BooksBarbecue
Back The House Party
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. April 2008
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. Author’s Note
  55. Acknowledgments
  56. About the Author
  57. About the Publisher

Trip turned back to the tractor that he’d been working on. “I won’t let anything happen to him,” he said, his voice muffled by the hood.

Mrs. O’Connor put her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I’m counting on you,” she said. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

8

Detective Murray left Trip O’Connor to think it over and drove back down River Road to follow up with the officers who’d stayed at the house to survey the scene. He glimpsed the river through the trees, running quickly from recent rain. There was more in the forecast for the weekend. He made a mental note to request that an officer be posted near the bridge in town over the weekend. Tourists who came out from the city to tube and drink beer on the river often got themselves into sticky situations when the water levels rose.

He pulled down the driveway and saw two officers waiting for him by their squad car. “Find anything useful?” he asked as he climbed out.

One of the officers beckoned for him to follow. “It looks like they might have entered through the garage,” he said, leading Murray over to the door. Inside the door was a stack of standard-issue wine and liquor boxes, printed with the names of wineries and distilleries. The officer lifted a flap on one of them and showed Murray the shipping label: mason liquors, stockton, nj. “It looks like whoever brought the alcohol pulled into the garage to unload. There are tire prints in the gravel that back that up.”

Murray glanced over at an area of gravel that had been marked off with caution tape. “There must be a lot of cars in and out of here in the course of a day.”

“The contractor said he parks his pickup over there, on the grass,” the officer said, pointing to a muddy area near the trees. “According to him, no one has parked in the garage. We took pictures of the tracks. Wide wheelbase, deep markings—it was a truck, maybe a pickup. It’s hard to say for sure, but my guess is whoever was driving hadn’t taken their snow tires off yet for the spring.”

“The garage was open?” Murray asked.

“The contractor said that it was closed. They’d just installed the door. It should have been very secure. He looked through the house for the opener, but he couldn’t find it.”

Murray frowned. “So the vandals knew right where to go, and presumably they had the garage opener.” He sighed. “Are we looking at this the wrong way?”

“You’re thinking it could have been the contractor?” the officer asked.

Murray thought about the older guy in overalls that they’d met that morning and shook his head. “More likely his crew. You spoke with him. What do you think?”