Chat - A Novel Part 6

McNeil s.n.a.t.c.hed his baseball cap off and pa.s.sed his palm across the top of his head several times. "No . . . I mean, it could could have, but I don't see why. This is all f.u.c.ked up, Rob. What do you have, but I don't see why. This is all f.u.c.ked up, Rob. What do you want want?"

Rob leaned forward at the waist for emphasis. "I want to know about Leo's tie rod, Barrie. Talk to me."

Barrie slapped his hat back on and extended his arms out to both sides, saying loudly, "I don't know know about his f.u.c.king tie rod, Rob. I never touched it." about his f.u.c.king tie rod, Rob. I never touched it."

Barrows let a slow count of five tick by before he stepped back and said pleasantly, "Geez. You seem awfully worked up about something you never touched."

Barrie didn't answer, but he'd gone paler in the process.

"Okay. Cool," Rob resumed. "Let me take a look at Leo's service records on that car. Maybe we can clear this whole thing up here and now."

But it didn't work. Barrie's face shut down. "No can do. Not without a court order. Boss's orders. That computer is, like, sacred."

"Griffis?" Joe asked, unable to stop himself.

McNeil looked at him as if he'd just stepped into the room. "Yeah. I let you do that, I'm outta here. Like that." He snapped his fingers. "That's, like, his biggest rule."

Rob looked vaguely offended. "You're s.h.i.+tting me. Why would the old man get all cranked up about a bunch of car repair records?"

But now it was Barrie's turn to turn the tables. "I'm not talkin' about E. T.," he said. "Dan's the boss."

Once more, Joe couldn't stop himself. "Dan owns the garage?" owns the garage?"

"Yeah, for a coupla years. Old E. T. gave him a bunch of stuff. Pa.s.sing the light."

"Torch," Rob said sourly.

Barrie stared at him, back on firmer ground. "Whatever."

Joe asked, "Why did Dan slam the door on the records? You guys get sued or something?"

Barrie shook his head. "Nope. He just came in after he made boss, and said there was gonna be some tightening up around here, and that's when he gave the order."

"What else did he change?" Rob asked, looking around at the decor to see if he'd missed some subtle improvement.

"That was it."

Rob glanced at Joe, received a barely perceptible shrug, and told Barrie, "Okay. No problem going the legal route. In fact, even better. Keeps things clean. We'll get a warrant."

"Does Dan use the computer much?" Joe asked.

"All the time."

Rob moved toward the door to leave, but Joe paused to add a final recommendation: "You probably heard on TV how once data's entered into a computer, it never really disappears, right?"

Barrie clearly had no idea what he was talking about. "Yeah," he said without conviction.

"You want to think about that. Something happens to this one, we'll come looking for you to find out why, regardless of who monkeys with it."

The two cops left the building and walked back to Rob's cruiser.

"Nice, with the computer," Rob said as they settled inside. "Maybe he won't squeal to his boss."

Joe grunted. "Could be. If I were him, I'd solve the problem by throwing the d.a.m.n thing into the river. Not that it matters. We'll never find a judge to allow us into it, anyhow."

Rob nodded without comment.

"Too bad we can't find that nut," Joe mused.

His companion glanced at him inquiringly.

Joe explained further, "It might have tool marks on it-something we could match to a wrench or something in there." He pointed his chin toward the garage. "Enough PC for a search warrant, given that Barrie said he never touched the nut."

Rob's expression began to lighten. "But that's possible. I mean, it's a reach. But it is possible."

"What? Find the nut?" Joe was incredulous. "There's two feet of snow out there. And who knows where it fell off?"

"Could be right near the crash site," Barrows said. "That's how it works sometimes-the nut falls off and the rod follows, slam-bam. There's no waiting. Not often, but when it does, it's immediate. The nut could be within a hundred feet of where they went off the road. Closer, even, if we're really lucky."

Joe was catching a fragment of his colleague's enthusiasm, but he still couldn't ignore the odds. "Be more likely to find a fresh flower in all that snow."

Rob smiled. "Can't find a flower with a metal detector, and the sheriff's got two of them. Plus," he added, holding up a finger, "a small crowd of teenage wannabe cops from the high school who love doing police work-our official Explorers troop, complete with uniforms. It wouldn't cost the department a dime to set them to sniffing around."

"The sheriff would go along with that?" Joe asked, finally gaining on the idea.

Barrows laughed. "You just watch."

Late that night, having missed the dinner hour, Joe found himself standing in the kitchen, scrutinizing stacks of cans in one of the cupboards.

"What are you looking for?" his mother asked from the door.

He turned and laughed. "Busted. I heard the TV. Didn't want to bother you. I know it's getting late. I was looking for some Spam or something."

Her eyes widened. "Spam? I should be visiting your graveside, the way you eat." She rolled farther into the room, heading toward the fridge. "I'll make you something. Leo's gotten me lazy. Time I got back into cooking. How about an omelet? I'll throw in some ham, tomatoes, maybe a little cheese?" I should be visiting your graveside, the way you eat." She rolled farther into the room, heading toward the fridge. "I'll make you something. Leo's gotten me lazy. Time I got back into cooking. How about an omelet? I'll throw in some ham, tomatoes, maybe a little cheese?"

It was a more than acceptable compromise. Joe kept little in his own fridge except milk and mayonnaise, along with a few jars containing substances he couldn't identify. Eating was something he did out of hunger, drawing few distinctions between a doughnut and a salad. It used to drive Gail insane.

He settled down at the kitchen table to get out of his mother's way as she expertly traveled the room.

"What's the latest on Leo?" she asked as she worked, her voice self-consciously nonchalant.

He smiled at her. "As if you didn't know. I did just come from there, though. I think he's looking a little better. He certainly has more to say, which isn't pretty. I figure in a week, the nurses'll kill him and that'll be the end of it."

She gave him a dark look, which he knew not to take seriously.

"He's got company, by the way," Joe added.

"Who?"

"Cops. I found a state trooper there tonight, just visiting, and Leo said there'd been others. Word got out, and guys from a bunch of departments are dropping by, just showing support. They even started a guest book you can see next time you're there."

She nodded once, visibly moved. "That's very sweet."

"It's a small world I work in," he told her. "And cops are pretty sentimental. What did the doc tell you on the phone?" he then asked, knowing she'd called.

"That he's past the worst of it but has a long way to go." She cracked an egg into a bowl and put the sh.e.l.l down beside it, sighing. "I keep wondering if all this will change things."

He reached out and patted her hand. "One step at a time, Mom. Leo's pretty irrepressible. He'll have some physical therapy afterward, and you might be taking more care of him than he ever did of you for a while, but I'm guessing he'll be back in full form by the end."

She nodded and broke another egg. "What did you learn about the accident?"

He raised his eyebrows. "How did you know I was looking into that?"

She looked up at him. "I would be."

Good point, he thought. Part of the reason he'd turned out the way he had was because she'd trained him to be curious about everything and everyone.

"A piece of the car fell off," he said. "That's what messed up the steering. The sheriff's department is going to see if they can find it tomorrow, using metal detectors."

She kept working, whipping the eggs in the bowl, her eyes down and her voice neutral. "That seems like a lot of work."

He shrugged. "I've teamed up with one of their deputies, Rob Barrows. He says they have an Explorers troop that are all eager beavers. Won't cost them a cent."

Again she nodded. "Laura Barrows's boy. He was in the MPs in the Army. Got out three years ago. A nice man."

"Yeah. Seems so." Joe was watching her carefully, knowing something was brewing.

After a small pause, she added, "If you know the accident was caused by something falling off, why do you need to find it?"

Ouch, he thought. Too smart by half. "Just to make things neat and tidy." he thought. Too smart by half. "Just to make things neat and tidy."

She stopped whipping and fixed him with a baleful look. This one he did know to take seriously. "Joseph."

He pushed his lips out in defeat. "You're good, Mom. If I knew how to scramble eggs, I'd trade jobs with you."

"I wouldn't wish that on the rest of humanity," she told him. "What's going on?"

He studied the tabletop for a couple of seconds, pondering his response. "Truth? Maybe nothing, and I'm not pulling your leg. It's just that the piece I mentioned shouldn't have fallen off a car as new as the Subaru."

"What else?" she asked.

"That's it. I told you it was probably nothing."

She frowned at him. "You were the same way as a child. You could never just spit it out. Parts fall off of new cars, too, Joe. All the time. What are you not telling me?"

Joe repositioned his chair, crossed his legs and arms, and reconsidered his strategy.

"Cops are professional paranoids, Mom. You know that, right? It keeps us focused and it keeps us safe. It also makes us look under the bed, even when we know there's nothing there."

She kept studying him, the eggs temporarily forgotten.

"So," he resumed, "two members of a cop's family get injured because a relatively new car falls apart, you gotta wonder why, especially when that car is serviced by a business belonging to E. T. Griffis."

She nodded, satisfied at last, though not happily so. "Ah."

"You knew about Andy?" he asked.

"Yes. Poor boy."

"Well, I didn't. Barrows just told me. When did it happen?"

"Late this summer. He hanged himself."

"I heard E. T. and Dan took it hard."

She seemed to notice the bowl before her for the first time, gave it a couple of last swirls with the whisk, and set to work on dicing up a piece of ham. She spoke as she worked.

"Dan confronted me in the grocery store afterward."

"What?" Joe leaned forward in his chair. Joe leaned forward in his chair.

She put her knife down briefly for emphasis. "I'm only telling you this because I a.s.sume you'll hear it from someone else, and I don't want to explain why I kept silent. It's the worst part of living in a small community."

"What happened?" Joe demanded.

"Essentially nothing. He just came up to me in the grocery store when I was there buying a few things-Leo had gone across the street-and he let me know he was unhappy with the way things had turned out."

Joe let out an angry laugh. "Oh, right. I bet that's the way he phrased it. Come on, Mom. What did he say?"

She was back to cutting up the ham. "It was unpleasant and said in the heat of the moment."

Now he was the one merely staring in silence.

She let it drag on for almost a minute before finally conceding, "He said we'd be sorry. That we'd pay for it."

Joe rubbed his forehead. "Great. Did you know E. T. handed Steve's Garage over to Dan?"

That stopped her in mid-motion. "No," she allowed.

Joe sat back and thought for a few seconds. "What was the reason given for Andy doing himself in?" he then asked in a calmer voice.

"The most I ever heard was that he was having problems, whatever that means." She looked up from her task and then asked, "What did you arrest him for?"

Joe smiled bitterly and shook his head. "For something I couldn't prove he didn't do."

"He didn't didn't do?" she parroted. do?" she parroted.

"It was a burglary. The store owner interrupted it and was injured in the process-an older lady. She didn't see who hit her, but she saw a car driving off afterward, tires squealing, and got the registration. It belonged to Andy, and when we went by his place to talk to him, the tools used in the break-in were right there in plain sight and were later matched not only to the marks left on the lock of the place he rifled, but to a blood smear belonging to the woman."