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Ruben Stafford and David Schmitt finally showed up, with David behind the wheel of a Ford Taurus that was at least 20 years old. They pulled to the curb behind me and hesitated a moment before getting out.
Ruben pushed the hair from his face and looked at me. “Hey.”
“Morning,” I said.
“What's going on?” David asked. He was holding a small cardboard cup of coffee in his hand.
“You were supposed to be here an hour ago,” Ricky muttered.
“My fault,” Ruben said, holding up his hand. “My phone was dead and the alarm didn't go off. Totally my fault.”
Ricky shrugged it off.
“You get everything?” David asked, surveying the back of the truck.
“Yeah, I think so,” Ricky said. “I can’t get back in the garage but this is what was left outside.”
The other two nodded as they scanned the contents of the truck bed.
I didn’t wait to start asking questions. “David, why did you tell me to go talk to Erin?”
He glanced at me, his eyebrows furrowed.
Ricky's admission about giving the pills to someone else had momentarily tripped me up, but I thought I was starting to see things a little more clearly. I was still having trouble with the different characterizations I'd gotten of Erin versus what I'd witnessed in person. Had she really been an issue with the band or a victim of being the girlfriend of the most talented guy in the band?
“When I was here before, you told me she and Patrick were having problems and that maybe I should go talk to her and she might know something,” I reminded him.
David nodded. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
He frowned. “Why what?”
“Why did you try to point me in her direction?”
“Point you in her direction?” he repeated. “You asked if anyone else was close to him or something, or if we knew of anyone else who might know what was going on with him. Erin was the obvious choice.” He shrugged. “She was his girlfriend.”
“Right,” I said. “I talked to her. They were definitely on again, off again. But it didn't really seem all that contentious. You sort of made it sound like they were constantly warring.”
“They argued a lot,” David said, undeterred. “That's a fact. So I'm not sure what you're talking about.”
“What I'm talking about is I'm wondering if you were trying to make Erin look bad for a reason,” I explained. “Did you want me to think she might've had something to do with his death?”
“He killed himself,” David said, confusion written all over his face. “What could she have had to do with that? And why the hell are you in my face over this?”
“Just trying to get to the truth.”
“The truth?” David said, now angry. “What the hell are you even talking about, dude? The truth is you were the one that found him. You saw him, right? I think you saw the truth.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“And, look, not that I need to tell you shit, but I like Erin,” David continued. “Yeah, she could get on our nerves sometimes, but guess what? Pretty sure my girlfriend gets on everyone's nerves once in awhile. It's what happens in a band. We spend a ton of time together and shit happens. But don't try to make it like I don't like Erin or I'm blaming her for something. I liked her and even though they had their own shit going on, Erin took care of him when he fucked up. She cared about him.” He looked at Ruben. “I mean, shit. Tell him. You were the one who told me how bad things were between them.”
“He told you?” I asked.
“Yeah,” David said. He was still holding his cup of coffee, but he hadn’t taken a sip. “He saw them arguing more than I did, and he was the one worried she was going to fuck up the band.”