Author's Note: Okay, not so long between updates this time. I said I'd try to do better, and I'm stickin' to that plan. I hope I didn't miss many typos as a result.
"Today I stumbled across the old 'treasure' box I kept as a child. My hawk's feather and turtle carapace are still intact, and amazingly my little notebook survived these past few years stuck in a dusty hideaway. That handful of mementos took me back a ways; that's for sure. They reminded me of better days. Though...I can't really complain. Ephraim left me the farm when he died, and it's prime land. The owner of the lumber yard in town even made me an offer. I told him to take it and shove it. No one's harvesting these trees! I've seen some of the clear cutting done in other parts of the hills, and it'll be a cold day in Hell before I let that happen here. Gramps would never forgive me, even if I could forgive myself. This is Barton land, and Barton land it shall always be..."
--excerpt from the private journal of Samuel Barton
Smoky Hills Part 47
Suspicions
"Heero, what time did you get home?" Trowa asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he entered the kitchen the next morning to find his brother cooking an early breakfast.
"I told you not to wait up, didn't I?" Heero said blandly. "And would you clear that mess off the table so I can dish up breakfast?"
Trowa looked at the open box, and the scattered mementos on the kitchen table. "Don't you wanna know what it is?"
Heero arched an eyebrow. "Well I may be a bit rusty at detective work, mind you, but since the name Samuel is carved across the lid, I'd guess it belonged to your great-grandfather. What did you do--go exploring the attic some more last night?"
"Actually, I found it in the barn," Trowa told him, picking up a hawk feather and laying it carefully back inside the box, next to a dried-out turtle carapace and a tattered deck of cards. "And that reminds me. Did you check on Sandy before leaving yesterday?"
"No. Why?" Heero asked, turning off the stove and dishing omelets onto two plates.
"She got out of her cage," Trowa said with a frown. "When I went out for the nightly check, she was loose inside the barn--nearly gave me heart failure."
A flicker of a rueful smile touched Heero's lips. "Good thing it was you. I probably would've had a coronary. I'm not nearly as comfortable around those teeth and claws as you are."
"Yes, well," Trowa shrugged. "The point is, we need to keep a close eye on her. Cathy hadn't heard she was an escape artist, but you never know. Some of these cats are pretty clever, and who's to say one of Sandy's tricks didn't include opening a latch or gate?"
Heero's eyes widened. "As a matter of fact, last night on my way into the driveway, I spotted something that looked an awful lot like a lion. You don't suppose--?"
Trowa was on his feet in an instant. "I'll go check right now. I can't imagine how she'd have gotten out of the barn--"
"She would've had to break a window or something," Heero told him, setting aside the plates. "I checked the door and it was locked up tight as always."
The two men hurried out to the barn, their only concern making sure they didn't have a missing lion. But when they unlocked the door and opened it, Leon and Sandy were both in their cages, lounging indolently on their pallets. In fact, they barely glanced up at their visitors, seeming more inclined to sleep in that morning.
"Whew!" Trowa blew out a relieved breath. "That would've been my worst nightmare--a lion on the loose."
"I'd like to know how she got loose even inside the barn," Heero added with a scowl. "We really do have a responsibility to keep these animals secure."
"Trust me. I know," Trowa promised. "And whatever it takes; we'll do just that." But then he frowned thoughtfully. "So whatever you saw in the driveway, it wasn't these two. Another puma, you think?"
"That would be my best guess." Heero shook his head, walking over to examine the latch on Sandy's cage. "She got out of this?"
"I'm hoping maybe we just didn't close it properly earlier," Trowa replied, doing his own inspection of the area. When he was satisfied everything was as it should be, he took two meals out of the cooler and slid them into the cages for the lions' breakfast. "There," he said in satisfaction, as both animals went right to their food. "That should keep them appeased for awhile."
"So, now that they've had their meal, how about we go eat ours while it's still lukewarm?" Heero suggested.
They made their way back to the house, and as Trowa went to get the plates, Heero paused at the table, running his hand over a small, dog-eared notebook next to the box. "Another journal?"
"Yes. Mostly the ramblings of a young boy--his favorite hiding places and where he stashed his stuff out in the woods." Trowa smiled fondly. "Pretty cool."
"Hn." Heero went to get the two cups of tea he'd left steeping, while Trowa put their plates on the table.
"So--when did you get in last night?" Trowa asked, closing up the box and setting it aside so he could eat.
"A little after eleven. It was a long drive back from the restaurant."
Trowa nodded, recalling how far the place had been from Smoky Hills. "Didn't leave much time for making out."
"We didn't," Heero said quickly. "Not much, anyway."
"Loser," Trowa said with a mocking sigh. "Quatre and I made out for nearly an hour when he came over to talk about the journals." He grinned smugly as he sipped his tea.
Heero just snorted in amusement. "I knew he was in way too much of a hurry to see Duo and me off. Devious little shit had plans of his own, hm?"
"Plans I totally approved of," Trowa said happily. "We're going to drive up to his friend Rashid's facility this weekend with the most damaged journals and find out if he can help us."
"Where's this 'Rashid' guy live?"
"Upstate," Trowa smirked. "Way up. Quatre suggested we get a hotel room and stay over."
Heero rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you didn't offer much resistance to the idea."
"None at all." Trowa sat back with a silly grin on his face. "He's amazing, 'Ro. Gorgeous blue eyes and that golden hair--I'd have gone for him just on appearances. But he's also a really great guy. I mean, between offering to help with the journals, and how protective he is of his friends--you can just tell how deep his personality runs. I want to know everything about him. I don't think I've ever been so fascinated with anyone--" He shook his head, digging into his omelet. "There's just something special about him."
"Yes, I'm sure there is," Heero said patiently, figuring as long as Trowa was waxing poetic about Quatre, he wouldn't be prying into the intimate details of Heero's date with Duo. "Hey, I'm going to head out right after we eat. I want to look through all the police reports for the months just before and after Solo's disappearance, and have Officer Kurt round up those thugs from the convenience store so I can interview them first."
"Think they did it?" Trowa asked around a mouthful of omelet.
"It's much too soon to speculate. But if their personalities are any indication, they're both capable of violence." Heero's face darkened as he recalled the way they'd harassed Duo.
"It's gonna be tough getting folks to recall where they were eight years ago, and what they might've seen at the time," Trowa mused.
"Don't remind me." Heero finished up his breakfast and took his plate to the sink. "I already had the dogs out for a run, and they're in the back yard at the moment--probably digging a few new holes. Keep an eye on them?"
Trowa grinned and sighed, shaking his head. "Sure thing. Quatre's coming out after work to help me put the journals in order of importance for Rashid, so I want to have most of them inventoried and put in chronological order."
"Have fun with that," Heero smirked. "I'm going to be annoying local law enforcement all day."
"And loving every minute of it?" hazarded his brother.
"You know it." Heero was still perturbed that the police had never taken Duo's missing persons report seriously. Things might have been very different if they'd treated the disappearance with the gravity it deserved at the time it first happened. "See you this evening," he said, grabbing his notebooks and a jacket and heading for the door. "Call me if you need me to pick up anything--like maybe a new padlock to keep that crazy lion secure?"
"I'll check out that latch again," Trowa promised. "I do not need another scare like last night!" He shivered dramatically, and Heero raised an eyebrow.
"What exactly did she do?"
"Pounced on me."
Heero's eyes widened. "Barton--you are totally going to lead the way into the barn from now on. No way in hell am I letting an overgrown kitten tackle me to the ground and maul me. Not even for you!"
Trowa smiled weakly. "I wouldn't want you to."
Heero shook his head and continued on his way, eager to try to make some progress in the Stevens case.
~*~
Predictably enough, Ralph didn't look pleased to see Heero stride into the police station, and he looked even less pleased when he heard the man's plans.
"You want me to what?"
"Track down Otto Richter and Trant Clark, who were according to Mister Maxwell Solo's worst enemies, and bring them in here so I can interview them." Heero gestured to the interrogation room Ralph had used to talk to Duo. "I'll set up in there."
Ralph practically gaped at him. "And I'm supposed to what--drag 'em out of work?"
"If necessary. I'm perfectly willing to wait for their lunch breaks or until whatever time they get off work. But I fully intend to speak to both of them today. And what about the rest of the Stevens kids? I was told they got the house after Solo's adoptive parents passed away. Are they still in town?"
"They sold the farm off to a developer years ago," Ralph said flatly. "They ain't been back since."
Heero gave a derogatory snort. "Can't imagine why--this being such a friendly town and all--"
"We're friendly enough," Ralph muttered. "To our own, at least."
"Like Duo?"
"He ain't from Smoky Hills!" Ralph bit out sharply. "He an' Solo both came from the city--street kids."
"And they grew up here," Heero reminded him. "In a local orphanage. Are you saying just because they didn't happen to be born right here that they're any less a part of this town?" He shook his head. "No wonder Duo hates this place."
Ralph gave him a sharp look. "Well he knows the way outta town. Any time he wants to leave--"
"I think he'd prefer not to leave the way Solo did," Heero couldn't help commenting. He walked over to stand facing Ralph. "Now, if we can stick to business, instead of debating the nature of Smoky Hills, I'll need to look through those police reports again, to see what other crimes might have coincided with Stevens' disappearance. And while I'm working on that, you can go find Otto and Trant and explain that I need to have a conversation with each of them."
Ralph shrugged. "It's your funeral," he said with a hint of a smirk.
"What's that mean?"
"Otto's dad owns the lumber mill, and a good deal of the prime business real estate in town. He's not gonna like you suggesting his little boy had anything to do with Stevens' death."
"I'm not suggesting that," Heero said firmly. "And I expect you to stress that fact to both men. I just want to talk to them. They may remember something helpful, whether or not they had anything to do with the crime."
"You gonna grill Maxwell, too?"
"I already did--after you finished with him," Heero said coolly.
"And just like that, you believe he had nothing to do with Stevens' death?" Ralph demanded.
Heero fixed Ralph with a glare. "You've known him longer than I have," he reminded the man. "You watched him waste away here after Solo's disappearance, didn't you? You all watched him. Everyone in this damned town."
Ralph shrugged uncomfortably. "He had the priest an' the nun to go cryin' to," he muttered. "At least while the orphanage was still standing. And Hilde--he had her to cheer him up when he got depressed about it. Still does."
"Did you hear what you just said?" Heero demanded. "You know damned well he's still missing Solo. And you have the nerve to suggest he had something to do with his disappearance? Do you honestly think someone who'd killed his lover would still be pining for him eight years later?" He shook his head. "Only a serious psychopath could play a role like that, officer. And trust me when I say, Duo's no psychopath."
"You know so much about it?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. I've dealt with some." Heero shook his head, trying not to recall that there was still one on the loose back in Sanc, due to his failure. "Look, Ralph, I'm not trying to be difficult. But I've got a job to do, since no one here ever bothered. So go round up my interviews for today, and I'll try to make this go as quickly as possible."
Ralph scowled at him, but picked up his hat and the jacket from the back of his chair. "Maybe you're right that Duo wouldn't have killed Solo. But it don't mean anyone else in Smoky Hills would've. I mean, shit. I went to school with all them guys, even if I was a couple of years older. Ain't none of 'em capable of murder."
"Maybe not. But if you were in my position--an objective outsider investigating this murder--who would you start out interviewing, hm?"
Ralph donned his hat and shrugged into his jacket, his expression a mixture of annoyance and serious thought. "I'll go see what I can do about rounding up Otto an' Trant for you. And then maybe I oughta give you a couple more names. Solo had a boss, Mister Gunderson, who's still in town, an' a best friend Mueller who works up at State Line. Dunno if they could shed any light on things; but if anyone besides Maxwell knew what was going on in Solo's life, it'd be Mueller."
Heero gave him a curt nod. "I'd appreciate the help."
He watched the officer stalk out of the room, hoping that maybe he'd jolted him into thinking like a cop for a change. He didn't delude himself into thinking that Ralph Kurt had a professional bone in his body. But the man must have at least gone through academy training, and should know how to conduct a basic investigation.
Heero could almost hear Duo's derisive laugh echoing in his head at the very thought that Ralph could be helpful for a change.
He turned his attention to the notes he'd made during his talk with Duo, picking out names and their connection to Solo, and trying to decide how helpful they might be.
Ralph had mentioned Solo's boss Mister Gunderson; but Heero doubted the man would know anything useful. He might be able to give a few names of Solo's friends or enemies; but that was probably all.
Unless maybe Solo had gone to try to get his job back? Maybe he'd started an altercation at the garage...
Heero ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "This is fucking impossible," he muttered.
After a lovers' spat with Duo, Solo might have gone to a number of places to vent. His former job was just one possibility. While Chang had pretty much indicated that Beech Bluff was where Solo had died, it didn't preclude the possibility that he'd started out somewhere else and been followed to the bluff--or taken there.
How many people would have known that was a special place to Solo? His friends, certainly...and most of the kids close to his age or Duo's...
Hours passed as Heero continued to sort through his notes, putting names into their order of importance. Obviously Otto and Trant were at the top, having been Solo's most public and persistent enemies. But Ralph and his fellow-cop Alex were close enough in age that they would be worth talking to.
And then there was Trant's father--Officer Clark--who'd taken Duo's missing persons statement. If he'd been an abusive father, as Duo suspected, he certainly was capable of violence. It was a shame he wasn't alive to interview; Heero would have liked to grill him about his mishandling of the case. Perhaps his indifference was just a smooth cover for guilt.
And perhaps Trant could fill in some of those blanks--at least if he was inclined to talk.
"Who did you piss off, Solo?" Heero whispered to himself. "Who'd you make mad enough to kill you?"
He tried picturing a number of scenarios, and finally decided he needed more physical evidence and a clearer picture of the types of people he was dealing with before he could construct a plausible theory.
It was nearly noon when he heard the outer door open and the sound of work boots stomping down the hallway. He looked up as Ralph ushered in none other than Otto Richter.
The thug looked nothing less than pissed off at having been dragged down to the police station, and Heero fought the impulse to smirk. He recalled the ugly scene at Howie's very well, and how small and vulnerable Duo had looked with the two big bullies ganging up on him. It felt good to turn the situation around like this, and get to see a trace of uneasiness mixed in with Otto's belligerence.
"Have a seat," he said politely, gesturing to the one across from him.
"Why'm I here?" demanded Otto.
Ralph whacked him across the back of the head with the flat of his hand. "Just sit down, Richter. I told ya--the city cop wants to talk to everyone who knew Stevens."
Heero resisted the urge to glare at Ralph. As hard as he'd tried to keep a lid on the identity of the skeleton, it had spread around town faster than wildfire. He'd hoped to question people before it became common knowledge that Solo was dead. But that was clearly not possible, considering the way the rumor mill worked. And he strongly suspected the cops had the biggest mouths in town, as far as gossip went.
"So I knew him," Otto shrugged. "Everyone did. The stinking queer grew up here, like his tagalong, Maxwell."
Heero gave the man an icy once-over as he plopped down into the chair, and then nodded dismissively to Ralph. "I can take it from here."
"Yeah, but it's my office."
"Go write some parking tickets," Heero snapped, glaring.
Ralph went out muttering under his breath about "pushy city cops" and "freakin' showoffs."
"So, Otto," Heero said quietly, bringing the man's attention back to him. "Having seen that little display you and your friend Trant put on at Howie's, I can pretty much guess you two disliked both Stevens and Maxwell."
"No shit."
"Since when?"
Otto scowled, and then shrugged. "Forever."
"Really? Duo told me that back in grade school, you all were on pretty good terms."
"Well, yeah, I s'pose," Otto admitted. "Back when we were all dumb little shits." He dared a lopsided sneer. "But then Solo an' Duo grew into dumb big shits--an' queers, to boot."
"You don't like--queers?"
"Who does?"
Heero gave a very small, condescending smirk. "I suppose other queers do," he pointed out.
Otto looked a bit startled, and then shrugged. "That's their business."
"And what's yours?"
"Huh?"
"What do you do for work?"
"I work at the lumber yard."
"The one your father owns?"
"Yeah. So?"
Heero just gave a noncommittal grunt. "How long have you worked there?"
"Since high school."
"Does your buddy Trant work there?"
"Yeah."
Heero nodded, scribbling a few notes on his pad, and enjoying the way Otto shifted in his seat, trying to see what he wrote.
"What's this got to do with Stevens?" Otto demanded.
"I'm just trying to paint a picture," Heero said enigmatically. "Of this town--the people--the situation." He looked up with a piercing glare. "I'm trying to figure out how so many people could be so indifferent about one of their own being murdered."
"Huh?" asked Otto again.
"When Stevens disappeared, Maxwell was the only one who cared enough to really take note of it. Even the cops wrote him off, rather than investigate a missing person."
"A missing fag," Otto sneered. "So nobody cared. So what? He was a piece of street trash anyway."
"He was a human being, with a job and friends, and a future--at least until someone took it away from him." Heero glared sternly at the sullen man. "I intend to find out who did that, and see they are punished to the full extent of the law."
"Yeah. Good luck with that," Otto muttered.
"I don't need luck. I have forensic evidence. I also have firsthand testimony that suggests you and your buddy Trant were two of Stevens' worst enemies."
"It ain't a crime to dislike someone."
"No, or you'd be in jail for the way you treated Maxwell that day at the gas station. In fact, if I could get him to press charges, I'd have you up for assault."
Otto glared back, though his lacked the pure venom of Heero's renowned stare. "He's done his own share of ass-kicking, officer," he pointed out snidely. "Just 'cause we started it that time-- He's been the one on the offensive plenty of times before."
While Heero highly doubted Duo would have started trouble in a two-against-one situation, he could certainly imagine the volatile man stirring things up one-on-one.
"The point is," he said carefully. "Your enmity towards Maxwell and Stevens has been a long term issue in this town. It's easy to believe that one of your famous altercations could have blown out of proportion and turned into something more--something like murder."
Otto's eyes widened, and then narrowed menacingly. "You got a lot of nerve sayin' something like that. Trant an' me didn't do nothin' like that."
"I'm not saying you did. Not yet, anyway." Heero fixed a stern look on the other man. "When did you last see Solo Stevens?"
Otto shrugged, glancing aside. "Beats the hell outta me. We didn't exactly run in the same circles any more when he went missing."
"You must have crossed paths--" Heero suggested.
"Yeah--at Howie's sometimes. Or State Line."
Heero sighed, realizing that it was nearly impossible to pin down someone's location on a particular day and time so many years in the past. All he could really hope to do was rattle enough cages and hope it made someone let something slip.
"Do you know if Solo had any other enemies besides yourself and your friend Trant?"
Otto frowned a little. "He didn't much like his adopted brothers after they up an' sold the old farm off to developers. They got into it over that a time or two."
"Officer Kurt told me they left town."
"Well yeah. They were a bit older--off at college or something when their folks adopted Solo. Came back for the reading of the will, though. Sold the farm the same week and took off again. But not before having an all out row with Solo about it."
"How long before his disappearance was that?"
"A few months."
"So there's no reason to think they'd have come back and 'gotten into it' with him again, right?"
"Guess not," Otto admitted.
"Anyone else?" Heero asked. "Mister Maxwell told me Solo had lost his job--that Gunderson couldn't afford hired help, and that his sons were going to fill in instead."
"Yeah." Otto shrugged. "But there wouldn't have been any hard feelings over that. Everyone knew Mister Gunderson didn't have a choice. His wife got sick and he needed money for the medical bills. It wasn't like he'd have let Solo go if he didn't have to. He really liked the bum for some reason."
"And what about Officer Clark?" Heero asked, curious to see Otto's reaction.
The man stiffened and looked surprised. "Trant's old man? What about him?"
"He was the one who took Maxwell's statement and then blew off the investigation without even trying to find Solo. Do you think he might have had something to hide?"
Otto hesitated, and Heero could see him trying to piece together a reply.
"I already know he beat up his son," Heero bluffed.
Otto blinked and his jaw fell open. "Who told you that?"
"That's beside the point. Mister Clark was an abusive father. Is it possible he had something against Solo?"
It was obvious Otto knew something about Trant's father--something he was reluctant to share. But he bought time by picking up the bottle of water and cup Heero had left on the table in the interrogation room and pouring himself a drink.
"The man's already dead, Richter. Even if you tell me he beat up his kid on a daily basis, there's nothing I can do about it."
Otto swigged down a few swallows and then drew a sleeve across his mouth and nodded. "So yeah, maybe Trant's dad had a temper. An' once in a while he'd smack him around a little. That don't make him a murderer." He shrugged and scowled. "Matter of fact, after Solo went missing, Officer Clark did talk to me an' Trant. Asked us what we thought about it all, and if we knew anything." He glared sullenly. "We didn't."
Heero sighed, deciding there wasn't much more to be squeezed out of Otto at this point. He'd at least confirmed Duo's statement about Trant's father. Not that it had anything to do with Solo's murder. But it gave him another piece of the picture.
"You can go, Richter," he said evenly.
"I can?" Otto seemed surprised.
"Yes. I appreciate your taking time out of your work day to talk to me," Heero stood up and went to the door, holding it open.
Otto got up slowly, looking almost disbelieving, and headed for the exit.
But Heero leaned in as the man passed him. "By the way--if you accost Duo Maxwell again, like you did that night at Howie's--if you so much as look the wrong way at him--"
"What? You'll arrest me?" Otto sneered, turning back to face him.
Heero smiled icily and shook his head. "I'll fucking kill you."
Otto's eyes widened. "You can't threaten me!"
"I think I just did," Heero pointed out.
"But, you're a cop. You aren't allowed to say shit like that--" Otto scowled defiantly. "Chief Tsubarov is gonna hear about this!"
"About what?" Heero asked innocently.
"About what you said--that you threatened me."
Heero gave a shrug. "Prove it." He knew full well that even if Otto had the nerve to run to the police chief and repeat the threat, he'd then have to explain why the threat had been made--which would mean admitting to the altercation at Howie's.
Otto sputtered for a moment, and then simply rushed out the door, his figurative tail tucked firmly between his legs.
Heero smiled grimly, hoping he'd thrown a good scare into the man, and that he'd think twice before hassling Duo any time soon.
Ralph stepped out of the office across the hall, looking after Otto's retreating back and then looking at Heero. "Ready for Clark? I got him cooling his heels in the break room."
"Sure. Send him on in," Heero replied, returning to his place at the table, and settling into his chair, picking up his notebook and preparing for the next interview.
The moment Trant walked in, Heero's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. While Otto had been full of swagger and bluster, there'd been a hint of fear in his eyes; he'd at least had the decency to seem intimidated by being brought in. Trant showed no such trepidation. He strode in with nothing but arrogance and impatience in evidence.
"Good afternoon," Heero said politely, gesturing to the chair Otto had recently vacated.
"Maybe t'you," Trant said irritably, taking a seat. "Me--I got work to do. So if you could keep this short and sweet, I might not sue the fuckin' department for dragging me in here."
"When was the last time you saw Solo Stevens?" Heero asked bluntly, watching for a reaction.
Trant threw his head back and laughed. "Y'expect me to remember eight years ago?"
"Actually, I do." Heero bit back the urge to point out he hadn't asked when Trant last saw Solo alive. He was allowing for the possibility that the man had been dead when Trant and/or Otto had last looked upon him.
Trant crossed his arms. "He was leaving Howie's. Just had a big spat with his little piece of ass, Maxwell, and he stormed out and nearly knocked me flat in the process."
"Did you speak to him?"
"Yeah. I said 'fuck you,' or words t'that effect."
"And did he have anything to say?"
Trant gave a small, amused smile. "As I recall, last I saw him, he was dead quiet."
Heero felt a chill up his spine--the kind he'd only ever gotten when dealing with serial killers or cold-blooded murderers. Trant's choice of words set off every alarm in his head. "Was that because you'd killed him?" he asked flatly.
Trant looked back with narrowed eyes. "Nobody killed Stevens. His big mouth did." He sat back and gave a disinterested shrug. "Prob'ly went on up to the State Line for a drink after Maxwell blew up at him, and picked on the wrong damn drunk, officer. That's what he prob'ly did."
"The State Line Bar?"
Trant nodded.
"Did you see him there?"
"Wasn't old enough to drink when Stevens went missing."
"I hear that didn't stop kids around here," Heero said coolly.
Trant actually gave a short chuckle. "Not really," he admitted, seeming to relax a little. "But, no. I didn't go there that day. And I'm just speculating that it's where Stevens might've gone. He spent a fair bit of time there, when he wasn't chasing tail--Maxwell's tail." Trant leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Maybe you should talk to him about where his boyfriend disappeared to. He's got a hot little temper, y'know. Drove a truck over the statue on the town green once." The man suddenly leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. "Maybe he did the same to Solo--pissed off as he was."
"I've interviewed Maxwell," Heero said calmly. "As well as some of those closest to him and to Stevens. The general consensus is that he loved the man."
"That's as good an excuse for murder as any," Trant riposted. "Maybe ya wanna talk to the Schbeiker bitch, too. She was a little sweet on Solo, back in the day. Maybe she didn't like the way he swung." He grinned nastily. "Guy had himself a whole shitload of enemies, y'know. You got your work cut out for you."
Heero wasn't surprised that the son of a cop knew all about interrogations, and how to put other suspects in line before himself. He'd had a vague hope Trant might not be that intelligent. But that was clearly not the case.
On the other hand, Trant had never encountered anyone of Heero's caliber, when it came to interviewing suspects.
"What about your father?" Heero asked coolly.
Trant actually flinched in surprised before schooling his face back to the calm mask of indifference. "What about him?"
"Was he one of those many enemies you say Solo had?"
The tightening of Trant's jaw gave away his unease, though he didn't change facial expressions. "What's that got to do with anything? My old man's dead. He can't be a suspect."
"Sure he can." Heero leaned forward slightly, fixing an intense gaze on the other man. "You and Solo were friends, once upon a time. What changed that?"
Trant was suddenly on his feet with his hands flat on the table, glaring back at Heero. "That's none of your fuckin' business! And leave my father out of this!"
"Why are you defending a man who beat you up?"
Trant's muscles tensed, and Heero prepared himself in case the man lunged at him.
Just then there was a tap on the door, and Ralph stuck his head in. "Hey, Yuy--you got a phone call. Wanna take it?"
Heero hesitated, part of him wanting to keep pushing Trant while he had him rattled and angry. "Who is it?"
"That forensic guy--Chang."
Damn. Chang wouldn't have called without a good reason. Heero got up from his chair, ignoring Trant's rigid posture and still-flushed face. "You can go," he said calmly. "But don't leave town. When I've weeded through that 'shitload of enemies,' I'll want another conversation with you, Mister Clark."
"Sure you will," sneered Trant. He shoved himself bodily away from the table and pushed past Ralph and out the door.
Ralph looked after him with a frown. "He was sure in a hurry."
"I don't think he liked what I had to say to him," Heero replied with a shrug.
Ralph actually gave a wry smile. "I can relate to that. If you want to take your call at my desk, you can. Or the Chief said you could use his office any time. He's out at lunch."
"Chief Tsubarov's office would be great," Heero decided, thinking that a closed door might at least keep Ralph from overhearing and gossiping about the latest developments in the case.
He followed the officer into the rather conservatively decorated office, thinking that at least Tsubarov wasn't an ostentatious type. Maybe there was one sensible cop in Smoky Hills after all.
"Line one," Ralph said, leaving and closing the door without prompting.
Heero picked up the receiver and hit the button for the line Ralph had indicated. "Yuy here."
"Heero--it's Wufei."
It wasn't like Heero's former lover to waste words like that, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "I gathered as much from Officer Kurt," he said shortly. "What's up?"
There was a momentary pause. "Didn't you get my message?"
"The one Trowa left on top of the coffee machine where I couldn't miss it?" Heero said wryly. "Yes, I got it."
"So, you know this is officially a homicide investigation now?"
"Yes," Heero answered, not bothering to say he'd already been treating it as one. "Is that it, Chang? Or is there an actual point to this call?"
"Um, not really," admitted Wufei. "I just wanted you to know my office is standing by to provide any assistance you need."
"I--appreciate that," Heero said with a puzzled frown. "You've already done the most important part, but I'm sure I'll have more evidence to send in as things progress."
"Good!" Wufei said just a bit too brightly.
"Are you--okay?" Heero asked carefully, wondering why his former lover was so "off" today. He normally wasn't chatty or bright, and he absolutely hated redundancy; it was strange for him to call simply to confirm that a message got through.
"I'm fine. Great, really." Wufei cleared his throat and Heero could almost hear the grimace. "Just--call me if you need any help with the case. Anything at all."
"I'll do that," Heero said, more baffled than ever. "Good day."
He hung up the phone before Chang could say anything more out of character, or act any stranger.
"Hm, maybe Smoky Hills is rubbing off on him," he mused, heading back out the door to tell Ralph he was done for the day, and would let him know when he had the next set of interviews lined up and needed the use of the room.
TBC...
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