Free Hog Heaven by Ben Rehder Page B

out the .357 since it’s a revolver and the brass wouldn’t eject.”
    “Makes sense. Also I’d say the audio sounds like just one handgun, or two guns of the same caliber, rather than two different calibers. But I figure just one gun.”
    Garza said, “I think so, too, and that helps. Wouldn’t you agree that if it’s a handgun, there’s a better chance the shooter was alone? Because it would be damn difficult to drive and shoot a rifle at the same time.”
    “Absolutely. And any driver shooting a handgun, or even a rifle, would have to be shooting left-handed. Although I have no idea how that’s helpful.”
    Garza frowned. “Wait a sec. If you’re shooting a semi-automatic outside a car window—the way the brass ejects, it would likely end up inside the vehicle, don’t you think?”
    Marlin sat back down. “Maybe. Not necessarily. If the shooter had his arm extended out past the windshield—which seems likely to me—the casing would probably bounce off the glass and over the roof.”
    Garza thought about it, then raised his left hand, like he was holding a gun, trying to visualize shooting from a moving vehicle. “Yeah, I’d say you’re right. And now that I think about it, if the shooter wasn’t really trying to hit Sammy, he’d be shooting downward at the pavement or up into the air or across the road.” Garza stuck his left arm straight out, like he was making a left turn. “Like this.”
    Marlin said, “Of course, there’s the chance that none of the brass is from the shooter.”
    “Bite your tongue. Henry is processing those shells as we speak. All I want is one good fingerprint. Wouldn’t it be great to have a solid suspect by day’s end?”
    “Hate to remind you, but it’s rained a couple of times since then.”
    “You are a constant ray of sunshine and optimism.”
    “Glad to help.”
    They both went quiet for a minute.
    Marlin said, “Find anything else useful on Sammy’s phone?”
    “Nothing obvious. Something might prove useful later.”
    Marlin stood up again. “I feel like I’m forgetting to tell you something.”
    “Will you be out again all night tonight?”
    “I hope not. I’ve always got reinforcements, if it gets too crazy.” Marlin had alerted game wardens in five neighboring counties about the situation with the pig bounty, and the subsequent influx of hunters. All of those wardens were ready and willing to respond to calls in Blanco County, as needed. In fact, some of the younger ones were envious that Marlin had so many calls to keep him busy. Marlin remembered the days when he was that gung-ho himself.
    “Okay, then let’s touch base later,” Garza said. “When you wake from your beauty sleep.”
    Marlin’s phone rang. A rancher wanted assistance rounding up a loose bull on Ranch Road 3232. Marlin said he’d be there in twenty minutes.
    When he hung up, Garza said, “You’d better turn that thing off for awhile or you’ll never get any rest.”
     

CHAPTER 11
    Roy Ballard made sure that the man who was hiring him understood that he was not a private investigator.
    “Then what are you exactly?” the man asked.
    “I play the handsome stranger on various daytime dramas. Other times I play the handsome newcomer, or maybe the handsome bystander.”
    “On soap operas? You’re kidding.”
    “Actually, yes, I am kidding. I’m a legal videographer.”
    The man—his name was Grady Beech—smiled. “Okay, gotcha. Good.”
    They were seated at a table in a building called the tasting pavilion at Grady Beech’s winery. Grady Beech happened to know one of Roy Ballard’s largest clients—a woman who worked in a large insurance firm—and she had given Beech Roy’s name and number. Beech had called yesterday afternoon, and Roy had driven out from Austin this morning for this meeting. They were the only two people in the pavilion at the moment, but it was early. Not even eleven o’clock yet. Roy figured most people, even vacationers, didn’t visit a