The Glue Guy: The Zoo Crew Series Book 4

by Dustin Stevens

  “I was thinking maybe get out to the cabin. No phones, no internet, just you and me for a couple of days. What do you think?”

  The question evoked another smile. A quick peck on the lips before Megan retreated back. Leaned over beneath the water cascading down from the showerhead.

  “I think give me two minutes to get this shampoo out of my hair and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Third.

  The first time the story ran Drake and Kade were on the road back from Butte.

  The second time, Drake was outside walking Suzy Q. Waiting for her to get done marking her territory every fifteen feet. Stamping his boots on the salt-riddled sidewalks to keep his toes from going numb.

  It was by a total fluke that he even happened to catch the third showing.

  The delivery man from The Firetower had left just five minutes before. Deposited two large pizzas. Mushroom and extra sauce for Drake. Every meat the store carried for Ajax.

  Both boxes were placed side by side on the coffee table in the living room. Drinks were gathered. Places on the couch were chosen.

  A discussion on what they should watch was just under way as the third round of news came on in the background. The lead story was the apprehension of a suspect in the murderous fire that had taken place in Butte earlier in the week.

  Ajax was still in the middle of a lengthy diatribe about why they should watch The Warriors when Drake caught the image of Poe on the screen. Waved him off. Turned the volume up to twelve.

  Felt his heartbeat race in his chest as he saw the prosecutor stand front and center. Deliver very little information. Act as if Wes Koenig was a close relative whose loss was affecting him greatly.

  Flanking him were Waylon Sharp and Paul Taggert.

  True to form, Sharp looked pissed, bored. Taggert seemed like he would rather be anywhere else in the world. Kept fighting the urge to chew on the corner of his moustache.

  The entire snippet lasted no more than forty seconds.

  When it was over the three men were replaced on screen by a blonde woman in a black-and-white checked jacket. On her hands were thick felt gloves, a microphone held just inches from her mouth.

  “As you can see, I am standing here outside what remains of the Koenig home,” she said. Shifted to the side. Allowed the camera to pan the length of the wreckage as she walked along beside it.

  The video had obviously been taken earlier in the day, the sun still visible behind her in the western sky. It cast a thin sideways light over the charred home, long shadows adding extra effect to the scene.

  “Originally this was believed to be the work of an arsonist, but as you just heard Mr. Poe explain, it turned out this was a plot with a much more deadly end game.

  “Thankfully for everyone here in Butte, the perpetrator is now safely behind bars.”

  After the last word she stopped pacing. Turned back to face forward. Allowed the camera to frame her fully.

  “For KGRZ news, I’m Teresa Shelburne.”

  Just as fast the coverage moved on to the next topic, a water main break on the south end of town.

  Drake left the volume up and watched a few more minutes. Made sure there was nothing more of the story.

  Turned the entire television off.

  “I thought you said they weren’t bringing charges until Monday?” Ajax said. Remained reclined in the opposite corner of the couch. Kept one arm outstretched along the back.

  “They’re not,” Drake said. “That’s why they didn’t release a name. After charges are filed it becomes public record and they can splash it wherever they want.”

  Inching closer towards the pizza boxes sitting on the table, Q dropped herself by his feet. Leaned her bulk against his calf. Looked up at him expectantly. Without shifting his gaze down to her, Drake reached out. Found the folds of skin gathered behind her ears. Massaged her neck, his mind racing.

  It was true, they had held to their word in not bringing charges.

  Conversely, they had basically announced to the world that their investigation was over. There would be no more digging into Koenig’s past. No more trying to determine who else might have done it.

  An obvious, albeit tenuous, suspect had been dropped into their lap from the very beginning.

  A frontrunner.

  That was good enough for them.

  “Where you at?” Ajax asked. Leaned forward so Drake could see him in his periphery.

  “Right now?” Drake asked. “Pissed. Those sons of bitches didn’t want to do their job so they grabbed the first person that seemed even quasi-viable and shoehorned him into what they needed.”

  His left hand he kept on Q’s neck. The right he balled into a tight fist.

  “In about three minutes?” Drake continued. “I’ll push that aside. Call Kara Riggins, try to talk her off a ledge. Get Kade over here and strategize the next couple days. Apparently we have until Monday to do the damn police department’s job for them.”

  Ajax snorted. Let the movement rock his head back, hair swinging around his head.

  “That’s always fun.”

  “Yeah,” Drake said. Gave a bitter nod.

  He was two and a half minutes into the three minutes of anger he had allowed himself when the phone rang. Flashed a phone number instead of a name.

  “Shit, that’s probably Kara there,” Drake said. Picked up the phone and stood. Motioned towards the boxes sitting on the table.

  “Go ahead and eat. Just toss her a couple crusts if you would.”

  Ajax raised two fingers to his brow in a salute of understanding.

  Said nothing.

  Stepping past Q, Drake circled out of the living room into his bedroom. Looked down at the phone vibrating in his hand. Expected to find a 406 area code staring back up at him.

  Saw the call registered from 206 instead.

  “Drake Bell.”

  “Um, yeah,” a woman said. Older. Irritated. Sounded as if she was already a few martinis into her Friday night.

  “This is Millie Hubble. I got a snippy message from my sister a little while ago that said I should give you a call.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Surprised.

  Stunned.

  Shocked, even.

  Drake had not expected the Riggins family phone tree to work so fast. No more than three hours had passed since his meeting with Tyce.

  For Kara to have called her mother-in-law already was prompt. For the mother-in-law to have called and laid into her sister was impressive.

  For that sister to already be calling Drake was nothing short of a miracle.

  “Yes!” Drake said. Spat out the word with more vigor than intended. Made no apology for it. “Thank you for getting back to me. Trust me, this wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t terribly important.”

  Despite his words, the aura of extreme boredom still seemed to emanate through the line to him.

  “Yeah, that’s what Janie said.”

  Snatching up his bag from the floor beside the bed, Drake extracted his note pad. Flipped to his transcriptions from his most recent conversation at the jail.

  There, in blue ink, was Tyce’s mother’s name.

  Jane Riggins.

  How the parents came up with Mildred for their other daughter was a question Drake didn’t dare vocalize.

  “How much of what’s going on did your sister fill you in on?” Drake asked.

  In the background he heard the tinkling of ice into a glass. Waited while the woman took a long drink of something. Smacked her lips.

  “She said something about Tyce being thrown in jail,” Millie said. Thorough disinterest. “They probably told you we’re not exactly close. Gotta admit I didn’t see that one coming though. He always seemed like a pretty good kid.”

  “He still is,” Drake said. Realized the response sounded sharper than intended. “That’s actually why I asked to speak with you. It seems his relation to you is a big part of why he’s being he
ld right now.”

  “To me?” she asked. Seemed genuinely surprised. “What the hell for?”

  Drake ran through the entire story for her quickly. Started with the fire, pushed through the traffic camera and the gas cans in his truck. Saved the punch line for last, dropping the name of Wes Koenig at the very end. Hoped it would bring about the proverbial a-ha moment for her. Open up some story that would change the complexion of everything. Exonerate his client completely.

  Instead she gave the worst possible explanation she could have.

  “So?”

  Feeling his insides seize, Drake sat down on the edge of the bed. Leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Ran a hand back over his scalp.

  “Eleven years ago Wes Koenig bought up a huge chunk of bottomlands along Lake Washington,” he said. “He fixed them up just enough to package the place as lakefront real estate. Turned around and sold them off at a premium.”

  Silence fell over the line for a long moment.

  “Okay?” Millie asked. Still not interested. Still not certain where any of this was going.

  Drake made a face, shook his head from side to side.

  How a person could show so little concern for a relative in trouble was beyond him. How that same person could seem to not remember a deal that cost her millions of dollars was completely unfathomable.

  “Among those who bought up large swaths of that land were you and your husband,” Drake said. Hoped each new word would trigger something within her.

  “No, I got that,” Millie said. “I just don’t see what the big deal is.”

  Drake’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “The big deal is the prosecution is using that as motive for why they believe Tyce burned his house to the ground!”

  Again Drake could tell he was yelling. That the combined effects of the press conference and the woman’s attitude had his adrenaline running high.

  Still, at this point, apparently she needed to have the seriousness of the situation spelled out for her.

  Silence again fell over the line, Drake waiting, hoping, that it had worked.

  For the second time in as many minutes, Millie Hubble surprised him. Burst into laughter. Loud, uncontrollable cackles that at times rose to shrieks.

  Remained that way for nearly a full minute.

  When she was done she drew in several shorts breaths, the puffs of air almost whistling between her teeth.

  “No shit?” she asked. Had the last traces of a chuckle present in her tone. “That’s what they’re using to pin this thing on Tyce?”

  From where Drake sat, there was not one iota of humor in the situation.

  Still, he kept his tone neutral.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh my,” she wheezed. Took a loud gulp of something Drake suspected wasn’t water. Sat her glass down with a clatter.

  “Son, do you have any idea who my husband is?”

  The question seemed to come from far afield. Drake leaned back an inch, his eyebrows tracking higher on his head.

  “Let’s pretend I don’t,” Drake said. Wanted her to start wherever she deemed necessary. To fill in all blanks she found pertinent.

  In truth, he knew nothing more than her husband was named Gerald Hubble. That they lived quite comfortably. Were active in the investment market.

  Something told him that was far from the complete picture.

  “There is a small group of investors in the Pacific Northwest that control pretty much the entire real estate market,” Millie said. Had no small amount of arrogance in her voice as she did so.

  “Wes Koenig was one of them. My husband still is.”

  Drake nodded. Folded back his pad to a new page. Began taking notes anew.

  “Okay.”

  “A general understanding exists between them,” she said. “They may compete for the same ventures, but once one of them secures it, the others back away.”

  The system reminded Drake of a quote he had heard long ago.

  You never see piranhas eating each other.

  “The so-called chunks of land that my husband and I lost millions on were contracted by one of our subsidiary companies. The guy in charge was new, didn’t know better, was instantly shown the door.”

  The last sentence was made so flippantly Drake could almost see her waving a hand as she said it. At the same time he realized he hoped he never had to put her on the stand for anything.

  An attitude like hers would not go over well in front of a crowd.

  “Anyway, after the fact Gerry called Wes and explained what happened. We received a check in full for our trouble that day. I think he sold the land to some other schmuck before the week was up.”

  At the last piece of information, Drake stopped writing. The entirety of his defense had just been dropped into his lap. No longer was there any sort of motive whatsoever.

  All the prosecution had was a picture of a gas can.

  “Did Tyce know this?” Drake asked.

  “Honestly, it was such a non-event, I’m amazed anybody knew about it,” Millie said. “I would say how in the world the prosecution found it is beyond me, but I remember how Butte can be. Damn gossip mill never stops turning.”

  Drake pondered the statement. Rolled it around in his mind. Tried to let it fit in with what he already knew.

  “I’m guessing this settlement with Koenig was off the record, correct?”

  “If you want to call it that,” Millie replied. “Like I said, we called, he wrote a check. That was all there was to it.”

  Any bit of surprise within him melted away. Was replaced by newfound resolve.

  It was too late now to get Poe on the phone. After he had gone on television and declared to the world that they had everything nailed down just hours before, there was no way he could back off so soon anyway.

  Instead, Drake had two days to find the real motivation behind the act.

  To walk in on Monday morning and drop it in everybody’s lap. Stride back out with Tyce Riggins by his side.

  “Ms. Hubble, I can’t thank you enough for this,” Drake said. “If I need you to give a statement the first of the week, would you be willing to do so?”

  Again the voice of extreme boredom returned. “I suppose. Would there be any way I could do it from here?”

  Drake wasn’t the least bit surprised by the question. Rolled his eyes. “Certainly. If it comes to it, I’ll drive to Seattle myself.”

  “Well, I suppose that might be okay. Just avoid Tuesday if possible, those aren’t good for me.”

  Drake rolled his eyes again. Thanked her for her time.

  Hung up and walked into the living room. Found Ajax watching The Warriors. Already working on his third slice of pizza. Q curled up at his feet.

  He paused as Drake entered, half-eaten slice a few inches from his face.

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Wasn’t Kara Riggins,” Drake said. Shook his head.

  Smiled just a tiny bit.

  “It was Millie Hubble, Tyce’s aunt.”

  At that Ajax made a face. Dropped the slice back into the box. Rubbed his hands together.

  “Okay. Meaning?”

  “Meaning the prosecution’s case just got blown to hell.”

  A matching smile formed on Ajax’s face.

  “Hell yeah. That’s my boy.”

  “Not over yet though,” Drake said. Shook his head. Allowed the smile to retreat. “I’d still feel a lot better if we can nail what the hell the actual motivation was before we go back over there.”

  A moment of silence passed, Ajax thinking on it.

  “Walk in and slam it on their desk,” he said. Added a wink. “Both literally and figuratively.”

  “Yeah,” Drake said. Nodded. “Any chance I can hire you to help me do some digging?”

  “No,” Ajax said. Shook his head for effect. “What do you need?”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Eight o’clock.

  Breakfast tim
e.

  The scent of pancakes hung heavy in the house. Wafted from the kitchen where Drake was cooking. Filled the entire space around him.

  Floated out into the living room. Through the bedrooms.

  Was enough to drive Ajax crazy, his stomach growling as he worked. Enough to pull Q from her slumber. Get her to join them a good three hours before her usual waking hour.

  All parties continued in virtual silence until a quarter past the hour. Had the early morning tranquility shattered by the front door opening. Heavy feet shuffling on the tile foyer. Jackets and boots rustling as they made their way down the front hallway.

  Sage was the first to appear, her coat unzipped. Beneath it she wore grey sweats and a Montana Grizzlies sweatshirt. A knit cap on her head.

  Looked to have been awake less than a half hour.

  Behind her was Kade. Eyes and nostrils both red and puffy. Seemed to have been awake an even shorter amount of time.

  “Good morning,” Sage greeted everyone. Shrugged out of her coat. Tossed it on the back of the couch. Bent at the waist and scratched Q behind the ears.

  “Morning,” Kade mumbled behind her. Appeared to be faring no better with the head cold he was battling.

  “Morning,” Drake said from the kitchen. Waved a rubber spatula at them. “Have a seat. Be just a couple more minutes.”

  Sage stood. Walked into the kitchen. Stopped at the counter on the opposite side of the stovetop. Looked at Drake hard at work, the three towers of flapjacks by his side.

  The saucepot of syrup and honey warming on the neighboring burner.

  “Drake Bell’s World Famous Pancakes,” she said. Drew in a deep breath. “Usually this means—“

  “That I want something,” Drake finished. Flipped two more over in front of him. “Yeah, I remember.”

  He looked up at her and smiled. Pointed the corner of the spatula her direction. “I do listen, you know. And no, no strings attached. Been a long night for Ajax, fixing to be a long day for me and Kade.”

  “Ah,” Sage said. Raised her chin in understanding. “So I just got invited along for the ride?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Drake said. Finished the last few on the griddle. Loaded them all onto a serving platter. Carried it to the kitchen table.