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“Not anymore. I turned over all surveillance footage, and he’s been cleared of Eddie Johnson’s murder by the sheriff. In fact, they moved the van and reopened the tavern late this afternoon.”
“Then someone needs to clue Chief Larson in, because he still thinks Malcolm’s Suspect Number One.”
Hale chuckled again then hung up. I had no idea what was so funny about that. Maybe it was crime syndicate humor.
I called Malcolm next, surprised when he answered.
“Done with your temper tantrum yet?”
I chose to be the bigger person and ignore his prodding. “I just spoke with Chief Larson.” I told him what I’d learned, then said bitterly, “But then, you already knew all of that.”
“Yep.”
“We need to meet and share information.”
“Seems like I have most of it,” he said in a slow, easy tone.
“Fuck you,” I snapped. “I’m about to meet Sylvester’s son.”
That seemed to get his attention. “What? Where?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask which brother.”
“Which one?” he asked grudgingly.
“The police officer. I was hoping you had some information on the other one. Danny.”
“Danny worked for the woodworking mill that owned the van parked behind my establishment.”
“Danny worked for B&G Woodworking?” I asked in disbelief.
We’d just found our smoking gun.
“It was parked in front of the Petermans’ house all last week,” I said. “It was stolen two weeks ago.”
“Right about the time you got back into town.” He paused. “I’m taking care of some business. When I’m done, I’ll meet you out at Scooter’s.”
I nearly told him I’d pick the location, but I was anxious as hell and a drink would take the edge off. Besides, I could ask Drew to meet me there. “Fine.”
“Don’t get drunk,” he barked, then hung up.
When I hung up, I had a text from Drew.
When and where?
Scooter’s Tavern. I’m headed there now
I’m on my way
Chapter 35
The place was pretty crowded for a Thursday night, but some people had probably been drawn in out of curiosity and it seemed to be crowded most nights. I could only imagine what the weekends looked like.
Misti was working behind the bar when I slid onto a stool and stared at all the bottles of liquor on the back wall, my mouth salivating at the sight.
I knew deep in my gut that Malcolm was right about my drinking, as hard as it was to admit, but quitting cold turkey was more than my willpower could achieve right now. Every cell in my brain craved the sweet relief that alcohol gave me, washing away the guilt and self-loathing, even if it was fleeting.
“Hey, girl,” she said as she sidled up to me. “What’s it gonna be tonight?”
