The Territory (Josie Gray Mysteries #1)(12)

Gravel sprayed as a pickup truck slid to a stop outside Red’s front door. A man stormed out of the truck and was about to walk in before Josie stepped up and stopped him.

“What’s going on here?” the man demanded, trying to see around Josie and into the house.

“I’ll ask you the same,” Josie said.

She recognized him as the local pediatrician: a slightly balding middle-aged man in khaki pants and a button-down short-sleeved shirt. Average everything. He was a compact man, about five feet seven inches tall, with a soft boyish complexion and light blond hair. His lips had tightened down into an angry line; his eyes filled with unfocused anger.

“Where’s Red at?” he asked, his voice shallow and nervous.

“Are you Dr. Fallow?” Josie asked.

“Yes. Paul Fallow.”

“Dr. Fallow, you’re interrupting a crime scene investigation. Unless you have something to share concerning the investigation, you need to leave.”

The man’s complexion turned gray, and he put both hands out as if searching for a chair. Josie moved backwards and allowed him entrance to Red’s house. He stumbled in, and Otto and Josie grabbed his arms to lead him toward the couch, where he sat, staring up at Josie with uncomprehending eyes.

“Is it true, then, that Red’s dead?”

“Where did you hear that?” Josie asked.

“I stopped at the Gun Club. Tiny was closing up for the day. I had to ask him about an order. He told me he’d heard a rumor that Red had been murdered. Is it true?”

Josie shook her head at Otto. “This has to be the gossip capital of the world.”

“Looks like Lou decided to scoop the story,” Otto said.

Fallow looked confused. “So, it’s gossip, then—about Red?”

“No, Mr. Fallow, this time the gossip was accurate. Red was murdered. Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill him?” Josie asked.

Fallow sank back into the couch, his jaw slack. “I didn’t believe it. I was sure it was just a rumor.”

“Do you know anyone who was angry with Red? Anyone Red had fought with recently?” she asked.

Another pickup truck drove up the driveway, and all three of them turned to the sliding glass door to watch a large man in blue jeans, black T-shirt, and black cowboy hat climb out of his truck. Josie recognized Sheriff’s Deputy Hack Bloster and met him at the door before he could enter.

“What can I do for you, Hack?”

“What the hell are you doing in Red’s house?” Bloster spoke with a wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek that made it hard to separate his words. His skin had the dark, lined texture of cowhide, and he looked to be anywhere from a well-preserved fifty to a life-hardened thirty. Josie assumed it was the latter. Bloster noticed Fallow sitting on the couch and made a move to walk past Josie into the house.

She put her forearm up to block Bloster’s entrance, and he flinched like he had been touched by a hot iron. “This is an investigation. You need to leave the property. If you have questions, call and make an appointment with the dispatcher. I can see you tomorrow.”

“I’m a cop. I don’t need an appointment. This is our jurisdiction, anyway. You’re the one shouldn’t be here,” Bloster said.

Otto turned and grimaced at Fallow. “Is he part of your club?”

Fallow’s already pale face had gone completely white. “Vice president.”

Josie gestured toward Bloster’s truck and attempted to maintain her patience. “Deputy, you have a conflict of interest here that wouldn’t do you, or the investigation, any good. For both our sakes, I would suggest you leave until we figure out what happened here.”

Bloster noticed the wall behind the couch in Red’s living room. His eyes widened. “What the hell did you do with his guns?”

She considered him. The rumors would spin hard and fast, twisting the investigation into a funnel cloud of half truths and innuendo. She decided to tell Bloster the truth to gauge his reaction.

“The guns were missing when we arrived. How do you know Red didn’t move them?” she asked.

Bloster pointed his index finger within an inch of Josie’s chest, and she knocked it away with her forearm.

“Don’t do that again. You have something to say to me, then do it with respect.”

Bloster stared at her for a moment. When he spoke again, the volume was lower, but the anger just as intense. “Those guns leave the wall for one reason and one reason only.”

“Which is?” she asked.

“Use.” He lifted his chin in the air.

“What kind of use?” she asked.

“The kind we find necessary to keep this world running the way it ought to,” Bloster said.

Fallow moaned on the couch and leaned over to put his head between his knees.

“Suck it up, Fallow,” Bloster said.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Fallow said toward the floor.

“We continue to do the right thing!” Bloster said.

Josie sighed. “I need you both to leave so we can finish here. Officer Podowski or I will be in contact with you tonight or tomorrow.”

She wrote Bloster’s and Fallow’s contact information on the small notepad she kept in her uniform shirt pocket and both men left. Otto stood at the sliding glass door and watched the cars exit the driveway, making sure they didn’t stop to talk with the coroner or, worse, tamper with evidence.