The Glue Guy: The Zoo Crew Series Book 4

by Dustin Stevens

  Focused on Megan’s face. Her glassy eyes. The single tear running down her cheek.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  There was no response. Instead she lifted the remote control. Pointed it at the television.

  Turned the volume up several decibels.

  On the screen was a middle aged woman with blonde bouffant hair and too much makeup. A blue suit coat over a black tank top. Earrings dangling down on either side of an oval face.

  She was seated behind a desk, shifted to the left side of the screen. On the right was an inset picture, a clip art photo of a fire with police tape in the foreground.

  Along the bottom of the screen in bold letters was the headlineBody Found in Fire Debris.

  Feeling the bottom of his stomach drop out, Garvey slid past Megan. Lowered his backside down onto the couch.

  Forced himself not to smile.

  “Silver Bow County investigators have not yet identified the remains,” the reporter said. Read the information off with expert delivery. Added just the right amount of solemnity.

  “Thus far authorities have been unable to contact the owners of the property. We will continue to bring you updates as they become available.”

  Behind her the info graph changed over to sports, a man in a bad jacket replacing her on screen. He began discussing Montana State basketball as Megan raised the remote and muted the television.

  Acted in slow, disjointed movements.

  Kept the same catatonic look on her face.

  For a long moment, Garvey said nothing. Made sure the excitement he was feeling within was gone from his demeanor.

  Getting rid of Koenig was never the intention. Not once in his reconnaissance on the house had he even seen the old man. Any sign that he was nearby.

  All local stories indicated he spent the vast majority of his time in other locations.

  Santa Fe. New Orleans. Even Monte Carlo.

  It was the dead of winter in Montana. No man worth as much as he was would have any reason to be hiding away in the mountains.

  Still, finding out there was a possibility it was in fact him pushed a surge of electricity through Garvey.

  Torching the residence was meant to be a message. It was supposed to let Koenig and his underlings know that they could no longer conduct business the way they had been.

  As bad as the cliché was, actions did in fact have consequences.

  Though Garvey’s intentions weren’t lethal, he felt not the slightest hint of remorse. Getting rid of the head meant the body would likely die, at the very least wither away. The message he was trying to send would be more than received. His mission would come that much closer to being complete.

  Everything he was fighting to protect would soon be safe.

  “What have we done?” Megan whispered. Same words, same tone she had used the morning before.

  Already Garvey could feel his good mood beginning to sour. He looked over at Megan. Fought not to make a face she could see.

  This was his moment of triumph. Setting the home ablaze had been masterful. Discovering the evil kingpin was inside even better.

  He did not have the time or inclination to be pacifying her right now.

  “This isn’t our fault,” Garvey said. “We didn’t know anybody was inside.”

  “But they were.”

  “You don’t know that,” Garvey said. Paused. Thought fast for a moment. “You even heard her say they were remains. They haven’t been identified yet. It was most likely a dog. Some old pet that got trapped inside.”

  The excuse sounded weak, even in his own ears.

  No visible reaction from Megan only confirmed that.

  “Yeah,” Garvey pushed ahead, picking up steam. “Think about it. A person would have heard us. Would have said something.”

  Megan kept her attention aimed out the window. “Not if they were asleep.”

  Garvey opened his mouth to respond. Paused. Began anew.

  “Did you hear how much noise we were making? I even yelled out. And remember how strong those fumes were?”

  He shifted himself so his face was in her direct line of sight. Made her look straight into his eyes.

  “Megs, honey, believe me, nobody was in that house. We sat out there for two hours. Did you ever see a single light?”

  After a moment a tiny flicker caught behind her gaze.

  “No.”

  “And the truck we saw leaving, did it ever come up to the main house?”

  With each question Garvey’s voice gained more assurance.

  “No,” Megan finally conceded.

  “Exactly,” Garvey said. Reached out and placed his hands on either side of her face.

  Still smelled the chili lingering on his palms.

  “Look, I’m sorry if we accidentally took out a dog. You know I’m an animal lover.” His face creased itself into an oversized smile. “Hell, of everything this week, I think that much we can say for sure.”

  He left the smile on his face. Looked back at her. Waited for a response.

  “Yeah,” she managed to push out. The tiniest bit of a smile moved in the corner of her mouth.

  “Come on now,” Garvey said. Continued to hold her head between his hands. “Didn’t we say that something like this might happen? That if we were ever going to be taken seriously, ever going to get their attention, we had to make a splash?”

  Another moment of silence passed. Garvey waited, watching the machinations play out on Megan’s face. At the end of her internal debate, she nodded slightly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, here we are,” Garvey said. Allowed the smile to grow even larger.

  “I bet we got that old bastard’s attention now, don’t you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tension.

  Palpable and awkward.

  Hanging so thick in the air Drake thought he would have to reach out and push it aside.

  On one side of the table sat he and Kade. The attorney and the investigator. A status Kade had not yet attained, was in the process of at the moment.

  Opposite them was Taggert. Eyes bloodshot. The same sport coat, the brown material wrinkled badly. Both corners of his moustache matted as if he’d been chewing on them.

  Beside him the arson investigator. A man named Waylon Sharp. Short, rotund, head shaved bald. Goatee encasing his mouth. An angry scowl that never left his features.

  Between them sat Silver Bow County prosecutor Merrill Poe. Fifteen years older than Drake and Sage. Dark hair just starting to thin. Tufts of grey showing at the temples. Jowls beginning to hang down from his chin. A suit that had been top of the line a decade earlier but was fast starting to show its age.

  “Gentlemen,” Poe opened. “Thank you for making the trip over so early this morning. As I said on the phone last night, I have to be in court by nine.”

  Drake nodded. The call had come in just after ten. Said he could have a half hour at seven-thirty.

  Was deliberately meant to be a blow off.

  Drake had snatched it up without question. Called Kade and told him to be ready at five forty-five.

  “Thank you for meeting with us,” Drake said.

  Poe bowed the top of his head in acknowledgment. Showed just the slightest bit of his scalp through a poor job with the comb.

  “I understand you and Detective Taggert spoke yesterday,” Poe said.

  “We did,” Drake replied. Was aware of the other men in the room watching them, their attention going back and forth.

  “So you can understand how much things have changed since then,” Poe said. “Why the renewed sense of urgency.”

  Drake bit back a smirk at the use of the term renewed. Employing such a word denoted there had at one point been any sense of urgency.

  “Absolutely,” Drake said. Decided to take the initiative. “Which is why you can understand that the flimsy case the detective presented against my client yesterday holds up even less today.”

  The statement had b
een meant to draw just a bit of blood. Not to be an outright dagger. More of a pinprick. Let Poe and his condescending manner know that they were not to be patronized.

  Sensing what had just happened, a half-smile showed on Poe’s face. He leaned back an inch. Seemed to appraise Drake anew.

  “Mr. Bell, we spoke to Wylie Dern last night, who confirmed Wes Koenig did in fact use a wheelchair. We haven’t gotten a positive identification back on the remains yet, but there is little doubt that is who it will be.”

  Drake remained motionless. Kept his demeanor completely neutral.

  “That is probably true. What you still won’t have though is anything credible pinning his death, or the arson that caused it, on Tyce Riggins.”

  There was little doubt that after the meeting with Taggert, one of the men before him had made some calls. Had asked around about Drake. Had determined that he was still three weeks away from taking the bar exam. Was working one last case in the student clinic.

  Just seeing the smile grow a little larger on Poe’s face only confirmed it.

  “Mr. Bell, as Detective Taggert explained yesterday, there is more than sufficient evidence to support holding Mr. Riggins.”

  “And as I’m sure you know, Mr. Poe, the standards for holding someone as a person of interest and attempting to charge them with major felonies are quite different.”

  Beside him Drake could sense Kade shift just a tiny bit. An unspoken message that from an outside perspective he was starting to saunter very close to crossing the line.

  “We only discovered the body yesterday,” Poe said, the smile completely gone. “There is no way to fully discuss charges until it is identified. Surely you also know that.”

  Drake waited for mention of his status as a student to be mentioned, though Poe stopped just short.

  It didn’t matter.

  The point had been made.

  “Yes, but it also isn’t difficult to surmise that if my client is being held as a person of interest, it is only a matter of time before charges are brought.”

  He shifted his attention to Taggert. Moved only his head a few inches to the side.

  “I noticed this morning that Mr. Riggins is the only person in the holding cells. Is that because he is the only person of interest you have at the moment?”

  Being addressed directly seemed to startle Taggert. He opened his mouth to speak. Turned his head to the side to look at Poe for help.

  Managed nothing more than an indecipherable moan.

  “Detective Taggert does not have a responsibility to share his entire investigation with opposing counsel,” Poe said. Used his most authoritative court room voice. Even pinched his brow together in an attempt to appear imposing.

  Caused Drake to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing. Hoped Kade was doing the same to his side.

  “No,” Drake said. Raised his voice just a tiny bit in response. “But he does have a responsibility to actually carry out an investigation.”

  There was more Drake wanted to add. He wanted to again go through the meager list of evidence Taggert had used to bring Riggins in. To point out that it alone wasn’t even enough to continue holding him.

  Nowhere near enough to bring charges. Let alone take before a grand jury.

  On the opposite side of the table Taggert began to fidget. His face flushed red. Sharp continued to scowl downward.

  Between them, Poe made a show of raising his wrist. Checking the time. Sighing as if he was truly sorry the encounter had to end.

  “Gentlemen, I do apologize, but I have to be in front of Judge Hammerman in less than an hour.”

  Drake nodded. Said nothing.

  Waited for the sham compromise he knew was coming.

  “Why don’t we do this,” Poe began. “It is Thursday. The autopsy on the remains should be done today or tomorrow, depending on how bad the burns were. When that comes in I will sit on things until Monday. At that time I will announce whatever formal charges the state would like to bring.”

  Again Drake bit down on the inside of his cheeks. Made sure not to point out that in theory it gave Taggert four more days to continue investigating.

  Knew he and Kade now had the long weekend to really figure things out.

  Also knew it was the best he could hope for.

  “Monday it is then,” Drake said.

  The opposite side of the table all stared back at him for a long moment.

  Poe was the only one that broke. Smiled.

  “Monday it is.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gone.

  Evaporated.

  Vaporized.

  Any trace of the jovial Tyce Riggins Drake knew was a thing of the past. Even the calm, serene demeanor he had carried the day before was nowhere to be seen.

  In his place was a man that had not slept in days. Whose face was lined with wrinkles. Eyes were red and puffy. Hair had deep trenches in it, as if the entire night had been spent running fingers back through it. Tugging with both hands.

  The handcuffs were back around his wrists, securing him to the table. This time Drake knew better than to ask they be removed.

  Tyce looked up as he entered. Nodded. His eyes widened a bit as his gaze settled on Kade.

  “Kade Keuhl?” There was just a flicker of familiarity in his tone. More surprise than anything else.

  “Hey, Tyce,” Kade said. Stepped forward. Shook his manacled hand. “Good to see you. Wish the circumstances were different.”

  Tyce held the surprised face. Flicked a glance to Drake.

  “Yeah. Agreed.”

  Drake went to the corner. Grabbed a second black plastic chair. Slid it up next to the table.

  “In the winter when Kade isn’t on fires he helps me as an investigator,” Drake said by way of an explanation. Watched as Tyce nodded just slightly.

  It wasn’t entirely the truth, but it wasn’t false either.

  Like Drake, Kade’s status was more on-the-verge than full blown.

  Given some of the cases Drake had handled in his first six months of practicing, it had become apparent that he would have to do a fair bit of investigating on his own. While he was happy to do so, having someone licensed riding shotgun would make things significantly easier.

  Discovering that Kade’s years as a fire jumper fit the experience requirement had been a stroke of pure luck.

  Convincing Kade to fill out the paperwork had taken significantly more effort.

  “So if he’s here as an investigator...” Tyce said. Didn’t finish the thought.

  Didn’t have to.

  “They aren’t bringing charges yet,” Drake said. “We just spoke to the prosecutor who assures us they aren’t that far along.”

  Tyce looked between them, something bordering on hope crossing his face. “So they’re still investigating?”

  At that Kade let out a snort. Allowed it to roll his head back an inch or two.

  Drake managed to keep his own reaction in check.

  This was a private attorney-client meeting. That meant nobody inside the station was allowed to be listening.

  Based on everything he’d seen so far, that didn’t exactly fill him with any assurances.

  “We’ll be investigating,” Drake said. Opted for the diplomatic answer. “That’s why Kade is here with me now. Why once we leave here we might not see you for a day or two. Don’t think anything of it. We’ve just got a very truncated timetable to figure some things out.”

  Again he could sense Kade wanting to smart off beside him. To his credit, this time he remained silent.

  “An investigation,” Tyce whispered. Stared down at the table. Allowed his gaze to gloss over. “All because we went snowmobiling.”

  That morning on the drive over Drake had had the same thought. Most of the time, especially in cases where the crimes were as heinous as this, there was a mountain of evidence that led to an arrest.

  In this instance, Tyce was right. When everything else was stripped away, all th
ey had was someone happened to be driving by at the wrong time of night. If that hadn’t happened, if he hadn’t been pulling the Arctic Cat, nobody would have ever given Tyce Riggins a second thought.

  Digging into his shoulder bag, Drake removed the same legal pad Wyatt had taken notes on a few nights before. Turned to a clean page. Took out a black pen.

  “Let’s start with your aunt,” Drake said. Watched as Tyce’s head jerked up. His expression clouded over with confusion.

  “My aunt? Which one?”

  Flipping back a page, Drake looked over the list. Pulled the name from the notes he had scribbled down after meeting with Taggert the day before.

  “Mildred Hubble,” Drake said. Folded the pages back over themselves. Laid the pad flat.

  “Aunt Millie?” Tyce said. Allowed the confusion to grow more pronounced on his features. “What does she have to do with this?”

  Drake glanced towards the door. Saw the glass window framed in the top half of it. Paused just a moment to consider if anybody was listening in.

  “Apparently this was only a second home for Wes Koenig,” Drake said. “One of many he built each time an investment deal went bad and he came under some pretty serious allegations.”

  Having read through everything two nights before, Drake knew that the story was much worse than he explained it.

  He also knew he wasn’t at liberty to speak freely on the matter at the moment.

  “Okay?” Tyce said. Clearly not following the line of reasoning Drake was laying out.

  “One of the more recent situations took place in Seattle,” Drake said. “He bought some bottomlands along Lake Washington. Sold it off as lakefront lots available for development. Made a bundle.”

  Still the look of uncertainty remained on Tyce’s face.

  “Turns out the land was worthless. Nothing but marsh, unsuitable for stable structure.”

  A long moment passed as Tyce stared at Drake. Waited for more that wasn’t coming.

  Replaced the look of confusion with one of repulsion.

  “And that’s their big smoking gun? My aunt lost some money on a land investment years ago?”

  It was obvious from the tone of his voice, the look on his face, that he found the entire thing preposterous. Was on the verge of exploding just discussing it.