“Yeah, you are. This is where your friend could have gotten the box he used. He made a sling out of his bandana, put his arm in it, put the box under his other arm, then got her in an alley and put her through hell.”
“I’ll never believe Spud capable of doing something like that. No matter what you say.”
“You’re like most people. You got a big blind spot. You don’t want to believe monsters live among us.”
“Spud isn’t a monster.”
“Pull your head out of your ass. I know what Jude Lowry has told you.”
“He hasn’t told me anything.”
“Don’t lie. He told you I’m determined to prove my granddaughter was murdered by a serial killer because I can’t admit I let her out of my sight. Did or did he not tell you that?”
“He didn’t mean it in a bad way, Benbow.”
“Detective Benbow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’re people who look like the rest of us, but they feed on evil. Are they born like that? No one knows. They take their secrets to the grave. My own guess is they make a conscious choice to murder the light in their souls. They never come back from that moment.”
“Are you going to take me in?” I asked.
“Over the beef with Devos? He won’t file charges.”
“How do you know that?”
“My wife works at the college. He’s up for that lifetime job guarantee, you know, what do they call it?”
“Tenure?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “Tenure. Get in the passenger seat. I’ll take you back to your car.”
But there was something missing from our conversation, a detail that didn’t fit in the behavior of the hooker and the man with the box under his arm.
“He knew her,” I said.
“Who knew her?”
“The killer. Five-dollar hookers don’t do good deeds in the wee hours for strangers on the street.”
“Your bud Caudill probably came out of the womb with a hard-on. You don’t think he fits the profile?”
“A john wouldn’t have to deceive her. He’d just walk her down the street to a hotel or take her somewhere in his car.”
“You’re a smart kid,” he said.
“I’ve got to get back to Mr. Lowry’s farm, Detective.”
“Remember when I told you I wanted to quit smoking?”
“You beat it?”
“I’ve got the big C. In both lungs. That means the wrong people better not mess with me. You’re dragging a chain, Broussard. I don’t know what it is, but don’t screw up your life.” He stuck his business card in my shirt pocket. “That’s it. School’s out. Latch your seat belt.”
Chapter Thirteen
THAT EVENING JO Anne started a new job as a cook at a hamburger joint, and I spent the evening in the bunkhouse with my J-50 Gibson guitar. Much of the crew had headed for the Rio Grande Valley in Texas or southern New Mexico or Arizona. Spud Caudill and Cotton Williams had decided to stay on. Spud said he was innocent of any crime, and he didn’t want to be charged after he’d left the state and get brought back as a fugitive and have flight used against him. Cotton said he was too old for the border and the culture of drugs and alcohol and diseased Mexican girls; he thought it was time for him to consider buying a poultry ranch or a truck farm.