Stone Cross (Arliss Cutter #2) - Marc Cameron Page 0,74

girlfriend—What do they call it? Occam’s Razor. But there’s a chance it . . .” Her voice trailed off as she continued to scan the gym.

Cutter waited a beat for her to finish. When she didn’t, he asked, “Is everything all right?”

“Sorry,” Birdie said, snapping out of her daze. “Been a long day, that’s all. There’s a chance it could also be one of the teachers. I caught Mr. Richards surfing some porn sites on his school computer a couple weeks ago. You’d think he’d know better because I make it clear that I get a printout every month from district IT. Judging from the sites he visited, he’s got a thing for ‘sturdy’ women. Sarah Mead could certainly be described as sturdy. Maybe he has a type.”

“Maybe,” Cutter said. “Surprised you didn’t fire him.”

“I should have,” Birdie said. “But he was crying so hard he blew snot all over my office. Sobbing about how it was just so lonely out here and promising me it wouldn’t happen again. Frankly, I don’t care how many sturdy rumps he looks at online so long as they’re adult sturdy rumps and he looks at them at home on his personal computer. It’s not easy to get teachers who want to live in these conditions. Most of them are incredible, but we get more than our share of misfits too.”

“So Abe Richards is a misfit who likes sturdy women.” Cutter couldn’t blame him for that, though he preferred the sturdy women he associated with to be flesh and blood rather than pixilated. “Who else?”

“Donna Taylor mushes dogs out toward the lodge most nights. She’s subbing for Mr. Gordon’s class while he’s out getting surgery. He’s supposed to run a three-hundred-mile race in a few months in Bethel, so he asked her to keep his dogs in good shape while he’s gone. I used to mush with my dad when I was younger so I was going to help him, but I really don’t have time, so this is better. Anyway, there’s not enough snow for a sled right now, but she hitches the team up to an ATV and runs them a couple of hours each night when the ground freezes up.”

“So she has opportunity,” Cutter said. “How about motive?”

“I don’t know her very well,” Birdie said. “She’s only been here a little over a month . . .”

“Don’t overthink it,” Cutter said. “Just go with your gut. You mentioned her because she’s odd?”

Birdie laughed. “Most people out here are odd in one way or another. I know I am. Ms. Taylor’s got something going, there’s no doubt about that. Doesn’t everybody? No, I mentioned her because she was out with the dogs last night. That’s all.”

“Anyone else?”

Birdie’s face darkened, like she needed to spit. “Vitus Paul isn’t exactly a saint.”

“The one who found the body?” Cutter said, taken aback. “Doesn’t he work for you?”

“He does,” she said. “Oh, he’s all right . . . I guess.” Birdie lowered her voice, eyes flitting around the gym again. “It’s his cousin who’s a piece of shit. We should probably talk to him.”

“What’s his name?”

Birdie looked at her shoes, then up at Cutter. “Never mind. He’s just a guy I don’t want around Jolene. He probably doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Is that why you keep eyeing the doors?” Cutter asked. “Is some guy giving you problems?”

Birdie took a deep breath. “You could say that.”

“Has he threatened your daughter?” A passing woman glanced at his frown and almost dropped her plate of food.

“As far as I know he hasn’t spoken to her,” Birdie said. “I don’t think he’d hurt her, but he’s behaved viciously toward me.”

Cutter’s hackles went up. “Physically?”

She nodded. The lines on her chin quivered.

“Is he here at the potluck?”

Birdie blew out a long breath, throwing her head back, eyes closed, like she was upset with her own behavior. “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

“What’s his name?”

“I . . .”

“Don’t worry about getting somebody in trouble,” Cutter said. “I’ll speak to him if you think there’s any chance he might be involved in Rolf’s murder. It doesn’t mean I’ll arrest him.”

“Believe me.” Birdie’s chin quivered. The muscles along her jaw clenched now. “If he threatens me again I’d just as soon you beat the shit out of him.”

“That’s kind of what I do,” Cutter said.

“I gathered that,” Birdie said.

“So what’s his name?”

“Sascha Green.”

“Sascha Green?” Cutter repeated.

“You know him?”

Cutter nodded. “I’m familiar with the name.”

“How?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cutter said. “Tell me about Green’s connection