He turned a deeper shade of crimson. “It’s just the scuttlebutt in the hood.”
“Who did you hear it from?” She was one step away from hauling his butt to the station if he didn’t start talking.
“Uh, some guy down the street, lives next to the house that was burned down.”
“Name? Number?” Trent inserted, probably sensing her impatience.
“I dunno. He’s in his forties and has a bad comb-over. That help more?”
“That it does.” She got to her feet and pressed one of her cards into Chris’s hand. “See anything suspicious, call me anytime.” Depending on how things shook out, they might be back for his alibi just for due diligence.
“Ah, sure.”
She left the house and trudged down the sidewalk.
Trent caught up. “Ted Dixon?”
“Sounds like it, but I’d like to know how he found out.”
She walked up Ted’s path and banged on his front door like his place was on fire. She was mid-knock when he answered. She lowered her hand. “We need to talk to you, Mr. Dixon.” She made a move past him into his house.
“Hey, what the— What are you doing?”
“You don’t want anyone to see you talking to the cops,” she said. “Just honoring your wish and saving us some time.”
Trent came inside, too, and Ted closed the door.
“You better have a good explanation for barging in like this.” He thrust out his chin and put his hands on his hips.
“We’ve heard you’re spreading rumors about Ms. Fox’s murder.” She laid out the more innocent explanation, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he was just a gossip.
“You’re going to have to give me more to go on here.” He swallowed, his throat bulging like a whole rat was going down.
“Really?” She angled her head. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
His peacocked stance started to crumble apart; his shoulders sagged, and his head bowed slightly forward. “I might have heard that her tongue was cut out.”
“You heard it, or you did it?”
“What? No!” he burst out. “I swear to you. I just heard about it.”
“Who told you?” She hadn’t exactly confirmed the mutilation had happened in so many words, but the subtext of the conversation was serving to unnerve Ted.
He rubbed at the back of his neck and worried his lip.
“Mr. Dixon, if you don’t start talking, I’m going to assume that you killed Ms. Fox, maybe even the girl from next door. Did you?” she pressed.
“I’d swear on the Bible, no.”
“Then where did you hear that Ms. Fox was mutilated?”
“I shouldn’t say.”
“You absolutely should.” She pulled her cuffs out, the threat of arrest implied.
Ted held up his hands and waved. “No, I’ll talk. I heard it from a friend of mine.”
“You’re going to need to get far more specific than that.” She snapped the cuffs, and Ted twitched.