Not One of Us(57)

Johnson’s eyes snapped back to me. If he’d been unusually passive earlier, now he was riled, his sense of preservation on the alert. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Course not,” he denied at once.

I didn’t believe him for a second. “You sure about that?”

His jaw set in a hard line. “No. I done told you everything. Ain’t nothing else to tell.”

“So you say.”

His gray eyes pierced me with sudden suspicion and a hint of fear. “Why? Did she tell you I did? If so, she’s a damn liar.”

“Ms. Trahern has told me nothing,” I lied.

“You got any more questions?” he asked stiffly. “I got work to do.”

I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and gave him a wide grin. “That’s all I’ve got for now, Mr. Johnson. Let’s stay in touch, shall we?”

The door slammed shut as I walked back to my vehicle.



I made the short drive back to the office, which was now bustling with employees. Straightaway, I strode to Oliver’s office, where I found him at his desk, intently reading his computer monitor. “What’s up?” he asked, his gaze still on the screen.

“Thought you might be interested in some information I dug up on this guy.” I held up a sheet of paper I’d copied from the electronic file Ginger sent. “He works at Enigma Outdoor Expeditions. Their headquarters is the old Cormier house. Cash Johnson lives within a half mile of it. In fact, he lived there at the time of the Cormier disappearances.”

That got Oliver’s attention. He pushed the monitor to the side, faced me, and then held out a hand for the paper. “Whatcha got?”

“Guy’s a pervert. A Peeping Tom.” I handed him the old incident report. “I had a talk with him this morning.”

“So? He works there, right?”

“Yes. But Jori Trahern used to run into him late at night or just before dawn when she was sneaking out to meet Deacon Cormier. He always carried a gun, claiming to be out hunting. She thought it odd enough to mention it to me. I checked; he’s been reported before. Voyeurism.”

A teenage girl had been using the camp shower facilities when she spotted a man watching her. He’d entered the open doorway and had stood there staring. When she screamed, he’d run off—but unfortunately for Johnson, he’d run smack dab into the girl’s father.

“One time.” Oliver scanned the report. “The charges were eventually dropped.”

“I’d be willing to bet they were only dropped because the young girl and her family didn’t want the trauma and attention of a trial.”

“Unfortunately, that’s entirely possible.” Oliver handed me back the report. “But I don’t see the connection. It’s a big leap from voyeurism to murder.”

“He’s a creep. And one who carries around a gun. Maybe he got caught again being where he shouldn’t. He could have been watching Clotille Cormier, and her husband caught the guy red-handed and went ballistic. There was an argument, and in the heat of the moment, Johnson shot the husband and then had to kill the rest of the family for protection.”

“Last time we talked, you were sure that the Strickland and Cormier cases were connected. Have you changed your mind?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I thought this was worth checking out.”

“Maybe. Guess we can’t rule out a scenario like that, no matter how far fetched.” Despite his dismissive comment, Oliver rose from his seat and grabbed his car keys. “But on a case as dead and cold as this one, it’s worth pursuing. Besides, we have time. I’ve got Mullins and Sinclair doing more legwork on the Strickland murder. They’re interviewing the men from the bar again. Figured Tommy Sims and his gang could be leaned on a little harder. Keep the pressure on them.”

We’d interviewed them all separately and tried to break them, but each held firm to their story that after leaving the Pavilion the night Strickland was murdered, they’d all gone over to Eddie’s place and crashed for most of the rest of the evening.

I tended to believe they were all telling the truth. None of them were smart enough or possessed enough self-discipline to stick to a lie. The men had been buddies a long time, but when push came to shove, any of them would sell out the other for a deal if faced with a murder charge.

Pride had me glowing inside as we headed to the parking lot. It would be amazing to find justice for the Cormiers after all this time, not to mention a real feather in my cap to have helped break a major case. I pictured Ginger’s sour, smug face transform to an expression of chagrin when I informed her that I’d been the one to solve the case. That would take the starch out of her sails.

“We’ll talk to his boss first. Even I know that Samuel ‘Buddy’ Munford is a big shot around Enigma. We don’t want to unnecessarily rustle feathers.”

“Exactly. He’s a county commissioner and good friends with Mayor Rembert.”

“I’m already on thin ice with the mayor going over his head to hire Carter Holt.”

“Have you heard from Holt in the last couple days?”

“He’s exploring the possibility of Sims, Yaeger, Booker, and Knight being involved in drug trafficking. So far, all he’s discovered is that all four smoke pot. But at least he’s worked his way into their group. If they’re involved in selling the strong stuff, he’ll sniff it out.”