Typically, Mattie wouldn’t want a house guest, but Stella had stayed one night during their last investigation, and tonight the distraction might be the thing she needed to stay out of her own head. “Sure. Just come when you’re done.”
“Can I pick up some food? Maybe a pizza from that little hut beside the road?”
“The Pizza Palace. Whatever you want. I don’t usually keep a lot of food at my house.”
“I’ll bring enough for two.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you when you’re finished.”
Rainbow was still at her post when Mattie passed through the lobby, so she stopped to say good-night. “What did you think of Ramon Vasquez’s voice?” Mattie asked her. “Could he be the one who called in the anonymous tip?”
“It’s hard to say, but I remember a voice that wasn’t quite so deep, more of a Spanish accent.”
“I suppose he could have disguised his voice on the phone,” Mattie said. “In fact, I assume that anyone would.”
“Yeah, that’s probably true.” Rainbow looked distressed. “I wish I could be more help.”
“Don’t worry. If he’s the one who called, we’ll figure it out.”
After saying good-bye, Mattie clocked out, went outside to her SUV, and loaded Robo into the back. She settled into the driver’s seat but hesitated before twisting the key to start the engine. She hated to go home where she’d be alone with her thoughts. She decided to go check in on Brody. She wanted to replace Robo’s last memory of him with something better than the violent scuffle he’d had with Mattie. A patrol dog with a grudge didn’t make for a very good team player.
She turned the key and drove to Brody’s house, a small, clapboard two-story on the edge of town. The windows were dark. His cruiser was parked in front, so she pulled up beside it. She exited the car, taking Robo with her. After stepping up on the small, concrete porch, she knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she turned and studied his cruiser, wondering if he’d gone somewhere on foot. Deciding to check around back, she told Robo to heel and went around the side of the house. In the well-lit backyard, she found an old vintage car—from the thirties or forties?—propped up on cement blocks. A pair of legs clad in grease-stained jeans were poking out from under it, and she assumed they belonged to Brody. A small space heater glowed, sending radiant heat under the car.
“Hey, Brody,” she said as she approached the car, not wanting to startle him. “Nice car.”
Robo sniffed one of Brody’s boots, curious but not vengeful. Glad to see it, Mattie signaled with her hand for him to come to her and then sit. He responded like a champ.
The clanking under the vehicle stopped, but Brody stayed under it. “What are you doing here, Cobb?”
“Thought I’d check in.”
“Do you have Vasquez under arrest?”
“We’re holding him on possession of drug paraphernalia.”
“Why not murder one?”
“Not enough evidence for that.”
He rolled out from under the car, his body appearing a few inches at a time. He wore a blue western shirt with the sleeves torn out, revealing well-tanned arms etched with thick, ropy muscle and a variety of tattoos: flames, cars, and all kinds of barbed wire. When his face appeared, also streaked with grease, it took on a pained grimace.
“Damn, Cobb. Did I do that?”
Wanting to keep it light, Mattie wiggled her jaw with one hand as if testing it. “It was an accident. I think I got in your way.”
He shook his head, looking disgusted. “Sorry.”
She’d never had an apology from Brody before, not that she could recall. “Shit happens. I just wanted to make sure Robo doesn’t bear a grudge.” She pulled a dog treat out of her pocket. “Do you want to give him this?”
“Sure.” He wiped his hand on his shirt, took the treat, and squatted. “Here, Robo.”
“Go get it,” Mattie said, releasing her dog from his sit. In an instant Robo took the treat, signaling that her mission had been accomplished. He stood, waving his tail, as Brody patted his side.
“I’m not sure that Vasquez killed her, Brody. Unless we can get more evidence, we shouldn’t rush to judgment.”
He frowned, and she could see his jaw muscle flex as he clamped it.
“He’s the same guy as Roger Howard,” she told him. “He’s her half brother.”
“What? What are you saying?”
Mattie explained the relationship and gave him the details about why and when the letter was written. “He says they reconciled the situation between them. We’re not going to quit looking at him, but I don’t like him as much for it as I should. We need to keep an open mind.”
Brody squinted at her for a long moment, evidently turning things over in his own mind. “You got a minute?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I need someone to pump the brakes while I bleed the line.”
“Okay.”
Brody opened the door for her, and Mattie grabbed the steering wheel and hoisted herself up and in. The tan leather upholstery looked new, definitely not the original. She’d learned recently that Brody restored old cars, but she didn’t know he was working on something so impressive.
Lying down on the creeper, he rolled himself back under the car. “Okay, start pumping until I tell you to stop.”
Mattie did as told, pumping the brake repeatedly until she heard him call a halt. She climbed out of the car and joined Robo on the sidelines where he was watching. Brody reappeared from under the vehicle, stood, and picked up a rag to start wiping his hands.
“Thanks. You came just at the right time.” Head lowered over his task, he turned his eyes up toward her and shrugged one shoulder, looking sheepish. “I tinker with these old things when I’m trying to relax.”
“You’ve got reason to be stressed, but you’ve got to hold it together when you’re on duty. We can’t afford to lose you, Brody.”
He shook his head, looking down at his hands again. Noncommittal.
Surprised that he’d not bitten her head off, Mattie decided that was all she’d better say. “I’ve gotta go home. Do you need any more help?”
He looked up from his hands and paused his cleaning. “Probably.” His eyes glinted with pain and repressed anger. “But not with the car. Thanks for stopping by, Cobb. I appreciate the information.”
“We’ll find her killer, Brody. And we’ll need your help.”
He nodded and went back to cleaning his hands.
Chapter 24
By the time the last client went out the door, it was well after six. Once again, Cole found himself falling short of his goal for family time. He and Tess locked up, and he followed her as he drove down the lane to his house while she traveled on to the highway. He sighed, wishing he could keep right on driving tonight, too.
Sophie and Mrs. Gibbs sat at the kitchen table eating dinner. Mrs. Gibbs popped up from her chair as he came through the door from the garage.
“I kept things warm here on the stove,” she said. “I’ll fix you a plate.”
“No, keep your seat. I’ll fix my own here in a minute. Where’s Angela?”
“She says she isn’t hungry. She doesn’t want to come down to eat, so I fixed her a tray and took it to her in her room.”
Wondering if pandering to his daughter’s tantrum was the right thing to do, he exchanged pointed looks with his housekeeper. As if reading his mind, she shrugged and turned back to the stove. Perhaps she was at a loss as much as he was.
“A little extra attention won’t hurt,” she murmured while she picked up a spoon and started to stir something in a pot. “Maybe she’ll feel more like talking after dinner.”