Chapter 25
Noelle and Evan stopped in front of Carson Vohland’s home and stared at the vehicle in the driveway. They’d driven straight there after interviewing Michael Munoz’s sister.
“I’ll be damned,” said Noelle. “I didn’t think it’d be that easy.”
An older-model Chevy truck with big tires was in the driveway, and Evan quickly checked the plates. “Yep. That’s Munoz’s truck. I’ll cancel the BOLO.”
Noelle got out and paused next to the truck. “Look at the pollen on the windshield. It hasn’t been driven for a while.”
“I don’t know,” said Evan. “I swear I find that much on my vehicle every morning. Especially with the giant trees near us.”
Noelle looked at the small gray house. It seemed quiet and subdued, set back from the road and its neighbors a good hundred feet on each side. It felt lonely. “What do you think?” she asked, knowing Evan would understand her question.
“I think that if Carson Vohland killed Michael Munoz, he’s probably smart enough not to leave Michael’s truck sitting in his driveway.” Evan shrugged. “But nothing surprises me these days.”
“True. Let’s see what we’ve got.” She followed the flagstones to the front door and rang the bell, stepping to one side while Evan moved to the other.
A man cautiously opened the door, and Noelle immediately recognized Carson from the driver’s license photo she’d pulled up after leaving Louisa’s home.
“Can I help you?” The man blinked several times as he looked from Evan to Noelle.
Carson Vohland was in his early forties, with fuzzy tufts of hair that resembled steel wool and stuck out at odd angles. Round, too-small glasses perched on his nose, making his eyes oddly large.
Noelle showed her ID. “Are you Carson Vohland?”
“Yes. Why?” Blink, blink.
“We’d like to talk to you about Michael Munoz,” she said, watching him closely, wondering if the blinking was a sign of nervousness or just a habit.
He suddenly scowled. “He didn’t go postal, did he?”
Postal? Like on a murderous spree?
“No,” exclaimed Evan. “Why would you ask that?”
“’Cause the dude’s got a screw loose. Always angry about everything.” Blink, blink.
“Don’t you work for the post office?” asked Noelle, surprised he’d so easily used the negative phrase.
“I do. Twenty-one years now. I think it’s fine for me to use postal to describe someone with his attitude.”
“Can we come in?” Evan asked. “We’d like to ask you some questions about him.”
Blink, blink. “He in trouble?”
“No.” Noelle decided to jump in with both feet. “Michael was murdered.”
Carson froze, and his eyes stayed open for so long that Noelle wanted to tell him to blink.
“What—what happened?”
“Can we come in?” Evan repeated.
The blinking returned, and he gestured for them to enter. He led them to a breakfast nook adjacent to a spotless but dated kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as they took chairs.
“Water,” she said at the same time as Evan. She didn’t plan to drink it, but she wanted to observe Carson some more before he sat. The man was twitchy. It wasn’t just his rapid blinking; he walked with short, jerky movements.
As the man got two glasses out of the cupboard, where the cups were in perfect rows, Noelle asked, “How well did you know Michael?”
“I met him a couple years ago. We both worked at the downtown post office. He was a decent guy then, and we got along. Discovered we both liked playing darts, so we’d often meet up in a pub or bar for a game or two.
” He took a bottle of water out of the fridge and poured.
“He lived with his sister until a few months ago, but she threw him out. Even though his attitude sucked, I told him he could stay here until he got back on his feet.”
“Why did she throw him out?” asked Noelle, curious if the story would match Louisa’s.
“She’s got a young boy,” said Carson. “Michael forgot to lock up his gun safe a few times, and she’d had enough. Can’t blame her. Kids get into anything. Michael understood but was seriously crushed that he couldn’t see the kid as much. Really liked his nephew.”
Noelle thanked him as he set down the glasses of water. “Was he a good roommate?”
“Yes. No issues. Although he could be a little neater.” Carson sat heavily in a chair. “Does his sister know he’s dead?” He ran a hand through his wiry hair.
“We just came from there,” said Evan. “She gave us your name. She didn’t know he was staying with you, though.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t tell her,” said Carson. “He was really secretive and moody recently. What happened to him?”
“Someone shot him and left his body not too far from Eagle’s Nest.”
Again the eyes stayed open too long. “Shot him?” he finally asked, leaning heavily on his forearms on the table.
“Yes. What can you tell us about his activities lately?” asked Evan.
“Wait a second,” said Noelle. “Michael lived here, but you didn’t report him missing?”
“I didn’t think he was missing,” said Carson, lifting one shoulder. “He’d take off for days at a time since he moved in. I mean, usually he’d tell me he would be gone for a while, but not every time.” He slumped. “Someone picks him up and drops him off. I never thought to report him missing.”
That’s why his truck is still here.
“Who picks him up, and where does he go?” asked Evan.
“Don’t know the guys,” said Carson. “His new friends. He tried to get me to come to one of their meetings, but I wasn’t interested.”
“Meetings?” Noelle’s mind raced.
“Yeah. Crazy shit. He started hanging out with them last fall. Dudes worship their guns and run around practicing what to do if there’s a crisis of some kind.
Like a big crisis. Like if the government lost electricity for the entire country or martial law was declared.
Michael tried to explain it to me, but he’s always been a big talker, and I can’t take things he says too seriously, so it sort of went in one ear and out the other. ”
Noelle exchanged a look with Evan.
A militia?
“What happened at the post office?” asked Noelle. “He was fired, correct?”
“Yeah. Missed too many shifts. I think that’s when he started hanging out with these odd guys.
He’d miss days of work. I told him he needed to shape up if he wanted to keep his job, but he’d laugh.
Said government work is for losers and that we’re all just empty-headed slaves, paying taxes simply because we are told to.
Said he was never going to pay taxes again. ”
Shades of sovereign citizen philosophy.
“How’d he plan to avoid taxes?” asked Evan.
Blink, blink. “That’s what I asked. He said he’d find a place that paid under the table. Construction or maybe ranching. Never met a guy more unsuited to work on a ranch. Physical labor was not his thing. Especially outdoors.”
“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt him?” asked Noelle.
“Well, if he was shot, I’d guess it could be one of the new people he hung around with. They were into guns. I think Michael bought five more since he moved in here.”
“Was he scared of anyone? Or worried about making anyone angry?” asked Noelle.
“Not that I was aware of.”
“Did you ever meet any of his friends? Or see their vehicles?” asked Evan.
“Didn’t meet anyone. As for vehicles, I remember a Jeep. I think it was black. And there was a big pickup too. Maybe silver.”
“Know what town Michael would be in when he left for a few days?”
“Dunno. Sorry, but I try not to be nosy, so I don’t ask many questions. If Michael wanted me to know, he’d tell me.”
“You’re one of the first people I’ve met who’s not nosy,” said Noelle as she stood up. “Can we see his room?”
Carson paused, looking up at her, and Noelle gave him a patient smile.
Act as if it’s what he’s expected to do.
“I guess that’s okay.” Carson slid his chair back and led them through an immaculate living room and then stopped at the first bedroom off a short hallway. “He’s sort of a slob,” he said in a concerned voice, blinking at the piles of clothing on the bedroom floor.
“Is this his furniture?” Noelle asked. The room had a twin bed, a small dresser, and a desk. It looked like furniture for a twelve-year-old. Except for the tall gun safe in one corner.
“No, the furniture’s mine. This was a guest room.”
Evan checked the safe. “Locked.” He glanced at Carson. “Any chance you know how to get in?”
“Nah. I never asked about it. I did joke that he’d soon need another if he kept buying guns.”
“Do you recall what type of guns he had?” Noelle had checked, and only three weapons had been registered for Michael Munoz.
Carson looked thoughtful as he blinked several times. “Not sure. I think only one was a handgun, but I could be wrong. He liked the long guns best.”
“How many?”
“At least eight. Maybe ten altogether.”
Noelle put on a pair of vinyl gloves and opened the desk drawers. They were all completely bare. Not even dust remained.
Cleaned out? Or never used?
“Have you cleaned in here recently?” she asked Carson.
“No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched them search.
“Where’s his computer?”
“He doesn’t have one,” said Carson. “He got rid of a laptop last fall. Said the government could see and track everything he did on it, so he used the computer at the library sometimes.”
Noelle tried to imagine life without her laptop; she couldn’t. “What about his cell phone?”
“Threw out his phone for the same reason. He’s only used a dumbphone since he moved in here.”
“I can’t imagine not having the internet at my fingertips,” said Evan as he opened the closet.
“I’m not sure if that’s a positive quality for me or not.
” He’d done a quick check of the small dresser, which had only held clothes.
He pushed aside the hanging clothes and checked the back and sides of the closet.
Then he started going through each piece of clothing.