“Waiting for me to produce it?”
“Or just to make certain that you never did.” While he thought, he repeatedly socked his fist into his opposite palm. “Who ruled Eddie’s car wreck an accident?”
“The investigating officer.”
He stopped the hand motions. “Let me guess. Fred Hawkins.”
“No. Another cop. He happened upon the wreckage. Eddie was already dead when he arrived.”
“What’s this officer’s name?”
“Why?”
“I’d like to know how he happened upon the wreckage.”
Honor stood up quickly and went out onto the deck but stayed near the exterior wall of the wheelhouse so the slender overhang of the roof would protect her from the rain.
Coburn followed her. “What?”
“Nothing. I needed some air.”
“My ass. What?”
She slumped against the wall, too tired to argue with him. “The officer who investigated Eddie’s car crash was found floating in a bayou a few weeks later. He’d been stabbed.”
“Suspects?”
“No.”
“Unsolved homicide.”
“I suppose. I never heard any more about it.”
“Thorough sons of bitches, aren’t they?” He stood shoulder to shoulder with her, staring out at the rain. “What did Eddie like to do? Bowl? Golf? What?”
“All that. He was a good athlete. He liked to hunt and fish. I’ve told you that.”
“Where’s his fishing and hunting gear?”
“At Stan’s.”
“Golf bag?”
“At Stan’s. And so are his bowling ball and the bow-and-arrow set he got for his twelfth birthday.” She said it with asperity, but he nodded thoughtfully.
“Sooner or later, I’m gonna have to pay Stan a visit.” Before she could address that, he asked her to describe Eddie.
“You’ve seen his picture.”
“I mean personality-wise. Was he serious and studious? Lighthearted? Moody? Funny?”
“Even-tempered. Conscientious. Serious when called for, but he liked to have a good time. Loved telling jokes. Liked to dance.”
“Liked making love.”
She figured he was trying to get a rise out of her, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Looking him straight in the eye, she said, “Very much.”
“Was he faithful?”