Seeing Red(83)

Pursuant to that, she asked, “What do you think?”

Trapper had his back to the room, staring through the window, hands turned palms out in the rear pockets of his jeans—the new ones he disliked.

“That you’d be wasting your money.”

Because she’d been envisioning his bare backside inside the jeans, his statement didn’t register. “Sorry?”

He turned to face her. “You’d be wasting your money on a locksmith. I’ll break into your car and hot-wire it. You’ll have to get it fixed when you get back to Dallas, but the repair will probably cost you less than a locksmith.

“Better still, ask Carson to set you up with his discount body shop guy. Just be sure that if he gives you a loaner car it isn’t hot.” He motioned to her small duffel bag on the floor in the corner. “Start gathering up your things. When you’re ready, I’ll take you to your car.”

The drama in the sheriff’s office had obscured her resolve to go home, but apparently it was still fresh in Trapper’s mind, and he wasn’t trying to talk her out of it. Quite the opposite. Before she had time to respond to this turnabout, there was a knock.

Trapper checked the peephole before opening the door.

Carson bustled in, rubbing his hands together. “How’d I do?”

“You did okay,” Trapper replied.

“Okay?” he repeated with affront. “I was brilliant.”

“Where is Duncan’s old lady? Did you ask him?”

“Yes, but anything Mr. Duncan told me is privileged, Trapper. You know that.”

“I need to know what he said.”

“He’s my client.”

“And I’m financing his fee. Now tell me what he said.”

“That’s grounds for disbarment.”

“Oh, for crissake. You choose now to turn ethical? Kerra’s not gonna tell on you. Are you?” Trapper looked at her, and she shook her head. “See? And I’m not gonna tell on you. So talk.”

Carson only assumed a more obstinate stance.

Trapper bore down on him. “I’m not gonna tell anybody that you violated attorney-client privilege … but I might let it slip that your law degree is counterfeit.”

Carson started. “How’d you know?”

Trapper just looked at him and smiled, and when Carson realized that he’d been had, he swore.

“Now that we’ve got those pesky ethics out of the way,” Trapper said, “what about Duncan’s old lady?”

Carson sighed with resignation. “She’s been passing bad checks. They thought it would be advisable for her to clear town for a while.”

“When did she go? Was she with Duncan Sunday night?”

“Definitely. They were going at it all night long, he said, and had a sad parting Monday morning.”

“Where was she off to?”

“Galveston.”

“Duncan may need her to provide an alibi. If you know anybody in south Texas who could track her down and bring her back—”

“Already on it.”

“Good.”

“Except …” Carson grimaced.

“What?”

“He may not want to bring her into the picture even if it means sacrificing his alibi.”

“The bad checks?”

“That, but there could also be an issue regarding her age. But he’s fairly sure she’s turned seventeen.”

Trapper looked pained. “Does this guy have any redeeming qualities?”

“He has a heart tattoo with ‘Mom’ scrolled across it.”

“That’s something,” Kerra said.

“With a dagger through the heart.”

She couldn’t tell if Carson was joking or not, but she thought probably not.

Trapper asked, “What about the pistol?”

“He swears to God he had never laid eyes on it.”

“Until a traffic cop pulled it from under the seat of his truck.”

“Noooo,” Carson said, dragging out the word. “Until he found it in a trash can.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“Wish I was,” Carson said. “He contends that when he went to put his garbage in the can, there was the pistol. Cartridge was full except for one bullet. Serial number scratched out.”

“His lucky day.”

“His words exactly.”

“When did this miracle find occur?”

“Monday night. He remembers because the trash is picked up at the mobile home park on Tuesday morning.”

“When questioned about the gun, why did he lie?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Trapper ran his hand around the back of his neck. “If I was in sexual congress with a minor, yeah, I probably would. Did you ask him about The Major?”

“Knows he’s famous. Knows he got shot. Never heard of you.” Carson tacked that on with perceptible glee.

“What about Kerra?”

“He’s only seen her once or twice, on account of his neighbor discovered that he’d tapped into his cable and cut him off.”

“Did you ask if he knew Thomas Wilcox?”

“I did. He said, ‘Sure.’”