Page 37 of So Insane

Martle didn’t seem to find that comforting.

“Turk’s here just in case he happens to smell something suspicious,” Michael said. “You aren’t hiding anything suspicious, are you, Tom?”

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Martle asked. “Why are you here? Do I need a lawyer?”

“I can’t answer the third question for you,” Faith replied, “but the first two questions have the same answer. We’re investigating the murders of Tyler Stone and Clara Montpelier.”

Martle’s eyes registered understanding. “The two kids who went missing in the mines.”

Michael lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know their names? The story hasn’t been released to the public yet.”

“People in this area talk,” Martle replied. “I’ve had a dozen phone calls from people in Granger asking me to help look for them. But I won’t do that.”

“Why not?” Faith asked. “If my friends and neighbors went missing, I’d want to do anything I could to help.”

“I did,” he replied. “I told everyone to stay the hell out of the mines and any cave tunnel not already mapped by the state parks department. If they’re stupid enough to go poking around in there, they’re stupid enough to die.”

“That’s a rather calloused attitude, wouldn’t you say?” Michael pointed out.

“Do you go jumping into shark-infested waters to save someone who was stupid enough to jump first?”

“Yes,” Faith replied without hesitation.

“Well, you’re a better person than me,” Martle said, also without hesitation. “I told people that those mines were unsafe, but every year, there’s another moron who wants to ignore me and prove something.”

“Well,” Faith said, “Tyler Stone didn’t fall down a mine shaft or get lost in the tunnels. He was stabbed to death. So whether he was stupid or not isn’t really relevant. He was murdered. Since we’re talking, why don’t you tell me where you were five days ago and twelve days ago?”

“I was at work,” he said, “then I came here.”

“We’ve already checked on work,” Michael said, “can anyone confirm that you were here?”

Martle gestured to his body. “Look at me,” he said, “Do I look like I can go spelunking through caves murdering people?”

Faith thought of Trammell’s hugely fat figure and West’s slight build. “I’ve learned not to judge murderers based on appearance,” she said.

“Well, then I guess the answer’s no,” he said irritably. “Should I call my lawyer?”

Faith thought a moment. She looked at Turk, who remained a respectful distance away from Martle. He was sitting now, his ears no longer pricked up, his tail wagging absently. He met Faith’s eyes, and she saw no suspicion in his gaze.

That wasn’t necessarily a reliable indicator of guilt either, but the thread linking Martle to the killings was already very tenuous. “No,” she replied, “but we do need your help.”

“How am I supposed to help you?” Martle asked, “I haven’t even visited Granger in three years.”

“But people are calling you to help look for the missing victims?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I… well, other than these two moro—these two victims—I was the last person to go into the mines. That I know of, anyway.”

“You were mapping them, correct?” Michael asked.

“I was. I quit before I finished.”

“Well, we have reason to believe that our killer is using the mines to transport his victims. It’s possible that he’s killing them there too. If you can give us a map of the mines, we might be able to find Clara Montpelier and possibly evidence of our killer.”

Martle hesitated a moment longer. “Can the dog wait outside?”

“No,” Faith said flatly. “Unless you want to have this conversation outside.”

Martle looked anxiously down at Turk. Turk met his eyes with the longsuffering patience of a dog who knew he intimidated nearly everyone he met. "You promise me he won't bite me?"

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