Firebreak: A Mystery (16 page)

They shook hands. “That’s correct.”

“I’m Vicki. Good to meet you.” She pointed toward a kitchenette in the corner of the room where a table and chairs were located. “Let’s have a seat.”

Josie sat down as Vicki pulled a pitcher of water from the refrigerator and filled three glasses. Josie felt air blowing on her and noticed ductwork in the open ceiling area for central air and heating. She also noted several other pieces of furniture sitting along the far side of the garage, waiting to be worked on.

“I would have never guessed there was such a market for upholstery work in a small town,” Josie said, making small talk and hoping Mick would join them.

“We have a nice little niche here. People don’t have a lot of furniture options in town, what with being so far from the city. So we buy up classic furniture at flea markets in El Paso and reupholster. We have clients now that send us pictures of what they want and we find it for them, then find a fabric they love. It’s turned into a good little business.”

Mick finally moved away from the couch and brushed the lint and stray pieces of fabric off his T-shirt and jeans before coming over to the table. Black hair hung in loose ringlets down to his shoulders and gave his pale angular face a softer appearance. He was thin and dressed in the same uniform of black jeans and V-neck T-shirt that the woman was wearing.

“Mick Sinner,” he said, hand outstretched. The corners of his mouth were downturned. He had the look of a person who took life very seriously.

Josie stood and shook his hand. “I heard you at Hell-Bent last year. I enjoyed the show.”

“Awesome.” His expression remained unchanged, as if he’d heard it too many times and was no longer impressed by compliments.

They settled around the table and Josie began. “I’d like to talk with you about the country music scene in Arroyo County and some of the bands you play with. I’m working an investigation and the information you provide will help me understand who I need to talk with.”

“Sure.”

“You play at the Hell-Bent. Are you regulars?”

He tilted his head and gave her a look as if he thought the question was odd. “What constitutes a regular in your mind?”

“Do you play there frequently? Several times per month?”

“Sure. We got a good name around West Texas.”

“You ever open for other bands?”

“Here? No.” He shook his head, frowning again. “We headline.”

“You never open for Billy and the Outlaws?”

He laughed. “Seriously? You said you’ve seen our band. Did we sound like we’d open for Billy?”

“I don’t know. Someone at the Hell-Bent told me you opened for them.” That wasn’t true, but she wanted his reaction.

He lifted up his arms and shoulders, his face puckered in mock confusion. “So you just stop by today to insult my band? I’m not sure where you’re headed with this. Do clue me in.”

“Why is that an insult? I thought Billy and the Outlaws were a big name in West Texas. About ready to hit it big in Nashville.”

He opened his eyes wide now, his face animated. “Oh, really? Is that their story? It’s that monster wife manager who spreads shit like that. True or not it makes them sound big. That’s what it’s all about for her. Generating buzz. It’s not about original sound or compelling music.”

Josie said nothing and waited a moment for him to continue. She could tell he was holding back.

He finally leaned forward in his seat and squinted at her as if trying to get her to understand the situation. “They’re a mediocre band trying to snag a recording contract.”

“It sounds like it’s working for them,” Josie said.

“It’s not working for them, and here’s why. You find the band of the moment, you emulate the sound, and by the time you get enough name recognition for your own band the moment’s gone. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.”

“Okay. Let’s change gears. I want to talk about the fires that moved through the county. Where were you the night of the evacuation? Sunday evening from about five until about midnight?”

“What the hell is this? Now I’m being interrogated?”

“This isn’t an interrogation. It’s a homicide investigation, and I have some questions for you.”

His eyebrows rose. His expression was still animated, but the anger had been replaced with shock. “Homicide? In Artemis?”

“Where were you Sunday evening?”

“I stayed with Vicki and her husband Bill. They live on a ranch headed toward Fort Stockton.”

Vicki placed her hand on the table in front of where Mick was sitting, protectively, Josie thought.

“Mick got to our house Sunday afternoon around three,” she said.

“I ate dinner with them and stayed the night.”

“You said homicide. Who died?” Vicki asked.

“A man’s body was found burned to death in the Nixes’ home Monday morning. There was no identification on the body.”

“No kidding? In their house?” Mick asked.

“Have you heard of anyone in the music community or around town who’s missing? Maybe someone who left during the evacuation and hasn’t returned?”

Vicki returned her hand to her lap, and studied Mick with her eyebrows drawn together as she contemplated the question. She finally looked back at Josie and said she couldn’t think of anyone.

“Burned to death?” He winced and shook his head as if to clear the image. “I haven’t heard anything. Rumors spread like the plague around here. We’d have heard if someone was missing.”

Josie had no doubt that by dinnertime the Hell-Bent would be buzzing.

“I didn’t think the fire moved through that area of the county,” Vicki said.

“You know where the Nixes live?” Josie asked.

She looked surprised by the question. “Well, yes. We redid a couch for them last year. Mick and I both delivered it.”

“I thought your two bands didn’t like each other.”

“I don’t dislike Billy. I just don’t think he’s God’s gift to country music,” Mick said.

“Can you imagine Billy having the kind of house that someone would stop by and crash for the night? Maybe some guy’s wife kicked him out and he needed a place to stay. Can you imagine someone going to the Nixes for help?”

Mick laughed out loud and Vicki grinned. She spoke first. “I can’t imagine Brenda giving anyone the impression that they were free to stay at her house without an invitation.”

“What about close friends?”

“They know everyone,” Vicki said. “Brenda networks like a politician. That doesn’t mean they’re friends with anyone though.”

“There’s a kid who hangs out whenever Billy’s playing. He’s probably late twenties. Cocky little shit. He tries to play himself off as a personal assistant for Billy.”

“Brenda’s the manager though, right?”

He nodded and looked perplexed. “That’s the weird thing. I can’t figure out why Brenda hasn’t put an end to this kid. Maybe she’s tried and can’t. He’ll even sit with her sometimes when they’re playing. You can tell she can’t stand him though.”

Vicki made a face as if she wanted to say something.

“Go ahead,” Josie said. “This is a private conversation.”

“I don’t think Brenda would put up with someone, no matter who it was, if she didn’t have something to gain.”

“What’s his name?”

Mick sneered. “Ferris Sinclair. What a name, right?”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

Mick glanced at Vicki and they both shrugged. He said, “No clue. I don’t really think he’s from here. I’ve only seen him hanging out at the bar.”

FOURTEEN

Josie found Otto sitting at the conference table, surrounded by piles of file folders and a stack of what looked like billing statements.

“What’s the word, Chief?”

“I talked with Mick Sinner and his business partner for a while,” she said. “Vicki Macke provided Mick a solid alibi for the night of the evacuation. The only odd piece to the interview was that they were both in the Nixes’ house in the past year to deliver a couch they had reupholstered for them.”

“Didn’t Hank say they hated each other?”

“I think they dislike each other intensely. It seems odd you’d let someone you hate fix your couch. You’d have to think about them every time you sat down to watch TV.”

“Maybe Billy’s clueless,” Otto said. “He might not have any idea Mick hates him. He doesn’t strike me as someone who’s very self-aware.”

Josie walked over to her desk and pitched down her notepad. “You’re right. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

“Nothing more?”

She sat down and faced him again. “This is a little better. Some kid named Ferris Sinclair hangs around the band. Apparently Mick’s seen him in the bar.”

“A fan?”

“Something like that.” Josie said. “Mick says the kid’s infatuated with Billy and the band. And he’s a ‘cocky little shit’—Mick’s words, not mine. And Mick says Brenda doesn’t like him.”

“Better get an interview with him.” Otto pursed his lips in thought. “I went out to the Nixes’ to search for the box containing the stun gun. Want to guess what was inside the box where the Zaner was supposed to be kept?”

“Nothing?” she asked.

“Exactly.”

*   *   *

Otto spent the next four hours logging information from the Nixes’ computer files. When Marta came on duty at 3:30 p.m., she systematically checked each document on the Nixes’ computer. The files were extremely well organized, with expenditures tediously noted. Fortunately, like most people’s, the Nixes’ information was woefully unprotected. She found a spreadsheet under “Home Files,” with tabs that contained an identity thief’s gold mine. One tab contained credit card numbers, expiration dates, and security codes. Another tab included all of the online sites they frequented along with logins and passwords. One of the tabs included all of the family’s insurance policies and health-care information, all wide open to any hacker in the world.

Marta called each credit card company and found a total credit card debt, at least using the cards listed on the spreadsheet, of $9,467. Not too out of line for a couple trying to grow a small business. Payments were up to date and on time each month. Incredibly, Marta even found the Web site and password for their online free credit check. She logged in and discovered that their credit was within the “Good” classification, not surprising given Brenda’s managerial skills.

Otto found life insurance policies in the manila file folders that were paid up. Each carried $100,000 in insurance, with the spouse as the sole beneficiary. No new insurance had been obtained over the past eleven years, assuming they would have kept paperwork on such a policy. Otto also finally made phone contact with the landlord of the Nixes’ home. He lived in Idaho and hadn’t even heard about the wildfire, and was shocked to discover that his old family home had been demolished.

Otto also found a ledger with information about booking dates and earnings. There were notations about how much each band member made after each performance. It appeared that Billy made about thirty to fifty percent more than the other band members for each gig, but it also appeared that his money paid Brenda’s managerial fees. Otto intended to ask other band members their opinions on Brenda’s role as manager and keeper of the finances.

While Marta and Otto worked on the Nixes’ files, Josie ran a background check on Ferris Sinclair and found nothing of consequence. Since Ferris’s connection to Billy was the Hell-Bent, she opted to try there first for background information on him and his relationship with the Nixes.

She pulled into the parking lot of the Hell-Bent just before 3:00 p.m. She figured two cars in the parking lot were probably typical for a Wednesday afternoon. It was too late for the lunch crowd, and too early for the after-work crowd. She found Hank sitting in his office pecking two-fingered on his computer keyboard. He looked up and stood from his chair when she knocked.

“Come on in, Chief.” He came around to the other side of his desk and cleaned a stack of rolled-up posters and what appeared to be mail and magazines off the two chairs next to a small table.

“What’s the word on Billy and Brenda? I finally got ahold of them yesterday and Billy was a mess. He said you think they killed someone in their own home. Killed him and set their house on fire. That’s insane! You ought to know Billy better than that.”

“No one has been accused of a crime. Our first priority is to find out the identification of the victim.”

He looked relieved. “You oughta tell Billy that. He’s convinced it’s a witch hunt and he’s headed for jail.”

“If he didn’t kill the victim he has nothing to worry about.”

Hank grimaced. “Tell that to the guy who fried on death row an innocent man.”

Josie had no intention of talking politics. “Do you know a man by the name of Ferris Sinclair?”

Hank rolled his eyes. “He’s a hanger-onner.”

“A what?”

“Ask any bartender with live music. They know the type. The kind that takes up seat space and never buys a drink. They come in hoping to connect with the band and get someone to buy them shots along the way. You ever heard of moochers?”

She laughed. “You don’t think much of the hanger-onners.”

He smiled. “Okay, that was a little rough. This kid gets under my skin though. He takes advantage of Billy and Brenda both.”

“How so?”

“Brenda catches a lot of hell for some reason. I really don’t get it. She’s fair to deal with. She doesn’t come in here making unreasonable demands. She and Billy don’t walk around like prima donnas. I know people don’t like her, but she’s a manager. Plain and simple.”

“What’s that have to do with Ferris?”

“His latest stunt was to tell people he was Billy’s personal assistant.”

“Is he?”

“Not hardly.” Hank chuckled and shut his eyes at the thought. “Do you know Billy very well?”

“Just through his music.”

“He’s a big kid. He can’t take conflict. He can’t say no. So Brenda deals with anything negative in Billy’s life. I couldn’t do what she does. And I guarantee Ferris couldn’t.”

Josie gave him a quizzical look, still not understanding why Hank said Ferris
got under his skin
.

“Ferris loves the scene. He loves to hang out with the band. He likes for people in the bar to know he’s close to Billy, a personal friend, and Billy doesn’t have the heart to tell the kid to take a hike. He’s obnoxious, overbearing, lies when it benefits him.”