Everyone else was still asleep. I picked up the receiver and went out on the balcony and closed the door behind me. In the east, the light behind the mountains was cold and weak, hardly more than a flicker touching the bottom of the clouds. Gretchen’s hot rod was parked by the creek bed, the top white with frost. The Caddy was gone. “Hello,” I said.“This is Sheriff Bisbee, Detective Robicheaux. I need to confirm some information. You know a man named Clete Purcel?”“I’ve known him for forty years. He’s staying with us at Albert Hollister’s place.”“Right now he’s staying in a jail cell in Big Fork. Do you know any reason why he’d be in the Swan Lake area?”“Maybe he went fishing. He didn’t tell me. What’s he charged with?”“He got stopped at a roadblock at twelve-fifteen this morning.”“That’s not what I asked. Why are you calling me about a traffic stop in Lake County?”“I didn’t say anything about a traffic stop. He was carrying a cut-down pump in his car.
