Side Story #1 - Colt - Page 35

'Did I interrupt you or something?' said Boh. 'That line you were in looked pretty long. I would've figured you might appreciate a little conversation.'

'I'm about to talk to Fred Millerman,' said Colt.

'Oh yeah? Good for you. How exactly do you plan on getting any information out of him, by the way? Call me crazy, but I'm not sure that a checkout stand is the appropriate time and place to ask a man about the murder of someone he might've been good friends with.'

The reaper had a point, of course. Colt had been thinking about that issue quite a lot in the lead up to today.

And unfortunately, he hadn't come up with much. Above all, he didn't want to overplay his hand. If Fred really was close to Rex, then asking the wrong question might just offend the guy badly enough that Colt would lose him as a potential source of information completely.

And of course, if Fred was actually the killer, then Colt obviously didn't want to let on that he might be "overly interested" in the sheriff's death. That was the kind of thing that tended to make murderers antsy. And when they got antsy, they often went for a bonus round. That, or fled the country.

Colt wouldn't mind the latter so much, though. Mainly, he just didn't want an unknown killer roaming around the sleepy little town where he intended to raise the kids. If that meant that "justice" didn't properly get served in the end, then so be it. Maybe Alice's goddess would see that the killer received proper punishment in the next life or whatever.

So in other words, he was in a bit of a pickle here. There were only so many things that made sense for a total stranger to ask Fred Millerman without arousing suspicion or otherwise jeopardizing this lead in the investigation.

But there was also no real reason to rush things here. Sure, the longer he took to solve it, the more likely the case would go cold, but he wasn't too worried about that yet--not when he had an invisible spy on his side. If anything, Colt felt like time was actually his ally. If all else failed and every single lead turned up bupkis, then he could always just have Boh keep following suspects around indefinitely. Chances where, the reaper would eventually overhear something useful.

Probably.

There was also the possible caveat of Boh not actually wanting to do that and eventually getting fed up with their lack of progress, but Colt put that idea out of his mind.

Here and now, he had a strategy for Fred. Sort of. Obviously, he didn't have to get everything out of Fred right now. He could just plant some seeds for later.

So when Fred Millerman returned with the long-awaited double-seated stroller, Colt was more or less prepared.

"Here you are, Mr. Thompson," said Fred, circumventing the checkout counter and placing the stroller down in front of him.

Colt assessed the object's reliability with a skeptical eye. It was a little on the small side, but that wasn't really the stroller's fault, he knew. It was more like the kids were a little on the big side. He'd known when he bought it that he probably wouldn't even get a full year of usage out of this thing, but seeing in up close was still mildly disappointing. Six months was starting to look pretty generous.

Oh well. The money was spent.

He placed the twins in the stroller while Fred waited--which was a little strange, Colt thought. Technically, their business was already concluded, since he'd paid for the stroller in advance. He appreciated it, though, since it meant that he wouldn't have to interrupt Fred's conversation with the next person in line in order to plant that seed he'd been thinking about.

"So?" said Fred. "What do you think? Does this meet your needs, sir?"

Oh.

So he'd wanted to make sure his customer was satisfied with the product.

Right. That was a thing that shop owners did, wasn't it?

Colt had never really had much of a mind for business. Much as he would've like for that not to be the case, it was a little difficult for him to get inside the head of an entrepreneur like Fred.

Not the best trait for an investigator to have, he had to admit. Dammit.

"My kids are a little big for it, but it looks sturdy enough, I suppose," said Colt.

"Ah, yes," said Fred. "The little ones do shoot up like sprouts, don't they? Before you know it, they'll big enough to ride a bike, and then you'll never be able to catch them." His laugh was a minor one, but it had a raspy wheeze to it.

It was a bit infectious, actually, and Colt didn't have to pretend to return the half-smile that appeared on his face.

"Anyway," said Fred, "is there anything else that I can get for you, sir? Anything at all?"

Colt cocked an eyebrow at him. He was fairly sure that the man was making a pun based on the name of the store, but the emphasis the guy put into still sounded pretty fucking awkward, Colt felt. "Do you say it like that after every purchase you make?"

"Not every one, no. Drive myself crazy if I did."

Colt returned a blank-faced nod.

"So will that be everything, sir?"

Hmm, well, the timing still felt a little weird, but now was the moment, Colt figured. Before Fred could move on to his next customer. "Actually, do you happen know of any good golf courses around here?" he said.

The man's scarred face lit up.

As Colt knew it would. In his initial scouting of the town, Fred Millerman had been one of his most studied subjects, being one of the wealthiest people in town. All in all, Colt wouldn't say he'd learned as much about Fred as he'd have liked, since the guy seemed to lead such a seemingly mundane lifestyle, but one thing that had become abundantly clear was the man's love of golf.