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“He had quite a bit to say about you.”
“I’m surprised that he was sober enough to talk.”
“He made himself understood. He owned up to some unethical behavior.”
“Did he now? Did he also own up to this?” He pointed to his face.
Bellamy was taken aback, although, given the rancor with which Moody had spoken of his former cohort, she shouldn’t have been. What surprised her was that Moody hadn’t told them himself.
“Surprise attack,” Rupe continued. “He came at me from out of nowhere. I hadn’t had any contact with him since he quit the department and left Austin. All of a sudden, Bam! He’s trying to send my nose out the back of my skull.”
“What provoked him to do it?”
“Your book. Didn’t he tell you? He didn’t take kindly to it. He didn’t like how the investigating officer in your story came across. He also didn’t like that I’d granted an interview to Rocky Van Durbin. But why shouldn’t I? I’ve got nothing to hide,” he said, spreading his arms wide.
“Apparently Dale Moody does. When he read Van Durbin’s interview with me, he got incensed. Crawled out from whatever rock he’s been hiding under, sought me out, beat me up, and left me with a warning.”
“Which was?”
“To keep my mouth shut about the Susan Lyston case and everything associated with it. You probably received the same warning.”
“Actually I didn’t,” Bellamy said.
“Hmm. Well, I guess he thought you said all you had to say about it in your book.” He looked at Dent. “Were you in on the meeting between them?”
“Yeah, I was there.”
“Huh. Judging by the looks of you, Moody didn’t roll out the welcome mat.”
“Oh, you mean this?” Dent lightly ran his finger over one of the gashes on h
is face. “Moody didn’t do this. Ray Strickland did.”
Rupe’s head went back several inches. “Ray Strickland? Allen’s brother? No shit? Pardon the French, Ms. Price.” Back to Dent. “Last I heard, he’d been in a terrible car wreck. Almost killed him.”
“He’s very much alive.”
“Where did you connect with him?”
“In the parking lot of an IHOP.”
“No, seriously.”
“In the parking lot of an IHOP,” Dent repeated, deadpan. “He’s holding a grudge.”
“Against you?”
“Against everybody, is my guess. I’d watch my back if I were you, Rupe.”
“What’d I do?”
“You sent his brother to prison, and he died there. The man’s mad, and he’s mean.”
“He’s mad.” Rupe looked at Bellamy and smirked. “Well that doesn’t surprise me. Your book got a lot of people riled, didn’t it? If you had it to do over again, would you write about your sister’s murder?”
She didn’t deign to answer. “Tell me about Jim Postlewhite.”
“You mentioned that name to the cop outside. Who is he?”
