Holy Ghost (Virgil Flowers #11)(30)

“Where were you when those people got shot, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Surprised it took you this long to ask,” Ford said, with a thin grin. He’d taken a .223 black rifle from one of the safes and was handling it, turning it, as easily as a drum major twirling a baton. “I got my own business doing computer maintenance and WiFi installations, and also solar panel sales; I got an associate who does the installation on the solar panels. With that first shooting, I was at the Creighton house over in Fairmont. It’s new construction, big house, they want WiFi in every room and solar on the roof. George and Elizabeth Creighton—they were both there the whole time I was. The second shooting, I was sitting in Elmer’s Tap, off the Interstate, eating a hamburger and watching some guys shoot pool. I can give you names and all.”

Virgil took a card from his pocket, wrote his BCA email address on the back, and said, “I believe you, but this is murder, so I gotta check. Email me the names.”

“I’ll do that soon as you’re out the door,” Ford said.

“What about the Nazis?”

Ford made a farting sound with his mouth. “Those guys are an embarrassment to the whole county. When the SHTF, they’ll probably get eaten first.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll tell you, though, they got one little woman out there, name of Rose, if she wanted to move in with me . . . I’d say yes in a New York minute. She’s got a sense of humor, and she’s not a bad shot, either. She’s a little wild, but maybe you need somebody like that when the SHTF.”

“Speaking of women, if you read Danny Visser’s blog today, you’ll know that we’re looking for a woman who might have been having a relationship with Glen Andorra,” Virgil said. “Any idea of who that might be?”

“Nope. But I suspected something was going on. I even kidded Glen about it. I was over there once, and there were some dirty dishes on the kitchen table, set for two. I even kinda thought the woman might still be in the house because I could smell something feminine—perfume, or deodorant, something that sure wasn’t Glen. He got kinda flustered, and pushed me right out the door. I’d stopped by to give him a check for my range dues, and he didn’t even want me to take the time to write it out. Said he’d get it later. That was not like Glen. Not a bad guy, but he did like his cash money.”

“No idea who she might have been?”

“No, because—you know what?—she wanted it kept a secret, which made me think she might be married.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“There was no car in the driveway. If she was still there, either her car was in the garage or Glen picked her up somewhere,” Ford said. “Why hide it if she wasn’t married? If she was single, nobody would care. In fact, everybody would have thought Glen getting together with a woman, that’d be great. He’d been divorced for quite a while.”

“Huh.” Virgil thought about that, then grinned at Ford, and asked, “So, you like guns a lot. If you had to give up guns or women, which would you do?”

Ford peered at Virgil, then said, “Fake question. You wouldn’t have to give up women unless they all died off, and that ain’t gonna happen. On the other hand, when the government starts kicking in the repressive measures—and that’s just a matter of time—IMHO, you’re gonna need the guns. I’d say, sure, women are important, but guns are fundamental. You know, our Constitution doesn’t even mention women, but it does mention our right to bear arms.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll be going out there to visit the Nazis,” Virgil said. “I’ll tell Rose you could be interested.”

Ford actually blushed and rubbed his nose, and said, “Well . . .” And a few seconds later, “She’s got dark hair. There are two dark-haired ones out there. She’s the one who doesn’t have swastikas tattooed on her earlobes.”

“One of them has swastikas tattooed on her earlobes?”

“Saw it myself,” Ford said. “The whole bunch of them were down at Skinner and Holland’s.”

Virgil said, “Fuckin’ Nazis.”

“You know what? They don’t know anything about being Nazis. They don’t know anything about history, about Jews and all of that. In fact, they don’t know shit about shit,” Ford said. “What they know is, Nazis are badasses who get on TV. That’s it. They want people to think that they’re badasses and they want to get on TV.”

Virgil said, “Terrific . . . Listen, if you don’t mind, I’m going to come back and talk to you if I need more information about guns. I hunt, but I’m not a gun guy like you are.”

“Happy to do it. That’s one fella we need to get off the streets, and in a hurry. I’m living here because of the food and water supply, because we’re big enough that we’d be a tough nut to crack for armed refugees from the Cities but small enough to be obscure. Can’t even see us from the Interstate,” Ford said. “We do need to start providing our own electrical service, and I’m trying to talk the city into buying some solar panels, but they never had the money. Now, if housing values go up, they might. I’d get the panels at cost; I’d even set the solar field up for them, no charge. But they’re dragging their feet. In the meantime, I’ve already got panels on my roof. You might have noticed.”