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“Why’d you want me here, Wyatt?” I said.
“Because you’re a believer, and they ain’t.”
“A believer in what?” I said.
“What’s out there,” he said. “You might be a college man, but me and you see the world the same way. You know what’s behind all this trouble, and it ain’t a bunch of lamebrains that work for Love Younger.”
“You’ve got a couple of strikes against you, Wyatt,” I said. “You had a grievance against Kyle Schumacher. Second, he was dragged to death.”
“It ain’t no skin off my ass.”
Boyd looked at me. “See, he’s a comedian. He’s always thinking. Isn’t that right, comedian?”
“You told me your cell partner in Texas chain-drug a man down a road,” I said.
“Yeah, I did tell you that, didn’t I? That probably wasn’t too smart.”
“Detective Boyd also showed you a mug shot of Schumacher in a photo lineup,” I said. “The next thing we know, Schumacher is dead.”
“Detective Boyd not only showed me a photo, he gave me Schumacher’s name. Up until that time, I’d never heard of him.”
“You’re lying,” Boyd said.
“What reason would I have to lie?”
“Because you were out to get the guys who jumped you and your girlfriend, and you have no alibi,” Boyd said.
“I slept on Miss Bertha’s couch last night. I wasn’t nowhere near Flathead Lake.”
“Why didn’t you say that?” the sheriff asked.
“Because Detective Boyd wants me back in the pen or wants me to go after the Youngers. It’s one or the other. I ain’t sure which.”
“Is Detective Boyd part of a conspiracy?” the sheriff asked.
“He thinks I had something to do with cutting up Bill Pepper. How come y’all don’t have no leads on that waitress that was abducted up by Lookout Pass? The man who drug Schumacher down the Eastside Highway is the same man who grabbed the waitress. Ask Mr. Robicheaux.”
The sheriff and the detective looked at me. “In my opinion, it’s Asa Surrette,” I said.
“You know that?” Boyd said.
“No,” I replied. “The pattern is his. The agenda is his. But I cannot say with certainty that the perpetrator is Asa Surrette. I was expressing an opinion.”
“Why don’t you call up the sheriff in Mineral County?” Boyd said.
“I don’t have any authority here. My concern is my daughter. Her name seems to get lost in the mix.”
“We’re sorry about that,” Boyd said. “Two men who worked for Love Younger are dead, but we’ll drop everything and get back on your daughter’s case. Let’s see. She thinks somebody shot an arrow at her? That’s some earthshaking shit, Robicheaux.”
“Are we done here?” I said to the sheriff.
“No. Walk outside with me,” he replied.
“What do you want me to do, Sheriff?” Boyd said.
“Go to my office and stay there.”
“Sir?” Boyd said.
