Page 16 of An Evil Heart
“Vernon Fisher?” I say as I approach.
“Yes, ma’am.” Tossing a hold-my-beer-and-watch-this grin at his cohorts, he rises and crosses to me. Fisher is tall and lanky with angular limbs and well-defined muscle. Wearing jeans and a raggedy work shirt, he looks as if he’s settled into the English life with ease.
“How can I help you?” he asks.
Though he knows exactly who I am, I show him my shield. “Is there a place where we can speak privately? I have a few questions for you.”
“What’d he do now?” one of the other men mutters beneath his breath, and a round of laughter follows.
“Uh… well, I don’t exactly have an office yet,” he says. “How about we talk right here?”
“I understand you bought a truck from Aden Karn,” I begin.
“I wondered when he was going to sic the cops on me.” Sighing, he shakes his head. “Look, I gave that dude a six-hundred-dollar down payment. I took the truck home and two weeks later the damn thing stopped running. I said I’d give him back the truck and asked him for my down payment back and he frickin’ refused. I told him I wasn’t going to pay the rest. Who would? Two days later, him and his buddy sneak over here in the middle of the night and steal my truck. I’m out six hundred bucks. I’m the one who should be calling the cops.”
“Did you confront him?” I ask.
“I gave him some shit about it. I mean, the dude ripped me off.”
“Did you file a complaint?”
He shrugs. “Figured it wouldn’t do any good.”
“Do you have a bill of sale or contract?”
“We done it on a handshake.” He blows out a sound of regret. “Guess there’s a lesson in there somewhere, huh?”
A pornographic calendar hangs on the wall behind him, a nude woman, legs spread, baring it all. I tamp down a rise of disgust as I tug out my spiral notebook.
“When’s the last time you saw Karn?” I ask.
“Three or four days ago? I went to his house and told him I want my money back and we can call it even. He told me to hit the road.” He looks at his counterparts and sighs. “What the hell is the world coming to when you can’t even trust the fuckin’ Amish?”
A round of hearty laughter ensues.
“Where were you this morning between three and eightA.M.?” I ask.
He cocks his head and for the first time he looks at me as if he’s taking our conversation seriously. “What kind of question is that?”
“The kind you have to answer,” I return evenly. “You can do it here, or we can do it at the police station. It’s your call.”
He swallows what was probably a nasty response. “At threeA.M., I was in bed, sleeping.” He smirks. “At eight, I was… having sex with my girlfriend.”
“What’s her name?” I ask.
A raucous round of laughter erupts. I look around, see one of the men point to the grimy window that looks into the small office. I follow his point. At first glance, I think there’s a nude woman sitting at the desk. But I quickly realize it’s a full-size sex doll replete with exaggerated breasts and bright pink genitalia.
The men fall into riotous laughter.
“Her name’s Leandra,” one of them blurts, wiping his eyes.
“He’s in love!” someone else says.
“I think he’s gonna pop the question!”
I look at Fisher, keep my annoyance at bay. “Do you have a valid hunting license?”
He sobers, gives me a puzzled look, wondering about the change of topic. “Do I hunt? Sure. During the season. Deer mostly. Coyote.”
