“And you found his log in his car, denoting that he was stopping to help a car in distress?” Bev pointed to the log, and Sam’s heart hitched. Would she notice the difference in writing Jo had entered for Tyler?
“Yeah. Looks like that last entry was made quickly.” Sam paused and tilted his head to look at the log. “I don’t know if maybe he suspected something at that stop, and that’s why he scribbled in just the bare minimum.”
“But he never called in anything suspicious,” Bev said.
“We don’t have a dispatcher that time of night. He could have called me if he needed backup.”
Bev nodded. “Guess he didn’t think he needed it.”
Sam rubbed his chin. “Truth is, I feel responsible for what happened to Tyler. It happened under my watch. Maybe I should have been the one out there that night.”
“Nah. You can’t feel that way, Sam,” Bev said. “It’s part of the job. It’s what we sign on for. Tyler knew that.”
Bev’s phone dinged. She pulled it from her back pocket and looked at the display. “Okay. Gotta run. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up. We’ll meet back here in a few hours to see what Kevin and Wyatt found out.”
“Okay,” Sam said.
Sam waited for the lobby door to close and then turned to Jo. “Okay, what is it? I know you’ve been dying to tell me something.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if I should say it in front of Bev, but I think I have a good lead.” Jo rushed to her desk and opened her computer. “I’ve been going over Tyler’s arrest, and I think I’m on to something here.”
She turned the display toward Sam, and he bent closer.
“Check out this guy. Forest Duncan. It looks like Tyler went on a few calls associated with his name, but he never brought him in.”
Sam was dubious. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. But I guess it’s something. What kind of calls? Was he the one calling in or the one being called on?”
“He was the one doing something wrong. Minor stuff, though, so stands to reason he wouldn’t be arrested. But wait until you see this.” Jo turned the computer back toward her, typed something in, and then angled the display back toward Sam. “Guess what Forest Duncan does for a living.”
Sam leaned closer. Duncan worked for the sanitation department. He was the garbageman.
“The garbageman,” Sam said. “I thought the name looked familiar. That would give him an excuse to drive all around town and stop at houses, just as Jesse said.”
“Remember how Lucy was sniffing the garbage cans at Scott Elliott’s house? Maybe she smelled something from the crime scene or a connection between Elliott and Duncan.” Jo leaned back in her chair. “But I suppose we can’t tell Bev that we’re talking to a lead based on Lucy smelling garbage.”
“Maybe not, but Bev actually gave us the perfect reason to find this lead.”
“She did?”
Sam nodded. “By her request to look deeper into Tyler’s case, we now have a reason to research the calls he went on. And as such, we noticed the name Forest Duncan came up a few times and remembered he was a municipal employee.”
“Combined with what Jesse told us about Thorne’s distributor being a government employee whose job allowed him to be all around town and at various houses, I’d say that’s a good reason to question him.”
Sam pulled the keys to the Tahoe from his pocket. “Exactly. And I can’t think of a better time to do that than right now.”
Chapter Fifteen
Forest Duncan lived in a duplex clad in dirt-smudged aluminum siding on the outskirts of town. It was late afternoon when Jo and Sam arrived. Sam knew the garbage was collected early in the morning, so he figured Forest would be home. The rusted-out red Hyundai in the driveway told him he’d figured right.
Jo looked at the house skeptically. “This doesn’t look like the type of place one of Thorne’s distributors would live in. Wouldn’t they be able to afford something better than this?”
“Maybe it’s a front. It would seem pretty suspicious if the town garbageman lived in a mansion.”
“Good point. He might spend his money on expensive toys and interior upgrades.” Jo got out of the passenger side and let Lucy out of the back, and they all walked to the front door.
A short, pudgy guy in his midthirties with large, round black-framed glasses that magnified his blue eyes to comical proportions answered the knock. His eyes widened nervously when they fell on Lucy and enlarged even further when Sam and Jo showed their badges.
“Can I help you?” He cracked the door only a few inches. Sam wondered if he’d refuse to talk to them and slam the door in their faces.
“We just have a few questions,” Sam said.
“About what?”
Sam craned his neck to look inside. The living room was furnished with yard sale furniture in vintage 1970s plaid. A cheap particleboard coffee table covered in dings and with chipped corners sat in front of the couch. There was a decent-sized TV on the wall. If Forest Duncan had a lot of money, he sure wasn’t spending it on his décor. Maybe he was socking it away for retirement. Sam made a mental note to check into his finances.
“The mayor’s murder,” Jo piped in. Sam noticed her eyes trained on Forest. She was studying his reaction to her words. That was what Jo did best. She had a degree in criminal psychology and was always looking for some sort of tell or sign people were lying. She was good at that sort of thing. Sam, not so much. He was better at putting together the physical evidence. But together, they made a pretty tight team.
Forest backed up a step, pulling the door tighter. “I don’t know anything about a murder.”
“You’re not a suspect. We just think you might have seen something because of your job with the sanitation department.” Sam’s assurance seemed to work. Duncan’s shoulders relaxed, and he opened the door wider.
“Can we come in?” Sam asked.
Duncan thought for a few seconds and then nodded, glancing at Lucy. “The dog too? I don’t much like dogs.”
“She’s harmless,” Jo said. As if to reassure him, Lucy cocked her head to the side and gave a friendly whine.
“Okay. I guess so.” Duncan opened the door wider, and they entered.
Duncan shuffled backward to give Lucy a wide berth as the three of them spilled into the living room. The place was small. A gold-shag-carpeted living room opened to a kitchen, where dirty dishes mounded in the sink. It smelled like macaroni and cheese and hot dogs.
Lucy must have approved of the odor, considering the way her nose twitched high in the air. Sam scanned the dishes on the counter, and something caught his eye. A navy-blue coffee mug with large white letters. From the way the mug was turned, he could only make out two of the letters, a W and an R.
“I think you knew Officer Richardson, didn’t you?” Sam asked.
Forest blinked his owlish eyes and looked down at the floor. “Richardson? Maybe. I know a few officers because of my job. Was he the one who got killed?”
“Yes.” Sam glanced at Jo, who raised her left brow a barely noticeable amount.
“Sorry about that.” Forest looked back up at him. “So is that what you came to ask?”
“No. I just thought you were friends, for some reason.”
Forest shrugged and stared blankly at Sam.
“So, back to the business at hand. Were you working the day of the mayor’s murder?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. I work every day except Monday and Tuesday,” Duncan answered Sam, but his eyes were fixed on Lucy, who sniffed around the coffee table.
“Your route takes you past Reed’s Ferry Mill, right?” Jo asked.
“Well, I don’t actually go to the mill. There’s no one living there, so no garbage.” Forest was distracted by Lucy, who had trotted into the kitchen and was sniffing in the direction of the counter. “What is she doing?”
“Nothing.” Jo snapped her fingers. “Lucy, heel!”
Lucy obediently came to Jo’s side, and Forest focused his attention back on Sam.