Split Black /#Wattys 2021

Chapter Sixteen

John caught up with Patrick Crawford, Donna Greenhouse's auto mechanic ex-boyfriend, at his job at Confederate Muffler and Auto Repair. A grizzled older man with a big nose, sad eyes, and a belly that reminded John of a walrus's steered John outdoors to a corner of the building as soon as he showed his badge, whisking any scent of trouble with the law out of the lobby. A couple of bored-looking housewife types and a mustached man in jeans, riffling through newspapers to the blare of Fox News, craned their necks and stared after them anyway.

"Walrus" took John over to the garage area, waddled over to a red Pontiac, and hollered underneath it. A grubby young man, mid-twenties, with shoulder-length brown fuzz tied back in a ponytail, rolled himself out from under and stood up. As the boss talked in his ear, he wiped his grimy hands on a rag, casting glances at John.

The mechanic half-sidled his way over, as if John were a poisonous snake, and started to reach out for a handshake, then noticed how greasy his hands were and pulled his hand back. "I'm Patrick Crawford. What's this about?"

John showed his badge, wondering whether Tyler Greenhouse's assessment of him hadn't been the right one. That would be something for Petersburg PD to sort out if Crawford ever gave them an excuse. "Detective John Robin, Richmond Police," he said. "I understand you used to date Donna Greenhouse?"

The man's head dipped up and down once at the name. "Yes, sir. This about her old man?" The question ended with a hopeful uptick that made John's brain jump ahead to the probable unsaid ending: ... and not about me?

"Actually, it is. How well do you know Dr. Greenhouse?"

"Well enough to know the guy is psycho. I didn't really want to get to know him any better than that."

John grabbed his pen from his breast pocket. "Really, why's that?"

Crawford scratched the back of his neck. "What is this about? What did Tyler do?"

"I'm really not at liberty to discuss the case," said John. "But if you can tell me what made you doubt Dr. Greenhouse's mental stability, it would be very helpful."

"If I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I never would have believed it," said Crawford, turning to lead John around the corner as if what he had to say might be overheard even over the whirr of pneumatic wrenches and the click and clank of tools.

He spread his hands in the age-old gesture: It's not my fault. "I didn't used to believe Donna, because when I'd come over, he'd seem like a great guy. She'd tell me stuff and I'd be like, 'What's your problem, saying stuff like that about your old man?' 'Cause I just knew there was no way he'd yell at her all the time and flip out and break dishes and stuff like she said."

He fiddled with his coverall zipper. "I mean, I got the vibe he didn't think Donna should be dating an auto mechanic. He thought she should've stayed in school for her MBA, but ..."

John glanced up from his notepad. Crawford shrugged. "I guess any dad might think that. Especially some hot-shot consultant who's traveling all over the world. But—" He put an arm up to lean on the weathered bricks. "One day I go over there, and as I'm driving in I notice Tyler out in front of the place, at those iron picnic tables. He's got his nose in some engineering book this thick." Crawford held his thumb and forefinger up three inches apart.

"I go around the side and ride up, and Donna's up there in a panic. She's been on the phone and hasn't cleared up last night's supper dishes, and she's got to get the mess cleaned up before he comes back up. Only she tells me he's lifting weights downstairs. 'I gotta get done before he comes up. I gotta get done before he comes up. Can you load the dishwasher?᾽ But I've gotta take a dump, and when he comes upstairs I'm in the bathroom and he doesn't know I'm in there.