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There was no hiding my shock. “TJ Peterman tried to extort you?” I didn’t have much respect for the guy, but I would never have expected that from him.
“Call it whatever you want, but if he’s some kind of suspect, I’ll help you in any way I can to bring him down.”
The last thing I planned to do was team up with this guy, but I wasn’t opposed to getting information out of him. “Do you know if Peterman has a vendetta against anyone else?”
“He’s trying to shut down the laundromat north of town. He’s bringing it up at the city council meeting next week.”
“Anyone else?”
“That’s not enough?” he asked with plenty of snark. “Besides, how would I know?”
I tilted my head. “Seems like you might have heard your patrons talking about it.”
A slow grin spread across his face, but his eyes remained hard. “Haven’t heard any rumors floatin’ around.”
That wasn’t an answer, not that I could have trusted him if he’d told me no. I decided to move on. “Why were you at the police station this morning?”
He grimaced. “A bullshit excuse. There was a robbery last night and the chief wanted to know if I was part of it. Not that I was surprised to be called in again. I get hauled in for bogus questioning when someone so much as jaywalks downtown.”
Was the chief really questioning him about a robbery or had it been about the murder north of town? Then again, the murder was county business, so why would the chief get involved?
“That’s harassment.” When he shrugged, I asked, “How many times has it happened?”
“Over a dozen in the last few weeks.”
If it was anyone but Chief Larson, I’d presume they had a case against Malcolm and were trying to find something to make it stick. But even then, a dozen times was ridiculous. They weren’t looking for something, they were trying to make a point. If Peterman had threatened to shut him down, it seemed like it could be the next phase of that plan.
“You think Chief Larson is working with Peterman?”
“Obviously. I just don’t know what’s in it for Larson.”
That was a very good question, but their harassment brought forth another possibility—if Malcolm had beef with Peterman, he might have kidnapped his daughter to get him to back off. And if Peterman suspected it was Malcolm, he’d want to deal with it quietly. He’d declare his daughter a runaway, keep the information private, and deal with Malcolm himself.
His gaze dropped to the basket at my side, then back up. The corners of his lips lifted, but his eyes remained dark. “Petey’s the best damn fry cook in the whole damn state, and he’s gonna be offended you didn’t eat his masterpiece.”
I couldn’t stop my snort. “Masterpiece?” It was good, but I wouldn’t go that far.
His arms dropped and he placed his hands on the table, leaning closer. “TJ Peterman wants to put him out of a job. The rest of my crew too. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen.”
Which only made him more of a suspect.
“Where were you last night between the hours of nine p.m. and six a.m. this morning? Where did you go when I saw you leave?”
His left eye twitched. “You were sober enough to remember me leavin’?”
My anger flared. “I was barely at the legal limit, possibly under, and I never would have driven drunk. I planned to sit in my car.” I took a breath. “So where were you?”
“Why’re you askin’?”
“I have my reasons. Good ones. So humor me.”
He shook his head in disgust. “I don’t answer to you or anyone else.”
He started slide out of the booth. I doubted he’d talk to me again after he left, so I decided to play part of my hand.
“It’s about a missing girl.”
He stopped at the edge of his seat, his jaw clenching. “What missing girl?”
