Show Me (Thomas Prescott 4) by Nick Pirog (best ereader for textbooks .TXT) 📗

retired homicide detective and for the past couple months I’ve been reinvestigating the murders your husband committed.”

“Ex-husband,” she said.

“You guys were divorced?”

“No, I mean, he’s dead, he’s not my husband anymore.”

I wasn’t sure if I only knew the correct terminology because I’d dealt with widows on a number of occasions while working as a detective, but I felt obligated to correct her. “Lowry isn’t your ex-husband, he’s your late husband.”

“Late?”

“Yes, late refers to deceased.”

I looked over at Wheeler. She raised her eyebrows. I wasn’t sure if this meant she also didn’t know the correct terminology or that I was acting like a nincompoop.

“Anyway,” I said, “that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that over the course of my investigation, I turned up evidence that proves your husband didn’t act alone.”

“There was another shooter?”

“No. Lowry was the lone gunman. He shot those people. But the reason he killed them isn’t what everybody thinks.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was made to look like Lowry was waging this vendetta against his manager at the Save-More because he was fired.”

Kim must have thought this was a question and said, “Yes.”

“But Odell, his manager, wasn’t the target. The target was Neil Felding.”

“Neil Felding?”

“Yes. He was one of the people killed.”

“I know,” she scoffed. “You think I don’t know the names of the people my husband killed?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” Her eyes began to water. “I watched every single one of their funerals you know.”

“You were there?” Wheeler asked.

She shook her head. “I made my friend Tally go and record them on her phone. I watched them all. I still have them saved on my computer.” She lowered her head and sobbed.

Wheeler grabbed my forearm and I said, “I’m sorry.”

I gave Kim a few moments to collect herself, then said, “Then you know that Neil Felding worked for the Lunhill Corporation?”

“Yeah.”

“But what you probably didn’t know is that Neil was about to blow the whistle on a huge cover-up Lunhill had been hiding for more than twenty years.”

I tried to read her reaction. She appeared genuinely surprised. “Really? What was it? The cover-up, I mean?”

“It’s complicated, but basically, Lunhill introduced a growth hormone in the early 1990s that when administered to cows would cause them to produce more milk.”

I wasn’t surprised when she said, “rBGH.”

“Correct. Lunhill tested the hormone at a dairy in Tarrin.”

“Mallory’s?”

I nodded. “They tested the hormone on seventeen cows and fifteen of them died. Then they fudged the data on the reports they sent to the FDA and their product was passed.”

Her eyebrows rose. “But if they fudged the data on that, then they could have done it for everything, all their stupid GMOs and pesticides and all their other shit.” You could almost watch the anvil fall. “That would have destroyed them.”

“Exactly. And Neil Felding was about to blow the whistle on them when, quite conveniently, he was murdered.”

I could see her thinking everything over.

I said, “Neil wasn’t an innocent bystander. He was the target. Your husband went to Save-More to kill Neil. He made it look like he was there to kill the manager.”

“But why would he do that?”

“Money.”

The word sat in the air for one second. Then two. It was the Hindenburg, hovering around the small room. And just as bright as the explosion of the floating hydrogen bomb, so too was the look of acknowledgement on Kim’s face.

Wheeler and I had driven eight hours to see Kim’s face flush.

That was the last thread. Lowry getting paid was the first domino. Without that, the others would never fall.

“You know about the money,” I said.

She frowned. “Money? What money?”

I tried to remind myself Kim was also a victim. She had to deal with growing up poor, getting knocked up by Lowry Barnes, supporting their two children while Lowry was locked up, Lowry murdering five people, being ostracized from her town, forced to pack up and leave. What was the big deal if she got a little money? In the grand scheme of things, did it really matter?

Yes, it did. At that moment in time, it mattered a whole fucking lot.

She might not have known where the money came from, but she sure as shit knew it had blood on it.

“How much did they give you?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“How did it come? A big bag of cash? A money transfer? Stock options?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit!” I belted.

She was stunned into silence and I said, “You think you were so smart. Move to Columbus. Rent a small house. Don’t flash the money. And you did so well. Except for one thing.” I grinned. “Yeah, you know what I’m talking about.”

She glanced up at me.

“You grew up shit poor. Parents didn’t have money. Then you had a couple kids. Then your husband gets locked up. You worked two jobs just to put food on the table. And then finally, you get some money. And let’s call it what it really is, blood money. And you can’t help yourself, you had to have it.”

Wheeler grabbed my arm and turned me toward her. “You promised.”

“I had my legs crossed,” I snorted.

I turned back to Kim. “But you were smart about it, you didn’t buy it in your name. You just wanted to prove to yourself you made it.”

“What are you talking about?” Wheeler blurted.

“The truck, the one in the neighbor's driveway. It isn’t theirs.” I tilted my head toward Kim, “It’s hers.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kim said, her teeth gritted.

“You mean to tell me this key doesn’t belong to that truck?” I rattled the keys that I found in her purse. There were two Ford keys on the ring. They looked similar, but they were slightly different.

“Give me those!” Kim said, jumping off the couch.

I pushed past her toward the front door. I pulled it open and walked across the lawn to where the truck was parked.

“Thomas.”

I turned.

Wheeler was a step behind me.

“What are you doing?” she said, shaking her head. “You’re being ridicu—”

I hit the unlock button on