CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Friday, July 17th
11:15 a.m.
As Thomas motored into Wolf Lake, Aguilar radioed Lambert and had the deputy set up an interview with Carl Middleton. Middleton Construction was on a roofing job in Kane Grove. Carl agreed to come in after lunch.
On their way to the station, they stopped at the Broken Yolk. LeVar worked behind the counter with Ruth Sims in the back, baking a fresh batch of donuts. Thomas scanned the seats. They were the shop’s only customers.
“See what I mean?” LeVar asked, keeping his voice low so Ruth wouldn’t hear.
“Naomi will talk to her.”
“You better hurry. She can’t pay her bills if this continues.”
Thomas lifted his voice.
“I’ll take a blackberry pie, a dozen glazed donuts, and two coffees.”
“I’m on it.”
Aguilar elbowed Thomas as LeVar bagged the donuts.
“Who do you expect to eat all this junk food?”
“Between Gray, Lambert, and me, the donuts will disappear before four o’clock.”
“You’re all piggies.”
“Ease up, Aguilar. You need to enjoy life now and then.”
“I enjoy life. I also enjoy being able to see my feet when I button my pants.”
LeVar set the bag and coffees on the counter. After he boxed the pie and rang their order, Thomas held up a hand.
“The pie isn’t for me.”
“Aight. Whatcha want me to do with it?”
“Bring it to your mother. And tell her she’s welcome at my house anytime.”
“Cool. She loves blackberry pie.”
Footsteps shuffled behind the closed door. Thomas didn’t want Ruth to know he was keeping her business afloat.
“That’s my cue to go. If Ruth asks who bought the donuts, tell her it was…”
“I got it covered.”
“Thanks, LeVar. See you at the house.”
Gray and Lambert trailed Thomas into the break room like ravenous dogs. No sooner did Thomas open the bag than Lambert snagged a glazed donut and hurried back to his desk.
“Told you the donuts wouldn’t last,” Thomas said, smirking at Aguilar.
Palming a donut, Gray leaned against the counter.
“Give me the rundown on Carl Middleton.”
Thomas repeated Earl Horton’s story as Aguilar returned to her desk.
“That’s one hell of an escalation,” Gray said, brushing glaze off his hands. “Killing someone over a loan from two years ago.”
“I don’t remember Carl Middleton from school.”
“He moved to Wolf Lake from Kane Grove around the time you left for Los Angeles. He’s nothing but trouble. I ticketed him for doing fifty in a thirty-five last year. He’s a regular at Hattie’s.”
“Like Garrick Tillery.”
“They’re friends. Tillery worked for Middleton Construction four, maybe five years ago.”
“Something happen that got Tillery fired?”
“Tillery can’t hold a job. If he’s not hungover at work, he’s dreaming of a different job.”
Ten minutes after one o’clock, a 4x4 with Middleton Construction emblazoned along the sides pulled into the parking lot. Carl Middleton had a crooked nose that had broken at least twice, auburn curly hair receding up his forehead, and beady, conspiratorial eyes. Middleton’s bass-heavy voice rattled the walls.
“Tell the sheriff I don’t have all day,” he said from the lobby.
Thomas found Middleton leaning over Maggie with his palms set on the desk. He glanced at Thomas.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Deputy Shepherd.”
“Where the hell is Gray?”
“I’m conducting the interview with Deputy Aguilar. If you’ll follow me.”
Maggie glanced at Thomas as if to say, “Thank you for getting that ape off my desk.”
Middleton scanned the office as he followed Thomas to the interview room, where Aguilar waited.
“I have a roofing project to complete by the end of next week. You got thirty minutes, then I’m out the door.”
“We appreciate you taking time out of your busy day, Mr. Middleton.”
“Well, some of us work for a living. Looks like you guys sit around all day with your feet on the desk.”
Thomas gestured at the open chair across from Aguilar. Middleton glared at the deputies as he pulled the chair out.
“Can I get you something to drink? Cold water?” Thomas asked, using Gray’s playbook.
“Don’t waste my time. Whatever you need to ask, get on with it.”
Aguilar opened a notepad and said, “Two years ago, the First National Bank in Harmon turned you down for a small business loan. Is that correct?”
“Yeah. Did I come all the way down here so you can rub salt in my wounds?”
“I take it the loan was important to your business.”
“I almost lost Middleton Construction. Those two pricks, Lincoln Ramsey and Earl Horton, turned me down over some bullshit excuse. Claimed Middleton Construction was in the red. Does it look like I’m losing money?”
Middleton lifted his arm and displayed the Rolex around his wrist.
“Shortly after the bank turned down your loan, you encountered Mr. Ramsey and Mr. Horton in the parking lot.”
“Is that what Horton told you? He’s full of shit. I went down there to fight for my loan, and they refused to meet with me. So I followed them to the parking lot and stated my case. Nothing more came of it.”
Thomas shuffled his papers.
“You rear-ended Lincoln Ramsey’s car in the St. Mary’s church parking lot.”
Middleton sat back and laughed up at the florescent lights.
“Don’t pin that on me. Yeah, we attend the same church, and I was following too close. But I was in a rush and had to remodel a kitchen in Wolf Lake. The jerk waited until traffic cleared, stepped on the gas, then hit his brakes.”
“So he wanted you to hit his bumper.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Lincoln Ramsey set me up and caused the accident.”
“Witnesses claim you got into an argument with Lincoln and Kay Ramsey in the parking lot.”
Middleton crossed his arms.
“Ramsey started the fight. I tried to walk away. But he kept throwing insults, saying no one would give me a loan, and he hoped my business folded. So I yelled back. Anyone would have done the same. Just because he was a bank manager didn’t give him the right to talk down to me.” Noticing the flat stares from across
