Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [92]
I put my hand over his. “Gabe, about you and Sam. Maybe you should try to mend some fences.”
The softness went out of his face. “What I said to him still goes. It was stupid and thoughtless to confront those men. He put his life as well as yours in danger just because he wanted to play Rambo.”
“He only did what any eighteen-year-old boy who was raised by a macho-cop father would do.”
“Are you implying his behavior is my fault?”
“All I’m saying is I suspect at eighteen you would have reacted in a very similar way.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he snapped, walking around and sitting down at his desk. I perched on the edge of his desk, facing him.
“Fine,” I said. “But think about it.”
He leaned back in his tall executive chair and rested his chin on his hand. “What I need to think about is who among our many suspects in this case could have arranged to have this done.”
“Where’s the truck?” I asked.
“I had it towed to Bill’s Auto Body over on Broadway. He’s done some good work for the department. He’ll give me an estimate tomorrow.”
“Guess I’ll have to find some other wheels for the time being.”
“Get your truck back from Sam.”
I didn’t answer, but made a mental note to call about renting a car tomorrow. “So, who is tops on your suspect list?”
He gazed at me silently for a moment.
“You might as well let me in on what’s going on. Everyone thinks I know everything anyway, so keeping me in the dark is no protection.”
He nodded, a look of reluctance still coloring his face. “I suppose you’re right. Especially when the Freedom Press hits the county tomorrow.”
“I forgot, how was your meeting with Michael Haynes?”
“I let him rant and rave and threaten and then I made all the comforting sounds a police chief is supposed to make. What I wanted to do is tell him that if he didn’t like the way I was running the department to just shove it.”
I smiled at him. “Very grown up.”
He gave me a weak smile back. “Yeah, I know, it’s just that I’m just so friggin’ tired.” He ran a hand over his face. “And this case has got me baffled. When I was working homicide, I always hated cases like this.”
“Like what?”
“So many suspects. No witnesses. Sex, money, and jealousy. All the biggies when it comes to motive. It’s messy and disjointed, and I feel like every time we make progress on one little point, a hundred others come up.” He pulled a small tape recorder out of the top drawer of his desk. “Tell me what happened from the beginning. I want to get a statement before you forget anything.” He punched the recorder on.
I told him everything I could remember, though like most highly charged emotional incidents, your memories are selective and somewhat convoluted. My voice shook a little when I told him about the man backhanding me. He reached up and gently touched my swollen eye, the skin around his eyes taut.
“I’ d like to kill him,” he said softly.
“I’ll heal,” I said. “Who do you think might be involved in this?”
“Those two guys were probably just hired thugs. You and Sam need to look through some pictures and see if you can pick out anyone, but I’m willing to bet that they were paid a couple of hundred bucks to vandalize my truck. There’s enough unemployment in San Celina County these days that finding people to do this sort of thing is getting easier and easier.”
“So, if you find these guys you’ll know who the killer is.”
“Not necessarily. They probably don’t even know who hired them. There’s a lot of ways to pay people to do illegal things without the employee ever knowing who employed them.”
I slipped down off the desk. “There’s not much you can do about it right now, is there?”
“Not unless you feel like looking through some pictures tonight.”
“Would it make any difference if I wait until tomorrow?”
“Not really.”
“Let’s go home, then. I’ ve got an incredibly packed day tomorrow.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s past eleven already. Did you call Dove?”
“Yes, and she’s all primed to chew your tail when you walk through