up.”
Fallow walked back to the bathroom, his head hung low. Otto turned to stand in front of Bloster, one hand on his hip, the other still holding the gun, pointed at the floor. “This the way you deal with your problems? You want to shut somebody up, so you punch them? Maybe you shoot a bullet through their forehead?”
Bloster turned his head away. “I can’t stand that sissy. He had no business joining the Gunners. Only reason Red let him was money. He dropped a wad of money toward the cause so he could feel like a man.” Bloster looked as if he were going to spit on the floor. “He’s a joke.”
Otto split the men up and interviewed them separately after Fallow refused to press charges. Bloster would not talk and said if Otto had anything more to ask, he would have to do it through a lawyer. When Bloster left, Fallow sat with Otto at the conference table again. Fallow closed his eyes and held a fist to his mouth, obviously too terrified of Hack Bloster or some other demon to come clean with Otto about what he knew.
“Talk to me about some of the other members in the Gunners,” Otto said. “Who was Red closest to? Who did he have the most problems with?”
Fallow sniffed. “Hack Bloster. On both counts.”
Otto was losing patience. “I got that. Who else?”
Fallow shrugged a shoulder. Otto noticed his red-rimmed eyes were a lavender color, and he wondered if the man wore tinted contacts. Otto figured he probably dyed his thin head of hair blond as well.
Fallow said, “Jimmy Johnson and Fred Grant. They’re two buddies of Red’s. Never missed meetings. Jimmy used to help Red with his cows. He transported them for slaughter. He and Red were pretty close.” He listed several other members who attended regularly and were “true to the cause.” Otto took down the names of two other men who Fallow claimed were sometimes argumentative in meetings.
“How often did the group meet?”
“Once a month. We also got together to shoot out at Red’s place a few times a year. The big event was Fourth of July weekend. Red used to have a cookout and the families were invited. He’d have shooting contests for the adults and the kids. Even the wives. My wife never came, of course, but some did.”
“Why didn’t your wife go?’
Fallow picked up a pencil off the table and rolled it between his fingers. “Not her thing. She’s not much into guns. Or socializing.”
“You said he used to have a Fourth of July party. When did he quit?”
“A few years ago.” Fallow stared off into space for a minute. “I don’t really know why he quit. Red got a little strange the last couple of years. He quit going out. Hung out with the Gunners and that was about it. We’d even bring him supplies from town.”
“Any theories on why he quit going out?”
“Not really. Just didn’t like people very much.”
“Red have trouble with anyone? Anyone dislike him?”
“I think a lot of people disliked him, if you want the truth. He was a blowhard. He could be mean, you know? He tried to make you look weak so he looked strong.”
“Give me an example.”
Fallow pursed his lips a moment in thought. He finally pointed the pencil at Otto and said, “Okay. At our last meeting, I asked a question about the guns. About storing them somewhere a little safer than Red’s living room. Makes sense, right? Hack gave me grief, then Red egged him on. Wanted to know what I was afraid of. I said, ‘Hey, you want someone knocking down your door to get at your guns, then fine.’ Red told me I was stupid. A pansy. Didn’t have the balls to be a true Gunner.”
“Where do you think the guns are?”
“I have no idea. I just know they were worth a lot of money. And if they had listened to me, Red might still be living.”
* * *
Back in Artemis, Josie dropped Marta off at the department. She had one more task to accomplish before heading home that night. Red’s body had been found the day before, and she had not
Fallow walked back to the bathroom, his head hung low. Otto turned to stand in front of Bloster, one hand on his hip, the other still holding the gun, pointed at the floor. “This the way you deal with your problems? You want to shut somebody up, so you punch them? Maybe you shoot a bullet through their forehead?”
Bloster turned his head away. “I can’t stand that sissy. He had no business joining the Gunners. Only reason Red let him was money. He dropped a wad of money toward the cause so he could feel like a man.” Bloster looked as if he were going to spit on the floor. “He’s a joke.”
Otto split the men up and interviewed them separately after Fallow refused to press charges. Bloster would not talk and said if Otto had anything more to ask, he would have to do it through a lawyer. When Bloster left, Fallow sat with Otto at the conference table again. Fallow closed his eyes and held a fist to his mouth, obviously too terrified of Hack Bloster or some other demon to come clean with Otto about what he knew.
“Talk to me about some of the other members in the Gunners,” Otto said. “Who was Red closest to? Who did he have the most problems with?”
Fallow sniffed. “Hack Bloster. On both counts.”
Otto was losing patience. “I got that. Who else?”
Fallow shrugged a shoulder. Otto noticed his red-rimmed eyes were a lavender color, and he wondered if the man wore tinted contacts. Otto figured he probably dyed his thin head of hair blond as well.
Fallow said, “Jimmy Johnson and Fred Grant. They’re two buddies of Red’s. Never missed meetings. Jimmy used to help Red with his cows. He transported them for slaughter. He and Red were pretty close.” He listed several other members who attended regularly and were “true to the cause.” Otto took down the names of two other men who Fallow claimed were sometimes argumentative in meetings.
“How often did the group meet?”
“Once a month. We also got together to shoot out at Red’s place a few times a year. The big event was Fourth of July weekend. Red used to have a cookout and the families were invited. He’d have shooting contests for the adults and the kids. Even the wives. My wife never came, of course, but some did.”
“Why didn’t your wife go?’
Fallow picked up a pencil off the table and rolled it between his fingers. “Not her thing. She’s not much into guns. Or socializing.”
“You said he used to have a Fourth of July party. When did he quit?”
“A few years ago.” Fallow stared off into space for a minute. “I don’t really know why he quit. Red got a little strange the last couple of years. He quit going out. Hung out with the Gunners and that was about it. We’d even bring him supplies from town.”
“Any theories on why he quit going out?”
“Not really. Just didn’t like people very much.”
“Red have trouble with anyone? Anyone dislike him?”
“I think a lot of people disliked him, if you want the truth. He was a blowhard. He could be mean, you know? He tried to make you look weak so he looked strong.”
“Give me an example.”
Fallow pursed his lips a moment in thought. He finally pointed the pencil at Otto and said, “Okay. At our last meeting, I asked a question about the guns. About storing them somewhere a little safer than Red’s living room. Makes sense, right? Hack gave me grief, then Red egged him on. Wanted to know what I was afraid of. I said, ‘Hey, you want someone knocking down your door to get at your guns, then fine.’ Red told me I was stupid. A pansy. Didn’t have the balls to be a true Gunner.”
“Where do you think the guns are?”
“I have no idea. I just know they were worth a lot of money. And if they had listened to me, Red might still be living.”
* * *
Back in Artemis, Josie dropped Marta off at the department. She had one more task to accomplish before heading home that night. Red’s body had been found the day before, and she had not
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