Again Foye nodded, his face void of any real reaction.
Just watching him process the information again reminded Taggert how green he was.
“So where do we go from here?” Foye asked.
Something about the way the question was phrased further irked Taggert, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. It was the correct thing to ask. Something he had posed to himself a few times already.
The way Foye had grouped them together though just didn’t sit right.
“For the next twenty hours we work with what we can,” Taggert said. Put just a hint of an edge to his voice.
“Meaning?” Foye asked.
“Meaning until Sharp gets a look at things out there in the morning, there isn’t any sense in us digging too much right now.”
This time Foye had the good sense to remain silent. Waited for Taggert to continue.
“We still haven’t been able to track down Koenig,” Taggert said. “I talked to a guy down the road this morning that said he was only there a few months a year though.”
“Summer person?” Foye interjected.
Taggert nodded, not bothering to break his line of thought.
“Also said he has a pair of employees working for him, a man that does the outdoor stuff and a woman that handles the inside chores.”
“How very progressive,” Foye said.
This time Taggert pushed ahead without acknowledging his statement in any way.
“We’ll track them down tomorrow after hearing back from Sharp,” Taggert said.
At this Foye’s expression clouded, his eyebrows pushing in from either side. “Won’t they show up this afternoon and wonder what happened? Be concerned that their job went up in flames?”
Pushing a loud sigh out through his nose, Taggert rolled his gaze over to glare at Foye. Again there was nothing wrong with what the young man was saying.
More the fact that he insisted on interrupting to say it.
Taggert waited a long moment to ensure his point was made before looking back at the screen before him.
“I sent a uniform with the neighbor this morning to get their names. He was told to inform the employees of what happened, tell them both we would be by in the coming days.”
This time Taggert paused a moment. Waited for a question that never came.
“Until we hear back from Sharp,” Taggert said, “we won’t even know what to ask them. Can’t very well investigate a crime until we know exactly what it is.”
The scent of the coffee continued to flit across his nose as he turned from Foye. Went back to the computer before him. Used his right hand to work the mouse on the desk, rifling through a series of images onscreen.
“In the meantime I’m looking at traffic cams for the approximate time of the fire last night,” Taggert said. Clicked through two more.
Found nothing of interest.
“They only go so far as the edge of town, but we might get lucky.”
Raising his bottom up from his chair, Foye leaned forward. A new scent rose from the cup in his hand as he did so, cinnamon finding its way to Taggert as well.
“Lucky on what?”
A long moment passed as Taggert stopped his search. He stared at the neutral screen before shifting his attention to Foye, determined to wait as long as necessary to make his point.
In total it took nearly a full minute.
Realizing what was happening, Foye lowered himself back into his chair. Placed his cup on the ground between his feet.
Drew himself even further inward, lowering his eyes towards his lap.
“Lucky on anything,” Taggert said. “Like I said, right now we don’t have much to go on. If we happen to spot video of something suspicious though, might be worth looking into in the meantime.”
Across from him he could tell Foye had another question lined up, but opted to bite his tongue.
Fighting to hide any sort of a reaction, Taggert went back to the traffic cameras. Played them one at a time. Ran the videos in fast forward starting at midnight and pushing forward until one a.m.
Despite what he had just said, he didn’t hold out much hope for anything of value surfacing.
The very last one he took a look at proved just how wrong that supposition was.
The jolt of adrenaline that passed through him did far more to raise his senses than any vanilla latte could ever hope to.
Chapter Eleven
Pain.
Eardrum shattering. Head pounding. Psychosis inducing.
The sound reverberated through the house. Echoed off the walls. Burrowed itself inside Tyce Riggins’s head as he strode down the hallway.
Finding the source of the sound, he jerked the smoke alarm off the wall. Removed the battery from the back of it. Opened the patio door and tossed it on the deck chair nearby just to be certain.
Once the sound was far removed he left the door open a couple feet. Waved his hand in an attempt to funnel the haze of smoke from the kitchen.
“Honey, what the heck?” he asked.
Eight feet away stood his wife Kara. Atop the stove before her was a cast iron skillet, a steady plume of dark grey smoke rising from it. At the bottom of the makeshift twister was something of indiscernible nature resembling a charcoal briquette.
A matching look of pain seemed to be on Kara’s features, her face twisted up. Bits of soot seemed to have already settled on her cheeks, tracks of tears cutting through it from her eyes to her chin.
“I don’t know,” she said, her face contorting further with each word. “I was standing right here, I was just trying something new...”
Halfway through the words fell away completely. Both hands rose to her face as a sob wracked her entire body.
Unable to keep a smile from his face, Tyce walked around the breakfast bar extended out from the wall. Left the door standing open behind him. Wrapped both arms around his wife and pulled her close to him. Inhaled deeply as the mass of strawberry blonde hair piled atop her head settled beneath his nostrils.
Five months into pregnancy with their first child, it was far from the first time she had broken down over seemingly innocuous matters.
Something told Tyce there would be plenty more before things were over as well.
“Hey, now,” Tyce said. Rubbed his hands along her back.
Reached past her and turned off the heat on the stovetop.
“I’m not actually that hungry tonight anyway,” Tyce said. “There’s some ice cream in the freezer isn’t there?”
Standing two inches above six feet tall and weighing twenty pounds north of two hundred, they both knew the statement was a lie. The times were very few that Tyce wasn’t hungry.
“I’m not going to let you eat ice cream for dinner,” Kara said. Pushed herself a few inches away from him. Swatted at his chest with a balled up fist.
“If I’m going to be a mother, I need to learn to cook.”
The statement brought another grin to Tyce.
So far in their first year and a half of marriage, cooking was the only thing Kara had not yet seemed to figure out.
To her credit though, it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying.
“Bah,” Tyce said. Moved his hands to her shoulders. “You’re lucky. The baby comes with a ready-made food source built right in.”
He squeezed her shoulders twice and added, “I mean, the milk alone will carry the little guy until he’s what, three or four years old?”
An involuntary chuckle slid from Kara as she again cuffed her husband on the chest.
“Three or four, huh?”
“Just saying you’ve got time is all,” Tyce said. Had his attention pulled towards the front doorbell ringing. Smiled. “Uh-oh, neighbors must have called in a crime. Smells like something was massacred over here.”
Once more Kara couldn’t keep back a laugh. “Very funny, Mister. You go answer the door while I destroy the evidence.”
The momentary emotional outburst averted, Tyce swung b
ack around the counter. Slid the patio door closed. Made his way through the living room and opened the front door.
Before him stood a pair of men, one older than the other by close to twenty years. The older man was dressed in the gentlemen cowboy uniform of jeans and a blazer. Wore his moustache long.
Behind him was a younger man Tyce had seen a couple of times at the gym wearing jeans and a black jacket with the shield of Butte Police Department on his sleeve. Carried a stained cowboy hat in his hands.
“Evening,” the older man said. “My name is Detective Taggert, this is Detective Foye. Are you Tyce Riggins?”
“I am,” Tyce said. Remained standing in the doorway. One hand on the door, the other on the frame. “Is everything okay, officers?”
“Detectives,” Foye corrected.
Tyce watched as Taggert shot a withering glare over his shoulder before turning back to face front. “May we come in for a moment?”
Any trace of earlier mirth faded from Tyce’s features. “What’s this about?”
“Last night,” Foye said. Shifted himself behind Taggert to be seen better.
In turn Taggert shifted a few inches to the side, blocking the younger man from view. “Just a couple of questions. Would you mind if we come in?”
The second time the question was asked it managed to find its way to Tyce’s consciousness. He snapped himself to the side. Extended a hand towards the living room.
“Yeah, please, come in.”
Each stopping to wipe their boots on the rug, the detectives stepped in one at a time. Seemed to move slow. Glance around.
Tyce waited until they were inside before closing the door behind them. Followed into the living room.
“You’ll have to pardon the smell,” he said. “My wife was trying something new for dinner.”
The two exchanged a quick glance and Taggert said, “Mighty smoky in here.”
“Yeah, like I said, my wife was cooking.”
He made a face to let them know it wasn’t her strong suit, though he knew better than to say the words aloud.
Neither seemed to pick up on the joke.
“Mr. Riggins, where were you last night?” Taggert said.
No preamble. No foreplay. No hint of congeniality in his voice.
The question caught Tyce off guard as he looked between the two of them. Felt his jaw drop open a half inch.
“Um, well, I’m off on Mondays and Tuesdays, so yesterday Kara and I went snowmobiling for the day. Trying to get one last run in before her pregnancy gets too far along.
“Stopped by her parents for dinner. Must have gotten home, I don’t know, maybe close to midnight?”
Another glance passed between the two detectives.
“Midnight? On a Monday night?” Foye asked.
“Yeah,” Tyce replied. Drew his brow in tight. “Like I said, I’m off on Monday and Tuesday. My wife doesn’t work, so we adjusted our schedule. What is this about, exactly?”
Tyce folded his arms across his chest. Planted his feet shoulder width apart.
A posture more defensive than aggressive.
“Did you happen to notice anything unusual when you were driving home?” Taggert asked.
This time Tyce chose to ignore the question. Reiterated his own again.
“Listen, detectives, I could probably be more helpful if I had any idea what this was about.”
A moment of hesitation seemed to pass between them before Taggert took a half step forward. “Last night the Koenig place burned to the ground.”
Without even realizing it Tyce felt his eyebrows rise on his forehead. “No kidding? Is everybody okay?”
Both detectives paused a moment before Taggert said, “Yes, everybody is fine. We’re just trying to determine what might have happened.”
“And that brought you here?” Tyce said. Allowed the confusion he was feeling to show on his features.
Offered no further comment.
This time Foye turned and openly stared at Taggert. Allowed the older man to take the lead.
“We pulled traffic footage from all the nearby cameras,” Taggert said. “That time of night there wasn’t much, so we’re going around to everybody we saw and asking if they noticed anything.”
A long moment passed as Tyce pushed the information into place in his mind. The explanation seemed thin at best, though there didn’t seem to be any other reason for them to be in his living room.
“Well, like I said,” Tyce said. “We had dinner in Anaconda with Kara’s family, Bert and Esther Jameson. She wasn’t feeling well so she decided to sleep over. I stayed there until about eleven thirty watching the Avalanche game. Drove straight back.”
“You didn’t remain in Anaconda?” Taggert asked.
“Two dogs out in the kennel,” Tyce said. Left the answer open ended. Assumed they would understand.
Taggert nodded at the explanation, though wrote nothing down. “Did you happen to see anything at any point? Anything at all?”
Tyce pursed his lips and thought for a moment. Tried to bring back everything that had happened on the ride home. Aside from listening to Bob Seger as loud as the speakers would go most of the way, nothing jumped out.
“No,” Tyce said. Shook his head. “There was obviously the glow from the pit. The Lady of the Rockies up high. Other than that I don’t remember any lights at all.”
He turned himself away from them, his body angled towards the kitchen. “Hey, Kara!”
The sudden movement seemed to surprise both detectives, each lowering themselves a few inches into defensive stances.
Just as fast, they rose back to normal.
Heavy footfalls preceded Kara by a few seconds before she appeared. Dressed in jeans and a pink sweater, her growing bulge was plainly clear.
A dish towel was gripped between her hands.
“Honey, I guess last night the Koenig place burned down,” Tyce said. Watched as her face registered the same surprise as his.
“That’s terrible. Was anybody hurt?”
“No,” Taggert said, reinserting himself into the conversation. Shifted to face her as well. “We’re just going around and talking to folks, seeing if they remember anything unusual.”
“They saw our truck on traffic cams coming through late last night,” Tyce added.
“Oh,” Kara said, her blue eyes widening a touch. She stood for a moment and thought. Raised a hand to her chin. “Well, as I’m sure my husband told you, I stayed in Anaconda last night.
“I don’t remember seeing anything unusual, but that’s pretty far away.”
At that Tyce turned back to face forward. Unfolded his arms. Raised his hands by his side.
“Sorry, detectives. I wish we could help, but we’ve got nothing. Maybe it happened after I passed through?”
Chapter Twelve
Taggert had never been much of a card player.
Growing up, his mother was a devout woman. Denounced everything that could have tripped up her only son.
Booze. Women. Tobacco.
Gambling.
The moment he had turned eighteen he had broken free from her grip. Spent a solid five years imbibing in everything he could get his hands on. Woke up more times than he could count with a pounding headache and no recollection of how he got home.
Once the initial period of sewing his proverbial oats was over though, he had set it all aside. Returned home to Butte. Became his mother’s son again.
Used the lessons he learned in his time away to fuel his new life.
Among them, always have an ace in the hole.
Over time the expression had become a cliché. Had formed into some sort of pop culture slang. Still, that didn’t make it any less applicable as far as Taggert was concerned.
“What are we waiting on?” Foye asked. Kept his hands folded in his lap. Looked from Taggert to the house and back again.
Crouched behind the steering wheel Taggert simply stared at the home. Said nothing.
Foye waite
d as long as he could before speaking again, a sum total of no more than a minute.
“Paul?”
“You see the way they answered?” Taggert said. Completely ignored Foye’s previous question. Chose to bypass the lack of respect his younger partner had shown by employing his first name.
“The way they answered?” Foye asked.
Without even glancing over Taggert could envision the confused look on his face. Could picture clear as day the way he scrunched his chubby features up and stared at the house.
“You don’t believe them?” Foye said. “You think they saw something?”
Taggert shook his head from side to side, the movement no more than a couple of inches in either direction. “We didn’t come here to ask if they saw something.”
A long moment of silence passed.
“We didn’t?” Foye asked, even more confusion than before present in his voice.
For the second time in as many minutes Taggert felt a burst of aggravation rise within. His brows drew themselves in tight as he stared at the house. Pulled in a long draw of air through his nose.
“No,” he said, his voice even lower. “We came to ask some questions. We came to see how they responded. What their reactions were.”
“Oh,” Foye muttered softly. Rocked his head up and down so vigorously the car shook. “And we didn’t like what they had to say?”
The acrimony inside Taggert grew a little higher.
There was a time when a rookie could be counted on for the occasional annoying question. Speaking out of turn. Maybe even saying the wrong thing in an interview.
Nowadays the newbies were on an entirely different level. It was if the academy was handing out badges to any country rube that came along.
“Were you not in that house just now?” Taggert asked.
“Yeah,” Foye said. Made no effort to mask a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “Their answers sounded pretty good to me.”
“Exactly,” Taggert said. “Too damn good. I bet if you called Bert and Esther Jameson right now their stories would match down to the letter as well.”
For the first time since climbing back into their car, complete silence fell.
The Glue Guy: The Zoo Crew Series Book 4 Page 4
