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Jack thanked Wormy and cut him loose, and I caught sight of Agent Carver as he made his way towards us.
“See? He was lying,” Jack said.
“About which part?” I asked.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He rubbed the back of his neck then called out to Carver. “You look like hell.”
“Probably because I was up all night trying to get the information you requested,” Carver said. He held a cup of coffee in his hands and it was everything I could do not to punch him in the stomach and take it from him. Carver’s hair was combed and he was freshly shaven, but the bags under his eyes spoke volumes. He wore clothes identical to the day before. “Is there any reason you have to get brainstorms in the middle of the night instead of the daytime?”
“Just wired that way I guess,” Jack said.
Carver grunted and said, “I walked over to give myself a chance to wake up. You get to drive me back though. Speaking of, you don’t look so hot yourself.”
“We had an—enlightening night,” Jack said.
“I don’t want to hear about your sex life since mine is non-existent. I can’t even remember sex it’s been so long.”
“Maybe you should try a little romance,” Jack suggested.
“Maybe you’d like a knuckle sandwich.” Carver rolled his eyes and looked at me. “Spoken like a man without children. I don’t even remember the last time a kid wasn’t laying between us in bed.”
“Maybe you should get a bigger bed,” I said.
“Nah, then my wife would probably want to have more kids, and I’d end up like the little old lady who lived in the shoe. I figure they’ll eventually grow up and go to college. I’ve only got seventeen years and four months to wait before the last one is out of the house.”
“There you go,” Jack said. “Always look at the positive. Now if you can focus on murder for a few minutes, I’ll catch you up to speed.”
“I don’t suppose we could do it over breakfast,” Carver said. “My wife has me on a diet too. Also, we’re going to need a place to spread out. I’ve got a lot of information to sift through, and you guys drew the lucky straws to help out.”
I backed up a step. “I’ve got—um—dead people waiting for me back at the funeral parlor.”
Jack grabbed my arm before I could escape. “I’m sure they’re in no hurry to go into the ground. I know I wouldn’t be.”
I sighed and followed them both back to the cruiser. “Shotgun,” I called out. There was no way I was sitting in the back of a police car. The image of that would’ve pleased way too many people.
Chapter Twenty-Four
We dropped Carver off at the B&B since Wanda—the owner—served a full breakfast included in the price of the stay. We decided to meet back at Jack’s in an hour since we still needed to speak to Booth Wilkins about Ronnie Campbell’s employment at the car dealership, and Carver needed to gather his computer and files.
“Booth Wilkins has an interesting record,” Jack said as we made our way back to Richmond.
“Oh yeah?”
“Couple of felony assault charges. One on a police officer sixteen years ago. He also has domestic abuse citations on record around the same time. Alcohol abuse was attributed to both and he was required to seek counseling. He’s kept his nose clean since he started working for Greg Vance.”
“Sounds like Vance was taking a chance hiring him with that kind of history.”
"Some people can change. Others can’t.” Jack pulled into the car dealership and drove around the back where the auto shop was. It was a huge area with ten bays and a large parking area for those cars still waiting a turn.
Activity stopped as we parked and got out of the cruiser, and dozens of eyes turned in our direction before everyone went back to what they were doing. A lone man walked towards us and we met him halfway.
“Mr. Vance said you’d probably be stopping by. I’m Booth Wilkins,” he said. His voice was soft, and I looked into the face of a man who’d had a hard life, and every line showed on his face. His brown eyes reminded me of a basset hound and he was about my height, going soft around the middle. He wore blue coveralls and a grease rag stuck out of his pocket.
“We won’t keep you long,” Jack said. “You look busy.”
“It stays that way,” he said. “Let’s go into the office so my men don’t hurt themselves trying to eavesdrop.”
We followed him into an office reminiscent of the one I’d waited in at George’s shop, only this one was twice the size. We all took seats in the plastic chairs, and Jack pulled his around so we formed a little circle.
