Silent Son by Gallatin Warfield

have.”
    “And someone knew it, and killed them for it.”
    Brownie frowned his wide forehead. “That’s where I have a problem. If they were saving money they wouldn’t have kept it in
     the store. At least not downstairs. This thing went off too fast. The killers were in and out. Nothing upstairs was touched,
     and there wasn’t enough time to do everything and still grab the money.”
    “So maybe they left it, and came back later.” Jennifer was making notes as she talked.
    Brownie’s thoughts suddenly jumped to the hole in the wall above the shelf. “Well, somebody went back.” He then filled Jennifer
     in on the midnight visit to the store, the hole, the can, and the laser machine.
    “So we have a shot at a fingerprint!”
    “If Speedo over there is working properly,” Brownie answered, jerking his thumb toward the laser. “We’ll know as soon as the
     photos come out.”
    “How much money do you think they had?” Jennifer asked suddenly.
    “Don’t jump too fast, Jennifer,” Brownie warned. “We don’t know for sure if they had
any
. That store was not exactly a money machine.”
    “But it’s the only possible motive,” she argued.
    “So far,” Brownie replied. “There could be something else.”
    Jennifer picked up one of Roscoe Miller’s pictures. “So how does
he
fit in?”
    Brownie scowled. “He’s the shooter. I know it. Worthless piece of—”
    He caught Jennifer staring, “Uh, excuse me, Jennifer, I just—”
    Brownie stopped talking. He was a tough, almost nerveless cop. He cussed and spit, and fought, and got down and dirty with
     the best of them. But with women, he was a gentleman.
    “If Gard were here, you’d say it,” Jennifer continued. “But I’m running this case. He put me in charge. Now do me the favor
     of treating me the same way you’d treat him.”
    Brownie’s magic smile exploded on his face. “Piece of shit!” he said.
    “Thank you,” she said softly, breaking into a grin. “Now let’s get back to work.”
    They spent another hour outlining the evidence, discussing Miller’s tentative ID by Jenneane Dorey on the day of the murder,
     why he might be riding in the back of his truck instead of up front, and his clammed-up attitude from the moment Brownie had
     first accosted him. “I
know
Miller did it,” Brownie said. “I just can’t prove it yet. Even a positive ID by Jenneane Dorey doesn’t put him
at
the scene, only near it. We’ve gotta get something more specific. Like Roscoe flashing a handful of money…”
    “So we’re back to the money again,” Jennifer said wistfully. “What’s your plan on that?”
    Brownie flipped a page on his note pad. “Put out a teletype… check if any of the local jurisdictions have seen Roscoe with
     cash. Ask around the neighborhood… Tomorrow I’m meeting with the nephew, Purvis Bowers. He was Henry and Addie’s accountant.
     He’s gotta know about their finances.”
    “Sounds good,” Jennifer said in a distracted voice. She had just focused on one of Roscoe’s photos. “Why did you take this
     one, Brownie?” It was a closeup of his hand, showing an evil-looking skull-and-bones tattoo across the wrist.
    Brownie picked up the glossy print and studied it. “Bastard claimed I beat him up, but look—not a scratch.”
    Jennifer was still staring at the skull.
    “Ugly damn thing, isn’t it?”
    “Charming,” Jennifer said
    Brownie picked up the photo. “Jennifer, if you saw something like that for the first time, you think you might remember it?”
    Jennifer nodded.
    “Me too. Sucker sticks out like a neon sign.”
    Jennifer looked into Brownie’s eyes.
    “And if Roscoe was waving a gun around, tattoo like that might just get stuck in your face…”
    “Or in your mind,” Jennifer said suddenly.
    “Right,” Brownie answered, and walked out of the lab.

six
    “Push me, Mom!” Granville yelled. “Please!”
    The swing set behind the Watson Road house was one of the first things that