over the plates; the dishwasher was on the fritz, so for the time being, he was washing everything by hand.
“It’s just so fucking frustrating,” Cart said. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of sloppy work they’re doing on this investigation. I mean, he’s been dead for over a week. Blunt force trauma to the head. He’s lying in the grass at the rest stop, but his car’s not there. He’s supposed to be there to buy drugs, but why the hell he has to drive all the way out there, nobody can say. Tell me how that adds up to a drug deal gone bad.”
“That’s what Lender’s saying?”
Cart grunted.
“What about Swinney?” Theo asked.
“She doesn’t like it, but she’s not going to contradict him in front of the patrol officers.” Theo heard more wine being poured, and when he looked over his shoulder, Cart was taking big drinks. He wiped his mouth when he finished and said, “I mean, do some fucking policework. He was wearing mismatched socks, for Christ’s sake. His car’s thirty miles away. Someone killed him, dressed him, and dragged him out there.”
“Maybe he just put on the wrong socks.”
“Nope. We talked to a woman—the chief sent me and Peterson out there, to the apartment. She said she’d seen him standing outside, waiting for someone. She was sure he was barefoot. She said she thought he was going to burn his feet on account of the day was so hot.”
Theo thought about Vicki Miller, who had told him about Cal waiting outside, and he decided he’d call her and see if she was the same woman who remembered seeing Cal barefoot.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Theo said. “You’d make a great detective. You’re already doing better work than Lender and Swinney.”
Cart made a disgusted noise.
“You are.”
“You’ve got to have a degree to be a detective.”
“So get a degree.”
Cart made the same noise again.
“Why not? If you’re right about Upchurch and he’s not going to retire anytime soon, you’ve got time. You’re plenty smart. If you need help, I’ll do my best unless it’s math.”
“I’m not going back to school.”
“Why not?”
Cart threw back the rest of the glass of wine. That crazy grin broke out across his face again. “Come here,” he said, “and let me show you what I do to pretty long-haired boys with too much book learning.”
17
By the end of the first week, Auggie was exhausted. On top of homework, creating content for his platform, managing his accounts, actually going to class, and hanging out with friends, he’d been spending two hours every day with Dylan at the gym. The workouts were ferocious. Dylan was relentless. And Auggie was aware that the way Dylan treated him—like an adult, demanding the best from Auggie and not settling for anything less, forcing him to try new things like meditation and tai chi in search of spiritual balance—was something he’d never had before, something he’d craved. He was also aware, at the back of his mind, that he was spending too much money; the blender bottles, protein shakes, and recovery drinks had set him back another two hundred dollars. Set Fer back, to be accurate.
On Friday, he dragged himself out of his last class and considered going back to the house for a nap. Instead, though, he forced himself to cross campus, heading for Liversedge and Theo’s office. And after a few minutes outside, he started to feel better. The heat had broken, and the air was cool enough to make Auggie think of fall. People filled the quad: a circle of long-haired guys and girls with piercings and ripped jeans playing hacky sack; a shirtless guy—Auggie had to tear his gaze away—walking a rope he’d tied between two trees; a pair of freshman girls still wearing their orientation t-shirts and fighting an impromptu battle with branches as swords; a girl with full tattoo sleeves and a mane of curly brown hair reading poetry to the girl whose head was resting in her lap.
Inside Liversedge, of course, the energy dwindled. Auggie rode up the elevator with a pasty-faced guy who smelled like toothpaste and kept picking at the back of his hand. On the third floor, he had a quick look into the English Department’s main office, where a pair of matronly women were stapling things and talking about Jane the Virgin. They both vehemently agreed that Jane was better off with Michael, but Rafael had what one of the women called ‘SA,’ which Auggie mentally decoded to sex appeal.