Page 79 of Deathmarch
“What did you think?” Harper asked.
“I could see why Chuck would think it’s not smart to split your forces right when trouble’s coming your way.” Cash shifted on his seat. “But I could also see Dicky’s point. What if therewasan emergency and Chuck decided to keep the whole stockpile for himself? Possession being nine-tenths of the law and all that. Is putting all your eggs in the same basket ever the right strategy?”
“Did you think about taking some of the supplies over to your place?” Harper asked. “Seems like a reasonable request to me. And Chuck wouldn’t hand off any of it. That had to make you angry.”
Cash nodded, then caught himself. “It wasn’t like that. Dicky and I talked about it. But I didn’t go over to Chuck’s place to take anything by force.”
“And Dicky?”
Cash shook his head. “I called him after your visit on Tuesday and asked him. He said he didn’t feel good Monday evening, so he went to bed early. He was queasy all the way down to Florida on his flight. When I caught up with him, he was resting at the hotel, in bed.”
Right.“Mind if I ask how many winter boots you own?”
“The pair on my feet. I don’t go out a lot in winter. My balance isn’t the best. That’s why I swim instead of going for walks.”
“I’d like to have your boots tested.”
Cash kicked them off then and there, wiggling his toes in gray wool socks that had red tips. “Have at them.”
“Thank you for your cooperation. You’re free to go. I’ll bring you some jailhouse slippers from the back.”
He also grabbed a medium-size evidence bag. He was dropping the boots into that, Cash already gone, when Chase stopped by. “What did he say?”
“A lot about George Washington, not enough about the case.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Harper handed him the plastic bag. “Cash’s boots need to go to the lab. If they find any traces of blood on them, that’ll get me a search warrant.”
“Doesn’t look like the print on the front door.”
“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”
“If he was, why would he hand over the boots?”
“Maybe he washed them well enough to think he could fool the police.”
People had, even a few years before, but not anymore. The crime lab in West Chester that Broslin PD used had received a significant upgrade in the past year. If there was blood to be found in the tracks of those boots, the lab was going to find it.
The thought of his father’s old teacher behind bars, however, failed to fill Harper with satisfaction. He wanted Dicky to be the killer, the asshole who’d pushed his way through Allie’s door ten years ago and demanded sex from an abandoned teenager as a way to pay rent.
Harper was itching to look the bastard in the eyes and tell him he knew everything. He wanted the satisfaction of slapping cuffs on him and sending him off to prison.
“Off to check on your girlfriend?” Chase asked. “I hear you have lunch with her every day.”
“Going to look at a building lot with Kennan today.”
“Just started sleeting. Not the kind of day for walking around outside. Won’t be able to see shit either. Tell your brother to pick a better day.”
“We’ll see.”
“Tell Allie I said hi.” Chase smirked. “Can I be the best man at the wedding?”
“It’s not like that.”
Chase snorted. “Some detective.”
Chapter Twenty-One
