Side Story #1 - Colt - Page 55

"Do you know what made their divorce so messy?" said Colt.

Davinworth paused. "Hmm. That's another question. It's not your turn yet."

Colt was ready for that bullshit, though. "No, you weren't finished answering the first one. That's part of the game, too, isn't it? Answering to one another's satisfaction? I was just helping you do that."

"Ah... alright, fair enough. The big rumor was that there was some sort of infidelity, though on which side, I couldn't tell you. It was all rather confusing, mind you, enough so that I stopped paying attention to it after a while."

Colt found that bit of information a little odd. "If there was infidelity, then wouldn't that have made the divorce less messy, not more?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if one of them is clearly at fault, then the divorce court would be able to make quick work of the case."

Davinworth tilted his head. "Ah... honestly, I wouldn't know much about that, I suppose. Never been divorced, myself. Knock on wood, heh."

Colt feigned a smile for him.

"I suppose there could have been infidelity on both sides," said Davinworth. "That'd be pretty messy, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe." Colt was just humoring him, though. For some reason, he wasn't buying that theory. And he wasn't entirely sure why just yet. Another gut feeling, gnawing at him, as if trying to make him remember something.

Agh. He both loved and hated this feeling. It was good because it was like a reassurance that he was on the right track, but obviously, it also fucking sucked when he couldn't quite piece it together. Like an annoying tickle in the back of his brain. Goddammit.

He couldn't focus on it right now, either, because of Davinworth. The guy asked him another mundane question about himself, and Colt answered it easily enough, which meant that it was his turn again.

Ultimately, he decided to just ask pretty much all the same questions of Davinworth as he'd asked of Fred Millerman. Davinworth's answers, however, were much less illuminating. The man's relationship with Rexford Margot had been comparatively distant, though Davinworth kept claiming to have had a great amount of respect and admiration for him.

This Davinworth was a difficult guy to read. His words often seemed not to match his tone or general mannerisms--which was suspicious, to say the least, but not proof of anything.

Colt was only too familiar with that particular pitfall, having once personally witnessed a senior investigator fall victim to it so badly that it destroyed the guy's career. Hunches and gut feelings were useful tools for pursuing leads, but they could be deceptive, too. He was very wary of reading too much into things.

Some people were just fucking weirdos. They didn't have the same social cues as most. Or they were just nervous when talking to an investigator. That second one was especially true for cops, which was one of the few advantages of not actually being one. He could talk to people without spooking them. And seeing as Davinworth was one of the men who'd hired him to look into this case, one would think that guy wouldn't be such a fucking freak about it, but eh. At this point, there was no telling.

Colt still had Richardson and Cree left to talk to, but by the time he saw them again, they had finished their game and were getting ready to leave. Apparently, they both had meetings to get to and so told him to drop by their respective offices tomorrow. They wrote down the addresses for him, along with some times that would work for them, and then shuffled off.

Busy men, he supposed. Not too surprising.

Before leaving the golf course, however, he did manage to get those baby supplies from Kevin, Davinworth's apparent errand boy. Colt didn't actually need them, at the moment, but he was still quite pleased. It amazed him how much he had grown to appreciate a package full of diapers. If he wasn't careful, his gratitude might bias the investigation.

Then again, maybe a lifetime supply of diapers was worth letting some asshole get away with murder.

Heh. Well, the kids wouldn't need diapers for much longer, anyway. He supposed seeing justice done was marginally more important.

As he drove back into town, he realized that it was nearly time for dinner. He'd spent the entire afternoon on that damn golf course, apparently. And seeing as he'd eaten out for lunch, he figured he shouldn't spend money on dinner, too. He headed back to the cabin, wanting to get settled in for the evening.

The damn dog was still there, of course. He was waiting at the door, apparently wanting to go outside. Colt let him.

The dog bolted, and Colt just stood there for a moment, watching.

He didn't actually need to chase after the furry bastard, did he?

No.

He entered the cabin and pulled the kids out of the stroller to let them roam as they liked.

He sat down, feeling for some reason like it had been an extremely long day. Crying women in the morning. Suspicious rich bastards in the afternoon. Maybe it would be good to relax in the evening.

Ah, but he still needed to catch something for dinner.

Egh. He didn't mind hunting all the time, of course, but on occasion, it sure would've been nice if he had a damn refrigerator. Then at least, he would have an easier time keeping leftovers.

Well, maybe if he became the next sheriff of this weird little town, he could buy one. And a generator to go with it.

Or, goddess forbid, an actual fucking house with electricity.

Now he was thinking crazy thoughts.

He got up from his chair to get fetch something to eat again, but he barely made it three steps out the door before he saw Brick trotting back toward the cabin.

And the furry bastard had a bird in his mouth. A pretty plump one, too, by the look of it.