Page 118 of Asher's Assignment
Forty-Eight
“Are you sure I can’t run it with my software?” Asher frowned at Stroud as he and Edie crowded together in front of the detective’s desk.
Stroud shot them a quick glare, then turned back to his computer. “Yes. Normal methods will work just fine for this.” He logged into his computer, then pulled up a database, adding Tyson Oliver’s name and phone number.
“Well?” Asher leaned forward.
“It’s processing.”
Edie tugged on Asher’s sleeve. “Relax. My laptop isn’t any faster.”
With a short huff, Asher sat back. A moment later, Stroud picked up a pen.
Several seconds went by as he wrote.
Impatience got the best of Asher. He sat forward again, trying to read the man’s handwriting upside down. “Stroud, I swear…”
The detective gave him a quick glance. “I found where he works and his address. He’s got a couple of priors as well.”
“For what?” Edie asked.
“Drug possession, like Vanessa.”
“Did he do time?” she asked.
“No. It was marijuana, and the amounts were well below what they’d put him in jail for. He paid some fines.” Stroud put his pen down and picked up the phone. He paused with the receiver near his face and arched an eyebrow at Asher. “Do you think you can keep your mouth shut this time if I put it on speaker?”
“No guarantees. But I’ll do my best.”
The detective’s jaw worked, but he dialed, then hit the speaker button. The line rang five times, then rolled to voicemail. Stroud hung up and tried again. When it rolled to voicemail a second time, he did the same thing. On the third try, a man answered.
“Hello?”
“Is this Tyson Oliver?”
“Who’s asking?”
“First, let me start off by saying you’re not in trouble. Second, my name is J.D. Stroud. I’m a detective with the Heron Ridge Police Department in Oregon.” He paused. “You still there?”
“Yeah. What do you want? I’ve never been to Oregon.”
“You sold a car at the beginning of this year for a friend. Vanessa Burnwell?”
“What about it?”
“Who did you sell it to?”
“That was on the up and up. He gave me a cashier’s check, and I gave him the title. Vanessa signed it in front of a notary her lawyer brought to the jail.”
“Who bought the car?”
“Some guy I worked with. His name’s Barry.”
Asher, Stroud, and Edie shared a look. And the wording Tyson used caught Asher’s attention. He grabbed the pad of sticky notes and a pen and wrote out his thought before shoving it toward Stroud.
The detective read it and nodded. “What do you mean, ‘worked?’” he asked Tyson, voicing Asher’s question.
“I haven’t seen him in a while. The boss said he quit a few months back.”
