“I didn’t see his face, just heard him. Before he drove off.”
“And where were you when this started?”
“Outside Max’s. In the parking lot of the queer bar. Heard one of them talking.” He gave a nasty grin.
I said, “Then the sheriff will find your vehicle in the parking lot at Max’s?”
The grin vanished, but after a second, he said, “My brother dropped me off.”
“Let me get this straight,” Breyer said. “Your brother dropped you off in the parking lot of Max’s half an hour before closing, in civvies? To do what?”
I told Morse, “If you wanted to get your dick sucked, you’ll have to go somewhere the men don’t know who you are.”
“Hush up,” Breyer told me. He turned back to Morse. “I repeat, what were you doing?”
“Surveillance. Lots of crime goes on there. You have no idea.”
“I didn’t order any surveillance of Max’s.”
“I was on my own time. Keeping the county safe for normal folks.”
Over by the barn, one of the firefighters called, “Hey, sheriff? There’s a spray can of paint over here. Not sure if the guy was trying to use it as accelerant or what.”
“Don’t touch it,” Breyer called. “We might get prints.”
I checked Morse’s hands— no gloves— and grinned.
“I might’ve handled that,” Morse said. “In trying to stop the perp from starting the fire.”
Joe scoffed. “I thought you told the sheriff you were trying to pull him out of the truck. That can’s nowhere near where the truck was.”
Morse took a step toward the sheriff. “Come on, sir, you know me. I’ve worked for you a long time. I hitched a ride out here in the pickup bed, tried to stop the perp, and when he got away from me, tried to keep him from reaching his vehicle. McNeil interfered with my duties and punched me more than once, while the perp got away. McNeil’s the one you should be arresting.”
Enough is enough.I pointed up toward the eaves. “Sheriff, what Officer Morse didn’t know is that between the last vandalism and this one, I installed not just more lights, but a very good camera surveillance system. The field of view covers the driveway and this whole area. You can look for yourself and see if Morse was in the back of that truck or the cab, and who held the torch.”
There wasn’t enough light to see if Morse’s color changed, but he pressed his lips shut.
“Morse?” the sheriff said. “Want to change your story?”
He shook his head.
Joe demanded, “Are you going to arrest him?”
“Not yet.”
Morse raised his head and took a step, then froze when the sheriff glared at him, pulled out his phone, and dialed. “Garcia?” He didn’t bother to lower his voice. “I need you to do something. Go find Hal Morse. Ask if he saw his brother today. If he says no, see if you can shake him. If he says yes, ask him when and where. Report back to me.” He cut the call and eyed Morse. “What do you think your brother is going to say?”
“He might say no. He might think you don’t want me around Max’s.”
“He’d be right. But if he doesn’t back you up, Iamgoing to arrest you on the word of these two gentlemen.”
“Gentlemen.” Morse hawked and spat in the dirt.
The sheriff glowered. “You’re not helping yourself, Deputy. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“You must be kidding.”
“Hands away from your pockets.”
