“There could be some other way their paths crossed.”
“I’ve been in touch with her husband. The Andersens never lived anywhere close to the salvage yard, haven’t ever been over there. She didn’t frequent that bar you told me about, the Pour House. Her husband wasn’t even familiar with the name. If she and Dean met, it had to be a chance encounter. We might be able to prove that if we managed to run across someone who saw them together. But there’s no foolproof method of establishing it otherwise, which is why I call it unlikely.”
He was always so precise. “‘Unlikely’ is a step in the right direction, I guess,” she said. That wasn’t as definitive as she’d hoped it would be, but it was worth mentioning to Finch, worth double-checking to see if they could find some other connection.
“Butch, on the other hand…” her father went on.
Unsure whether she’d heard correctly, Francesca gripped the blanket tighter. “Did you say Butch?”
“I did.”
Jonah sat on the bed beside her, and she leaned over to share the phone. “But you told me last time that you weren’t able to establish a link between Butch and Bianca.”
“I told you I was still working on it. And what I came across is definitely curious.”
“What is it?”
“They lived at the same rent-by-the-week motel for almost three months.”
Francesca’s pulse quickened. “Where was her husband?”
“She hadn’t met him yet. She was dating Butch.”
Dating Butch? That was more than a chance encounter. “I can’t believe it. How did you find out?”
“I realized it was unlikely that Butch had learned about the job at the salvage yard while living in Phoenix, which meant he’d probably moved to Prescott before interviewing there. And if that was the case, he would’ve had to stay somewhere. It wasn’t as if he had family or any history in the area. He was drifting. So I called all the hotels and motels in Prescott. Given his size, he’s distinctive. The manager of the Desert Oasis remembered him. He also remembered Bianca, because she was such a free spirit, as he put it. He said he used to catch her skinny-dipping in the pool.”
Francesca adjusted the blankets to keep them from slipping. “Was Butch already in contact with the Wheelers? Is there any way he could’ve introduced Bianca to Dean?”
“No. I called and asked a librarian in Prescott to check the microfiche for me. He found the ad. Going by the date of the paper, it wasn’t placed when Butch first came to town, so I’m guessing he was doing odd jobs for cash. According to the motel manager, he moved into the salvage yard after the Wheelers hired him, into a little apartment off the office.”
“The manager knew this?”
“Butch bragged about the compensation package, which included room and board.”
That apartment off Butch’s office was most likely where Julia had lived when they’d taken her in. Francesca had seen it. “And Bianca never went out there to visit him?”
“They’d broken up by then. Apparently, the day they split was memorable, too. The manager said he’d never seen such a terrible fight. He almost called the cops. They were both out of control, screaming and throwing things. It took him and three other tenants to break it up. At that point, Butch got in his car and drove off. A few days later, he landed the job at the salvage yard and moved out.”
“Don’t tell me. That fight was over another woman,” Francesca said.
“You got it. The manager heard Bianca yelling about some lingerie Butch had purchased for the young lady next door. She’d found the receipt in one of his pockets.”
Francesca let Jonah hold the phone for them. “But why, after several years, would he kill her?”
“Maybe he tried to rekindle the romance and she rebuffed him. Or they had an affair and she threatened to tell his wife. Who can say? I only know she had a lot of very personal contact with Butch, but I can’t prove she even knew Dean.”
“You’re amazing, Dad. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“I like doing it. Keeps me fresh.”
Jonah was so close. It would’ve been easy to melt into him, but Francesca resisted. “And it gives you a good excuse to skip out on antique hunting with Mom.”
He chuckled. “That, too.”
“Any chance you’d like to see what you can find out about a seventeen-year-old runaway from California named Julia? I’m having trouble digging up a last name. She went to work for the Wheelers, lived with them for a bit—”
“—and now she’s missing and likely dead.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll get on it,” he said, and hung up before she could thank him again.
Jonah hadn’t heard the first part of the conversation. “What’d I miss?” he asked.
“I’ll explain in the car. We’ve got to talk to Dean.”
He climbed off the bed without touching her. “You shower and dress. I’ll make breakfast.”
Finch and Hunsacker refused to let them see Dean. Jonah managed to arrange it only by going over their heads to the sheriff, who ultimately agreed to the interview because of how bad the department would look if they prosecuted the wrong guy. Although Jonah prevailed in the end, Finch had insisted on being present. He made his displeasure obvious as he sat in the corner, glowering, while Jonah and Francesca took chairs across a small table from a bewildered and sleep-deprived Dean.
They’d also asked if Dean would like an attorney to join them. He hadn’t been at the yard when his family invoked that right. But his mother was still trying to select one she felt would be good, and he didn’t want to wait. According to Finch, all he could talk about was going home. He wouldn’t insist on anything he felt might delay that.
“Wh-what’s going on?” Dean asked. “What are you guys doing here?”
Jonah deferred to Francesca. Knowing Dean’s relationship with his mother was a close one, he felt Dean might be more responsive to a female.
“We’d like to visit with you, Dean,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Dean sat on his hands. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, Francesca. I—I was only doing what I was told. I had to get the panties back.”
Jonah wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have hurt her, but neither was he convinced that Dean was the Dead Mule Canyon killer.