He seemed to relax before introducing himself as the state fire investigator and handing me his card. “Dirk Bromley. We’ll be here most of the day completing our investigation. We’d like to ask Mr. Sweet some questions. Do you know if he’ll be stopping by today or if we should plan to interview him at his residence?”
“He’s at his farm today. He runs part of his business from there, too.”
He nodded. “We’ll head over to talk to him after lunch.”
I texted Truman to make sure the plan was okay with him and then gave the investigator the farm’s address. Dirk said I was welcome to begin boarding up the place, and when I asked if there was anything of value inside, he said that was something he’d only be able to discuss with Truman. He indicated that a sheriff’s deputy would remain at the property until it was appropriately secured. That didn’t ease my mind until I recognized the deputy Truman had described as the man who’d taken his statement the other day.
I hesitated for a few moments before finally deciding to give him further information. “If you determine it was arson, you need to know that Truman has an active harasser.”
The man’s eyes widened only slightly before he resumed his professional expression. “Can you give me the person’s name and the particular details of this harassment?”
I summarized it as much as possible and told him that if the fire was set deliberately, it was most likely done by Patrick Stanner, which was tricky considering his relationship to the county sheriff.
The investigator nodded, but I could see I’d given him information he’d rather not have had. It made the situation much trickier.
“And does Mr. Sweet still have the note left at his house?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ll make sure you get a chance to see it when you come by for the interview.”
He nodded and reentered the building while I continued on to Mikey and Tiller’s place to shower, dress, and swap out vehicles again.
Tiller and Mikey came with me to board up the shop, but rather than do the heavy lifting, Mikey took the opportunity to wander up and down the street and pop his head into most of the shops to chat up the owners. He was unassuming and social enough to put people at ease right away, and most everyone already knew him as “that famous footballer’s boyfriend” anyway.
When he returned to the shop, he’d amassed a ton of helpful information.
“Bearwood Realty has had their sign vandalized five times this year. They don’t pay into the pension fund. They assumed the vandalism was done by pranksters. The coffee shop hasn’t had any problems at all. They don’t pay into the pension fund, but Yasmin’s brother is the sheriff’s department accountant. Oh, and Dr. Allan’s vet clinic doesn’t pay either, but his mother is the receptionist at the sheriff’s department. Small towns, am I right? What else?”
He took a minute to think about it while I got even angrier on Truman’s behalf.
“Bolo’s Market pays into the fund. When their alarm gets tripped, they get incredible response rates from the department, so they said they’re never stopping their payments.” Mikey sighed. “This place is fucked-up.”
“I wonder what the mayor’s involvement is,” I said. “How does the county sheriff’s department get away with running this town like it’s their own?”
Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I realized I’d said that in hearing distance from Deputy Stone.
Fuck.
The man politely looked away, but it was clear he’d heard. Was he going to go back and tell the sheriff what I’d said?
I thought about confronting him about the situation, but that would put him in a position where he couldn’t simply forget what he’d just overheard. And, damn, did I want him to forget.
Had I just put an even bigger target on Truman’s head?
“I’ve got to get back to the farm,” I said, tossing my tools in the back of their SUV. “I don’t want him to sit through the investigator’s interview with just Barney for support.”
Mikey asked what was going on with Barney. “I really thought they were an item.”
“No idea,” I admitted. “At first I thought they were dating. Then Truman said they weren’t. Not sure the old man’s gotten the message.”
“It’s creepy,” Tiller muttered as he closed the hatch.
Mikey shrugged. “I mean, it’s not creepy because of the age difference, really. But I agree it’s a little creepy because Truman never shows the slightest bit of romantic or sexual interest in Barney, yet Barney seems to think they’re an item. And they were, at least at one point. Why would Truman date someone he was that uncomfortable with?”
“My only guess is Barney wants Truman,” I admitted. “And Truman probably wants to be wanted.”
The whole situation put my teeth on edge, and my frustration mounted as my phone began to buzz with a new slew of calls and messages from my mom and my sister Sophie.
I waved Tiller and Mikey off before heading to where I’d parked the rental bike. I turned off notifications on my phone from my family members so I’d no longer get their interruptions. I could only handle one crisis at a time, and right now I wanted to help with this one as much as Truman would let me.
When I got to the farmhouse, I was disappointed to see Chaya’s car gone and Barney’s still there. The gate was closed, so I pulled up and pressed the buzzer.
Movement off to my left caught my attention, and I saw Barney’s thicker form carrying trash bags out of a garden shed and stacking them up in a pile. As much as I disliked the guy, his helping Truman clean out Berry’s things was a great idea.
The gate swung open, and I pulled down the drive before parking the bike. Truman came out of the front door and waved hello, his face just starting to widen into a smile before he spotted Barney.
And then it flashed through confusion to anger.
“What are you doing?” Truman called across the garden plot that separated the corner of the house from the storage shed. He hopped down the porch stairs and raced down the gravel path to yank the trash bag out of Barney’s hands. “What is this?”
As Truman ripped the bag open to reveal what looked like brightly colored feathers, Barney crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. “We talked about this.”
“About throwing my costumes away? No we didn’t! You said you were organizing them, not trashing them. Why? Why would you do this? These are the costumes I wear to do story hour at the library.”
“Well, you’re no longer doing story time, so it’s a moot point.”
Truman’s face showed a mixture of hurt and defiance. I wanted to soothe the hurt part and cheer on the other.
“Why not?” Truman challenged. “Give me one good reason I can’t volunteer at the library again.”
Barney sighed. “We’ve been over this. It’s not appropriate. I could be accused of playing favorites because of our relationship.”
“We’re friends. This is a small town. You’re friends with plenty of the volunteers. That’s how we became friends in the first place! I signed up to volunteer.”
Barney reached for the bag in Truman’s arms and set it on the pile before grasping the smaller man by the shoulders. “I understand you’re upset, sweet pea, but this is part of the cleanup we talked about. You asked for my help clearing things out, and I’m helping make some of the tough decisions. That’s what people who care about you do. I know this isn’t easy. None of it is. But you’ll be happy when we’re through. Just think of all the gardening tools you can keep in here. We’ll get it organized as your very own garden palace.”