The Fifth Season by Don Bredes

Author:Don Bredes
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780307237859
Publisher: Crown
Published: 2005-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

Even with the drugstore magnifiers I kept in the glove box of my Power Wagon, I wasn't able to find a Jessica on Tildy's crowded phone list, but at the bottom, written sideways, there was a Cris/JJ's and a Cris cell. From a hard-used pay phone next to the air compressor outside Cumberland Farms, I tried the cell.

“Who is this?”

“Cris?”

“It's me. Who's this?”

“The name's Heck. I'm a friend of Del's.”

“How did you get this number?”

“From your sister. You got a minute?”

“I don't know—I'm working.”

“It's about the killings in Tipton. Crissy, think back to Sunday night. Remember that severed hand Del had?”

“Yeah . . .”

“After Del left the apartment to take that hand back to Tipton Monday morning, when did you see him next?”

“Who'd you say you were again?”

“I'm an investigator for the town of Tipton. Here's our problem. Some of us believe that Del went with Sheriff Mueller when the sheriff drove out to Boisvert's to serve those papers that morning, but Del maintains that he didn't. I'd like to hear what you know about it.”

“All I know is what he told me, which is he went up to Boisvert's after the sheriff went up there. What happened, the sheriff forgot the hand at Del's parents', so Del had to go chasing after him.”

“I see. Del followed the sheriff to Boisvert's to give him the hand. What happened after that?”

“Mueller suspended him. So what could he do? He left.”

“It wasn't just the hand the sheriff was mad about, was it? The friction between them had more history than that.”

“What do you mean, friction?”

“Trouble. Between Del and the sheriff.”

“I know you. You're the guy that gave Del them Camels.”

“Crissy, listen to me. Withholding information about a felony is a felony in itself. You don't want to go down that road with him.”

“What road? I'm not going down any road.”

“What time did you see Del again Monday morning?”

“I never saw Del that whole day. I was working. Like I am now!” She dumped the call.

I bought a cup of coffee at Cumberland Farms, stepped outside with it, and gazed back toward the dilapidated apartment house across the street, where Tildy had launched her day with sugar and nicotine. And junk, I was betting. Would she call me? I told myself she might, but I didn't really believe it. Would Del shoot Pete? In a heated moment, he probably would. But not Ella. Not just to set up Marcel. That was beyond Del. And anyway, no one could have killed Marcel and also disposed of him between seven and eight that morning. It just wasn't possible.

Unless he'd had a partner. Two people working separately. That, I allowed, was possible.

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