Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(42)

She pulled into the parking lot of the Hell-Bent just before 3:00 p.m. She figured two cars in the parking lot were probably typical for a Wednesday afternoon. It was too late for the lunch crowd, and too early for the after-work crowd. She found Hank sitting in his office pecking two-fingered on his computer keyboard. He looked up and stood from his chair when she knocked.

“Come on in, Chief.” He came around to the other side of his desk and cleaned a stack of rolled-up posters and what appeared to be mail and magazines off the two chairs next to a small table.

“What’s the word on Billy and Brenda? I finally got ahold of them yesterday and Billy was a mess. He said you think they killed someone in their own home. Killed him and set their house on fire. That’s insane! You ought to know Billy better than that.”

“No one has been accused of a crime. Our first priority is to find out the identification of the victim.”

He looked relieved. “You oughta tell Billy that. He’s convinced it’s a witch hunt and he’s headed for jail.”

“If he didn’t kill the victim he has nothing to worry about.”

Hank grimaced. “Tell that to the guy who fried on death row an innocent man.”

Josie had no intention of talking politics. “Do you know a man by the name of Ferris Sinclair?”

Hank rolled his eyes. “He’s a hanger-onner.”

“A what?”

“Ask any bartender with live music. They know the type. The kind that takes up seat space and never buys a drink. They come in hoping to connect with the band and get someone to buy them shots along the way. You ever heard of moochers?”

She laughed. “You don’t think much of the hanger-onners.”

He smiled. “Okay, that was a little rough. This kid gets under my skin though. He takes advantage of Billy and Brenda both.”

“How so?”

“Brenda catches a lot of hell for some reason. I really don’t get it. She’s fair to deal with. She doesn’t come in here making unreasonable demands. She and Billy don’t walk around like prima donnas. I know people don’t like her, but she’s a manager. Plain and simple.”

“What’s that have to do with Ferris?”

“His latest stunt was to tell people he was Billy’s personal assistant.”

“Is he?”

“Not hardly.” Hank chuckled and shut his eyes at the thought. “Do you know Billy very well?”

“Just through his music.”

“He’s a big kid. He can’t take conflict. He can’t say no. So Brenda deals with anything negative in Billy’s life. I couldn’t do what she does. And I guarantee Ferris couldn’t.”

Josie gave him a quizzical look, still not understanding why Hank said Ferris got under his skin.

“Ferris loves the scene. He loves to hang out with the band. He likes for people in the bar to know he’s close to Billy, a personal friend, and Billy doesn’t have the heart to tell the kid to take a hike. He’s obnoxious, overbearing, lies when it benefits him.”

“Why doesn’t Brenda deal with him?”

“She’s tried! I’ve heard her tell him she’s saving a seat when Billy and the Outlaws are getting ready to take the stage, but Ferris laughs it off. Sits next to her anyway. It’s just bizarre.” Hank’s expression changed, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s this about?”

“I’m just collecting information right now. Do you have any idea where I can find Ferris?”

“He lives in Presidio. That’s all I know.”

“Does he ever stay with Billy and Brenda? At their home?”

Hank pulled air in between his teeth and gave her a look as if that idea was a stretch for him to believe. “I can’t imagine Brenda would allow that.”

*

Josie imagined dusk as the time when the dust and drama of the day, worn down by the unrelenting sun, settled over the desert. Mentally, the sun took a toll on people. The heat of high noon in the desert was like no other, and when the sun tipped over the edge of the horizon the relief was physical and emotional. Driving home, she noticed the orange fade on the horizon and she sighed with relief as she pulled onto Schenck Road.

Josie pulled her jeep into the driveway and found Chester already waiting for her on the front porch. He typically waited to leave Dell’s barn until he heard her engine as she came down the road. He was a large dog, weighing about eighty-five pounds, with the typical coloring and ears of a bloodhound, but he had a gallop that reminded her of a horse. She wouldn’t have imagined that a bloodhound who spent half his time outdoors with his nose to the ground could run with such grace.

She got out of the car smiling. He stood on the edge of the porch wagging his whole body in delight, but he refused to come down the steps to greet her. As much as he wanted a pat on the head from Josie, he wanted his evening bone and a nap on his rug even more. He was a dog of habit, and when Josie’s schedule became too messed up with work, it made him irritable.

After scratching his ears and nuzzling his neck she stood to unlock the front door and found a piece of notebook paper taped to the sidelight window.

She pulled the paper off and read: “Supper’s on the stove. Corn bread. Beans been cooking all day. See you when you get here. —Dell”