“Why do you think it was Derek who keyed your car?”Jake asked, steering the conversation back to safer ground.
Roger exhaled heavily, as if the question required him to revisit an exhausting memory.“Couple of days ago, Derek came storming in here, all worked up.Demanded to know if I’d finished repairing his weed trimmer.”
“And had you?”Jenna asked.
“That’s just it.He never brought one in.”Roger spread his hands in a gesture of innocence.“I told him that, and he got hot under the collar.Started yelling that he’d dropped it off last week, remembered it clear as day.”
“What happened then?”Jenna prompted when Roger paused.
“I told him he was welcome to look around the shop himself.‘Find your weed trimmer,’ I said, ‘and I’ll fix it for free.’“ Roger’s mouth twisted into a grimace.“But he wouldn’t even look.Just kept insisting I was hiding it or had sold it or some nonsense.”
Jenna knew there would probably be no repair logs to check.Roger’s shop had a reputation for operating on handshake agreements rather than proper paperwork.
“Then Derek really lost it,” Roger continued, warming to his story.“Launched into this whole tirade about my business practices.Said I deliberately don’t give customers receipts so I can keep their stuff and deny ever seeing it.”He scoffed, gesturing to the organized shelves around him.“Like I need his cheap piece-of-junk trimmer.”
“What happened after that?”Jake asked.
“He demanded I replace it with something of ‘similar value.’When I refused, he stormed out, threatening all kinds of nonsense.”Roger’s eyes narrowed at the memory.“Later that same day, I found my Mustang with a nice long scratch down the side.The classic I’ve spent years restoring, ruined by that drunk.”
“You didn’t see him do it?”she asked.
“Didn’t need to.Who else would it be?”Roger’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the counter edge.“And to top it all off, he filed a complaint with the Better Business Bureau.They’ve been breathing down my neck, demanding records I don’t keep because this isn’t some big-box store.”
“So now Derek’s dead, and we suspect you,” Jake summarized bluntly.“How does that make you feel?”
Roger’s expression shifted into something almost like pride.“Honestly?I’d be insulted if I wasn’t at the top of your list.Man threatens me, damages my property, tries to ruin my reputation—then turns up dead?You’d be a poor excuse for a lawman if you didn’t look at me first.”
The casual way he embraced suspicion intrigued Jenna.Either Roger Dixon was the killer, comfortable in the belief they couldn’t prove anything, or he was innocent and simply enjoyed the drama of being a suspect.Neither option spoke well of his character.
“Let me be clear, Mr.Dixon,” Jake said, his tone growing harder.“You need to tell us one way or another whether you killed Derek Sullivan, or risk being charged with obstruction of justice.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches.Roger’s eyes narrowed as he studied Jake, measuring the seriousness of the threat.For a moment, Jenna thought he might continue his evasion.
“No,” Roger finally said, the word clipped and definitive.“I did not kill Derek Sullivan.”He paused, then added with unsettling sincerity, “But when you do catch the killer, I’ll want to shake his hand.He’s done the town a service.The mayor ought to give him a medal.”
Jenna felt Jake shift beside her, ready to respond, but she cut in before he could escalate the situation further.“How did you find out about the murder, Mr.Dixon?”
“It was all over TownCircle this morning,” Roger replied, seeming relieved at the change of subject.“Not just there, everywhere else too.Town gossips all working overtime.Is it true what they’re saying?That he was found wrapped up like some kind of bizarre gift?Red yarn all over him?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation,” Jenna replied automatically, though the accuracy of the rumor disturbed her.It wasn’t surprising that word of the yarn had gotten out, but it wasn’t going to help their investigation.By now, Brenda Drummond wasn’t the only one spreading details of the story.
“If it’s true, that showed some real style,” Roger said with an admiring shake of his head.
“As I said, Mr.Dixon, I can’t comment on that.”She kept her voice steady despite her unease.“Where were you between 1:30 and 3:30 this morning?”
Roger’s expression turned sour at her refusal to share details.“I was at home, asleep in my bed, like most normal people.But no, I don’t have anyone who can confirm that.Live alone, sleep alone.”He spread his hands.“Make of that what you will, Sheriff.”
The door swung open, announcing a customer’s arrival.A middle-aged man entered, carrying a chainsaw with a warped guide bar.Roger’s demeanor shifted instantly, professional interest replacing the confrontational stance.
“Excuse me,” he said to Jenna and Jake.“Paying customer.Unless you’re arresting me right now, I’ve got work to do.”
“We’ll be in touch, Mr.Dixon,” Jenna said, recognizing the interview had reached its natural conclusion.“Don’t leave town without informing us.”
Roger gave a mock salute.“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sheriff.”
The repair shop felt smaller as they made their exit, squeezing past the customer who was already deep in conversation with Roger about his chainsaw troubles.Outside, the September air was crisp, a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere inside.
“What do you think?”Jake asked as they walked back to their car.“Is he our guy?”
