Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(60)
“I’m pretty sure it was dark, dark blue or black. One of the big four-doors. I remember now because it crossed my mind that that’s what kind of truck David, my husband, wants. I think he’s crazy because the gas mileage is a killer.”
EIGHTEEN
All three officers were scheduled off for the day. They rotated weekends with the sheriff’s department to ensure that at least one car was on the road at all hours. But days off did not take precedence during a murder investigation. This Saturday, all three members of the police department came in to debrief about the Ferris Sinclair murder, and Billy Nix’s apparent suicide. There were no homicide detectives to take the case, just an understaffed, underfunded department of three. After the debriefing, Josie would dole out the work assignments for the day.
She arrived early and started the coffee. Having skipped breakfast, she was happy to see Marta enter the office with a large baking dish.
“Coffee cake fresh from the oven,” Marta said.
Otto entered directly behind her. “The woman is a saint. Delores made oatmeal this morning and got mad when I added butter and sugar. How is a man supposed to suffer through a bowl of oatmeal with no flavor? She’ll kill me in the process of saving me.”
Josie carried paper plates and cups to the conference table. By eight o’clock they had all enjoyed a warm breakfast and were caught up on each other’s personal lives. Josie counted herself lucky to work with such good people.
Marta covered up her casserole dish with tinfoil and said, “Okay. Bring me up to speed.”
“The big news yesterday was the video surveillance tape that Turner, the Nixes’ attorney, provided. The surveillance tape was captured on a camera in Sonora and shows the Nixes entering the store at nine thirty the night Ferris was killed. Sonora is about three and a half hours from the Nixes’ house. If they left the Hell-Bent at six, drove home to kill Ferris, and started the fire, the absolute earliest they could have left the house would have been seven fifteen. Even if they left at seven, that puts them in Sonora at ten at the earliest.”
“And we have time of death as seven thirty-eight. That’s when the watch stopped on Ferris’s watch, and the clock in the kitchen. The timing just doesn’t work,” Otto said.
“So, what you’re saying is that the Nixes didn’t kill Ferris,” Marta said.
“I don’t see how,” Josie said. “The other surprise we received yesterday was the report from the fire marshal out of Odessa. He came in and worked with Doug Free and me. He claims the house fire was started outside the front door that leads into the living room, most likely with kerosene.”
“Isn’t that what you already expected?” Marta said.
“We did, but it was good confirmation. He also found a syringe located underneath the couch where Ferris Sinclair was found.”
“So Ferris was shooting up and overdosed? Committed suicide?” Marta asked. “Or someone used the syringe to kill him?”
“I can’t imagine Ferris would shoot up with heroin and then tuck the needle under the couch for Brenda to find later. I think there’s a good chance that whatever is in the needle killed Ferris. The fire marshal has rushed the toxicology on the syringe. I’m hoping we’ll know by Monday.”
Otto said, “Remember too that a Zaner was discharged. This was no suicide.”
Josie stood and walked to her desk, where she retrieved a two-gallon plastic evidence bag containing an empty whiskey bottle. She set down the bag in the middle of the table for Marta to see. “Cowan has another bag that contains three pills. He’s testing them, but they appear to be a combination of OxyContin and Ambien. If Billy ate a bagful of those mixed with that bottle of Jack Daniel’s?”
“So it’s a suicide?” Marta asked.
“Except that Brenda claims Billy never takes pills. She admitted to searching his bags while they were in the hotel room together. She says he couldn’t have had anything on him when he left the hotel room the night he died.”
Marta made a dismissive gesture. “It’s not like a guy couldn’t score a bagful of pills.”
“Cowan is supposed to call today with results on the autopsy. It looked like a suicide, but I’m not convinced yet. There’s one other piece. I talked to the nurse who was on duty the night Billy died behind the trauma center. She said there was a dark-colored truck parked on the side street that runs next to the park. On the east side of it. There’s no houses there, so she couldn’t imagine what a truck would be doing there at that time of night.”
“You know how many dark-colored trucks there are in Artemis?” Otto said.
“She also said it was a four-door, one of the big gas guzzlers. She remembers because it’s what her husband wants.”
Marta made a face. “How do we track that down?”
“I had a brainstorm at about three o’clock this morning,” Josie said. “I woke up thinking about Billy’s memorial service that Hank said they would hold at the Hell-Bent tonight.”
“Ah,” Marta said. “Let me guess. I’m third shift. You want me in the parking lot taking license-plate numbers on any dark-colored four-door truck.”
Josie grinned.
“What did I tell you?” Otto said. “She’s a saint.”