“Tell you what, marshal, that was one fucked-up Cadillac. I went over to Bill Bunson’s yard and took a look at it.”
“Where’s that at?” Lucas asked.
“Up to Green Spring,” she said.
“Still there?”
“Unless the cops hauled it away. Or the senator did,” she said.
“Maybe I’ll go up and take a look,” Lucas said.
—
LUCAS WENTinto the cabin, which was hot and stuffy, punched Smalls’s code into the security system, turned on the air-conditioning, peeled off his jacket, got a bottle of Fat Tire from the refrigerator and a sack of pretzels from the cupboard, and went back out and sat on the porch.
The old woman had moved around behind the cabin, still mowing, and five minutes after Lucas got outside she drove the mower back around to the front lawn and onto the trailer behind her pickup truck. She killed the mower’s engine, pulled up the loading ramp, and locked it, and said to Lucas, “Good hot day for a beer.”
“There are a few more in the refrigerator. Help yourself.”
“I’m not sure the senator would be okay with that.” But she didn’t walk away from the offer.
“I’ll tell him I drank two,” Lucas said.
The old woman nodded, and said, “My name’s Janet Walker, and I thank you kindly.”
She went inside and a minute later came back out with another Fat Tire, sat down on a wicker porch chair. “You getting anything good on the accident?”
Lucas shook his head. “Got to Washington about three hours ago, from Minnesota. I’m waiting for a West Virginia highway patrolman to show up. He’s gonna tell me all about it.”
“The rumor around here is, the senator got drunk and drove off the side of the road and blamed it on his dead girlfriend,” Walker said.
“Girlfriend? I thought she was a political aide.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t doubt she was aidin’ the senator, one way or the other... Don’t tell the senator I said that, I need the work.”
“You’re safe with me,” Lucas said. “You know anything about the accident?”
“Not a fuckin’ thing,” Walker said. She tipped her head back and took a generous swallow of beer, and when she took the bottle down she said, “Nothing like an ice-cold beer after you mowed yourself some weeds... Don’t know nothing about the accident, but I heard that the senator told the cops that they was run off the road by a pickup truck. Therewasa couple of strange guys going through here with a pickup that weekend. Seen them around the day before the accident and not seen them since.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Well... no, maybe not. Maybe you remember that kind of thing when something like the accident sets you off. These guys seemed to be looking around, but not doing anything in particular. Saw them myself, and my boss saw them, too. The kind of guys who are in really good shape. Those black razor sunglasses and ball caps, squared-away, military-looking.”
“Huh. Anybody tell the cops?”
“Tell them what? That we saw some guys in a pickup truck?”
“What kind of truck?” Lucas asked.
“Black Ford F-250. New,” she said. “Or almost new,”
“Local plates?”
“Didn’t notice.”
—
WALKER DIDN’T HAVEmuch else to say. She finished the beer, and headed up the road in a cloud of yellow dust.
