what he knew that I didn’t that had caused him to change like this. I did know that I didn’t like it at all. I much preferred to be on the inside of the investigation to being the outsider. I wasn’t sure at all how I felt about the personal angle of being cut out from his thoughts.
I ordered some Thai food for dinner and watched some television before going to bed that night. I’d done enough for one day.
I woke up early the next morning, and I was the first one at the food truck. I had the truck in its normal berth on Elm Street by 5 a.m. Land showed up about 20 minutes later. He looked at me suspiciously, but I just shrugged and continued my prep work.
I waited for him to say something about yesterday, but he chose not to. I let it go until about 10 minutes before we were supposed to open. “What gives with you and snipers?” I asked, deciding that blunt was best with Land. He wasted no time with niceties when asking me a question, so I presumed that he would prefer the same in return.
Land looked a little surprised by the question, but he was very calm when he replied, “Nothing. I just know about guns and people who use them.”
“How?” I asked, deciding to keep this up. It was beginning to feel like the third degree, but I was curious, and we hadn’t opened the window to business yet, so we had the time.
“There were times in my past where I had to know about guns and the people who use them. You’ve worked here eight months, and this is the first you’ve wanted to know about my life. It’s not because you have any desire to know me; you just want to know my background to satisfy your curiosity. I’m not impressed.” He turned his back on me and continued his prep work.
That stopped me. First, because I knew I was going to get nowhere with him. He had already blocked my questions twice with statements that were incredibly vague. So I had no hope of getting more out of him. Secondly, I winced, thinking that he was right. He knew about me. He knew my family and about my college years and my degree. In fairness, I’d shared all of those things with him, willingly. He listened, nodded, and very rarely asked questions about things in my life.
However, he hadn’t shared much with me at all. Even in the times where he could have told me more, like when he’d cooked Basque food for the truck, he chose not to expound on the story so that I could know him better. He didn’t explain where he’d come up with the dishes or who in his family had taught him to cook. Land was one big mystery, and I knew that I’d have to crack that puzzle as well in order to solve this case.
For now, I just decided to let it drop. Pushing it would only end up with us in a fight, and then my chances to learn more later would be severely reduced. Land went back to cutting up pickles and onions, while I started a second pot of coffee.
I was just getting ready to put up the window when he asked. “So what happened yesterday?”
I explained what I’d done at Mariel Mills’ house and how Danvers had run me off afterward. I also shared what I’d done about the phone number and the realization that the third number could not be a phone number.
“I noticed that when I wrote them down for you. Any thoughts on what that could be? You didn’t tell me where you got those numbers, but I bet I can guess,” Land said as he faced me. “You took a few minutes to get to Danvers yesterday, and you had her purse. It’s not a far reach to figure out what you were doing.”
“No ideas on what it could be, but yes, I got them from the dead woman’s phone. They’re the last three numbers listed in her phone log for outgoing calls. I thought it could help us.”
Land snickered. “The first guy was a lot of help. You didn’t even get a name out of him. You don’t even have full numbers for the other two.”
“I’ll admit that it wasn’t a well thought out plan, but he knew about the murder. So that tells me that he’s
I ordered some Thai food for dinner and watched some television before going to bed that night. I’d done enough for one day.
I woke up early the next morning, and I was the first one at the food truck. I had the truck in its normal berth on Elm Street by 5 a.m. Land showed up about 20 minutes later. He looked at me suspiciously, but I just shrugged and continued my prep work.
I waited for him to say something about yesterday, but he chose not to. I let it go until about 10 minutes before we were supposed to open. “What gives with you and snipers?” I asked, deciding that blunt was best with Land. He wasted no time with niceties when asking me a question, so I presumed that he would prefer the same in return.
Land looked a little surprised by the question, but he was very calm when he replied, “Nothing. I just know about guns and people who use them.”
“How?” I asked, deciding to keep this up. It was beginning to feel like the third degree, but I was curious, and we hadn’t opened the window to business yet, so we had the time.
“There were times in my past where I had to know about guns and the people who use them. You’ve worked here eight months, and this is the first you’ve wanted to know about my life. It’s not because you have any desire to know me; you just want to know my background to satisfy your curiosity. I’m not impressed.” He turned his back on me and continued his prep work.
That stopped me. First, because I knew I was going to get nowhere with him. He had already blocked my questions twice with statements that were incredibly vague. So I had no hope of getting more out of him. Secondly, I winced, thinking that he was right. He knew about me. He knew my family and about my college years and my degree. In fairness, I’d shared all of those things with him, willingly. He listened, nodded, and very rarely asked questions about things in my life.
However, he hadn’t shared much with me at all. Even in the times where he could have told me more, like when he’d cooked Basque food for the truck, he chose not to expound on the story so that I could know him better. He didn’t explain where he’d come up with the dishes or who in his family had taught him to cook. Land was one big mystery, and I knew that I’d have to crack that puzzle as well in order to solve this case.
For now, I just decided to let it drop. Pushing it would only end up with us in a fight, and then my chances to learn more later would be severely reduced. Land went back to cutting up pickles and onions, while I started a second pot of coffee.
I was just getting ready to put up the window when he asked. “So what happened yesterday?”
I explained what I’d done at Mariel Mills’ house and how Danvers had run me off afterward. I also shared what I’d done about the phone number and the realization that the third number could not be a phone number.
“I noticed that when I wrote them down for you. Any thoughts on what that could be? You didn’t tell me where you got those numbers, but I bet I can guess,” Land said as he faced me. “You took a few minutes to get to Danvers yesterday, and you had her purse. It’s not a far reach to figure out what you were doing.”
“No ideas on what it could be, but yes, I got them from the dead woman’s phone. They’re the last three numbers listed in her phone log for outgoing calls. I thought it could help us.”
Land snickered. “The first guy was a lot of help. You didn’t even get a name out of him. You don’t even have full numbers for the other two.”
“I’ll admit that it wasn’t a well thought out plan, but he knew about the murder. So that tells me that he’s
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