“Just from your feedstore job or were you buddies?”
“We used to have a brew together every once in a while,” Johnny said. “Once he got married, things got different though.”
“Ah, so you knew him from before the marriage?”
“Yeah, he was a good guy,” he said. “It’s shitty the way he went out, but I guess it was fast.”
“Did he have any mannerisms or anything to really help identify who he was?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know. Things that only he said or did. Physical things you could see and know it was him from across the way. That sort of thing. Things that, if someone described them, you would know they were talking about Grant.”
Johnny stared at him with a frown, then smiled. “He’d motion at the table and say, ‘If you’re going to sit down, you might as well go grab a brew and make it two,’” he said.
Weston laughed. “Good one. Yeah, I can grab a couple beers.” He walked to the open door and ordered two through the doorway. Then he sat back down across from Johnny, with Shambhala at his heels. “So, tell me about Grant.”
“Not much to tell. He was your average boring old guy who liked to have a beer and get away from the wife every once in a while.”
“He was a twin though,” Weston said.
“Yep, he was. He told me about that. He said his brother was a no-good layabout too,” Johnny said.
Just then the beers arrived in large tall glasses with a white head of sparkling foam. Weston lifted his glass and took a sip.
Johnny took a hefty slug and sighed happily as he put the glass down, wiping the foam off his mustache. “That was Grant. Just a nice simple guy, enjoying life.”
“How’d he hook up with Ginger?”
“No clue,” he said, “because she was a lot of woman for him.”
“Have you ever met his brother?”
“No, but he said they were identical though.” Johnny laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a blast? Living your life with a mirror image of yourself.”
“Maybe,” Weston said. “Might be confusing as hell too.”
“Only if the brother was a dick.”
“And I guess that’s one of my questions for you. What kind of person was his brother?”
“No clue. Grant did say he was a bit of an asshole and superlazy. He didn’t like to work. I thought though, even with that, he’d have come up here to look after things.”
“But, if they’re so alike, then what Grant said meant Grant was an asshole and superlazy too?”
“No, not quite the same thing,” he said. “Grant said his brother was a bit of a loser and always looking for the easy way out, or a way to avoid work, instead of just buckling down and getting something done.”
“Did Grant have any tattoos or scars? Any accidents or injuries that you know about? Any way to help identify him? Obviously, they had his body from the accident, but the accident caused injuries to his body, so I’m just asking out of curiosity.” Johnny might have been an interesting character, but that didn’t mean he was stupid.
Leaning forward with a sharp gaze, he said, “There’s more to these questions than you’re telling me.”
“Just trying to make sure it was Grant they buried,” he said.
And with that, Johnny got it. “You think the brother was the one up here, do you?”
“I’m not sure, but possibly Grant’s brother was in the vehicle with Grant’s wife.”
Johnny let out a long whistle. “Now that would be something his brother would do. Apparently he was always getting in trouble over women.”
“And you did say Ginger was a lot of woman for Grant.”
“Yeah, she sure was. She appeared to be loyal though,” he said with a shrug. “But she was a looker. A tall redhead. Hence the name Ginger, I guess,” he said with a smirk. “Slim, busty, long legs and a bit of a mouth on her. She liked to push him around a little, you know? Be dominant, but he was okay with that. She must have been good in bed. On the other hand, I think Grant was the kind of guy who didn’t care either way. He was hooked up emotionally, and she could pretty well get away with anything, and he’d be fine with it.”
“Would he though?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if his brother was having an affair with his wife?”
Johnny’s eyebrows shot right up to his hairline. “You know something? I don’t think he’d be okay with that. The one bee in his bonnet guaranteed to piss him off was his brother. He didn’t talk about him often, but, when he did, it was usually venting and in a rage.”
“Interesting.”
“Why not just contact the brother and see where he is and what his story is?” Johnny asked, leaning back with his glass of beer in his hand again as he took another sip.
“I plan to. I’ve got a couple calls in but no answer so far.” That was at least the truth. He could make all the calls he wanted, but it didn’t look like Gregory would be answering anybody. Weston pulled out another Titanium Corp business card and wrote his cell number on the back side. “Listen, Johnny. If you remember anything, give me a shout.”
“Why would I call you and not the cops?”
At that, Weston looked at him with a glimmer of a smile. “Because you would never call the cops.”
Johnny burst out laughing. “You got that right.” Chuckling, he picked up the business card and slipped it into his pocket.
With that, Weston led Shambhala back to the truck. He wasn’t sure what else to do, except maybe take those steaks home and enjoy dinner with Sari and Daniela.
Chapter 13
After the steaks were cooked, and they’d finished eating, Daniela pushed away her empty plate with a happy sigh. “That was a really good steak.”
“And you did a marvelous job on the potatoes and the salad. Thank you,” Weston said sincerely.
She smiled. “I’ve always
