Chapter 22
Wade looked like he'd been roughed up before he was shot. Bruising around his eyes left them dark and purple. Abrasions on his cheeks and a split lip added to his unsightly makeover.
The watch on his wrist told me this wasn't a random mugging.
This was personal. Wade had pissed somebody off.
I caught Daniels up to speed on my theory.
He groaned. "That's it. I'm taking you two off this case. You know the deceased. You’re too close to it."
"Oh no. You can't do that."
"I can do whatever I want."
"Whoever he stole from, killed him," I said. "That much was obvious."
"Who did he steal from?"
"We’re still working on it.”
The sheriff’s jaw tightened, and he breathed a frustrated exhale.
"Look, we saw him last night at the Emerald Lounge, blowing a bunch of money, drawing attention to himself. You want to know what I think?"
"I suspect you are about to tell me."
"I think Wade was in there, blowing off steam, acting like a big shot.
He probably couldn't keep his mouth shut and just had to brag about how much money he came into. Maybe he said it outright, maybe somebody put two and two together—a dancer, somebody at a nearby table, a bartender. Who knows? Maybe it got back to the wrong people.”
Daniels took a deep breath, then sighed. "If anybody else came to me with this stuff, I'd say they had an active imagination. But I'm inclined to think you know what you're talking about.” After a pause, he said, “Get to the Emerald Lounge. See if you can find out what happened to him.”
"We're on it." I talked to Hank. "When did you find the body?"
"Maybe an hour ago.”
"Did you see him get shot?”
Hank shook his head.
"Would you tell me if you did?”
He thought about it for a moment. "I guess it depends on who shot him.”
"Do you know who shot him?" I asked again.
"Nope.”
I stared into his eyes for a long moment, looking for the truth.
"Look, if I saw who shot him, I'd have gone in the opposite direction and never looked back. Like I said, I don't need that kind of trouble in my life.”
"We talked to you the other day about Jesse, didn't we?”
Recognition flashed in his eyes. "Oh yeah. I guess you did.”
"You see him around lately?"
"No. I haven't.”
"You sure about that?”
"I’d tell you if I saw him.”
"Of course you would," I said with a hint of doubt.
"If you want to find Jesse, it wouldn't be hard."
“Really. How should we go about finding him?"
"Every day the sun rises over there," he said, pointing to the east. "Every day it sets over there. I don't need to go chasing it. I know exactly where it's gonna be and at what time.”
“He's on a schedule?"
Hank grinned. "You catch on quick.”
“What kind of schedule?”
“He gets his supply from Skinny Simms.”
"Where can we find Skinny?”
"Corner of Dowling and Clinton after sunset."
I thanked him for the information and gave him a card. I told him to get in touch if he thought of anything else.
Brenda examined the remains, and her crew removed Wade from the dumpster and bagged the body. They transferred him to a gurney and loaded him into the back of the medical examiner's van.
Brenda joined us and said, “FYI, I was able to pull trace DNA from Polly Madison’s fingernails, as well as a few hairs.
Hopefully, they aren’t too degraded. I also recovered a fiber from Sydney Hollister.
I’ll let you know when I have confirmation.
” She exhaled, then added, “If people would quit dying, I could catch up.”
Brenda walked back to the van, climbed in with her team, and drove away.
Paris and her crew filmed all of the gory footage. She approached us as we walked back to the Porsche. "Deputy Wild, have you ID’d the victim?”
She knew I couldn’t answer that.
"I can't comment at this time. If anyone in the area saw anything, please contact the Coconut County Sheriff's Department."
I stepped out of frame and continued toward the Porsche.
We hopped into the car and set out to find Shane. This news was going to hit hard.
I was mad. Mad at him and mad at whoever did this.
We drove to Wade's house, parked at the curb, and hopped out. The gate squealed as we pushed through and walked to the porch. I banged a heavy fist against the door. "Shane! Open up. It's Tyson.”
The sun had just crested the horizon. I figured Shane had just gone to bed.
I banged on the door until I heard footsteps stagger down the foyer.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Shane grumbled.
He unlatched the deadbolt and pulled open the door a moment later, wiping the sleep from his puffy eyes, looking hungover. "Couldn’t this have waited until a reasonable hour?”