caught him by surprise when she walked into his open garage. Ted Nugent, blasting from a boom box at his feet, had kept him from hearing her car approach. A window fan on the floor blew air toward him.
He sat on a five-gallon bucket with no shirt on, wearing dusty jeans and cowboy boots. He cradled a red and black rooster in his lap with one leather gloved hand, and held a small instrument in his other hand that appeared to be sharpening the long black talons of the rooster. When he saw Josie, he stood and placed the rooster in a metal cage on a workbench behind him, then turned off the music.
“I hear those fighters run about twenty-five hundred dollars. That true?” Josie asked.
“I wouldn’t know,” Bloster said. He pulled a bandanna from his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his face.
“I’ve heard for years there were cockfights out here on Saturday nights, but I’ve never been able to pin one down. There’s supposedly a caliche pit back in here that gets used for cockfights and dog races. You ever hear any rumors like that?” Josie asked.
“Not a one.”
“Word is, it’s by the windmill and water tanks.” Josie gestured behind her where the top of a windmill could be seen over the trees. “Want to take a drive back there and check it out? I’m guessing you have some insider knowledge.” She pointed to three metal cages along the far wall of his garage, each containing a rooster, all sitting idle in the heat of the day.
“You got a warrant to search the land, then go for it. I got no say in the matter. There’s no law against having roosters, so you can take your suspicions elsewhere. You got something else to say to me?”
Josie noted the pocket holster in his front jeans’ pocket and the butt of the pistol in plain view.
“You getting him ready for the fights this weekend?” she asked.
“What do you want with me?” he asked.
“Actually, I came to ask you a few questions about some expenditures you made for the sheriff’s department.”
He said nothing, but he picked up a beer bottle from the floor and took a long drink. He was deeply tanned, with a smooth chest ripped with muscle. Bloster was good looking in an intensely physical, imposing way; he had a dangerous quality that was both appealing and disturbing.
Josie leaned against the doorframe of his garage and took her time continuing. “In looking at Red’s finances, I found some receipts for guns purchased by your department. In fact, two guns totaled almost four thousand dollars. Must be some kind of special guns.”
“Seeing how you work for the city police, and that equipment is for the sheriff’s department, I don’t think it’s any of your concern.”
“Well, Hack, seeing how I’m a taxpayer and those receipts are open for public record, I think they are my concern. I think your little club is selling guns to your department. You’re making a profit all over the place, aren’t you?” she asked.
“You’re out of your jurisdiction. You got no business out here.”
“No? I thought I was doing you a professional courtesy. We can talk at the department. We can even ask the sheriff to join us if that makes you feel better.”
Bloster took two steps toward her and shoved her chest. She fell back against the garage wall, and he drew his fist back as if to throw a punch. She pushed herself off the wall and bent forward, propelling her knee up into his stomach. He stumbled back from her and let his hand slide down to his front pocket toward the gun.
Josie pulled her gun and pointed it toward Bloster’s chest in one swift motion.
His face registered shock. He raised both hands in the air and took a step back, bumping into the workbench.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“You’re climbing higher on my list of suspects every day.”
“Don’t come on my property spouting shit you can’t back up, lady.” He pointed a finger directly at the barrel of the gun.
She felt the heat in her face and struggled to keep her voice level. “Then don’t play games with me. You’re a dirty cop, and I will expose you before this is over.”
Bloster brought his hands back down to his sides. Josie kept her gun out but pointed now at the ground.
“I had nothing to do with Red’s death. What purpose would it have? We were members of the same