Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,32
before, but you never do anything. This is your fault. I told you it was a long time coming—”
Adele held up her hands. “He hasn’t done anything illegal.”
Mr. Rosenbaum’s hand inched a bit more away from the phone. He leaned his arm against the table now, as if the effort of holding it aloft exhausted him. “Then what in the hell are you here for?” he said.
“I just want to ask about this fellow, Stinkeye. Does he have a real name? I don’t particularly want to keep calling him—”
“Heinrich,” said Mr. Rosenbaum. “He’s a hobo. A drifter. Doesn’t really belong here, but I can’t seem to convince him of that. I called the cops on him a few times. He spent a couple of nights in the drunk tank, but always ends up back here. Whatever you think he did, he did it.” Mr. Rosenbaum nodded, his three chins jiggling. “In fact, I’ll testify to it, whatever you want. If he killed someone, he definitely did it. Rape, probably did it. Steal something, he stole from me before, you know,” he said, quickly pointing a hand at Adele, then John. “Took a couple of my tents. Also tried to steal my canoe.”
He pointed to the red canoe as if unsure if they could see it displayed across the entire wall.
Adele shifted. “You’re saying he murdered someone?”
Mr. Rosenbaum shrugged and said, “I’m just saying, whatever you think he did, he probably did it. I’m not claiming any knowledge. I didn’t have any part in it. Just remember that.”
Adele nodded, exhausted by the sheer energy from the large man. “Yes, whatever he did, he did it. But you didn’t know about it, and had nothing to do with it. Got you. Can I ask, does he own the land where he stays? They said it’s behind your cabin, along the trail. Near an old oil well.”
Mr. Rosenbaum’s eyes narrowed. “He’s back there? Dammit. I told him to get out of there a week ago. He said he would. I threatened him…” He quickly trailed off and muttered, “I mean, I asked politely. Why, what did he do?”
Adele just shook her head. “Nothing that I know of yet. I just wanted to know if he owned the land. We have your permission to go speak to him. I’m guessing you own it?”
Mr. Rosenbaum’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe… What happened on it?”
Adele bit her lip. “Look, I’m not here to get you in trouble for anything. I just need to know if I have permission to go speak to this guy. If you want him off your land, I can do that for you.”
Mr. Rosenbaum seemed caught, unsure if this was a trap. A duplicitous mind, Adele had long learned, always searched for duplicity in others. But at last, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Fine. Yeah, go. Get him off my land. Rough him up if you have to. I won’t tell.”
He turned and glanced back at the TV, glued to it again, and seemingly once more indifferent to the agents in his office.
Adele sighed and passed a hand over her face.
This time, as she and John marched out of the office and moved toward the dirt trail behind the house, circumventing the cabin, John muttered, “I’m beginning to think that it is good I can’t understand. I didn’t get a word of that, and yet, I wanted to punch him all the same.”
“Don’t forget, you’re on a short leash,” Adele said. “Please don’t punch anyone.”
John shrugged. “If they need punching, I might have to. So what are we doing now?”
Adele filled him in, detailing Stinkeye and the accusations of the female campers.
“I caught a bit of that,” John said. “It didn’t seem like the camp owner had much love for this fellow. He’s giving us permission to get him?”
Adele nodded. “Yeah; didn’t seem to like the guy. Said he tried to steal from him.”
One of John’s hands hovered over his holster. “Good,” he said. “Let me take the lead.”
Like a kid leading the way to a candy store, John hurried, his long strides outpacing Adele as he moved up the dirt road and toward a rusted gate at the edge of the trail.
Adele exhaled deeply, her breath fogging in plumes, and she followed after her partner.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When the campers had said Stinkeye lived along the trail, up by an old oil well, Adele hadn’t realized just how far into the campgrounds they’d meant.
As they walked along the open stretch of dusty road, heading