Chat - Archer Mayor [39]
Fifteen minutes later, one of the kids helping Drury held up his gloved hand. “Got something, sir.”
Barrows took it from him and showed it to Joe. It was a nut.
Joe looked up at the eager faces crowded around him, discipline having caved in to enthusiasm. He showed them the small piece of metal and spoke in a loud voice.
“You’ve done some great work here today. I thank you, and the Bureau thanks you. When I get back to the office, I’ll make sure you all get officially recognized for your efforts. This is a terrific example of how some police work, maybe a little dull at first, pays off big-time in the end. Thumbs-up to all of you.”
He poked his own thumb into the air, feeling only slightly foolish, comforted by the obvious pride and pleasure he saw in their faces.
Leaving the Explorers to pack up the equipment and trade excited one-liners, Rob and Joe walked back to the vehicles. Barrows held the nut out in front of him as they went.
“You can definitely see tool marks on it.”
“You sure that’s it?” Joe asked, hoping not to sound too doubtful.
Barrows gave his signature easy smile. “No. It’s not like Subaru stamps every nut it uses. But what’re the odds? It even has fresh grease on it. I’d bet that alone might connect it to your brother’s car. Amazing what forensics can do these days.”
He carefully dropped it into a small evidence bag he’d extracted from his coat pocket. “In any case,” he added, “I am sure it’s enough to get into Steve’s Garage with a warrant.”
Willy Kunkle pulled out his cell phone and responded in his standard professional manner.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Scott.” To Willy’s total lack of response, the caller added hesitantly, “McCarty. You know . . .”
He did. McCarty was one of his many snitches. “So what?”
“Well, so I got something for you.”
Willy stopped in mid-stride at the edge of the parking lot behind the municipal building. “Oh, right,” he said scornfully. “Like I’m going to waste more time with you.”
“No, no,” Scott pleaded. “Don’t hang up. It’s about the guy you’re looking for, one of the ones in the paper—‘Do You Know Either of These Men?’ Well, I do. I mean, I don’t, but I know who does.”
“Who?”
There was a telling pause on the other end of the line. Willy’s grip tightened on the phone. “Listen, you little asshole—”
“Okay, okay,” Scott interrupted him. “Meet me at the town garage in an hour. I’ll have my man there and we’ll do business.”
“Business? After all the crap you put me through last time? That officially made you one of the worst informants I got,” Willy blew up. “You owe me this as a freebie.”
But Scott demurred, taking his time before answering, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Detective, especially since this is such a big deal—two dead men, big mystery, police at a standstill. Be a shame if you don’t know what I know.”
Willy scowled. Like it or not, he had to take a closer look at this. “And how much is what you know gonna cost me?”
The answer was instantaneous. “Hundred bucks.”
As was Willy’s. “Fuck you.” He hung up.
He stayed where he was, phone in hand. It rang a minute later.
“Seventy-five,” Scott said. “I gotta split it with—”
Willy hung up again without a word.
This time, it took three minutes for the phone to ring again.
“Fifty,” Scott said in a flat voice. “After that, I don’t give a shit.”
Willy believed him. “See you in an hour.”
In fact, Willy drove to the meeting place immediately, to stake it out. Brattleboro’s town garage was on Fairgrounds Road, just beyond the sprawling rebuilt high school. The road was on the edge of town, not heavily traveled, not overly well lighted, and the “garage” itself was actually an assemblage of buildings—storage sheds, equipment units, repair bays, and the like, all affording a wide choice of shadowy hiding places.
Just to be on the safe side, Willy was going to make sure he was the first to take advantage of that.
Brattleboro is not the kind of town that harbors ambushes. There are no drive-by shootings, few muggings; murders crop up once every