Bones Under the Ice by Mary Ann Miller

Bones Under the Ice by Mary Ann Miller

Author:Mary Ann Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oceanview Publishing
Published: 2023-03-15T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“WHAT DID YOU do after we released you?” Laurent glared at the slovenly man.

Neal slouched in the folding chair, legs splayed out in front of Laurent’s desk, his gray hair smashed to one side, several black eyebrow hairs plastered on his forehead.

“Nothin’.”

“Be more specific. You threatened Bob in his office on Wednesday. You sideswiped him on Friday night and on Monday I find him dead. There’s a bunch of time you need to account for. Let’s start with your conversation at the bank on Wednesday.” Laurent picked up her pen.

“I didn’t kill Bob.”

“But you wanted to.”

“Hell, yes.” Tillman pointed his baseball hat at her. “Asshole wouldn’t loan me any money. He’ll loan money to Emmit all day long, but he won’t lift a finger to help me.”

“What was the loan for?”

“Farming.”

“Anything else?”

“Maybe.”

“I talked to the manager at Gray Fox Casino,” Laurent said. “How much do you owe?”

“Shit.” Neal propped his elbows on his knees and twisted his baseball hat in his hands. “Don’t matter. I paid it off. You know the rest. I went and got drunk and shoved Bob and his big old Caddy into a ditch and then you locked me up.”

“I want to know what you did after we let you go.”

“Theo posted bail for me. I went home and slept and then we watched TV.”

“You never left?” Laurent raised an eyebrow.

“You ever heard of binge-watching. Stupid. No sense of anticipation anymore.” Neal snorted.

Laurent tipped her head. Not a point worth arguing about. No one watched the news on TV anymore. If anything happened anywhere in the world, your cell phone alerted you. Not a fan.

“Did you and Theo go out for breakfast on Saturday morning?”

“We got food at home.”

“You went directly from jail to your house?”

“We got my truck out of the pound and I got gas.”

“Then what?” Laurent jotted a note.

“This is chickenshit.”

“Are you sure? Because now I’ve got two different stories.”

“Brown bottle flu.”

“Still hungover. Great. What’d you watch on TV?” Laurent asked.

“I don’t know. Ask Theo. I fell asleep on the couch.”

“What livestock do you own?”

“Sold everything a few years ago to pay the mortgage. Fat lot of good that did me. Still owe the goddamn bank.”

Laurent stared into watery brown eyes. A lifetime of sadness and resignation lived there. It took alcohol to bring out the chip on Neal’s shoulder. She believed him when he said he went home and slept it off. The man refused a breathalyzer, but the smell of alcohol when he opened his mouth had been overwhelming. Dak told her that when he went downstairs to release Neal from his cell, the entire floor stank. The vomit next to Neal’s cot didn’t help. “I’ve got paperwork from five different banks in the quad-county area all denying your loan applications.”

“Tough shit.”

“Planning on putting anyone else in a ditch?”

Neal shook his head.

“Why Bob?”

“Easy target. Drives that big ol’ Caddy. Look, Sheriff. I got drunk and shoved him into the ditch. That’s it. I was nowhere near Turtle Lake, and I sure as hell don’t ice fish.



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