CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The Grants lived on ten acres of land east of town in a neat, square red brick house with three dormer windows above a white columned front porch. The flowerbeds were filled with colorful, winter hardy flowers, mostly pansies. To the right of the front door were two rocking chairs and a porch swing. Brightly colored pillows sat in the rocking chairs and were propped in the swing. A small round table sat between the rocking chairs with a potted ivy trailing down to the floor. A glass butterfly stuck out of the top of the ivy on a copper wire.

Parked at an angle in front of the large metal building behind the house was a white dual cab Ford pickup with a square magnet advertising GRANT AND SON CONSTRUCTION on the doors and tail gate. The large bay doors of the building were open. Miner’s gaze traveled from the clean and organized garage area, to the tool-covered pegboard wall, to the jam box blaring hard rock and sitting on the worktable, to the rifles and guns next to it. Brian stood with his back to Miner cleaning what looked like a handgun.

Miner released the protective strap over his holster and kept his hand on his own gun. “Brian?”

Brian Grant jumped and turned, his fists moving up to protect his scratched face. He dropped his arms and with a slight limp, he walked over to the jam box, turned the music down, and said, “Damn, Miner. Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry. You limping?”

“Getting old.”

“What are you doing there?” Miner jerked his chin toward the guns.

“Cleaning the arsenal.”

“You won’t be offended if I ask you to step away from the table.” Brian reached toward the table for his cigarettes and lighter. Miner tensed. “Keep still.”

“Come on, Miner. I’m getting a smoke.”

“Over there,” Miner said, motioning to a stool across the room. Brian shook his head but complied. Miner put himself between Brian and the guns, picked up the cigarettes and lighter, and handed them to Brian.

He shook a cigarette out of a pack, placed it between his lips, and shoved the packet in his front pocket. He lit the Marlboro and took a drag. “Horrible habit. This is the only place I can smoke.” He took another drag and flicked the ash on the ground. “Let’s not waste any time. You heard I got in a fight with Matt and think I might have killed him.”

Miner didn’t say anything.

“I told Susan you’d suspect me. She refused to believe it.”

“I want to hear what happened. From you.”

“At the end of the party, Matt told me he was using another contractor.” Brian took another drag. “I was mad, of course I was mad. I’d had too much to drink, smoked a little wacky tobacky, and took a swing at him. If I hadn’t been drinking, I would have never done it. Next morning, I felt awful.”

Brian rose and limped to a bucket of sand. He lit a new cigarette from the old one and snuffed the old one out. “I called Matt the next morning to apologize and ask for a job. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, huh? A policeman answered. I hung up.”

“Why?”

“Shock? I don’t know. I just did.”

“Sunday morning, you got home and went to bed?”

Brian dragged on his cigarette and studied Miner. “You’ve seen Susan today, Miner.”

“Yep.”

“Then you know the answer.”

“I want to hear your version.”

“She slammed it in the car door.”

“Did you take her to the hospital?”

“No. Paige did.”

“Why?”

“I’d been drinking. Susan was hurt. I knew which way the wind would blow.”

“Where were you?”

“Here with the kids.”

“Were you here when Susan got home?”

“I’d fallen asleep. When I woke up, she was next to me. Dead to the world. I took the kids to church and came back and fixed that fucking car door. I’ve been meaning to do it for months. Now, her pinky is probably going to be permanently deformed because of it.” Brian held his cigarette deep between his first two fingers, so his entire hand covered his mouth when he took a drag.

Miner stepped toward Brian until he was only a foot away. Brian didn’t flinch, but blew smoke out the side of his mouth and away from Miner.

“Did you shut Susan’s hand in the door?”

“No.”

“Did you take the car or truck to the bonfire?”

“Truck.”

“How did she shut her hand in the car?”

“I guess she needed something out of it. I don’t know, Miner. I was putting the cooler in the shop when it happened.” Brian nodded his head to the corner of the room. Miner glanced over his shoulder and saw the cooler. “I heard her scream and came outside. She was holding her hand. Then Paige came outside.”

“And took Susan to the hospital.”

“Yeah.”

“And you went inside to sleep.”

“Yep.”

“These all of your guns?”

“Yeah. Careful. They’re all loaded,” Brian said. “Safeties on, of course.”

Miner went to the table and looked at the guns. “Why are you cleaning your Beretta?”

“Troy and I went shootin’ yesterday afternoon.”

“Before or after you heard about Matt and Amy?”

Brian sucked so hard on his cigarette it accentuated the hollows of his cheeks. He blew the smoke out in one long, lazy breath.

“After.”

“Lift up your shirt for me, Brian.”

Brian’s face changed from defiance to incredulity. “What?”

“Lift up your shirt.”

“Why?”

“I want to know why you’re wincing every time you move.”

“Ate some bad catfish at Mabel’s last night.”

“Mabel’s catfish scrape your face, too?”

Brian placed his cigarette between his lips and lifted his shirt. His torso was slim and well defined and completely free of bruises. Miner’s eyes found Brian’s. The defiance was back.

He let his shirt fall. “Happy?”

“You seen Kyle lately?’

“Kyle? What’s Kyle got to do with this?”

“Nothing, as far as we know. We’ve been looking for him, in connection with something else, for a few days now and can’t seem to locate him.”

“Who the hell knows, or cares?”

“Put your Beretta back together. I have to take it.”

Brian lodged the cigarette between his lips, picked up the slide and barrel. “You know, you’re wasting your time here, Miner.” He inserted the barrel into the slide until it clicked, then attached the guide rod and spring. “You ought to be looking closer to home.”

“What do you mean?”

Brian attached the assembled slide to the main part of the gun, pulled it back, and held the gun out to Miner by the trigger protector. “I didn’t kill Matt and Amy. The sooner you figure out who did, the better my life will be.”