Chapter 27
Logan
“Boss, you got a visitor.” Jock’s voice echoes across the garage to the back corner where my office is hidden.
Now that I’m waiting on the paint shop and the upholsterer to do their parts in making Boone’s 442 kick ass, I’m playing catch-up on some of the other things I let slide around the shop. Namely, all the shit piled on my desk. There’s a landslide of paper, and even though I’ve been sorting for ten minutes, you can’t tell I’ve touched a thing. Jock’s interruption is welcome at this point.
I step out of the office and make my way across the shop. Rick is finishing up a brake job for one of the ladies who works at the pharmacy, so at least there’s some money coming in today. Jock winks at me as he steps out of the doorway between the garage and the customer waiting area.
What the hell?
I step inside to find a brunette in a black trench coat waiting with a notepad tucked under her arm. The reporter. I recognize her from the crowd the other day.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Jock says. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Lockwood.”
She nods at him and then extends a hand to me. “Hi, Mr. Brantley. I’m Memphis Lockwood of the Investigation Network. Thank you for making time to speak with me. I really appreciate it.”
“I haven’t agreed to speak with you yet.”
Her shoulders stiffen only the slightest at my blunt statement, but it doesn’t put her off.
“Don’t write me off just yet, Mr. Brantley. I’m not here to cause trouble. I received an anonymous tip a few weeks back that there was something of an epidemic happening in Gold Haven, and the local police aren’t doing much about it. The newsroom didn’t become interested until I did some digging and found the connection to Holly Wix. Just like that, I had a story I wanted to tell, and the network was happy about the prospect for ratings.”
Out of everything she says, one thing stands out. An anonymous tip? From who?
She’s waiting for a response, so I go with the most basic one. “My name’s Logan or Brantley, but not Mr. Brantley.”
“Okay, Logan. Is there anything you can tell me about what’s going on?”
“I don’t know any more than what I’ve heard on the radio, Ms. Lockwood.”
“You can call me Memphis, and I’m not sure I believe that completely. It seems like you’ve got a central location, and most of the townspeople stop in here at one point or another. I’m sure you’ve heard your share of gossip.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “We get plenty of traffic, but I don’t have any answers for you.”
“And yet the police have interviewed you more than once in connection to the case.”
“Where did you hear that?”
She nods toward the shop. “Your employee was very helpful. I understand you used to be related to a man who had a near-fatal overdose, and actually helped save his life. And what’s more, the body of one of your former employees was found in a meth-house fire. Is that correct?”
Jock needs to learn to keep his goddamned mouth shut.
“That’s all true, but there’s nothing more I can tell you than what I told the cops. I hadn’t seen Jeff since the last time he came around wanting money, and Roy Planter hadn’t worked here in months.”
“But still, the connections—”
“You’re in a small town, Ms. Lockwood. You don’t have to look hard to find connections between most people. This is the kind of place where the majority of people stay put rather than leave.”
“So you wouldn’t say that your connection to Nicole Hiram is worthy of discussing either, even though Officer Reeves questioned her Saturday night? I understand she used to work here as well on occasion, and you’ve been friends for a long time.”
I give the reporter a hard look. “What is it you want from me, ma’am? You want me to speculate on who I think is responsible? Because I don’t have a clue. If I did, maybe Cody could go out and arrest him, because we all know Timmons isn’t doing jack shit.”
“The lack of concern from the police chief about my anonymous tip is what really got me interested. There’s nothing I like less than people with power not using it the way they’re supposed to.”
“Then we agree on that. There’s nothing else I can tell you that you probably haven’t heard from someone else.”
“But I want to hear it from you, Mr. Brantley. You know the players. You have a stake in this town getting back to normal.”
“If I knew who had a hand in all this, you better believe I would do something about it. You don’t have to ask too many people to find out that Jeff wasn’t smart enough to mastermind his way out of a paper bag, let alone some kind of drug operation. Or that Roy Planter was an alcoholic who needed money, and his morals weren’t the best, especially when he was desperate.”
“And what about Nicole Hiram?”
“She’s one of the hardest-working people I know, and if you want me to believe for a minute that she’s got something to do with this, you’re wasting your breath.”
The reporter furiously scrawls notes on her pad, and looks up at me when she stops. “But what about the bowling alley? I’ve been told she’s trying to raise money to buy it.” She looks down at her pad. “Pints and Pins. Isn’t that enough motive in itself?”
Again, the memory of Nicole trying and failing to buy something at the pharmacy the night Banner and I were there for lube comes back to me.
Still, I’m firm when I reply. “No. It’s not. Because if she was looking for an easy way out, she would’ve taken it long before now. I’ve got a lot of work to do today, ma’am, and I really need to get back to it.”
She flips her notepad shut and meets my gaze. “Mr. Brantley. Logan. This isn’t a witch hunt being sensationalized for national TV.”
“Then why the hell are you here?”
“Because I’m from a small town in the Midwest that’s not much different from Gold Haven, and if this were happening in my town, I’d want to know who was behind it. A huge cross-section of our viewing public can relate to the issues this town is facing. Meth is a nationwide epidemic, especially in our rural areas. I’m hoping that if people can see Gold Haven succeed at getting back to normal, it’ll give my viewers hope as well.”
Her impassioned speech finally gets through to me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to offer up any idle speculation without facts.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Ms. Lockwood. But you’re better off talking to the cops and firemen who’ve been dealing with the crime scenes directly. They’re the ones who are going to be able to give you the most information. I’ve got nothing else I can tell you.”
“So that’s a no to being interviewed on camera?” she asks, a smile twitching her lips because she already knows what I’m going to say.
“No, thank you. But go look up Granger Ryan down at the fire station. He might actually have something useful for you.”
She tucks her notepad under her arm and shoves her pen in her pocket. “Already tried. He declined to comment.”
“Then I guess you’re shit out of luck for the moment.”
She flashes a smile. “You don’t know much about reporters, do you, Mr. Brantley? We’re a tenacious breed. I didn’t get to where I am by letting people stonewall me. I’m going to figure this out. Maybe I’ll stop by and chat with Mr. Ryan and Officer Reeves again. They don’t understand how determined I am, but they will.”
“Good luck to you, ma’am.”
Memphis Lockwood nods and turns for the door.
God help Granger and Cody.
I have a feeling Memphis Lockwood is a pit bull when she locks onto something.