bizarre.” Hank’s expression changed, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s this about?”
“I’m just collecting information right now. Do you have any idea where I can find Ferris?”
“He lives in Presidio. That’s all I know.”
“Does he ever stay with Billy and Brenda? At their home?”
Hank pulled air in between his teeth and gave her a look as if that idea was a stretch for him to believe. “I can’t imagine Brenda would allow that.”
* * *
Josie imagined dusk as the time when the dust and drama of the day, worn down by the unrelenting sun, settled over the desert. Mentally, the sun took a toll on people. The heat of high noon in the desert was like no other, and when the sun tipped over the edge of the horizon the relief was physical and emotional. Driving home, she noticed the orange fade on the horizon and she sighed with relief as she pulled onto Schenck Road.
Josie pulled her jeep into the driveway and found Chester already waiting for her on the front porch. He typically waited to leave Dell’s barn until he heard her engine as she came down the road. He was a large dog, weighing about eighty-five pounds, with the typical coloring and ears of a bloodhound, but he had a gallop that reminded her of a horse. She wouldn’t have imagined that a bloodhound who spent half his time outdoors with his nose to the ground could run with such grace.
She got out of the car smiling. He stood on the edge of the porch wagging his whole body in delight, but he refused to come down the steps to greet her. As much as he wanted a pat on the head from Josie, he wanted his evening bone and a nap on his rug even more. He was a dog of habit, and when Josie’s schedule became too messed up with work, it made him irritable.
After scratching his ears and nuzzling his neck she stood to unlock the front door and found a piece of notebook paper taped to the sidelight window.
She pulled the paper off and read: “Supper’s on the stove. Corn bread. Beans been cooking all day. See you when you get here. —Dell”
She sighed and smiled. She missed Dell. She had been selfish and unreasonable the other night when she found the woman in his house. If Dell had found love, then good for him; it was well deserved.
Josie hung her gun belt in the pantry and followed Chester into the living room, all part of the nightly ritual. She watched as he lay down on his rug and turned expectant eyes up to her. She set a rawhide chew between his front paws and he continued to stare at her until she said, “Well, go ahead,” and then he picked it up and spent the next ten minutes chewing excitedly like a kid with a piece of bubble gum. She’d grown up with dogs and cats, most of them strays, but none of them had a personality like Chester’s.
After she changed into shorts and a T-shirt, she and the dog walked to Dell’s house at 7:00. It was still ninety-five degrees out, but the hard edge of the heat had dissipated and a slight breeze made it a comfortable walk.
She stepped onto the front porch and knocked on the screen door. This time she waited for him to yell, “Come in.” Chester beat her through the door and ran into the kitchen with his paws scrabbling against the wood floor. Dell laughed like Chester was a long-lost grandchild instead of the dog that spent every afternoon following him around the ranch.
Dell had been sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. He pitched his glasses onto the table and went to the stove to dish up the bean soup.
He opened the pot and steam billowed up. “That’s got some flavor in it. A ham hock and onions and peppers and a shot of butter and mashed beans for substance.” He whistled like he was looking at a pretty girl.
Josie joined him at the stove and watched as he dished up the soup. “It smells like heaven.”
“I thought maybe you disowned me after the other night,” he said.
“I’d never disown you. You’re my best friend.”
“Me and the dog.”
They carried their soup to the table, where a plate of corn bread was sitting. Halfway through dinner and small talk, Dell said, “Tell me about your dead body.”
“How’d you hear about the body?”
“Otto said you had a homicide.”
“When did you talk to him?” she asked.
He glanced up from his soup, his eyes bright.
“He called you, didn’t he? That’s what dinner is about. He told you to babysit me tonight. Didn’t he?”
“I ran into him in town. He said he thought you were still feeling blue since Dillon left. How can you fault a man for watching out for your well-being?”
Josie shook her head, her expression incredulous. “Dell, I’m a cop. Have been for years. I can handle a little stress in my life without falling apart.”
“Fine, you badass, what if I just wanted to have dinner with you?”
She laughed. “Badass?”
“Since you brought up the subject of the missing boyfriend, give me an update.”
Avoiding the question, she asked, “You have any beer in the fridge?”
“No beer.” He looked embarrassed. “There’s a half bottle of wine in there that’ll never get drank. It’s all yours.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Just pour yourself a glass and tell me about Dillon. I don’t feel like talking tonight. Tonight I listen.”
Josie convinced Dell to let her clean up while he started a fire outside. She wanted to sit beside the fire and finish the conversation without the face-to-face scrutiny and harsh lights of the kitchen. And Dell never missed an opportunity to sit outside by a fire.
Josie washed up the few dishes and dried them. She opened the cabinets for the plates and bowls and foun
d them as orderly as they had been any other time she had opened a cabinet. Dell was as predictable and stable as anyone she knew, and those two traits alone made him a hero in her eyes. She’d found very few people through the years that she could say that about.
She washed the countertop and found him standing over orange flames with two camp chairs set up. Once they were seated, Josie suffered through half a glass of dry red wine, and then said, “Things are getting better with Dillon. If I didn’t have this nagging guilt that I’d destroyed his life, I’d be okay.” She put her hand up, not wanting a lecture. “But I get it.”
“You were both out of your league, Josie. The only way you two were going to survive is to move on. He’s got way too many nightmares here to do that. And you have too much guilt to ever be able to help him. I’m glad he left. I’m glad for both of you. You’ve been moping around for two months. It’s time to stop it.”
They sat quietly staring at the flames and Josie said nothing.
Dell finally spoke. “Besides, you’ve been such piss-poor company I had to go find a lady friend to talk to.”
Josie grinned. “And? Where’s the lady friend?”
“She’s back in Presidio where she belongs.”
“Dell! You didn’t give her much of a chance, did you?”
“It’s got nothing to do with chances. She didn’t like you, and she didn’t like Chester, and I didn’t like her.”
“You could just go out as friends. Someone to hang out with every once in while.”
“Look. I don’t hang out. I’m not cut out for relationships. I’ve been a bachelor my whole life and I can’t go changing that now. No sense dragging her along for something that won’t work out in the end.”
She smiled. “Every breakup should be so easy.”
“Absolutely. If people’d quit acting like such pansies and have an honest conversation every once in a while, all of humanity would benefit.” Dell extended his legs out in front of him and crossed his arms like he was settling in for a good story. “Now, down to business. Homicide.”
“Okay.” She downed the rest of her wine, shuddered, and set the glass on the ground. “Here’s the basics. When the wildfire blew through Artemis on Sunday, most of the town evacuated. That included Brenda and Billy Nix.”
Firebreak: A Mystery Page 13
