The Killing Game(29)

“I said I would. Sorry it took till today.”

“I’m just happy it’s fixed. What did you think of the place?” she asked tentatively.

“It’s great. Nice location on the lake. It’s not that far from the Bellows place. They’re both on that southwest side.”

“Mrs. Bellows still owns the cabin? I thought they were coerced out of it.”

“After Ted’s death, the Carreras backed off.”

“For good?”

“There is no ‘for good’ with them.”

“I suppose that would be too much to hope for.”

“I’d say the Carreras are just biding their time. My guess is they’ve been distracted by your family’s recent acquisitions.” There was a pause in their conversation, then he asked, “What time’re you going to be at the cabin tomorrow? I’ll come on by.”

“Late afternoon, probably.”

“Unless you’d like me to stop by the house tonight?”

Andi realized he was picking up on her nervousness and said, “Tomorrow’ll be great. Oh, and I told my brother-and sister-in-law that I’d hired you.”

She considered adding that Carter had met with Blake Carrera about selling the Allencore block of ten cabins, but before she could, he asked, “How’d that go over?”

She smiled. “What do you think?”

He chuckled, and she found her smile widening at the sound of his amusement. “I’m looking forward to meeting them both,” he said.

“Remember you said that,” she warned him, to which he said good-bye, still chuckling.





Chapter Seven



September shoved her cell phone in her pocket, grabbed her coat off the back of her chair, and called to Gretchen as she headed for the squad room door, “Tynan Myles is at Tiny Tim’s. Hannah just sent me a message.”

Gretchen grabbed her coat as well, camouflaging her gun and holster. “I hope to hell they have air-conditioning,” she grumbled, making her way outside.

Gretchen climbed behind the wheel of the department-issue Jeep and backed out of the lot expertly. Strapped into the passenger seat, September rechecked her cell and added, “He’s managed to sidestep us too many times for it to be coincidence.”

“Eh, he could just be lucky that way. How’d you get the daughter-in-law to tip us off?”

“She’s sick of me asking to talk to either Tynan or Caleb. She doesn’t want us talking to either of them, apparently, but she chose to give up her father-in-law before her husband.”

“Think there’s a reason for that?” Gretchen asked, squinting against the sunlight bouncing off bumpers and windshields as she eased into the traffic

“Other than she doesn’t want to deal with it? No. I get the sense that neither Caleb nor Tynan will be all that excited about being interviewed by the police, and that Hannah thinks they’ll get pissed at her for being the liaison.”

“It’s a little early to hit the bars, or is this Tynan’s usual?”

“Hannah acts like he spends a lot more time out of the house than in, but that may be because of Greer.”

“Tynan’s grandson.”

“Or granddaughter. Could you tell?” September asked curiously.

Gretchen gave a thin smile. “Likely one or the other.”

Half an hour later, they reached Tiny Tim’s, a rambling board-and-batten building stained a reddish-brown color, the windows lit from inside with Corona and Budweiser beer signs in glowing green, yellow, and blue neon. There were some scraggly laurel bushes at the front entry that could have taken over if they weren’t so starved for water, their leaves dry and sunburned. September supposed the place would look more inviting in the evening. On a hot Friday afternoon it looked dusty and neglected, and the country western music peeling out was of the sorrowful, wailing sort.

As it turned out, there were a lot of people standing on the rough-hewn wood floor, hovering around the bar and pool tables, starting the weekend early. September had a rough idea of Tynan’s age and Hannah had said he worked construction.

There were two fiftyish men sitting at the bar, one in a business suit and one in a pair of jeans and a gray work shirt. The group of pool players were millennials, and there were three other Tynan possibilities scattered around the tables, two with baseballs caps atop their silver-haired heads.

September zeroed in on the man at the bar. He was alone, and the other men seemed to be hanging with buddies. She knew next to nothing about Tynan Myles, but something about the way his daughter-in-law talked about him made September feel like he might be a bit antisocial.

“Mr. Myles?” she asked, standing to his right side.

He was hunched over a beer and flicked her a look. “Who wants to know?”

“Laurelton PD,” Gretchen answered in a cool voice.

He straightened and swiveled around to give them each a hard look. “My, my. You two sure do credit to the department.”

“We’ve been trying to connect with you,” September said.

“Hannah tell you were I was?” He picked up his beer and took a long drink.

“She said she’d told you we wanted to talk to you?”

“Little rat fink. I told her to keep her nose outta my business, but here you are.” He swept a hand expansively in their direction.