“It’s not my case,” Mitch said, “but if I were a betting man…” He raised his hands, letting them fill in what should be the logical conclusion.
“Any leads at all?” John asked.
“The entire area has been searched for footprints and tire tracks,” Nix said. “None found so far.”
“Whoever disposed of the bodies would have conveyed them by boat,” John said. “As Mitch knows, that bayou meanders for miles, doubling back on itself, has dozens of tributaries that branch off and either dead end or feed into other channels. They could have put in anywhere. I’m sure Darcy will keep searching for that spot, but I’m not optimistic he’ll find it.”
Nix consulted her device again, then lowered it to her side. “That’s all for now, I think.”
Lear stood up. “Darcy’s also got deputies searching for the weapon, but—”
“They won’t find it anywhere near where the bodies were dumped,” Mitch said. “They weren’t killed there.”
“What I meant,” Lear said patiently, “is that he’s got people looking for where one goes to buy a garrote like that.”
“It would have been custom made,” Mitch said, “and I’m betting—maybe I am a betting man—that it wasn’t made anywhere around here.”
John summed up the meeting by asking the two detectives to keep him apprised of developments. Even Nix looked dispirited as she and Lear left.
“Unless you need me for anything,” Mitch said as he stood up.
“Stay a minute. Close the door.”
Mitch did, asking, “Do I need to sit back down?”
“I’ll make it brief. I spoke with Dr. Reede yesterday. She said she’d seen you that morning.”
Mitch chuckled. “I went to tell her to expect a call from you about Monday night.”
“I sensed that she was more miffed at me for being worried you might take your anger out on her, and less miffed at you for showing up at her office after hours.”
“She indicated that to me, too.”
John arched his eyebrow. “Monday morning’s appointment. Again Monday night. Then yesterday morning. That’s three visits within twenty-four hours.”
“Let’s see, two on Monday, plus one. Yep, that’s three.” Mitch raised his shoulders in an innocent gesture, like he didn’t understand what John was getting at, although he knew exactly what he was getting at.
“And you’ll see her again tomorrow?” John said.
“Ten o’clock. And, lest I piss you off, I don’t dare be late.”
John lowered his voice. “Just be sure to stay focused on the purpose of seeing her.”
Mitch narrowed his eyes and shook his index finger at John. “You know what this reminds me of? About two and a half years ago. Remember? Sure you remember. Your life wasn’t worth shit.”
John squirmed in his chair causing it to squeak again.
“Then this woman unexpectedly enters it,” Mitch continued. “Her name is Beth. She’s a looker. She’s also a suspected loony tune because she thinks there’s a serial killer on the loose who’s going to strike again on the night of the impending blood moon. Like you didn’t already have enough crap to deal with, you got all hepped up about her hypothesis.
“And I remember—now correct me if I’m wrong—that you enlisted my help, which I was glad to provide. But I also remember pulling you aside and asking if you were getting all excited about cracking the Mellin cold case based on Beth’s wacky, way-out-there theory, or if it was Beth her own self who had you as randy as a billy goat.”
“And I remember telling you to fuck off.”
Mitch laughed. “In so many words.”
“Is that what you’re telling me to do now?” John asked.
“In so many words.”
