Page 43 of Rocky Ride

He shoved his clothes into one of the machines and then fiddled with the dials like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing—because he didn’t.

She strolled over kind of laughing at him. “You need a tutorial on the machine, buddy?”

“I ain’t your buddy. I’m a deputy from the sheriff’s office down the street.”

“I know where you hang out, buddy. Seen you coming and going from there. You’re Virgil, right?”

“You know my name?” Virgil’s eyes were wide.

She shrugged. “Ain’t hard. The stud sheriff has two stud sons, Harlan and Virgil. Every girl in Coyote Creek knows your names. Ain’t a mystery.”

Virge scramble for words. “What’s your name?”

“Vicki Temple. My mom owns the laundry and while she’s busting her ass at another job, it’s my job to run the laundry.”

“You done school?” asked Virge.

“Could be. Don’t see you at school, Deputy boy.”

“I’m done.”

“Did you ever start?”

Virge laughed. “I went a couple times.”

“Then what? You got picked up with a spray can in your hand and a baggie of meth in your pocket and got your ass sent to Juvie? I know guys like you.”

“Hate to interrupt you and Vicki, Virge, but I’ve got to go to work. I’ll tell the sheriff you’re coming as soon as you dry your clothes.”

“Yeah. They haven’t started washing yet because Vicky hasn’t got the machine going for me.”

“This is a self-serve place of business, Deputy-boy. I show you how to turn the machine on and then you’re strictly on your own.”

“I’m good with that,” said Virge. “I don’t need no girls helping me run a piece of simple machinery.”

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

When I got back to the station Molly had names and addresses for two guys who drove black Wranglers like the one parked in the Ellington’s driveway.

“Come on, Harlan,” said Billy. “We have to go check out these two guys. One of them might be our murderer. Where’s Virgil?”

“He’s washing a load of clothes.”

“Jesus H., Harlan. We have work to do. Any girls there?”

“Just the one running the place. He’s not hitting it off too good with her. They seem to be kind of clashing. They were in a big argument over the washing machine when I left.”

“Huh. We’ve got no time to wait for him. We’re out of here.”

Criederman Residence. Sunburst.

We knocked on the door of Nate Criederman’s house and his wife opened the door. Short girl with bottle-blonde hair and an unlit cigarette stuck to her lips.

Billy held up his badge. “We’d like to talk to Nate, ma’am. Is he home?”

“Nope. Nate’s at work.”

“And where does Nate work?”

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