Code 61 - Donald Harstad [16]
Comm acknowledged, and then Eight came up on his walkie-talkie. “Three,” he said, sounding sort of brittle, “I'm up on the second floor. First room on the left. Come in there and one of the EMTs will show you just where we are.”
I headed for the house, and as I came around the side of the ambulance, saw a young male subject, about twenty years old, sitting on the bottom step. He had ear-length black hair, parted in the middle. A silver stud through the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes, sort of stood out. Dark blue sweatshirt, black jeans, black shoes.
“Hi.” Not the best opener, under the circumstances, but you have to start somewhere. “I'm Deputy Houseman.”
He just looked at me. He had a lit cigarette in his right hand.
“And you'd be?” I knew I'd seen him before, mainly because of the stud in his nose, but I didn't remember arresting him or anything. The instant database in my head had him filed under “decent kid.”
“Oh.” Like I'd startled him. Hard to see how. “I'm Toby. Toby Gottschalk. I live here.”
Oh, sure. Toby. “What's happened, Toby?”
“Ah, it … oh, you know, Edie's done herself.” He looked sort of unaffected by the whole thing. Sometimes, that can be one of the effects of an emotional shock in some people. He took a drag from his cigarette.
“Did you see her do it?” The name Edie rang a bell, but, again, no placement.
“No.”
“Did you find her?”
“No. No, I just heard Hanna holler, and then she came running down the hall to use the phone. That's how I found out.”
You hate to belabor a point, but it can be important. “Hanna found her, then?”
“Well, yeah.” A little exasperated. And why not?
“Thanks, Toby. I'll probably have to talk with you a little more, when I'm done in the house.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” Pretty calm and self-possessed. Good, as far as I was concerned. Much easier to interview. I hated to see him smoke, though not for some sort of altruistic reason concerning his health. That was his problem. It was just that I'd quit about five years before, and still had a bit of a difficulty when I was in the presence of a smoker.
I entered the front hall, crossed the foyer, and entered the main hall through another pair of double doors, also with the great oval glazing. This place was really big. And nice, too. There were hardwood parquet floors in every room I could see. I started up the walnut staircase that incorporated an inglenook, got to a landing, and continued up the next flight of stairs to the second floor. I found myself in a long hallway, with another stair at the far end. I saw Eunice Kahrs, an EMT, kneeling beside a youngish female who was seated on an upholstered bench in the hall.
Eunice, the EMT, gestured toward my left. “Just go through that door, Carl, and on into the bathroom. I'd better stay with Hanna, here.”
“Sure, Eunice.” The young woman she'd called Hanna looked very pale, and was staring off beyond the adjacent wall, to some point known only to her. She was breathing rapidly, and shallowly, as if she'd been crying. “She's the one who found her?” If you don't ask the obvious, things can get by you quicker than you'd think. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time I'd had two people with the same first name in a house.
“Yes. Hanna here found her, and called us.” Just like Toby said downstairs. Good. Eunice squeezed Hanna's shoulders. “It'll be all right, honey.”
I leaned toward the seated ffgure. She seemed stunned. “I'm sorry, Hanna, but I'll have to talk to you before I go.” She nodded.
I went past her, and turned from the hall into a bedroom that had to be at least twenty-five feet by twenty. I could see Borman's back, and most of Herb Balk, an EMT, standing in an adjoining room, which appeared to be a bath.
“What've you got?” I asked.
Borman turned, very somber, and said, “A real mess. A real mess. Looks like a suicide, but I've never seen anything like this.”
He stepped aside, and Herb backed out of the room, giving