“Pancakes and eggs, at the same meal? You? When’s the last time you ate?”
“I just told you.”
“You know what I mean.” He didn’t sound amused.
“It’s not important.”
“Dammit, Constance…” he grumbled. “For someone who’s so friggin’ health conscious you sure have problems takin’ care of yourself.”
“Not always… Can we change the subject please?”
“Yeah… Whatever… So since you’re on the phone, I gotta assume you’re still stuck in Whoville?”
“Hulis.”
“Yeah, there.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Didn’t you say that’s about four hours north or somethin’ like that?”
“Give or take.”
“Well, I’m off today,” he said, an audible shrug in his voice. “Want me ta’ drive up? Betchya’ I could make it in three. Maybe two’n-uh half if you tell me you’re wearin’ somethin’ sexy.”
“Dammit, I’m working a case here, Ben!” she snapped, then sighed a quiet, “I’m sorry… Again…”
He huffed out a breath and grunted. “You don’t just need sleep, hon. Ya’ sound like you could use a few rounds with a punchin’ bag.”
She snorted. “Are you offering?”
“Pretty sure I just did.”
“Yeah, I guess you did, didn’t you…”
Constance slid her hand up through her hair and scratched the back of her scalp absently. She grimaced and pulled away when her fingers ventured too close to the residual soreness from her incident with the desk.
She could hear an occasional clunk or rustle at the other end of the line, which meant Ben was now out of bed and moving around. A few moments later he started mumbling curses, vocally naming the coffee pot as the object of his current disdain.
After countless heartbeats with nothing being said, Ben spoke up. “Talk ta’ me, Constance. What’s goin’ on?”
He opened the door and all she had to do was step through. For all his faults in the relationship department, Ben still had his moments. Of course, listening wasn’t always one of them, unless you caught him at just the right time or you were talking about a case. It didn’t take ESP for him to figure out the latter was why she had called.
She sucked in a deep breath and thought about unloading on him. All of it-the house, the voice, the dream, Merrie-everything she could think of that was bothering her. But she didn’t really believe that would do either of them any good. In fact, it would probably be worse, because in the end she’d still have all the problems, and he would be worrying. Besides, she actually had a specific reason for making this call, so she needed to stay focused on that.
“I need a favor,” she said. “Three, actually.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“First, I want you to run a background check on someone for me. His name is Ed Reese.”
“Hang on,” he grunted. “Lemme get somethin’ ta’ write with…” After a bit of rustling he mumbled, “Ed… Reese… Okay, got it. Any other info you can give me on ‘im?”
“Not much,” she replied. “He goes by Pastor Ed Reese, but nobody in town recalls him ever becoming ordained.”
“Hell, you can do it online these days,” he grunted.
“True,” she agreed. “He’s apparently lived in Hulis his whole life…”
“Hugh Liss… Spell it.”
“H-U-L-I-S.”
“Got it.”
“He looks to be in his mid to late sixties. About five-ten to six foot, one-seventy to one-eighty… Hair is mostly gray with some dark brown in it. Brown eyes. Wears glasses. No real distinguishing marks to speak of, that were visible anyway.”
There was a pause while he made notes. Finally he said, “Okay, got that…”
“I managed to find out that he’s divorced, and at some point in his adult life he had some sort of severe mental breakdown. This was several years ago; not sure how long though. He supposedly spent some time in the hospital; also not sure of a timeframe on that either. He’s supposedly still on psych meds, so apparently he’s still under a doctor’s care.”
Ben sighed. “Yeah, well all that’s gonna be hidin’ behind HIPAA unless there’s a damn good reason to know and a really specific warrant.”
“I know.”
“Just for drill, got any idea which hospital? I mean, ya’ just never know who might be stupid enough ta’ talk.”
“Yeah, exactly. Well, all I know is that it was in Mais, Missouri. That’s M-A-I-S. It’s bigger than Hulis, but it’s not a huge city, so I doubt there are more than a couple of hospitals there.”
“Okay… Anything else?”
“Yeah, he drives an older model, black Crown Vic. Plate was obscured and I only caught a quick glimpse of it, but it was a Missouri tag, and I’m pretty sure it started with a G.” Without pause she began thinking aloud. “As to a year, let me see… The rear plate mount wasn’t up on the trunk, so it was pre-ninety-five… But the body style was definitely rounded, so it’s at least a ninety-two. Come to think of it, it also had a front grille, so I’d have to say ninety-three or four. That should at least help narrow it down some.”
“Showoff…” Ben muttered.
She ignored the gibe and added, “Of course, I don’t know for sure if it’s registered to him or someone else. My guess would be him though.”
“That it?”
“Afraid so.”
“No prob; it’s more than I’d get from someone on the street… Okay… So what’s the story? You think maybe this guy’s good for the murders?”
She shook her head out of reflex. “I have no idea. He contacted me this morning and said he had information about the case, but never got around to actually telling me. He sort of freaked out, recited some Bible verses, then took off.”
“Wunnerful… Sounds like maybe he’s just a wingnut.”
“That crossed my mind, trust me. And you’re right; he probably is. But I still need to check him out.”
“Yeah, I hear ya’… So whaddabout the local coppers?” he suggested. “Surely they know somethin’ about ‘im, especially if he’s a nutjob.”
“That’s just it; I think they do, but they aren’t really sharing.”
“Hmph,” Ben grunted. “So Sherlock ain’t playin’ so nice, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that exactly. He’s not bad, to be honest,” she replied. “I actually like the man, and he seems to be a really good cop. But I definitely feel like he’s holding something back.”
“Gut?”
“Yeah.”
“Gotta trust it.”
“That’s what I’m doing. Of course, I suppose he could be playing it close to the vest because I’m the fifth agent that’s been sent out here on this case, and from what I’ve seen, he hasn’t received much help from the bureau so far. Based on what he’s said, I know for a fact there are some serious trust issues for him where the FBI is concerned.”
“Yeah… Maybe…” he huffed. “Doesn’t justify holdin’ out on ya’, though. He should know that.”
“So are you the pot or the kettle? Seems to me we did that dance ourselves once upon a time.”
“Uh-huh…” he grunted again. “Don’t remind me. I think I’ve paid my dues on that one.” After a short pause he spoke up again. “So, ya’ said ya’ wanted three favors?”
