Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(61)
Marta smirked. “If Billy didn’t kill Ferris, why would he commit suicide? Was he that distraught over Ferris’s death?”
“That’s the question of the day,” Otto said. “I can’t figure out if he was having an affair with Ferris, or if Ferris was a nuisance fan who was bothering Billy and screwing up his marriage. It depends on who you talk to.”
Josie tilted her head. “I just wonder if Ferris provided Billy with something he didn’t have in his life. We keep hearing how Brenda spent all her time trying to make Billy as good as he could be. Maybe Ferris just accepted him for who he was. Ferris thought Billy was already brilliant. Maybe Billy just needed the boost that Ferris gave his ego.”
“You’re changing your mind? You think it’s plausible that Billy committed suicide over Ferris’s death?” Otto asked.
“I suppose I do,” she said. “But it bothers me that we don’t know how Billy came up with the pills that he mixed with the alcohol.”
“Or who wanted Ferris dead,” Marta said.
“My plan is to meet Deputy Susan Spears at Ferris’s house in Presidio this morning. She’s got a search warrant approved. She agreed to help me search the house. Hopefully we’ll find something to help us figure that out.”
*
The drive from Artemis to Presidio took Josie down a twenty-mile stretch of tan-colored desert dotted with patches of deep green mesquite bushes. The occasional hills and curves that snugged up to the Rio Grande broke the scenic monotony with glimpses of the muddy brown water. At ten o’clock in the morning, with the temperature pushing ninety, she drove with the windows down, letting the warm air blow the dust and sand around the old jeep. Radio stations faded in and out, so she dug through the glove compartment to find a tape for the ancient cassette player. She popped in one of Dillon’s old Elton John tapes and turned “Benny and the Jets” up as loud as the speakers would take. She smiled and sang, enjoying the sun and the wind and the freedom of the open road.
In a police department so remote, with so little funding, department perks were rare. Her retired-army jeep, vintage 1995, somewhat made up for the lack of modern radio and radar equipment. The four-wheel-drive could take her almost anywhere: the jeep had been built for military use, so she drove it as the job required, and occasionally as the road called to her, through rocky creeks, narrow mountain passes, and tight arroyos that an SUV or pickup truck couldn’t handle.
Thirty minutes after leaving Artemis, Josie parallel parked in front of the small brick home that Junior Daggy had referred to as the Winferd station house. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, maybe something cobbled together by other people’s hand-me-downs, but what she found was a tastefully landscaped brick home with long narrow windows and curved limestone lintels. A cobblestone pathway led through a well-kept garden and up to a large wooden entrance door with heavy wrought-iron hardware.
Susan parked her brown and beige deputy patrol car across the street from Josie. While Susan called in her position Josie took the time to glance around the tree-lined neighborhood. The street was primarily made up of tasteful adobe homes, understated and cared for by their owners. This was not the neighborhood Josie had imagined Ferris Sinclair inhabiting.
Susan exited her car and walked over to join Josie on the sidewalk in front of the house. Not many women were able to wear a police uniform and maintain any sense of femininity, but Susan looked every bit the grandma that she bragged about being. The brown uniform fit her curvy fifty-something-year-old body well. Josie realized then that Susie wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest under her uniform, which gave the impression of a block chest, an okay look on a man, but not so flattering on most women. In the desert climate the vest was miserably hot, but Josie insisted the officers in her department wear one at all times while on duty. It surprised her to find Susan without one.
Susan approached her with her hand outstretched and a wide smile. “How are you, Josie? Long time no see!”
Josie smiled back and shook her hand. “I’m doing all right. How’s life in Presidio?”
“Can’t complain.” She pointed up the pathway that led to Ferris Sinclair’s front door. “Nice little place, huh?”
“I’ll admit, this isn’t what I expected. From everything I hear he was a mooch. How’s a mooch afford a place like this?”
“Good question. Let’s take a look. I don’t know where he worked. He seemed to flit from one party to the next. I’d figure a sugar daddy.” She wrinkled her nose at Josie. “Can a guy have a sugar daddy?”
Josie laughed. “I don’t guess there’s a rule book on sugar daddies.”
“Does Billy Nix fit that description for Ferris?”
“Billy was barely scraping by. He was close to a Nashville contract, but that hadn’t happened yet,” Josie said. “Not to mention, his wife kept a pretty close eye on him. I can’t imagine Brenda Nix allowing enough money to leave her checking account to pay for a place like this.”
Susan unlocked the front door and said, “After we got the warrant approval I got a key made and came over to print the outside of the house and check for breaking and entering, vandalism, whatever. The outside of the house looked undisturbed. I haven’t gone in though.”
They stepped inside the house and both had the same response. “Wow.”