Bartels watched through the front window. The deputies took separate cruisers. Snow was drifting down gently, as though it had all night. After a couple of minutes, Bartels used the snow as an excuse to head back to the motel. The tracks the deputies’ cars had left remained clear as he drove through the village, down the twisting road past the Hanigans’ radio station. He swung off the pavement and checked the back of the station, but neither Hanigan vehicle was there. He fell in behind the deputies again.
Five miles out of town, the cruisers cut into a side road and Bartels switched off his headlights. There were stationary taillights not far down the side road. He left his car. Trees grew to the edge of the lane. He followed them. The deputies’ cars were just ahead, headlights slanting down a hillside to an old house trailer perched on blocks. The beige van that had followed Roy Hanigan had gone down a rutted path to the trailer.
The deputies sidestepped down and hammered on the trailer door, and Katie Robbins opened it. She let them inside.
Bartels stayed on the slope, looked through a window. The naked man tied to a chrome and vinyl chair looked a lot like Henry Robbins, wrinkled face, mean mouth. With Henry dead, he had to be the brother. Joey the bank manager. There was a table next to him with a lighted cigar on a plate. The big blond woman held a belt strap so the buckle dangled. The man had wounds and burns on his arms and chest.
The deputies stood with fists on hips, talking to Katie. Lou reached out and slapped the banker’s face.
Bartels didn’t need to hear the conversation. Three people in the trailer wanted to know where two hundred thousand dollars had gone. One person knew and wasn’t saying. Bartels snuck back to the road, saw the big-finned convertible parked fifty feet beyond his own car. Leaning against a fender, Roy Hanigan waved to him.
“Katie thought she was tailing me,” Hanigan said. “The sisters own the trailer. Imogene owns the van. I didn’t figure Howard and Lou was in on it.”
“You been down there?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that the banker?”
“That’s Joey. Got me a theory. Henry was the robber. He and Joey put the money somewhere safe. Those Everly sisters figure it’s rightly theirs. I figure Katie got impatient today and did Henry. Or maybe it was Imogene. One of ‘em.”
Bartels didn’t argue.
“We better get outta here. If you changed your mind about going partners, you can follow me home. Jeanie makes good coffee.”
Bartels followed him home.
The couple had a drafty house on the north side of the village. Jeanie put on coffee and sat at a painted oak table as her husband talked. She said she was disappointed in Lou, who had always been a good churchgoer. “Howard and Imogene only come to play the guitar and sing, like they think a Hollywood agent’s listening to our station. But that’s bad, if Lou’s thrown in with them.”
“It’s not bad if you and Roy stay out of it,” Bartels pointed out.
She squinted. “Why should those sinners end up rich?”
“The problem,” her husband said, “if we find the money, Lou and Howard are gonna take it off us. Or maybe Katie and Imogene will. Either way, there’s four of them. So we gotta work something out.”
Bartels lowered his coffee mug. “You’re not going to have any listeners left.”
“With two hundred big ones, I’m gonna be sitting on a beach. Me and Jeanie.”
“Nice you’re including me.” His wife watched him.
“What about the girls’ father?” Bartels asked.
“Bob Everly won’t be a problem. Imogene and Katie got their mean from their mother. They gotta go for sure, plus Lou and Howard. That’s fifty thousand each for doin’ four people I don’t like much. Assumin’ we come out on top.”
Jeanie rested her elbows on the table. “Your math’s off, sweetie. We’ll get twenty-five each. Mr. Bartels will want his cut.”
The big man turned on Bartels. “That’s if we’re partners.”
Staying a step ahead of this pair wouldn’t be too hard. Bartels said, “You got any ideas?”
“We let them do the heavy lifting. When they got the money, we take it off them.”
“Why not take Joey?”
“We’d have to get him to talk. Tell you the truth, I’m squeamish about that stuff. Katie don’t seem to be.”
Bartels slept on their couch and was awakened before midnight when the phone rang. Roy Hanigan listened, then pulled on his jeans and heavy boots. “There’s a fire, and I’m a volunteer. What a night for it! You keep your hands off my lady, Bartels.”
“I’ll make some coffee and come after you,” Jeanie said.
“It’s County Road 9. Betcha I know where.”
Alderman Ken Fogel peeked out from under his cap and said, “I’m surprised to see you tonight, Mr. Bartels.”
“Saw the flames from the motel. Thought I’d come have a look.”
“Better’n porn TV?”
“Different.”
The rural fire protection unit had only a single pumper truck, which was sitting on the side road above the burned-out trailer. One ice-coated hose snaked down to the scene, which was mostly smoke and knee-high ruins. Deputy Howard Cross had already run up the hill with the bad news that it looked like the trailer contained a body. He was in his cruiser, radioing the state medical examiner’s office. Deputy Lou was midway down the hill.
“You think it’s one of the girls?” Fogel asked.
Lou shook his head. “We checked. Katie’s home. Imogene’s at the restaurant. Maybe some hobo snuck in, lit the heater.”
Bartels watched a fireman below, chopping the trailer floor for a hot spot. “Why not your missing banker?”
Lou pretended to consider. “Makes sense. More likely Joey than a hobo. Whoever grabbed him maybe knew the trailer was empty.”
“Think the money burned up with him?”
“Could be, if that’s Joey. We’ll go through the ruins.”
Bartels nodded. “You ever consider the possibility that Joey Robbins arranged the holdup?”
The deputy looked up at Fogel, who grinned at Bartels. “You got a sneaky way with you. He could’ve. It’s occurred to some of us. Since we know Joey like he’s family, we don’t put it in words too often.”
“Pretend you don’t know him.”
“You could give a lot of weight to one thing. Say Joey heard rumors that after the bank consolidation, he wouldn’t stay manager. Might make a fellow bitter.”
“Understandable.”
“Here’s what’s wrong with it. If Joey took the money himself, why’s he been hiding out here five days? Assuming that’s Joey down there. He coulda been long gone.”
“Maybe somebody hijacked him?”
“Oh, man,” said Lou.
Jeanie Hanigan was over by the cruisers pouring coffee. Her husband was down near the trailer, aiming a water stream at a tree that had partly burned. Fighting down a grin, Bartels stomped through the snow back to his car. He got in and drove back to their house. When the Hanigans arrived, Roy shucked his coat into the same closet from which he pulled a pump-action shotgun.
“You heard the new official version?” he asked. “Joey and the two hundred K both went up in smoke.”
“Heard it? I invented it, and Lou jumped on it.”
“So it’s finders keepers. Unless someone takes what you find away from you. You think Lou’s got it?”
“At least one of them has,” Bartels said. “I can’t figure which one.”
“Howard and Lou couldn’t have stayed there all night,” Jeanie pointed out. “They were supposed to be patrolling. Katie had time. If she believed what Joey told her, I could see her torching her own trailer with him in it.”
Roy thumbed shells into the gun. “So we pay Katie a visit.” He told his wife, “Stay here. Anyone comes looking for us, shoot ‘em.”