Free Buck Fever (Blanco County Mysteries) by Ben Rehder Page A

deal. Garza could sense that he wasn't dealing with a bad kid. Just your average confused youth. The kind who was slow to answer questions, but not clever enough to lie his way out of trouble. Garza continued: “We found a dead body buried in a bridge over at Mucho Loco. You know where that is?”
    Willie nodded.
    “So far, we're not sure what the cause of death is—but we don't think there was any foul play.”
    Willie nodded again.
    Garza looked Willie straight in the eye. “The dead man had your phone number written on his hand.”
    Willie looked at the ground. If he wasn't involved, he'd be smiling by now, knowing he was free and clear.
    “Willie, before you answer my next question, let me tell you a little something about the way the judicial system works.” Garza paused and took a drink of the iced tea Thelma had brought him. A very kind woman, bless her heart.
    “Sometimes folks get involved with stuff they don't want to be involved in. Their first inclination is to cover it up, get out of it somehow. You know what happens? They end up in way more trouble than they would have gotten into in the first place. Now, my guess is that this guy somehow died—through nobody's fault—and someone got nervous and did something a little stupid with the body. If that's the case, I really don't see where anybody would get into any trouble at all.”
    Willie looked back at the trailer anxiously. “I really, really don't want to get screwed around on this deal. I didn't do anything wrong, too much.”
    Garza nodded, thinking: Sure, Willie, nothing wrong at all. Other than illegally disposing of a corpse and failing to report a death. “ Tell me what happened, Willie, and I think everything's gonna work out just fine.”
    Willie took a deep breath. “The guy you found—his name's Michael. I worked with him on the surveying crew.”
    “Was he from around here?”
    “No, Austin.”
    That would explain why Garza hadn't heard about a missing person.
    “He came over one night and we were drinking…”
    “And getting high?”
    “Yeah. See, Michael had asthma that would bother him some when we were out in the field. He'd have to sit for a while and catch his breath. And he had an inhaler that he used sometimes. But he'd still get high, saying that it actually made it easier to breathe. So we smoked a joint and I noticed that it tasted a little funny at first. Michael did, too. But by the time we were done, we didn't even notice it anymore. Then we smoked another one later. Michael used his inhaler a few times, and it seemed like he was getting a little sick…out of breath…but he said pot never did this to him, so it must be something in the air. We were smoking our last joint when he really started gasping. I went inside to get him a glass of water, and when I came back, he was just laying there. His eyes were open, but I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.”
    “What'd you do?”
    Willie looked embarrassed. “I felt for a heartbeat. I didn't find one, so I tried CPR on him.”
    “Are you trained in CPR?”
    Willie shook his head no.
    “Then what?”
    “I started to go inside and get Grandma, but she was asleep. And you got to understand that I was really smashed…between the pot and the beer. So I just went to bed, hoping everything would be cool when I woke up. But in the morning, Michael was still behind the barn, in the same position.”
    Garza resisted a strong urge to grab the kid and shake him like a rag doll. Why on earth hadn't he even called 911?
    Willie saw the look on Garza's face. “Man, I was really freakin’. I didn't do anything wrong, but I just knew I'd get in trouble for somethin’. It had to be something wrong with the weed. So I knew I had to do something with Michael.”
    “And that's where the bridge at Mucho Loco comes in?”
    Willie nodded.
    “You buried him and just forgot about it all?” Garza asked incredulously.
    “What was I supposed to do?”
    “Call for an ambulance,