Page 76 of The River We Remember

“Counselor,” he said. Although his face didn’t show it, there was a sneer in his tone.

Long before she was close, Charlie caught the odor that emanated from the dark circles of sweat soaking the underarms of his work shirt.

“Good afternoon, Tyler,” she said.

“Know what I heard, Counselor? I heard you’re going to defend Bluestone. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“You won’t defend me if I get myself in a scrape with the law, but you’ll defend a murderer?”

“He’s been accused, Tyler, not convicted.”

“Hell, good luck. Everybody knows about Bluestone.”

“Knows what exactly?”

“For starters, he’s a redskin. And a thieving one to boot.”

Although he sounded like a character out of a John Wayne Western, the meat of his sentiment was one that was shared by others in Black Earth County. It came from an old wound, Charlie knew, unhealed and maybe unhealable.

“Mind if I ask you about the thieving part?” Charlie said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Quinn fired Noah for stealing gas, is that correct?”

“Damn right.”

“How did Jimmy know he was stealing?”

Creasy stepped to the pump and grabbed a small notebook attached with twine. He opened it, and Charlie saw that it was a log of dates and gallons.

“We write it all down here, me and J.P. and Able Grange and Bluestone. Jimmy, too, when he was alive. Last time gas was delivered and Jimmy did the calculations, the numbers didn’t match. He asked all of us about it. We all told him it was Bluestone.”

“And you all knew this how?”

“Seen him put gas in his own truck when he thought nobody was around.”

“You witnessed this?”

“Yep. And I told Jimmy.”

“And Jimmy confronted Noah?”

Creasy laughed as if he was enjoying himself immensely. “Oh, yeah. That was something, let me tell you.”

“An argument?”

“Knock-down, drag-out.”

“Blows were thrown?”

“Well, no, but a lot of hot words got exchanged.”

“What did they say to each other?”

“I can’t tell you exactly.”