One Hit Wonder Page 6

  Leo looked down as if my question required serious consideration. After what felt like the longest minutes in eternity, he sighed heavily and looked at me. “I don’t have an explanation for that. It’s a loose thread.” He then pressed his lips together. The muscle in his cheek flexed twice before he said, “That’s a good point, Samantha. A good observation. The criminal mind is not an easy one to decipher.”

  My mouth fell open. I slammed it shut. “Did you just compliment me?”

  His lips twitched. “Yeah, but don’t get too excited. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes.”

  I tossed my hand in the air in frustration. “And there you go, ruining the moment.”

  He smirked. “I gotta keep things real. Can’t have you and Precious driving around playing Nancy Drew and Trixie Beldon.”

  I grimaced and cut my gaze to him. “Nancy Drew and Trixie Beldon? You couldn’t come up with a more current comparison? Like Veronica Mars?”

  “I’ll stick with Trixie and Nancy.”

  “They aren’t even in the same book? Or the same grade level of reading.” Realization dawned. “Wait, is that what you’re saying? One of us is smarter than the other?”

  He barked a short laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe your first assumption was right, and I don’t have a current reference. Deliberate? I’ll let you decide.” He cocked one brow, a half smile on his face. Then turned and strolled away.

  “Wait.” I caught up to him. “Do you need me to go take pictures of Smith’s car for you?” Even if he said “no,” I planned to follow him anyway. Ask for forgiveness later and all that.

  He looped one thumb over his activity belt, casually holding the mug with his other hand, and kept walking. “That’s not necessary. The staff photographer is available.”

  My phone jingled, and I tugged it from my pocket. Precious’s name was on the screen. I stopped trying to keep pace with him and accepted the call.

  “Looks like Nancy’s calling. Or is she Trixie?” he called over his shoulder.

  “I really don’t like you,” I said to his back, then put the phone to my ear. “What’s up, P?”

  “My car broke down. I need you to come and get me. I’m on Cougar Valley Road about three miles past Junkie’s.”

  Chapter Eight

  I found Precious leaning against her maroon Ford Focus, hood up. The ground around her was wet and in the air was a burnt smell.

  The sun had penetrated the blanket of gray, and she had her face turned up to the sky. As a PNWer, you gotta get that vitamin D when you could. The sun was a fleeting treat in the fall and winter.

  I pulled over to the shoulder across the lane from her and got out of LC. “What happened?”

  Face still turned upward, she said, “I don’t know. The check engine light came on, but I pushed it, hoping I’d make it to Bob’s.” She gestured to the hood. “Apparently not. Next thing I know, I hear a hissing sound and water is shooting out from the crack of the hood.”

  I looked at the engine. Her issue appeared to be the radiator. “Did you call Crenshaw?”

  She nodded. “Right after I called you. He’s finishing up a call but will be here as soon as he can.”

  I scanned the open field. Cougar Valley Road was nothing but country. At one end toward town was Junkie’s and the main road that lead to downtown Wind River. In the direction Precious was coming from were farms, a handful at best. Since farming was becoming obsolete in the area, many were selling out to housing developments.

  Precious’s parents’ farm was two miles down the road, I assumed she’d come from there. “How are your folks?”

  “Doing well,” she said. “I helped them set up the entrance to the corn maze and moved pumpkins into the barn to sell.” She dusted imaginary dirt from her jeans. She didn’t look like a woman who’d been farming, not dressed in a gauzy shirt with a four-inch-wide belt circling her waist.

  In addition to running a restaurant, Precious’s parents did the annual Halloween corn maze, pumpkin patch, and hayrides. They had apple orchards they turned into hard cider and kid-friendly cider, fields of gourds they used creatively, and a private vegetable and flower garden that could make the average backyard gardener weep with envy.

  “Get this,” I said. “Smith was being interrogated today when I went to the police station.” Louney said I couldn’t tell my dad. He didn’t say I couldn’t tell my best friend.

  Precious pushed off the car, turned to me, stunned. “For robbing Junkie’s and tying up Ms. Trina?”

  I nodded. “Apparently, he was around here somewhere when they needed him to respond to Junior’s accident with the deer, but they couldn’t get him on the radio.” I filled her in on the rest of what Leo told me.

  She pointed to the field. “Sometimes when I leave mom and dad’s late, a cop car is parked there. The interior is always dark, so I assumed whoever was in it was sleeping, but maybe Smith and Kevin meet out here. It’s isolated and dark at night.”

  I considered the road. “And you can take back roads from here to Graycloud’s place, too.”

  “You think these robberies are a copycat?” She crossed her arms and rubbed her hands up and down as if to warm herself.

  “I do. Dad does. Louney does, or else why be talking to Smith and Kevin Greevey? If Louney believed the Comic Book Bandits were behind this, he’d be pursuing that, wouldn’t he?” I had no real practical experience to pull from, so this was all guessing.

  She nodded in agreement. “Recognizing that someone we know, someone we might have hung out with or dated or sat next to at the Fourth of July parade, is capable of doing terrible things to people is disturbing. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  I leaned casually against her driver’s side door. “It’s not as if these people are serial killers. I don’t think they meant for Ms. Trina to get hurt.”

  Precious reared back in horror. “Did you hear yourself? Who are you? Ms. Trina lost her arm. She wouldn’t have been out there if whoever did this wasn’t greedy and selfish. And stupid.” She added emphasis to her last words.

  Yikes, I was starting to sound like my dad. Leo’s cautionary warning was ringing true. Exposure to the seedy side of life was changing my perspective, making me more casual about crime. And I’d been doing this two days. Not counting what we learned in school.

  Not wanting to continue this conversation, I pointed over her shoulder. “Here comes Crenshaw.”

  She pushed me aside to reach into her car. Gathering her books, purse, and a water bottle, she then tossed them inside LC.

  In silence, we watched Crenshaw pull up.

  Before he got out of the tower’s cab, I said, “You gonna ask about Bigfoot?”

  Her eyes widened and she slapped her leg in frustration. “Darn it. I wish I’d thought about that. I wouldn’t have called you and instead rode with him.”

  I chuckled. “Let’s see if he’ll tell us anymore.”

  Crenshaw jumped from the large cab and glanced between her car and us. “Where you want me to tow this? Bob’s?” His lower lip jutted out from what I assumed was a plug of tobacco. A second later, he spat on the ground then wiped his chin with a bandana from his back pocket.

  Precious shook her head. “I have to take it to Greevey’s dealership. I called Bob, and he said it would take a week before he could get to it. I called Junior, and he can get to it tomorrow.”

  Crenshaw said, “Roger.”

  “Can we help?” I gestured to the Precious’s car.

  “I got it,” Crenshaw said.

  I cleared my throat. “Becca was at the hospital. Ms. Trina wasn’t awake while I was there. Have you heard how she’s doing?”

  Crenshaw nodded. “Yup, she’s awake, but says she doesn’t remember anything.”

  That surprised me. “Nothing?”

  “Not even if Bigfoot came to the bar?” Precious asked.

  Crenshaw chuckled. “Hard to imagine a person forgetting that. How did you know about that?”

  Precious po
inted to me.

  “Because she loves Bigfoot,” I said in my defense and cleared my throat from the guilt lodged there. I had been told to keep my lips zipped.

  Precious sucked in a breath, her eyes wide with excitement. “Do you honestly think that’s what was on the video?”

  Crenshaw shuffled to the cab of his truck then came back to us holding a picture. “You tell me.”

  The image was grainy and black and white. The bottom left corner was a black blob, the bottom right showed the lower part of a leg, the foot not in the frame. The leg was hairy and built like a tree trunk, large and uniform in size from top to bottom. The backdrop for the leg was the junkyard.

  “This looks as if the angle is coming from close to the ground and pointing up.” I stared at the image.

  Crenshaw cleared his throat in embarrassment. “It is. I thought I was being really clever putting a camera low to the ground. Everyone looks up for cameras, no one expects them to be down by the ground.”

  That made sense, to a degree. I pointed to the blob. “What’s this?”

  Crenshaw glanced at the picture then returned to hooking up the car. “Dirt on the lens. Trouble with low cameras is they get dirty faster. The elevated cameras had a film of dirt on them, but this one had mud splatters. I’ve since cleaned all my camera lenses.”

  Precious’s face glowed with hope. She clutched the picture to her chest. “This could be the real deal. Can I keep this?”

  Crenshaw’s smile said he thought Precious was amusing. He nodded.

  I was skeptical. “Or there could be another explanation. Anything else your videos might have caught? Like say, Officer Smith coming and going?”

  Crenshaw was working at the hood of Precious’s car, hooking up the wench. He stood and stared at me. “How did you know about that?”

  Feeling like a busybody, I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I went by the station earlier. He was there in the interrogation room.”

  Crenshaw shrugged. “I expect a lot of people will be seeing the inside of that interrogation room.”

  “How come?” This didn’t make sense to me.

  “Because the bar was packed that night. Someone had to see something. They probably don’t know it yet.” Crenshaw continued to hook up Precious’s car.

  “Seventies night is the best,” I said.

  “Biggest moneymaker for me.” Crenshaw tightened chains and cables then moved to the tow truck to lift up Precious’s car.

  “And whoever did this had to know that.” I was thinking out loud.

  “What I can’t figure out is why they went into the junkyard and what they took, if anything.” Crenshaw said.

  “Wait,” I said. “You think the robbers took something from your junkyard, too?”

  Crenshaw gave a half shrug. “That’s my guess. Or else why go into the junkyard? I’ve got video of a figure moving through the yard, but they managed to stay far enough away from the camera to make out anything distinguishable.”

  “And the cameras were dirty,” I guessed.

  “That, too. The camera that caught the person was by the junkyard entrance. Not the same one that caught Bigfoot, which is closer to the back door of the bar.”

  Precious perked up.

  I said, “I’m sure we can rule out Bigfoot. What do you think the person took?”

  Crenshaw stroked his chin. “Anything worth value would be car parts, but a part isn’t as high value as an entire car.”

  I teased Precious. “Why would Bigfoot need car parts?”

  Precious looked surprised. “Don’t assume he wouldn’t need car parts. Depending on what he took, he could use it for a lot of things. Like a hood could be a tabletop.”

  I smiled. “Because Bigfoot is domesticated and needs a table for sit-down dinners?”

  She pointed a finger at me. “You tease, but one day when we find him and you see how he’s living, you’re gonna be blown away.”

  “I look forward to that day,” I said.

  The walkie-talkie on Crenshaw’s hip crackled. He had another pickup to do following this one.

  “Busy day?” I said after he’d written down the location of the broken-down vehicle.

  “You ain’t kidding. Now that word’s out about cars getting stolen from dealerships like Greevey’s, people want to be towed to a station that locks up their car or my junkyard behind the gate. People made fun of me for my cameras and gates, but no one is laughing now.”

  Precious said, “I don’t have a choice with Greevey’s. I need my car ASAP. Do you think I should go elsewhere? Do you know another body shop?”

  Crenshaw and I shook our heads.

  Precious sighed. “I’m gonna have to trust Greevey’s.”

  Crenshaw worked the wad in his mouth then spit on the ground.

  Precious continued, “Besides, who’d steal an old Ford like mine?” She looked heavenward. “Oh, please don’t let it get stolen. I know my car isn’t much, but it’s all I have, and with midterms coming up, I can’t be bothered to have to car shop if this one were to get stolen.”

  Confused and frustrated, I rubbed my temples. “But wasn’t Junior’s stolen because it’s a sports car? Those are perfect to sell on the black market, right?” Like I knew anything about a market other than our town’s farmer’s market.

  Crenshaw nodded and scratched at his cleanly shaved chin. “The parts, for sure. One of the main companies that makes the OEM’s for those types of sports car recently had a fire in their factory, and now there’s a backorder for all parts. Junior’s lucky his car was stolen. It’ll probably be easier to get a new car than get the replacement parts he needed.”

  “But he could use generic parts.” Clearly, repairing cars was complex.

  Crenshaw rolled his eyes. “Not Junior. Only the best for him.”

  This was the second person who said less than favorable comments about Junior, not counting his brother. My world was turning inside-out. What I believed to be true, wasn’t. Who I believed to be nice might not be.

  Crenshaw said, “You two have time to do me a favor? Or two favors?”

  I looked at Precious, who shrugged as if to say why not. “Sure,” I said.

  He walked to the cab of the tow truck, then took out two large brown paper bags. “Can you deliver these bags to Becca? I’ve been meaning to get out there and see if she needs anything, but with all these calls coming in, I’m afraid the food will spoil before I get the chance.”

  I took the bags. “Yeah, we can totally do that.”

  Hopefully at Becca’s I’d get answers, specifically about Kevin.

  Crenshaw continued, “And can you spread the word that this Friday, Junkie’s will be reopening and we’re having another seventies night fundraiser for Trina to help cover medical expenses and what not. You two will come, won’t you?”

  We both nodded.

  I said, “I’ll make sure to tell everyone I know.”

  He gave us a toothy smile. “Maybe Bigfoot will come back for tires to make himself some chairs to go with his hood dining table.”

  Precious clasped her hands together with excitement. “Oh, I sure hope so.”

  Chapter Nine

  We drove to Becca’s in silence. Precious was staring at the Bigfoot picture while inspecting it from different angles.

  When we pulled up to Ms. Trina’s, a rusted-out old sports car was parked in the driveway. Next to it was a Toyota Camry with a rental car sticker on its bumper.

  “I hope we’re not imposing,” Precious said.

  “We’ll drop off the food and feel it out.” I picked up the grocery bags and handed one to Precious, keeping the other.

  The front door swung open before we could knock. A serious-looking man with sharp features stood before us. He was wearing a wrinkled suit and carried a briefcase.

  “Excuse me.” He didn’t move, but gestured for us to get out of the way. He seemed irritated.

  I stepped closer to Precious to allow him to pass. He brushed by us and
mumbled something that I hoped was an apology.

  Becca was behind him. Her eyes were red and puffy from freshly shed tears.

  “Is it your mom? Is she okay?” I was worried Ms. Trina wasn’t out of the woods.

  Becca dabbed a tissue to her eyes. “Every day goes from bad to worse.” She waved us in.

  We carried the bags to the kitchen and began to unload.

  The Holland house was small but warm and cozy. The kitchen and dining combo was off the living room. A hallway led to the back of the house where I assumed were the bedrooms and bath.

  “Is there anything we can help with?” I unpacked several packages of Oreos. Apparently, Crenshaw put stock in the belief that a cookie could fix anything.

  Becca held a pack of cookies, confusion on her face.

  “This is all from Crenshaw,” I explained.

  Becca collapsed in a chair and nodded. “That explains the Oreos. He knows they used to be my favorite.”

  Precious pointed to the front door behind her. “Who was that?”

  Fresh tears sprung to Becca’s eyes. “On top of all this with mom, now I have to deal with Dad stuff, too.”

  I handed her a package of double-stuffed. “Dad stuff?”

  “That guy was a representative from Dad’s company. Somehow they were never notified that Dad died.” She took two cookies and fidgeted with them, twisting off the tops.

  “Oh, dear,” Precious said. “Like you want to be addressing this while your mom is in the hospital. Out of respect, his company should wait until you all are settled first.”

  Becca said, “Apparently, someone is using Dad’s insurance agent authority and approving claims. His company thinks his identity was stolen.”

  “Holy cow.” I helped myself to an Oreo. “I hope this doesn’t make more of a mess for your mom to clean up. I read that companies can dedicate someone to handle this. Maybe your dad’s company will take care of it for her. Your mom is gonna have her hands full.” I gulped at my poor choice of words and hoped no one would notice.

  The back door flung open and Kevin Greevey stepped into the kitchen. He shot Precious and me a glare. “Jeez, what are you two doing here.”