Read Online The Quiet Streets of Winslow by Judy Troy - Free Book Online

license, and he said, “Yes. That’s him, I believe, the fellow in the picture.”
    â€œHow about this man?” I said. “Have you seen him before?” I showed him a photocopy of Mike Early’s driver’s license.
    â€œNo. He’s not familiar to me.”
    â€œWhat other information can you give me about Jody that would be easier to say here, away from your wife?”
    He hesitated, his face shiny with sweat, despite the coolness of the afternoon. “The day I replaced that nozzle,” he said, “after she told me about the boyfriend, or whoever he was to her, she asked if she could call me if she ever needed help. ‘Help with what?’ I said, and she said, ‘With anything, because you never know what could happen.’ I said, ‘Well, I’m the landlord, so if it’s related to the house, sure, call me,’ and she said, ‘Can I call you if it’s not related to the house?’
    â€œI didn’t know what to say. I thought about Mary and what she might think. I thought about the fact that Jody could have been in some kind of trouble, that maybe she was trying to tell me that. Then, as I was standing there, before I said a word, she unbuttoned her sweaterand took it off and removed her bra. Just stood in front of me like that, half naked, and I said, ‘You’d best call the police, if that’s the kind of thing you’re talking about,’ and I got out of there as fast as I could. To tell you the truth, it was creepy to me.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t tell your wife.”
    He looked at the wide, windswept street, at the end of which a train was passing on the Santa Fe Rail Line. “I cheated on my wife once,” he said. “She said she would leave me next time, and there hasn’t been one. She wouldn’t have believed the story about Jody, that I hadn’t asked for it somehow, or hadn’t acted on what Jody was offering me. You probably don’t believe me yourself.”
    â€œLet’s go back a bit. What do you mean, creepy? Why did you have that response?”
    â€œJody was young. And small as she was, she looked younger still. I have a daughter and granddaughters, Deputy Sheriff. I may have cheated on my wife, but it wasn’t with a kid or somebody who resembled one.”
    â€œDid Jody ever call you after the conversation?” I asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid she ever mention being afraid of anybody?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œHas anybody ever owned this rental besides you? Or rented it out on your behalf?”
    â€œI bought it from an elderly man who had lived there most of his life,” Bowman said. “That was fifteen years ago. And nobody has ever rented it out but me.”
    When I pulled up to his house I saw his wife watching from the living room window, looking relieved to see her husband coming up the walkway.
    I T WAS AFTER eight when I returned to Black Canyon City, and I had supper at the Rock Springs Café. Audrey Birdsong waited on me. A year and a half ago, before her husband, Carl, had died, they had lived behind me, on Spencer Street. I used to run into the two of them walking at dusk in the neighborhood, before Carl got sick, and we’d stop and talk a minute. I had liked them both. Audrey had a freckled face that was wide at the cheekbones and narrow at the chin, and she resembled Julie Aspenall in terms of her height and long hair.
    â€œSince when are you waitressing?” I said. As far as I knew, she did people’s taxes.
    â€œFor a while now,” she said, “except during tax season. It’s not as bad as it looks, Sam, and it keeps me busy, which is good for me. It keeps me from being lonely.”
    So you’re not dating anybody, I wanted to say. But I didn’t know what the etiquette was, where a death was concerned, and I didn’t want to seem forward or insensitive. What I did say was, “It can be lonely