“Not exactly.”
His bloodshot eyes reflected surprise when I explained the manner of death. “Carbon monoxide poisoning, huh? Damn shame.” He paused and took a swig of beer. “Seems odd one or both of ‘em didn’t just hightail it down the road. They wasn’t all that far from Raven Creek,” he ruminated, almost to himself.
“That’s the question I’d like answered.”
He looked at his watch again and I suspected he was waiting for Percy Cross to deliver his monthly check. When a loud screeching, grinding sound split the air, I looked around searching for the source.
“If you’re wondering what that gawd-awful noise is ridin’ the wind, it’s coming from the rock crushers over at the gravel company,” he intoned gravely. “Them greedy bastards never stop. Sometimes they even work at night just
