“No one.”
“Not even the maid?” says Zoey, pointedly looking in the direction of the house.
“No,” says Ash. “She’s new. I don’t trust her with a key yet.”
Clay says, “But you gave Alejandro a key to the pole barn even though you don’t know his last name or where he lives.”
Ash seems to realize the inconsistency if not flat-out ridiculousness of this. “Yes,” he says.
“What about Teddy and Deb?” says Judd.
“What about them?” says Ash.
“You didn’t give a spare house key to Teddy or Deb in case you’re on vacation and you wanted them to take in the mail or a package or let the maid in?”
Ash shakes his head. “I don’t like people in my house when I’m not home.”
“So to confirm,” says Zoey, “you didn’t lend your sawzall to Teddy. Either Alejandro used his key to take it, or Teddy somehow broke into this place and stole it.”
Ash rocks back on his heels again and says, “I guess. I don’t know what else could have happened.”
“He’s lying,” says Judd.
The three of them are standing outside Clay’s truck in front of Deb’s house.
“I agree,” says Zoey. “That Ash is a fidgety one. Just not sure what he’s lying about.”
“I can tell you one thing for sure,” says Judd. “His grandmother didn’t buy those tools. And her groundskeeper didn’t organize them.”
“You sound pretty certain of that,” says Clay.
“That’s because Ash and Deb inherited their respective pieces of property in 2001. I remember because I was helping Teddy tow that first trailer they used to live in onto the property when the first plane hit the tower in New York. We were glued to the truck radio. I’ll never forget it.”
“And?” says Zoey.
“And that brand of tools didn’t come out until probably 2010. I remember that because I bought a bunch of them when Clay was playing soccer in Europe. And I know that because I specifically remember wondering whether I should keep my old tools for him, but figured he wouldn’t be moving back.”
“Anything else that you’re certain Ash just lied about?” says Zoey.
“Not certain,” says Judd.
“Me either,” says Clay. “But I’d be damn surprised if the woman in Ash’s house is his maid. Not unless he’s paying her to scold him like a child.”
“Some men like that,” says Zoey. Both Clay and Judd stare at her. She seems to feel their eyes on her and adds, “That’s what I’ve been told.”
CHAPTER 28
Carol’s fly-tying bench is in the sunroom. Shelves line the one wall not full of windows. The old house has high ceilings—ten feet tall—and the shelves go all the way up. They’re filled with clear plastic shoeboxes but the boxes don’t hold shoes. They hold fly- and lure-making materials, each labeled in Carol’s neat hand. Braedon reads:DRY-FLY HOOKS,STREAMER HOOKS,JIG HOOKS,PLASTIC BEADS,METAL BEADS,TUNGSTEN BEADS,ROOSTER FEATHERS,HEN FEATHERS,TURKEY FEATHERS,TURKEY BIOTS,PARTRIDGE FEATHERS,CHENILLE,SYNTHETIC FIBERS… The boxes keep going and going.
A ladder slides along a track in the floor. The top of the ladder has pulley-like wheels that run along a track up near the ceiling. If you wanted say, rabbit zonkers, you pushed the ladder to the left side of the wall, climbed up a few rungs, and grabbed it off the top shelf. Zonkers are strips of rabbit fur, skin intact,usually dyed. Braedon’s lashing a rust-colored one to a hook with thread.
“Your grandpa Judd’s going to love these,” says Carol. “You’re a natural.”
“Thanks,” says Braedon. “Should I tie this all the way up to the hook-eye or leave some room?”
“Leave a little room. That’ll give you space to make a nice head out of thread wraps.”
“And we’ll coat that with resin?”
