“Rudd,” I say. She stops and looks at me. “Do you like being around Clevenger here?”
Her smile is shallow and all-business. “Detective Sergeant Clevenger is fine with me, Mr. Buckner.”
“Do you like being around me?”
“I don’t know you so I can’t comment with any authority.”
“Well...we can fix that.” I wink. She gets my drift immediately. I get her return drift immediately. I don’t like it.
“Thanks, Mr. Buckner, but the only thing that upsets my stomach more than a man covered in tattoos and scars is pure, unadulterated, testosterone-induced arrogance. That takes you out of the running to even hold the door open for me. My dead corpse wouldn’t spread its legs for you.”
“Holy shit,” I say.
“Good day, Detectives.”
Rudd leaves. I watch her go and decide her ass is too big for me. Clevenger gives me that look he always has when I get shot down like that. He’s had practice for years now. Riggens looks positively giddy. Waiting to see if I bat a thousand for clearing the room.
I look to him. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed. “Riggens, would your corpse spread its legs for me?”
44
Riggens doesn’t answer the question but he doesn’t leave either.
The three of us are at the dry erase board. “Delilah Boothe” still circled in the middle. I reach up to start writing something brilliant and the white barrel of the marker turns to water in my hand. Spills down, mixing with the black print on it. The names and lines on the board drizzle into blurry streaks. My brain is shattered with a freeze I can taste. My eyes explode with needles of burning everything and I think the marker falls from my hand. I stand very still. Light is blinding me and I close my eyes against it. But the light is coming from behind my eyes and sealed lids do no good.
I stumble back on step and roll my foot on the marker. I almost fall and then the bubble pops. Clevenger is up on his feet. I feel the palm of his hand between my shoulder blades as he holds me upright. We’ve been at this for some time now. The color washes away and the world rights itself. I’m still cleaved in half but I reach down and snatch up the marker from the floor. Uncap it.
Clevenger doesn’t ask. He knows when he’s done. He sits. I huff out with a long exhale and steady myself on my feet. Then, it’s ops normal. I tap her name with the marker and start writing.
“Okay, so she loses the house and Derne sells it to the couple. Tyler and Abigail Bellview,” I say. “It burns down and you catch it. Have you looked into their background at all?”
Riggens nods. “Pretty clean, actually. Both have a few traffic tickets from over the years but nothing else. He was an MP in the Army in Tulsa for one tour. Did the usual stuff there, no huge busts or anything.”
“Just blah? No nothing?”
“Not really. Unless he busted someone on base and they came back for revenge now. But really, on paper anyways it seems like that was a quiet four years.”
“No crazy friends?”
“No.”
“Crazy work associates?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“Run-of-the-mill. Boring. Law abiding, tax-paying belong-to-the-neighborhood-watch family.”
“Okay,” I say, needing a smoke. “Abigail?”
“Her? She’s a stay-at-home mom; last job was three years ago before the kid.”
We all see the little girl in our minds and push her memory away. No one likes thinking of dead children.
“The jobs were mostly retail and cash register stuff. No titty dancing or prostitution. No former bosses who showed up on radar as bad people. I interviewed the last three of ’em and they don’t recall her having any enemies at work nor do they recall any other employees with records of arson.”
“What about personal life? Family, friends?”