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“Both men were killed in their backyards,” Ben said. “Not vastly different circumstances. And killers don’t always use the same weapon. Maybe he wasn’t intending to kill Greeley today—just checking out the place. Maybe Greeley surprised him, and the killer used the only weapon available.”
“Yeah, like anyone takes scissors to the garden with them,” Daniel said.
“You’re not a gardener, son, are you?” Lois shook her head with mock despair. Daniel had grown up in Los Angeles, and she was still giving him a hard time about it. “Yes, people use scissors or shears. You can damage the stalks by breaking off stems. And Greeley was compulsive. One of the yard guys said he made them measure the grass before and after they cut it and use a level when they raked the mulch to make sure it was even.”
“And they had to use the blowers to clear the dust off the driveway,” Simpson added, “all the way out to the highway. The old guy would drive out onto the shoulder of the road, and the others would blow the blacktop clean and then they could leave.”
Ah, to be as young as Simpson again. Sam knew from last week’s reports that Ruben Carrasco was only fifty-two. Outdoor work and tough living had weathered his skin and stooped his posture, but fifty-two was no longer nearly as old to Sam as it used to be.
“Theories?” he asked, directing the question to the room in general but intending it for Ben. He was the most experienced, had the best intuition. Daniel had the makings of a good detective, but he had some learning to do. His thoughts went first to the obvious before he opened his mind enough to let the evidence lead him.
Ben let Daniel go first. The younger detective shrugged. “Ordinarily, I’d say in a small town like this, rich people would know each other, socialize together and such, but it sounds like Greeley kept to himself other than making people who had to deal with him miserable. There doesn’t appear to be any reason for Carlyle to deal with him.”
“Maybe it was coincidence,” Lois conceded.
“Greeley isn’t the only one here who’s tough to deal with,” Sam pointed out.
Ben nodded. “Ed Lawrence is a piece of work, and right now his company is our only connection between the victims.”
“You think someone’s killing his customers to get back at him for something?” Simpson’s voice was full of skepticism, and Tucker and Daniel clearly shared it. Hell, Sam did, too, to some extent. It wasn’t logical or rational or reasonable, but it usually took a twisted mind to make murder any of those things. Logical people solved their disputes in rational ways. Reasonable people were repulsed by the idea of killing for any reason but the most extreme. Self-defense. Protecting someone else. Getting backed into a corner with no other way out.
“I think right now Happy Grass is the only connection we’ve uncovered between the victims,” Ben said in his patient, dogged way. “We can’t say that it matters, but we can’t ignore it, either. Maybe it’s coincidence that both men were found by the same Happy Grass crew. Stranger things have happened. My great-aunt Weezer won half a million dollars on the only lottery ticket she ever bought. What are the odds?”
“Your aunt Weezer won half a million dollars?” Tucker asked. “But she still drives that crappy old Ford and goes grocery shopping in her robe.”
“When I was growing up, we called it a housecoat,” Lois said, rolling her eyes. “And the difference is, she doesn’t buy it at the dollar store anymore. She gets it at Walmart.”
Sam rolled his eyes, too. Sometimes he felt like the only grown-up in the room—and when everyone was wearing a gun, that wasn’t a feeling he welcomed. He let them talk for a few minutes before bringing the conversation back to the subject. “Okay, right now we keep our minds open. Ed Lawrence or his business could somehow be involved in these killings, or maybe we should all go buy lottery tickets. Anything’s possible, right?”
After all, even though she’d seemed like she’d rather bite off her tongue, Mila had called him by his name, and for her, he was pretty sure, that was a huge step forward. Who knew? Sometime she might even smile at him, and somewhere down the line, she might do a whole lot more.
