“You don’t think Thorne wanted to get rid of Tyler, do you?” Jo asked.
“His own son?” The thought was abhorrent to Sam. He would jump in front of a bullet for his daughters, but Thorne was a different kind of man. “I guess he doesn’t seem to be much of a family man.”
“Yeah, he’s mean. Doesn’t seem to care much about anyone but himself. Though I find it funny that he’s afraid of his wife, at least according to Harry,” Jo said.
“This fingerprint could be a bonus for us. If we find who the print belongs to, we might be able to solve both Tyler’s case and Dupont’s case and get what we need on Thorne.”
“If.” Jo pressed her lips together and looked out the passenger window. “So I take it we’re going to visit Jesse.”
“Yep.” Sam hadn’t had to name his informant. She knew it was Jesse Cowly, a small-time pot dealer who sold mostly to his friends and used the money to finance his own supply. Sam had been cultivating him for a while, overlooking minor infractions and looking the other way when he caught Jesse with pot. He’d been trying to build a relationship, gain his confidence, and get into a position in which Jesse owed him some favors. Now it was time to collect.
“Good, then we can stop at Brewed Awakening.” Jo pointed toward the gigantic coffee cup sign of their favorite drive-through.
“Glad you said that.” Sam pulled in. “The coffee at the station is okay, but I need something stronger today.”
“So you’re thinking we’ll find out who Jesse gets his drugs from, then find out where that guy gets his drugs from, and eventually that leads us to the top of the chain,” Jo said after Sam ordered the coffees and a doughnut hole for Lucy.
“I don’t think we’re going to have to go too far up. This isn’t New York City, so Thorne probably has only one or two guys between him and the dirty work. Whoever is closest to Thorne probably knows who killed Dupont. Might even be the killer. Either way, the higher-ups will know enough about Thorne’s operation to put him in jail.” Sam took the order, flipped Lucy a small bite of doughnut, and handed Jo her coffee.
Jo flipped the lid on her coffee and took a sip. “That Jamison really is a piece of work, huh?”
“Yeah, I would have thought with Dupont gone, things would get easier, but it turns out Jamison might be even worse. Thankfully, we only have to suffer with him until next fall.”
“What do you think of Marnie Wilson?” Jo’s voice had an odd tone, and Sam looked over to see her peering at him over the top of her police-issue Oakleys. He got the weird feeling the question had a double meaning, but darned if he could figure out what it was.
“Well, anyone’s better than Jamison or Dupont,” Sam said.
Marnie Wilson was running for mayor. She had the vote of most of the seniors in town, who were sick of all the building Thorne was doing. He’d been systematically buying out farms when the elderly owners died off, and now, instead of rolling fields and mountain views, the town was turning into hotels and parking lots.
“Harry seems to think she’s taken a shine to you.” Jo sipped her coffee with a smirk. “Just sayin’.”
Sam looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Was she joking? Sam vaguely remembered Harry saying something like that, but he hadn’t thought of Marnie in that way. Heck, he’d met her only once. Though he supposed she was attractive in an authoritative sort of way, Sam had more important things on his mind.
“What do you think about Jamison bringing in the sheriff? This could be bad for us, you know, considering everything with Tyler.”
“Might not be. I know Bev a little. She’s a straight shooter, like I said, and we’re not doing anything wrong. We’re working this just like a homicide.”
“I know, but what if …”
“Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m sure Bev is busy with her own cases. She probably doesn’t have much time to spend on this. And she doesn’t answer to Jamison, so she can tell him to shove it if he tries to impede progress as Dupont used to do. That could work in our favor.”
“I suppose.” Jo shifted in her seat to look out the passenger window. “Hey, there’s Bullwinkle. Or one of them.” Jo pointed down a side street where a giant bull moose meandered toward the wooded area at the end. Someone was snapping off a photo with their cell phone.
“That’ll be up on the Facebook page later today,” Sam said. “I’m just glad Mrs. O’Brien isn’t running after him in her bathrobe with a shotgun.”
Jo snorted as Sam turned onto the dirt road that led to Jesse’s small ranch house near the town line. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the house. The grass—or at least the patches of grass that could be seen in the predominantly dirt front yard—had been mowed. The torn edge of the screen on the door that had flapped open the last time he’d been there had been repaired. Maybe Jesse was cleaning up his act. Sam hoped not; he was useful as an informant.
They got out, and Lucy trotted ahead of them to the door, her nose in the air. She’d been here with them more than once, and the place usually smelled like pot. She was probably already sniffing it out.
Jesse answered the door, a wary look on his face. He held up his hands. “I don’t know anything about the mayor.”
“Can we come in?” Sam asked.
Jesse glanced out into the street nervously. Even though the road didn’t have any traffic and the next neighbor was a good distance away, Sam knew he didn’t want to be seen inviting the cops into his house.
Apparently satisfied no one was looking, Jesse opened the screen door and gestured for them to enter the living room.
Lucy’s nose twitched rapidly at the smorgasbord of smells inside the house. A pizza box lay open on the coffee table, and the smell of stale cheese and marinara still hung in the air. Dirty socks were strewn about the floor.
“Where’s your roommate?” Jesse lived with his cousin Brian. Sam hoped that Brian was at work. He wanted the conversation to be private.
“At work.” Jesse stood off to the side, his arms across his chest. Sam sauntered to the coffee table, where Lucy had honed in on a black-lacquer-lidded box that sat in the middle. Sam guessed the box housed Jesse’s latest stash.
“We know you didn’t have anything to do with the mayor,” Sam said as he tilted his head to look at the box from an angle. “But we’re hoping you might be able to help us figure out who did.”
“How?” Jesse sidled over to the coffee table and nonchalantly picked up the box and then placed it on top of the entertainment center, out of Lucy’s reach.
“We need to know who you get your drugs from.”
“What?” Jesse scrubbed twitchy hands through his hair. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Sure you can.” Sam stepped closer to Jesse. “Because if you don’t, you might end up in jail, and then there might be a rumor that you did tell me whether you did or not.”
Sam held Jesse’s gaze long enough to see the fear and anger cross his eyes before Jesse’s gaze dropped to the floor. He sighed. “Okay. Well, I don’t know the top guy who reports to Thorne. It’s a chain of command.”
“I know,” Sam said. “I only want to know the next guy up the chain. I’ll figure it out from there. Normally, I wouldn’t do this, Jesse, but it could help us solve two murders. I know you don’t want your drug supply to dry up, but I need to know who you get it from. I’m gonna find out one way or the other.”
Jesse crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know the top dog. There’re layers.”
“Yeah, I get that. Just spill it. We won’t let on that it came from you.”
Jesse looked at them uncertainly, but he must have realized Sam wasn’t messing around. And because Sam hadn’t busted him before, they had a bit of trust between them. Finally, he relented.
“Okay, fine. It’s Scott Elliott. I get my stuff from him,” Jesse said.
“You know where he lives?” Sam asked.
“Over near that new pharmacy, I think. He keeps the business away from his house.”
“Smart,” Jo said as they turned to leave.
“Come to think of it, I did hear something that might help you.”