Swapping Kevin for a records warrant went smoothly, mostly due to Lyle’s years of experience. Russ doubted there was anything that could surprise him; certainly not their former junior officer decked out like a hipster skinhead. The deputy raised his bushy eyebrows and said, “Guess I’ll hear your story in the car, kid. Get in.”
The interview with Brent Hill was less of a seamless experience. Judge Ryswick, as usual, had issued a very focused warrant, compelling Hill to allow Russ to compare the current employment records with the copy Chief Liddle had made in ’72 and examine those that matched. Hill read through it standing in the door to his trailer, and only after he finished did he step aside to let Russ in. It was a tiny office, almost overwhelmed by a large desk and—Russ did a double take—a safe in the corner. A series of shelves held a printer, stacks of manuals, and what looked like a CB radio rig. Two chairs; one well-worn and comfortable, one plastic.
Russ took the plastic seat across from Hill, who unlocked a drawer and tossed a manila folder onto the desk. Russ opened it and spread the papers out. “Old-fashioned.”
“Oh, I got a laptop.” Hill thumbed toward the shelves. “But when you’re on the road every week from Memorial Day to mid-October, you don’t want to trust important stuff to a computer. Generator fails, or we got no Wi-Fi, and then what? Besides, I got most of it in my head.” He tapped his skull. “F’rinstance, I can tell you right now the only matches you’re going to find are me and Joe LaVoie, who sells tickets.” He twisted and his spine cracked audibly. “Rigging and striking a carnival’s a young man’s game. Once you’ve sprained your shoulder or strained your back a few too many times, you’re gone.”
Russ adjusted his glasses and began comparing names. “So why is it you’re still here?”
Hill laughed. “I’m the owner. Whadja think? Rusty was my dad. He had me work every job there is in a show, starting when I was fifteen. Used to say if you were going to run a carnival, you had to be able to fix a class-C ride at night in the rain with nothing but a wrench and a spool of electrical wire.”
“Sounds like a smart man.”
“Oh, he was. Built this up from five rides and a Skee-Ball alley into the biggest show in New York.”
“And what about Joe LaVoie? Why’s he still here?”
“Joe’s always been the inside money guy. He did accounting for my dad. Now he’s retired, he drives his RV up from Florida in the spring and works the circuit with me till fall. He’s reliable and honest, which is a premium in a cash-only business.”
Russ jotted down Hill’s and LaVoie’s information. “You lose much from the other ticket takers?”
Hill propped his elbows on the desk. “I assume every gal sitting in a booth is skimming at least three to five percent and handing it over to her boyfriend.”
“That’s a lot of shrinkage.” Russ slid his finger down and down the list of names, birth dates, social security numbers.
“What can I do? I fire ’em if I can catch ’em.”
“What about this guy?” Russ tapped the paper. “Aaron Kaspertzy? I’ve got a Jim Kaspertzy listed in 1972.”
“Aaron’s dad. The carnival business gets into the family blood sometimes, you know?”
Russ handed Chief Liddle’s list to Hill. “Anyone else here who has a kid or a relation working in the show now?”
Hill looked over the old police report, shaking his head. “Nope. Not here. I got a couple guys in the western unit whose parents both worked for my dad, but nobody in this show.”
“Okay.” Russ squared the papers and handed them back to Hill. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
“You’re welcome. Now I got a question for you. You picked up one of my guys today. Do I need to find somebody to take his job for the rest of the season? Because thet’s gonna be a pain in my ass.”
Russ paused, as if weighing his decision. “He ran from questioning. And resisted arrest.”
“So he’s stupid. And by the way, I told you not to be talking with my people. Is he wanted? Didja find anything on him?”
“No. And no.” He looked at Hill. “You know he’s got a juvenile record?”
“In a carnival, it’d be surprising to find a kid who didn’t. C’mon. He’s a hard worker. I need him.”
Russ frowned. “I’ll consider it.” He opened the door and paused. “Oh, one other thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Can you tell me where you were last Friday night?”