Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(75)

Her eyebrows wrinkled up and she looked as if she didn’t understand.

“About him taking pills to commit suicide?”

A conflicted mix of emotions crossed Paula’s face and Josie suspected that Paula was trying to gauge which one would be most appropriate in her current predicament. She finally said, “I think it’s sooo sad.”

“Where do you think Billy got the pills?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe someone gave the pills to him?” Josie didn’t want to mention buying or selling drugs, or anything associated with breaking the law, for fear that Paula would clam up.

“I don’t know.” Her voice had become so high and airy it was hard to hear her.

“Okay. Tell me again. You said you liked Billy?”

“Yes! I loved Billy.”

“And you think it’s sad that he committed suicide?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then help me figure out who gave Billy the pills that he mixed with his whiskey. I won’t be mad. I’m not here to bother anyone. I just need to talk to that person.”

“Why?”

“I need to see what Billy said before he died. It’s important. It could save someone’s life.” Josie was grasping for something that would trigger Paula’s conscience. Behind the spacey dingbat image, Josie thought Paula had a conscience.

“Well, I don’t really know.”

Josie decided on a different route. “Look, Paula, I get where you’re coming from. I understand that you like to connect people with what they need. You’re like a nurse almost. You find out what someone needs, and then you go and find the medication that they need to help them. Is that about right?”

She beamed in recognition. “Yes! That’s exactly what I try to do. I’m like a shaman. I totally help people.”

“Okay. I see that. I see you’re trying to help people. Can you just tell me about the night Billy died? I need to know who you helped out that night?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe there were some people at the Hell-Bent that needed some help.”

Paula shook her head no, but said nothing.

“Maybe even Billy did and you met him at the park. I’m not judging you. I just need to know who got a baggie of Oxy and Ambien that night. You tell me that, and I promise, you won’t get in trouble for it.” Josie watched her thinking for quite some time.

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I only want to help people.”

Josie could see she was ready to break. “You could save someone’s life by telling me what you know.”

Her eyes widened, the pressure weighing on her.

“Come on, Paula. You say you want to help people. This is your chance.”

“The only person who asked for an Oxy mix that night was Hank. He said he was worn out from the fire and the evacuation. He just needed a combo pack to sleep. I was surprised because he’d never asked before.”

Josie smiled and patted Paula on the back. “You did the right thing,” she said. She yelled toward the back of the store, where a curtain led to a storage room. “See you later, Tiny.”

Josie walked out of the Gun Club smiling. These were the breakthroughs that made her happiest as a cop, not when something fell into her lap, but when dogged police work paid off. She glanced at her watch. It was 7:00, and her stomach was growling, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She had a package of cheese crackers and one of Otto’s Cokes in the fridge at the department. She had driven by the trauma center on her way into town and seen the night nurse’s “crappy” minivan parked outside. It would be a good time to catch her.

Josie first went to the PD and logged into her computer. She ate cheese crackers while she searched the Internet for an image of a 2015 Ford F-350 diesel, platinum package with a lift. Otto had scoped out the truck and provided her the specifics. He figured the package had to have been close to $60,000. There might be a lot of trucks driving around Artemis, but very few of them had premium lift packages that matched Hank’s truck. He made a boatload of money at the Hell-Bent. He didn’t spend his cash on a home or travel or a wife, so why not a truck? Josie printed a photo of a truck that matched Hank’s. The photo showed the truck at the same angle that the nurse would have seen it the night Billy died.

Josie drove over to the trauma center and found Glenda Crosley bent over paperwork at the nurse’s station. There was no receptionist. An elderly couple sat in the waiting room, holding hands, watching the TV on the wall in silence.

Glenda looked up and smiled when Josie approached.

“It’s a little more normal in here compared to last time you stopped in.”

“You look a bit less frazzled,” Josie said, smiling. “I have one quick question for you.”

“Sure.”

Josie took the color photo she had printed out of a manila folder and handed it to Glenda. She started smiling and nodding as Josie talked. “Can you tell me if that’s the truck you saw the night Billy died?”

“That’s it.” Glenda pointed to the wheels. “I remember because it was lifted. I hate those trucks. I think they look ridiculous. I told my husband he’d have to buy me a step stool to get up into the thing.” She handed the photo back. “I can’t imagine there’s too many of those trucks around. The gas would kill you.”