“You’re the guys who’re gonna look like stupes when it turns out we’re right,” Button said. “Running around like your asses are on fire, gettin’ nowhere, and all you had to do was listen.”
“Why’d you think it was Osborne? Shooting his own mom?”
“For the money,” Button said.
Virgil said, “Aw, Jesus. Everybody keeps saying money, and there isn’t any.”
Button asked, “What?”
“There’s no money, Jim,” Holland said. “Barry owns the house. Margery was living there for free.”
“Well, yeah,” Button said. “But what about the Florida house?”
Virgil: “What Florida house?”
Button said to Good, “They don’t know about the Florida house.”
Good said, “What a bunch of stupes.”
Virgil looked over the seat back. “What are you talking about?”
“Where are we on this fraud thing?” Button asked. And he said to Good, “Keep your mouth shut, Raleigh.”
“We can talk,” Virgil said. “What about the Florida house?”
“You know Rose? You met her at the house, you sicced her on Clay Ford? Chick with the rose tattoo?”
“I remember,” Virgil said. “What about this house?”
“Rose cleaned house for Marge once a week when she was in Wheatfield. And she watched over Barry’s house when he drove Marge down to Florida. Marge wouldn’t fly,” Button said. “Whenthey were packing up last fall, she heard Barry telling Marge that she ought to sell the place and move back to Wheatfield, where her friends were. They had an argument about it.”
Holland asked, “How much is it worth? The house?”
Button said, “I don’t know. Rose might. Rose is a snoop. But I bet it’s worth a lot.”
“Is Rose still at your place?” Virgil asked.
Raleigh said, “When you told her that Clay Ford might be interested, she hotfooted it right over there, and they been fuckin’ up a storm ever since. She’s moved in with him.”
“That didn’t take long,” Virgil said.
“She’s the restless sort,” Button said. “So... we got a deal? I solved your case. I wasn’t trying to fraud you.”
“This better not be Nazi bullshit,” Virgil said.
“Cross my heart,” Button said. “Go ask Rose.”
22
The Tahoe’s clock said 11:51 when they passed the “Wheatfield City Limits” sign, but Virgil drove over to Clay Ford’s house anyway, Jenkins following behind. Ford’s house was dark when they pulled up outside. They left the Nazis chained in the back of the Tahoe, and Virgil knocked on the door and rang the doorbell, and a light went on in the back of the house.
Ford, barefoot, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and carrying a .45, came to the door, looking wide awake. “Virgil?”
“Is Rose here? Put the gun away.”
Ford looked toward the back of the house, and said, “Yeah? What happened?” He put the gun behind his back, probably in a carry holster.
“We arrested the Nazis, and they told us a couple of things we need to check with Rose. We’re not arresting her, or anything, but we need some information.”
