"Okay, Frog," Andy said. "Hang on a minute."
The deputy then gave Jack a look and held the bag out toward him. Jack apparently understood the unspoken cop language and took the bag. Then he took my arm and pulled me to stand partly in front of him. Before I could ask what was happening, Jack whipped his shirt off, used it to wrap the plastic bag in—hiding the contents from the crowd—and walked over to the squad car and put it inside.
I noticed that a lot of people—especially the women in the crowd—fell silent when Jack took his shirt off and just stared, open-mouthed, at him while he strode to the car.
I couldn't exactly blame them, even though I wanted to yell "Mine!" at the top of my lungs. Jack, with his shirt off, was a genuine work of art. All rippling muscles and broad shoulders narrowing to those incredible abs.
After he put the evidence in the squad car, Jack pulled his shirt back on, and I swear I could hear sighs of dismay. I shook my head, annoyed with myself for thinking stupid thoughts about muscles and abs in such a serious situation. My mind was trying to distract me from yet another dead body in Dead End, but the tightness in my chest and the sick acid roiling in my belly told me my mind was failing miserably.
This dead body was someone I'd known, at least a little. Even though I hadn't much liked him, he was the Peterson brothers' relation, and that mattered. I closed my eyes and offered a quick prayer for Darryl, which gave me a tiny measure of peace. Then I started thinking about lining up the casserole brigade, which helped too.
Dead End folks always turned up to help when there was a need. It was one of many things I loved about our little town.
I took a deep breath and turned back toward Andy, who stood in front of Frog McKee, staring up at him in grim silence.
Frog, who was so skinny he looked like a fierce wind would blow him over, had to be at least six four, so of course Andy had to look up at him. One glance at the two, though, clearly showed who was in charge.
"All right. You. Over there, against the building."
"But—"
"No. No talking. You've done enough damage. I may haul your butt in for obstruction as it is. Do you want to add more trouble to that?"
"No! No, sir! I just—"
Andy snarled. "I said move. Now."
Frog moved.
Rooster, who'd been frozen in shock since Frog had run up with the hammer, finally snapped out of it and took a step toward me and Jack, his face almost gray against the brilliant scarlet of his Santa suit.
"Tess. Jack. You know I'd never do anything like this. You have to believe—"
Andy stepped over to block Rooster from reaching us. "Rooster. I'm sorry, but I'm going to need you to come down to the station to answer a few questions."
The big man kept shaking his head. "Andy. You know dang good and well I'd never hurt anybody, let alone kill 'em, even somebody as goldarned annoying as Darryl. And if I did, I'd never be fool enough to put the murder weapon in the back of my open truck bed. You know that. Call Susan. She knows me too."
"Susan's out of town right now, but I'm going to need you to answer some questions. Tess, change of plans. Will you walk with Rooster down to the station?"
It probably wasn't very official to ask the local pawnshop owner to escort the suspected murderer to the jail, especially when the suspect was bigger than me by a foot in height and almost three hundred pounds in weight, but this was Dead End. And Andy knew Rooster almost as well as I did.
No way was he a murderer.
Somebody was trying to set him up.
Rooster's eyes were wild, though. "Jack. I'm no killer. Tess, you know I never would have shot that goat."
The goat he'd pretended he was planning to shoot in order to get me to take it in pawn was alive and happy and possibly had twins in her future, if we believed the clock. "I know, Rooster. Everybody in town knows that. Let's just walk over to the station. We need to let Andy do his job so he can find out who really did this."
He blew out a huge breath and nodded, seeming to calm down. "Right. Right. That's what we'll—Jack." He grabbed Jack's arm. "You know I never woulda done this. I need your help. Official and all."
Jack glanced down at Rooster's ham-sized hand but didn't shake him off. Instead, he studied my face for a moment, nodded, and then gave Rooster a measured stare. "Are you hiring me?"
"Yes! Yes. I'm hiring you. You can investigate or detect or whatever."
"Is that a conflict of interest?" Maybe I watched too much TV, but it seemed like a valid question. I looked at Jack and bit my lip. "I mean, if you're going to help Andy?"
"Nope. Everything I do is going to be about finding out the truth. That will benefit everybody on all sides."
