dark.”
Turner drove his car into Cam’s driveway.
“This is pretty messed up,” Cam said, taking another swig from his flask. He had had enough at this point that his lips were a little too loose. “I probably shouldn’t say this but I’ve got a scattering of clues and six or so suspects.”
“Name them.”
“Daphne, Claude, you, Hank, Blanca, and Alice Prescott.”
“You can cross me off that list. Who you got your money on?”
“My gut at this point is telling me Hank.”
Turner laughed. “My dad didn’t do it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rowdy sat on Dr. Wilson’s examination table. The doc took his blood pressure.
“Jesus, Joseph and Mary! What’s got you so worked up?” he asked, reading the instrument.
“The job is stressful,” Rowdy tried.
“No, it’s not. If you’ve somehow forgotten, I’ve been in this town much longer than you and there’s nothing that ever happens here that’s stressful. Besides the damned old gnats. And that’s about as stressful as the town of Hayes gets. Talk to me, Rowdy.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t. Especially to you.”
“Well, that’s all you had to say. You and I both know I was close to Cam. You also may think I live inside this office, but I do have lunch everyday at the drug store. People talk, you know.”
“And what are those people saying?”
“They’re saying you’re all torn up over Clarence’s murder.”
“They are?”
“Some are saying you’re a softy for not arresting Cam. Everybody knows you ran him out of town.”
“They do?”
“Didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“I love Cam like a son—you know that. But if he killed somebody, he needs to pay the price.”
“So you’re not taking sides?”
“Rowdy, I’m a professional. I care about the well-being of others. It’s my job. And right now I’m concerned about you. Your heart is under a great deal of stress. I’m no detective, but if I had to pretend to be one, I would guess it had to do with the murder of Clarence and your suspicion that Cam was involved.”
“OK. OK. You’re right. I am torn up about it.”
“Then what are you going to do about it? Your body and your mind need resolution. I’m afraid you don’t have a lot of time until you just explode.”
“Next week. I’ve been talking to the Chief of Police where he is and Dell and I are going to get him next week. We’ve just got a little more investigating to do to tie him to the act.”
“It will do your heart well to resolve this,” Dr. Wilson said, patting him on the shoulder like a father would his son. “I’m writing you another prescription to lower your blood pressure. Have you taken the other ones I’ve given you?”
“Most of the time.”
“Take them all the time. This is your life we’re talking about.”
“OK, Doc Wilson.”
“And do me a favor. Before you leave to go get Cam, give me a call and I’ll prescribe something for your nerves. I’m sure you’ll need it in a high pressure situation.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Rowdy left Dr. Wilson’s office and drove to the house Cam had rented. He picked up Dell on the way.
“What are we doing, Rowdy?”
“We’re getting some evidence to plant at Clarence’s place that will tie Cam to the murder.”
“But he didn’t do it. How are we going to find any evidence?”
“I’m sure there’s some hair in the bathroom or fingernail clippings, or something. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”
Cam’s old house was not one that would have found its way into Architectural Digest. The dwelling was actually quite pitiful. Looking with near-closed eyes, one could easily tell the person who had been living in the house had been something other than a handyman. Everything about it was severely neglected. The exterior paint had all but fallen off and at least two screens visible from the front were torn. The grass was at least knee high and Cam had only been gone for a
Turner drove his car into Cam’s driveway.
“This is pretty messed up,” Cam said, taking another swig from his flask. He had had enough at this point that his lips were a little too loose. “I probably shouldn’t say this but I’ve got a scattering of clues and six or so suspects.”
“Name them.”
“Daphne, Claude, you, Hank, Blanca, and Alice Prescott.”
“You can cross me off that list. Who you got your money on?”
“My gut at this point is telling me Hank.”
Turner laughed. “My dad didn’t do it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rowdy sat on Dr. Wilson’s examination table. The doc took his blood pressure.
“Jesus, Joseph and Mary! What’s got you so worked up?” he asked, reading the instrument.
“The job is stressful,” Rowdy tried.
“No, it’s not. If you’ve somehow forgotten, I’ve been in this town much longer than you and there’s nothing that ever happens here that’s stressful. Besides the damned old gnats. And that’s about as stressful as the town of Hayes gets. Talk to me, Rowdy.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t. Especially to you.”
“Well, that’s all you had to say. You and I both know I was close to Cam. You also may think I live inside this office, but I do have lunch everyday at the drug store. People talk, you know.”
“And what are those people saying?”
“They’re saying you’re all torn up over Clarence’s murder.”
“They are?”
“Some are saying you’re a softy for not arresting Cam. Everybody knows you ran him out of town.”
“They do?”
“Didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“I love Cam like a son—you know that. But if he killed somebody, he needs to pay the price.”
“So you’re not taking sides?”
“Rowdy, I’m a professional. I care about the well-being of others. It’s my job. And right now I’m concerned about you. Your heart is under a great deal of stress. I’m no detective, but if I had to pretend to be one, I would guess it had to do with the murder of Clarence and your suspicion that Cam was involved.”
“OK. OK. You’re right. I am torn up about it.”
“Then what are you going to do about it? Your body and your mind need resolution. I’m afraid you don’t have a lot of time until you just explode.”
“Next week. I’ve been talking to the Chief of Police where he is and Dell and I are going to get him next week. We’ve just got a little more investigating to do to tie him to the act.”
“It will do your heart well to resolve this,” Dr. Wilson said, patting him on the shoulder like a father would his son. “I’m writing you another prescription to lower your blood pressure. Have you taken the other ones I’ve given you?”
“Most of the time.”
“Take them all the time. This is your life we’re talking about.”
“OK, Doc Wilson.”
“And do me a favor. Before you leave to go get Cam, give me a call and I’ll prescribe something for your nerves. I’m sure you’ll need it in a high pressure situation.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Rowdy left Dr. Wilson’s office and drove to the house Cam had rented. He picked up Dell on the way.
“What are we doing, Rowdy?”
“We’re getting some evidence to plant at Clarence’s place that will tie Cam to the murder.”
“But he didn’t do it. How are we going to find any evidence?”
“I’m sure there’s some hair in the bathroom or fingernail clippings, or something. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”
Cam’s old house was not one that would have found its way into Architectural Digest. The dwelling was actually quite pitiful. Looking with near-closed eyes, one could easily tell the person who had been living in the house had been something other than a handyman. Everything about it was severely neglected. The exterior paint had all but fallen off and at least two screens visible from the front were torn. The grass was at least knee high and Cam had only been gone for a
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