Bury the Dead in Driftwood by Scott William Carter

Author:Scott William Carter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scott William Carter

Later, after the police had arrived and secured the scene, after the usual barrage of rude questions and barely veiled accusations by Brisbane and Trenton with red and blue lights strobing across all of them in fading dusk, after at least some of the rubberneckers in Emerald Beach Village had started to drift back to their homes, Chief Quinn finally joined Gage at the tailgate of the chief’s F-150. After Gage's impromptu interrogation had mercifully ended, and all the various law enforcement officials were at least temporarily satisfied that he had nothing to do with Lettie Carmine's death, Gage had been leaning against the dusty blue truck for at least an hour. The sun, vanishing behind the manufactured houses and mobile homes to the west, had disappeared long ago, though some hazy purple light still remained.

Quinn still wore the blue denim shirt rolled up to the elbows and the rumpled blue jeans Gage had seen him wearing yesterday, though he'd tossed his unbuttoned trench coat on top and also wore a felt cowboy hat tipped backward on his head. In the gloom, the shadows under his eyes looked as dark as black tape. He leaned against the truck next to Gage, rubbing his chin. He said nothing for a long time before finally sighing.

"So tell me one more time why you were here," he said.

"It won't be any different than the last three times," Gage said.

"Humor me."

"I'm looking for Brianna Hobart."

"Why?"

"I told you why."

"Humor me again."

"She's a person of interest in the murder of Harriet Abel."

"A suspect?"

"I didn't say that."

"So what does person of interest mean, then?"

"It means exactly what I said. She's of interest to me."

"But you won't tell me more?"

"I'd tell you more if I could. All I can say is what I already told you. She's a troubled kid that Harriet Abel took under her wing. She'd recently been expelled from school for drug possession. She's a logical person to talk to, wouldn't you say?"

Quinn sighed. "The problem is, I'm getting that feeling again that you're holding out on me."

"Like I said, I'd tell you more if I could."

"Right. Implying you know more, but you're holding back for some reason."

"What does the M.E. think?"

Quinn shook his head, looking at the activity over at the house. It was hard to see more than a glimpse of faces coming and going. They'd set up a perimeter of barricades and yellow police tape, though Gage didn't know why. The three police cruisers and the medical examiner’s white lab truck crowding around the tiny Carmine place created a pretty effective barrier.

"What the M.E. thinks," Quinn said finally, "is none of your business."

"It's not a suicide, though, is it?"

"Gage—"

"Here's an obvious question. Would a woman about to commit suicide put her hair in curlers?"

"I'm not doing this with you. If you're not going to cooperate with me, you shouldn't expect me to do you any favors."

"I called the police, didn't I?"

"The neighbor called the police."

"Because I told her to. See, that's me being cooperative.

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