Side Story #1 - Colt - Page 50

"Got something you're eager to talk to him about?" said Davinworth, and he sent the ball soaring as well.

"I knew Rex the best," said Fred. "This case means more to me than any of you."

"You say that like we're a bunch of a heartless rubes," said Richardson. "I liked the sheriff quite a lot, I'll have you know. I still can't believe he's really gone. And at such a young age, too."

"Yeah," added Davinworth. "Don't act like you have a monopoly on empathy here, Fred. We've all been affected deeply by Rex's death."

"I'm sure you have," was all Fred said.

And then there was silence as they all exchanged stares.

Colt's eye twitched at a sudden thought. Wait a minute. Did these motherfuckers actually suspect each other?

The way they were talking. And the way that they were separating themselves so that he could speak to them each privately. The latter was convenient, sure, but still abnormal. They were hiring him as a group, so it would've been perfectly acceptable for them to make him speak to them as a group, as well.

But if they all suspected one another, then perhaps this absurd situation made more sense. A formal investigation that involved the police would attract a lot more questions from a lot more people--in both the press and the government, potentially. A private investigator, however, would be able to operate at their discretion. If a problem arose, this little inner circle of their could handle it themselves without jeopardizing each other's businesses.

Well, that suited him just fine, he supposed. He preferred to keep things private, too.

Didn't change the fact that he would have tread carefully, though.

The group relented to Fred's request and went on ahead to the next hole.

Fred took his time setting up for his first shot. His gaze lingered on the driver in his hands, and Colt got the feeling that the man was thinking about something entirely different from golf, right now.

"...Thank you for taking this case," said Fred, "even though it may well be a lost cause."

Colt was half-watching the twins, letting Stephanie bite on his index finger with her little teeth like a dog. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but you didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic about this whole idea as the others."

"On the contrary, I have been hoping to hire an investigator for some time now. My hesitation earlier was more due to... how little we know of you."

"Hmm."

"I hope that was not too fine a point, either," said Fred.

Colt could smirk at that. "Honesty is what I'm lookin' for. Believe me, I've heard a lot worse."

Fred rested his club on the grass like a cane. "And you... do you really believe that you can find Rex's killer?"

Colt observed the man's expression carefully. The scars made it more difficult than usual, but he thought he could see genuine concern on his face. Maybe the man really had cared for Rex.

He was still doubtful, though. His gut usually alerted him to things feeling wrong, not to them feeling right. He could only wish that his cop instincts were so finely tuned.

"I have experience with murder cases," said Colt, which was not a lie. Sure, he'd never actually made detective, much less been a lead investigator, but he definitely had experience with murder cases. Hell, he'd instigated one just a few days ago.

Fred nodded, and for a terrible moment, Colt thought he might start asking for details on cases that he'd worked in the past. Having to conjure up some relevant-sounding bullshit was not something that he wanted to do, right now. Thankfully, Fred just remained silent, instead.

Colt supposed it was his turn to start asking questions. "What was the nature of your relationship with the deceased?"

The other man took a moment before answering. "He was a good friend of mine. Though... I suppose the depth of our friendship was a relatively recent development. In fact, there was a time when we hated each other's guts. Which was quite a problem in a small town like this." Judging from the glossy look in Fred's eyes, the man's mind was no longer in the present.

Colt just listened.

"Grew up together, you know," Fred went on. "Classmates for most of our youth. Competed all the time. Over just about everything you can imagine. Grades. Sports. Girls." Fred breathed a nostalgic laugh. "Especially girls."

Hmm.

"It was all so long ago now that I'm not even quite sure why we were like that, but I think maybe I was jealous of him back then. Which is funny, because I was always more popular than him. But he was more..." Fred paused for so long that Colt wasn't sure he was going to complete that thought. "...Independent. Yeah. That's what it was. I, ah... I had to deal with a lot of expectations when I was younger. From family, especially, but also from friends. Felt trapped, in some ways. And meanwhile, he was just... a rebel. Did whatever he wanted and usually got away with it, probably because no one expected much form him in the first place. Except maybe me. I could always tell how competent he was, no matter how much he pretended otherwise in front of other people. Heh. I'd like to think I brought the best out of him whenever I provoked him."

Sweet Cocora, Colt hadn't expected this to turn into a fucking therapy session. It seemed a little inappropriate, but he wasn't about to tell the guy to stop talking.

"I still find it a little strange that a punk like him went on to become Orden's sheriff." Fred chortled with apparent nostalgia. "Sometimes, I wonder if he did it just so that he would have an excuse to keep hassling me after I took over my family's business. But, ah... in any case... a couple years ago, the bad blood between us was all washed away in an instant. I, ah... suffered a loss, and he, ah..." Fred turned away and fell silent for a while.

Colt waited for him.