“I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a reason. And to go after Sparky, have Walter butcher him? It would have to be something major.”
“And that is the question. What did Sparky do to Dalco, or to his family?” Savich said, and stopped at a red signal. Traffic was as light as it got in Washington.
“There’s something else interesting. Liggert’s oldest girl, Tanny, ten years old—she’s got a juvie record. She was caught shoplifting condoms, of all things. Turns out she was selling them to all the teenage boys around town, cleaned up for a while until the pharmacy owner caught her with Trojans stuffed in her pockets.
“Sheriff Watson called her parents, and they paid for the condoms, took her home. The pharmacist insisted on a police report, but nothing more came of it, at least that I could find.”
Savich had to laugh. “A ten-year-old isn’t usually sent to Attica for stealing condoms. I do wonder, though, how Liggert punished her.”
“We’re not done,” Griffin said. “That was when she was nine. She got slick enough to lift some watches from the general store. She tried to pawn some of them in Reineke when they were still brand new, and she was fingered. Get this, no charges again, they let her go.”
Savich shot him a look. “I wonder if Deliah Alcott took care of the problem. Or maybe it was Mr. Alcott. Was she caught before he died six months ago?”
“Just after. Maybe she was acting out, as the shrinks say, because of her grandfather’s death?”
“We could talk to the people at the general store. Maybe Sheriff Watson knows something about it.” He shook his head. When you came right down to it, what good would that do? Trying to find Dalco was leading them everywhere and nowhere. He was tired, his brain was tired.
“I spent some time looking into her granddad, Arthur Alcott. Nothing in the public record to suggest he was capable of anything hinky. After he died, there was a memorial service for him. The local paper gave it quite a write-up, said most people in town attended, so it seems he was respected well enough. Maybe that’s how his granddaughter got off with hardly any juvenile record, out of respect for him.”
Savich said, “But why Brakey?”
“He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, Savich, doesn’t take long to see that. Maybe Dalco used him because he was an easy target, he was handy? Malleable?”
“If so, it sure backfired,” Savich said as he turned onto D Street. “After we speak to Walter, let’s go over to Plackett to see Sheriff Watson.”
“Has he called you yet about Deputy Lewis’s files?”
“Yes and no,” Savich said as he turned into the jail parking lot. “All he said was there wasn’t anything useful in the Alcott accident report.”
“Do you believe him? He was, after all, Deputy Lewis’s brother-in-law.”
“Do you know, I’m inclined not to.”
Savich had already gotten permission to meet with Walter again in the conference room. He was waiting alone when Savich and Griffin walked in.
“Agent Savich, do you know anything more about what happened to me?”
“We’re getting close. Walter, this is Agent Hammersmith.”
To Walter’s pleased surprise, Griffin shook his hand, smiled at him.
Savage studied the young man’s face. “Walter, we’re working hard to find out who’s responsible for all this. With your help, we’re hoping to work it out so you can go free.”
Color flooded Walter’s face, hope shined from his eyes. “Thank you, Agent Savich. I’ll help however I can, but I think I’ve told you everything I know.” He paused, raised agonized eyes to Savich’s face. “My folks, they look at me funny, you know? Even though they believed me when I told them I couldn’t remember anything, they still gave me these looks when they didn’t think I saw them. They’re horrified by all this. They really don’t know what to believe, and neither do I. But I really wasn’t responsible, was I? Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of fit?”
“No,” Savich said, “no, it wasn’t a fit. I’d like you to think with me, Walter. You called Liggert out last month, you told me, when you saw him hitting his little boy, Teddy?”
“Yes, sure. And then he laid into me when he got drunk at The Gulf. Deputy Lewis had to take him out of there.”
“Did you have any other contact with Liggert at any time in, say, the last six months?”
“No.” Walter frowned, tapped his fingertips on the conference table, made a decision. “Well, yes, once. He came to my shop about two months ago—a while after his dad got killed in that hit-and-run. He asked me about cars I’d repaired since his father got killed, cars that had been in an accident. Sure, I told him, all those fender benders help keep my shop open, even in a small town like Plackett. I remembered right away that Sparky had brought in his blue Mustang. He was proud as punch he’d bought that car from an old dude in Richmond, said it sat in his garage for over twenty years. Anyway, Sparky said he’d hit a deer and needed work on a panel and his right front fender.”