Code 61 - Donald Harstad [116]
“Just not particularly interested,” came the mocking reply. “I staked the bitch, and you tell me you're not interested? Bullshit you're not interested!”
I glanced at Hester. “Just irrepressible, isn't he?” But I was also beginning to think he was a little high.
She smiled. She held out her personal tape recorder, down low in the seat, where Toby couldn't see it.
“We said we'd prefer not to hear about that, Toby,” said Hester, “until your attorney can be present.”
“Attorneys,” proclaimed Toby, “don't know shit.” His voice was lowering, though. He just wanted to talk, and didn't care to whom. The foot tapping ceased.
“Most don't,” I agreed, grinning in the knowledge that his attorney would likely hear this tape, “but you might get lucky and get a smart one.”
He seemed to think that over for several seconds.
“I doubt it.” He sounded a little sullen. “Hey, I'm not mad at you guys,” said Toby. “Really.”
“We know that, Toby,” I said. “Never thought you were.” Big mood and attitude swing there. Toby was on something. No doubt.
“I been under a lot of pressure,” he said.
“Things do have a way of piling up on somebody,” said Hester.
“You got that shit right,” said Toby. “What do you do, if somebody who's gotta be obeyed tells you to do something, right? What do you do?” His voice was becoming agitated again. “I'll tell what you do,” he said. There was a pause, and then he said, in a more moderate tone, “You fuckin' do it, because you fuckin' better do it, you know?”
“Depends on who it is,” I said, “but we all have to get in line once in a while.”
“When it's Dan Peale, you do,” he said.
I was glad we'd just gotten onto a paved road, otherwise I might have gone in the ditch. You don't get a gift like that every day.
TWENTY-FIVE
Tuesday, October 10, 2000
11:55
The first thing I'd done when we got to the jail was start the call to the county attorney. Now that we had Toby in our clutches, and in a talkative state, I wanted to keep him as long as I could.
The first conversation with our county attorney had been very brief.
“I'm sorry, he's with a client now,” said his secretary.
“Tell him, Darlene, that this is really important. Really. I need to talk with him in five minutes or less. Something's happened that he's gotta know about.”
In about ten minutes, he called back.
“What's so important, Carl?”
“We need some fast research,” I said. “I've got to know what to charge somebody with who broke into a funeral home, and drove a stake through the chest of a corpse.”
There was a pause. “You're kidding?”
“Nope. I've got the dude in custody, but I gotta have a good charge, and quick.”
“You've gotta be kidding?”
“No, Mike, I'm not.”
“What's wrong with burglary? Just plain burglary, Carl.”
I reached behind me, and pulled one of the volumes of the 1999 Code of Iowa off the shelf. “Got your code handy?” I asked. I was going to have to work with him on this, and I really resented the time.
“Sure.”
“Okay, under 713.1 … the burglary statute … got it?”
“Yes.”
I read it to him. The pertinent part was “Any person, having the intent to commit a felony, assault or theft therein … ”
“So?” he said.
“Well, he didn't steal anything, and since you can't assault the dead, he has to have intended to commit a felony, right?”
“Yes. Sure.”
“Well, is it a felony to mutilate a corpse? We gotta know, Mike.”
“I'm sure it is,” he said, and I could hear pages flipping in the background.
“Here it is,” he said. “Chapter 709.18. Abuse of a corpse. Right here.”
I flipped my pages. It said, “A person commits abuse of a human corpse if the person knowingly and intentionally engages in a sex act, as defined in section 702.17, with a human corpse. Abuse of a human corpse is a class D felony.”
We were both silent, as we read it. “It wasn't exactly a sex act, Mike.”
Naturally, he had us both turn to 702.17, which defined sex acts. They all included the word “genitalia.” No go, and I told him so.
I could tell he was getting worried, too. Just about everything