Free The Dead List by Martin Crosbie Page B

didn’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth. All I’m trying to explain is how Buttons got his name. What the hell does that have to do with Mikey covered in blood and praying out on Cobalt Street?”
    Drake heard it, and he knew that Ryberg had too. Neither of them reacted as they stored the information away for later.
    “You’re right; it has nothing to do with it.” Ryberg’s voice became serious again. “Do you know if Mr. Robinson had any enemies? Is there anyone who might not want him around?”
    Wilson reverted back to answering questions with his own questions. “No. Why would anybody want him killed?”
    Ryberg didn’t hesitate as he switched tact once again. “How did Trevor take it when you told him he couldn’t drink with you anymore?”
    “We all told him, it wasn’t just me. It was a group decision. He was a good guy, a little off, but when he became gay that changed the deal.”
    “The deal, what deal?” Ryberg pressed.
    Wilson quickly sat up straight in his chair. “No deal, it just changed the group. He had all the boxes ticked – hairdresser, living with his mother, never talked about women, hot little Monica fawning over him and he couldn’t have cared less. We should have known. Then when he told us he was going to be living with a guy, it was game over. He could drink someplace else, couldn’t he?”
    Drake asked, “So he never came back to the Legacy?”
    “Not while we were there. Why would he? He wasn’t wanted.”
    After spending an hour getting vague answers and little information they had hit on something. Ryberg asked the old logger to excuse them for a moment and enquired whether he wanted a cup of coffee or a glass of water.
    “Gentlemen, you can have five more minutes of my time, and if you don’t give me a reason to stay I will be leaving you. As I told you, I hardly knew the man. So no, I do not have time for a coffee or water.”
    Ryberg closed the door and pulled Drake down the hallway. “We have something here; I just don’t know what it is. Before he leaves get Trevor’s last name. I don’t want to spook him. Make it sound like you have it already, and you’re just confirming.”
    “Right.”
    “And what’s your take? Did it seem like he knew more about the body than he should have, or am I stretching? Sergeant Thiessen and I released a statement to the media, but we were vague with the details. We didn’t say anything about praying.”
    Drake thought of Rempel, and his comments at the crime scene. “This is a small town. Somebody could have mentioned something in a bar or a grocery store. You know how it goes, it starts with a puddle of blood, it gets turned into a halo, and then the rumors begin.”
    A few minutes later they concluded the interview. When Ryberg asked Wilson to keep them abreast of his activities and let them know if he was leaving town, he answered immediately.
    “Oh, I am leaving town. I’m off to my cabin tomorrow. I’m retired; I don’t need money, and I don’t need to hang around. There’s a murderer in this town, and I don’t want to be here. I’ll be camped out in my cabin with my thirty aught six – hunting of course.” He smiled at the two officers, once again showing off his teeth. “And before you ask, it’s out by Chilliwack Lake. You can find me there if you need me, but lay on the siren when you’re coming up the road, because if I don’t know who’s coming I’ll set the dog on you.”
    Drake opened the door for him. “Can you confirm Trevor’s last name for us, Mr. Wilson?”
    “Mid…dle…ton,” he pronounced every syllable. “Why, are you thinking about getting a cut and a blow-dry?”
    He laughed to himself as he walked away from the men, then began to hobble on one leg and looked back, grinning.
    Ryberg waited until he heard the door closing at the end of the hall before turning to Drake. “I imagine the limp is related to his insurance payout. He’s a very strange man, isn’t