Devoted in Death (In Death #41)(72)

“With some regret, our sheriff arrested Bubba for assaulting a police officer. The lawyer’s so pissed he hasn’t noticed – as yet – I’ve stepped out. Santiago’s bleeding and causing a serious stink. If it was real I’d tell him not to be such a drama queen. I can snag Jimbo pretty easy.”

“Do it. I’m going to use your ’link to bring you both in, on your signal. Then I’m sending you back – keep them busy as long as you can. Unless the son calls for a lawyer, we can work him on this.”

“On it. I’ll send you a flag when I’ve got him.”

It didn’t take long, and hoping she didn’t screw it up, Eve used the signal to coordinate. Carmichael’s image winked in, as did the big – “Jumbo” wasn’t off – guy next to her.

He wore coveralls on a frame designed for a career as a defensive lineman. His hair, the color of bleached corn, stuck straight up from a wide, square head.

Eve figured he weighed in at an easy two-sixty, and every ounce of him was scared shitless.

“Thank you, Detective. Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve and Banner, Deputy William in interview with… your full name, sir?”

“Um. Ah.”

“Dorran,” Carmichael supplied. “James Beauregard.”

“Have a seat Mr. Dorran.”

“I really gotta look after my ma. My pa’s in trouble.”

“Detective, go… look after Mr. Dorran’s ma.”

“Yes, sir. You’re going to want to cooperate with Lieutenant Dallas, Jimbo. Your ma doesn’t need you in trouble, too.”

She nodded at Eve, and Eve cut her image away.

“Mr. Dorran —”

“Maybe you could call me Jimbo, ’cause nobody calls me ‘mister.’  ”

“All right, Jimbo. Sit.”

“I don’t know nothing ’bout nothing. Or about nobody neither. My pa said —”

“I’m not talking to your pa.” Voice, eyes, went frigid, and sharp with it. “You are now talking to me. I run the Homicide division for the NYPSD. You know what homicide is, Jimbo?”

“Um, yeah, sort of.”

“It’s murder.”

His eyes wheeled. And, yeah, Eve thought, even holographically, she could smell the guilt pumping off of him.

“I never killed nobody. Pa neither. My uncle Buck said how we didn’t have to say nothing.”

“Your uncle Buck isn’t looking at being charged with accessory to murder, after the fact, obstruction of justice, and a whole f*cking slew of other charges I can come up with if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“I never killed nobody. And ladies don’t use bad words like that.”

“Do I look like a lady?”

“You’re a girl.”

“I’m a cop. I’m a murder cop, and I eat *s like you for breakfast. I’ve got a prosecuting attorney chomping at the bit to have you extradited to New York and tossed in a cage.”

“I didn’t do nothing!”

“Jimbo.” Banner’s voice was cool water from a country stream against Eve’s urban flash. “Now, I expect you didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Didn’t really know you did.”

“I don’t hurt people. You can ask anybody. You from Arkansas, sir?”

“Sure am. Silby’s Pond.”

“I never been there, but I heard it’s right nice.”

“It sure is.”

“Maybe we can arrange for you to spend some time in a cage there.” Eve slapped her hand on the file, making all two hundred and sixty pounds of Jimbo jump in his chair. “Since this man was killed there.”

She slammed the photos of Robert Jansen, broken and battered, faceup.

Jimbo went white. “Holy crow! Holy crow! Is he dead?”

“What do you think?”

“Holy crow. I never did that! I never hurt nobody.”

“What kind of vehicle was it,” Banner asked conversationally, “you and your pa towed in from down along Highway 12 last August?”

“It was… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Jimbo twisted his big hands together, and stared at the photograph. “Did he get himself murdered?”

“They beat him,” Eve said, voice hard. “They burned him. They tortured him, then, when they were done, they tossed him off a ridge and left him for your goddamn holy crows. And before that, they did this.”

She shoved the dead pictures of Jansen across the table. “Bashed his head in, dragged him into the brush to rot until somebody found him.”

“I know about that. I know about that, ’cause it was Petie West and his mama who found him. But we didn’t do nothing.”

Eve dumped the rest of the photos out. “They killed all these people. Tortured them. Somebody’s son, daughter, sister, father. You took the vehicle they left on the side of the road. How much did you get for it?”

“We… I ain’t saying we did any such thing. But if we did, it didn’t hurt anybody.”

“We could trace the damn vehicle, Jimbo. We don’t know who they are.”

“You don’t know who they are,” he said slowly.