chapter Forty-one
“He’s a cop?” Casey couldn’t believe it.
“No, no.” Thornville waved his hands, like he needed to stop her. “He’s the motor pool manager. Oversees the fleet. Keeps their vehicles ship-shape. His name’s Randy.”
“So what was he, a mechanic for the boat company?”
“Yes. Wasn’t always happy working for his brothers, but he was the baby, by several years, and not always the most reliable member of the staff. Between you and me, I think they would have rather laid him off than some of the others, but how are you going to do that to your own brother? Although eventually, they sort of did. He didn’t work with them during the last, oh, ten years of the business.”
Casey stood up so fast her chair tipped. Eric caught the chair, and her wrist. “Casey.”
“We need to go see him.”
“In a minute. We need to ask a few more things first.”
Casey took a deep breath and sank back into the chair.
“You have the picture?” Eric said. “Of the men?”
Casey pulled out the shot of Cyrus talking to Randy and the other guy. “You know this person?”
Thornville held the photo at arm’s length. “Well, that’s Randy, of course, back when he was young, and Cyrus.”
“But what about the other guy?”
Thornville pinched his lips. “I recognize him. Les Danvers. Small-time crook, but a child of the town, so we put up with him. He’s been in and out of the police station different times. Nothing ever stuck except for a shoplifting charge, and he got off with a slap on the wrist. Should have been a slap on the behind, you ask me.” Thornville’s sunny demeanor had darkened. “He was not a good influence on Randy. I know Mr. Pinkterton wished he wouldn’t hang around him. Tried to get him to stop, but there’s only so much you can do.”
“So did Randy get in trouble, too?”
Thornville dropped the photo onto the desk and sat back. “What are you really here for?”
“These guys,” Casey said. “We wanted to find out who they were.”
“But why?”
Casey glanced at Eric, and he nodded. “Because we think they might have had something to do with Cyrus Mann’s death. And now his daughter’s.”
Thornville’s face was blank for a moment before his expression changed. “His daughter? She’s alive?”
“No. She was. Until last week.”
“Wait a minute. She disappeared all those years ago. The papers always thought she was dead.” He paused. “Or that she had killed her father and run.”
“She didn’t kill him. But she did run.” Casey hoped it was true, but she had to go on the assumption that Elizabeth was innocent.
“And you think these guys—” he tapped the photo “—killed her father? And now her?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
“Oh, geez.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Oh, geez. That’s just…just awful.”
“Did Randy ever get in trouble?” Casey asked again.
Thornville wouldn’t look at her. “I’m not comfortable with this. I don’t think I should talk to you anymore. Randy is part of our community, but I don’t know you. If you have any more to ask, you should probably just go ask him.”
“Fine.” Casey stood. “But one more question. Was there a third guy they hung out with? We have information that there was.”
Thornville’s expression remained stubborn, but Casey could see him thinking. “Do you know any more details about this man that could help trigger my memory?”
“No. Just that there were three of them. And he was sort of creepy.”
Thornville picked up a pen and turned his computer toward him, like he was ready to resume work.
“Mr. Thornville?”
He closed his eyes, and let the point of his pen rest on the desk. “Yes, there was a third one. His name was Marcus.” He shook his head. “Marcus Flatt.”
“What was he like? What do you know about him?”
He shook his head again, like if he did that enough he wouldn’t have to answer. “He was trouble, too. But in an entirely different way.” He looked up at her, his eyes bleak. “God help Cyrus’ daughter if Marcus Flatt was the one who found her.”