Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(44)
She smiled. “Every breakup should be so easy.”
“Absolutely. If people’d quit acting like such pansies and have an honest conversation every once in a while, all of humanity would benefit.” Dell extended his legs out in front of him and crossed his arms like he was settling in for a good story. “Now, down to business. Homicide.”
“Okay.” She downed the rest of her wine, shuddered, and set the glass on the ground. “Here’s the basics. When the wildfire blew through Artemis on Sunday, most of the town evacuated. That included Brenda and Billy Nix.”
“The country singer?”
“That’s the one. They left town after stopping in at the Hell-Bent to pick up Billy’s guitar. They claim they left at about six and got to Austin at about one, when they got a drink at a bar and then checked into a hotel a little after two.”
“Easy enough to check, right?”
“They checked into the hotel at about two thirty in the morning. But they used cash at the bar.”
“We all oughta use cash. All this electronic tracking will be this country’s demise. Mark my words.”
“Meanwhile, the fire chief, Doug Free, asked Otto and me to check out the west side of the county. He’d heard some outbuildings were damaged. We drove out to check structures and make sure no one was injured or in need of help. We drove down Prentice Canyon Road, which was the west edge of the fire.”
“The firebreak?”
Josie nodded. “Doug thought it had been the perfect firebreak. By nightfall the wind had died down. By the time the fire hit that north-south road, it had lost fuel. That area of the county is mostly barren desert and clumps of scrub. Strategically, it was a great move on the chief’s part.”
“Don’t the Nixes live on the other side of the road?” Dell asked.
“Exactly. No structures were lost on that side of the road except their house.” Josie paused. “It’s true, there aren’t many structures out there to burn, but from the flyover, it became clear a fire was intentionally set at the house.”
“They set it for the insurance?” Dell asked.
“Nope. It’s a rental. The body we found on the Nixes’ couch was burned before the fire ever crossed that part of the county.”
“Meaning someone set the fire at their house on purpose. To make the murder look like an accident.”
Josie smiled. “You get better and better at this. I should hire you as a consultant.”
“What do you pay?”
“Nothing.”
“Figures. So who put the body on the couch?”
“That’s the question. Sounds like there’s some jealousy among the local bands. A small group of people competing for the stage and the record deals.”
“What’s a body on the Nixes’ couch have to do with that?”
“You want to end someone’s career, what better way to do it,” she said.
Dell narrowed his eyes like he wasn’t buying the explanation.
“Remember that trial last year in El Paso?” she asked. “Some guy hated his divorce attorney so bad that he set him up for murder. He convinced his ex-wife, whom he also hated, to meet him at some office building. It was actually a vacant office. He killed his ex and planted evidence to make it look like the attorney was having an affair with her and killed her. The guy almost got away with it.”
“All right. I get it. Hatred is a hell of a motivator. Wouldn’t the Nixes make more sense though?”
“They’re our primary suspects. But I can’t imagine why you’d choose your own house to murder someone. The man was dead before he was burnt up in the fire. So if they were going to go to the trouble of arranging a body on their couch, why not drive him over to the east side of the fire where things were really cooking? Dump the body. They wouldn’t have lost their home either.”
“They probably thought no one would believe they’d torch their own home. Makes them look less suspicious. Besides,” Dell said, “I don’t know too many people who could stuff a dead body in their car and dump it along a roadside.”
“You don’t hang out with the right people.”
*
At midnight, Billy Nix quietly rolled out of bed and stood without moving over his wife’s body. He listened to her rhythmic breathing and watched the white sheet rise and fall. Her jaw was slack against the pillow, her face pale and delicate in the dim light cast from the streetlamp outside their motel window. She’d always been a heavy sleeper. Back when they still talked about having kids he teased her about sleeping through the delivery. Now, as he checked on her before sneaking out of the hotel in the middle of the night, the thought of having kids seemed a lifetime away. It wasn’t that she’d be angry that he left, but he didn’t want to disturb her. Even as he stood staring at her, repeating those words inside his head, he knew it was a lie. He didn’t want to explain to her why he couldn’t sleep.
Billy pulled his jeans and shirt and boots off the chair next to the desk and dressed quietly in the bathroom. He went back into the room and felt around on the desk for the pen and motel stationery and took them into the bathroom. He wrote her a quick note saying, “Couldn’t sleep. Went for walk. Love you—Billy.” He left the note on the bedside table and quietly unlocked the door and opened it. He stood outside the room and took a long slow breath, trying to clear the noise from his head. He felt his shirt pocket for the pack and lighter. He tapped the pack of Marlboros, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it, watching the red ember flare as he inhaled the smoke, listening to the paper and tobacco sizzle, glad for the familiar sound, for something reliable. He hadn’t slept in days but he couldn’t shut down his thoughts long enough to relax. He thought he might walk down to Mickey’s, just a few blocks away. He knew the bartender. He could hang out for an hour or two and figure out what the hell had gone wrong with his life to make him a suspect in a murder investigation.