Part 26 (1/2)
He glances at his creation and I see a quick flash of pride in his eyes. ”It's a custom order for one of Mrs. Steinkruger's customers.”
”Are you Wayne Kuhns?” I ask.
”Yes.” His eyes sweep to Glock and back to me. ”What's this about?”
I show him my badge and identify myself, then we shake hands. Glock hangs back, un.o.btrusive, but I know he's watching the other man closely.
”I'm working on the Borntrager case,” I tell him. ”If you have a few minutes, I'd like to ask you some questions.”
He physically recoils when I mention the Borntragers, and I know instantly that while Wayne Kuhns is either a wannabe adulterer or a stalker, he's not proud of it, and he's not very good at hiding his emotions.
”Did you know Paul?” I ask.
He nods. ”I met him several times. At wors.h.i.+p. The horse auction. Helped him a few times at the farm.”
”What about Mattie?”
He looks down at the floor. I give him a moment, but he doesn't answer. I'm aware of Glock moving around, looking at the workbench, peering into the trash container.
”Mr. Kuhns?” I say.
”I know Mattie.”
”How do you know her?”
No reply. I don't know if he doesn't want to answer or if he's so upset he can't.
”How do you know Mattie, Mr. Kuhns?”
”I haven't seen her for a long time.”
”How long?”
”Six months or so.”
”What was the nature of your relations.h.i.+p?”
His gaze flicks toward the door and I wonder if his wife is inside. I wonder if she knows he'd recently had his sights set on another woman. His silence is telling.
”I know you approached her about a relations.h.i.+p,” I tell him.
He winces as if I slashed him with a blade. ”I wasn't ... I mean I didn't ... we didn't...” He lets the words trail as if he's not sure how to finish the sentence. ”I figured that's why you're here.” He doesn't meet my gaze.
”Were you stalking her?”
”Is that what she told you?”
”I'd appreciate it if you would just answer the question.”
”No. I would never do such a thing.”
I glance over at Glock to see him shake his head. ”Do you own a vehicle, Mr. Kuhns?”
”I don't drive. I have no use for a vehicle. If I need to travel, I hire the Mennonite down the street.”
”Where were you three nights ago?”
His eyes widen as if he's suddenly realized why we're here. ”I was here. Working.”
”Can anyone substantiate that?”
”My wife.”
”Anyone else?”
”No.”
I stare hard at him. ”Tell me about your relations.h.i.+p with Mattie.”
”That is in the past, Chief Burkholder. I do not wish to speak of it.”
”Mr. Kuhns, this is a police investigation. You don't have a choice.”
A flash of anger crosses his features. ”Who are you to ask me such a thing?” he snaps. ”Who are you to judge me?”
He's referring to my being ex-Amish, but I let the condemnation behind his words roll off me. ”I'm the chief of police, and I'm conducting a murder investigation.” I step toward him, put my finger in his face. ”If I were you, I'd answer the question. If you don't, I'll get a warrant and we'll finish this at the police station. Do you understand?”
His face goes crimson. Sweat beads on his forehead and upper lip. I can't tell if it's temper or humiliation, but if a man can look like a volcano about to blow, Wayne Kuhns is Mount Pinatubo. ”She and I...” he stammers. ”We were ... friends.”
”Did you have a s.e.xual relations.h.i.+p with her?”
A flush of embarra.s.sment deepens his color. His eyes skate away from mine. ”No.”
”Did you want a s.e.xual relations.h.i.+p with her?”
He looks everywhere except at me.
”Shall I interpret that as a yes?” I ask.
”I did nothing wrong.”
”Who broke it off?”
”She did.” He sighs. ”What happened ... is in the past. I've prayed for forgiveness and made peace with the Lord. And myself.”
”Were you angry when she told you she wanted to be left alone?”
His eyes narrow and I know he's trying to figure out just what she told me, how much I know. ”No.”