Code 61 - Donald Harstad [43]
“It stops lots of conversations,” said my favorite ME. “Trust me.”
It was totally dark when we got back to the Mansion. I grabbed a bunch of “Permission to Search” forms from the briefcase in my trunk before walking back up the steps to the huge house. Hester had preceded me, and was on her way to talk with the three lab techs up in Edie's room.
I found the group in the kitchen, with my favorite dispatcher, Sally, doing guard duty. She had joined the Sheriff's Reserve about six months back, and was in full sheriff's department uniform, including handgun and cuffs.
“Hey, Sally! Lookin' good, there.”
“Houseman,” she said, with her mouth full, “you missed a great meal!” She swallowed. “I didn't know you guys got to eat like this.”
The long table in the kitchen was set with rustic sorts of dishes, with the remains of a big tossed salad, the remaining third of a big bread loaf, a large glass dish with some sort of casserole, and a big glass pitcher of tea.
“You're catching on really fast, there, kid,” I said. Sally, being about five feet tall, and weighing in at all of a hundred pounds with her red hair wet, could afford to eat. “Everybody behave while we were gone?”
Sally nodded, and Holly Finn said, “We wouldn't want to argue with Annie Oakley, here.” She said it pleasantly enough, but there was a mocking tone about the statement, as well.
“You got that right, Huckleberry,” said Sally. Touché.
I got the impression they didn't like each other.
Hanna was standing at the cupboards, removing coffee cups, and Toby was just setting a pie down on the table. Everybody else was seated. Everybody together. The timing seemed good to me.
“Well, as long as you're all here,” I said, “I'm going to officially request your permission to search this house.”
Verbal pandemonium. Something like, “No way,” from Huck, “Not likely,” from Kevin, “Sure,” from Toby, “Well,” from Hanna, and all at the same time. Melissa, having been drinking tea at the very moment I asked, got in her reply in the pause that followed the initial outburst.
She swallowed. “Why?” The only sensible response in the lot.
“Be glad to tell you,” I said. “Is there any coffee still in the pot?”
Hanna got busy, pouring me a cup. Genuinely nice, I thought. She did seem to be the one hardest hit by Edie's death, as well.
I made them wait a few seconds, as I took the proffered cup from Hanna, and laid my “Permission to Search” forms on the counter. This was one of those little semi-crucial moments in an investigation that just won't happen twice.
Toby stood perfectly still, halfway between the table and the counter, the pie in his hands, staring. I certainly had his attention.
“We have strong indications that Edie didn't commit suicide,” I said. “Several.” I paused, and nobody seemed to breathe. “We're now in the preliminary stages of a murder investigation.”
I was really expecting surprise, at least on the part of most of them, and probably an argument that a murder was impossible, or at least way out of the question. I expected that.
What I didn't expect was Toby tossing the whole pie on the kitchen counter, saying something about “I gotta go,” and disappearing out through the screen door into the dark night. To be fair, I don't think anybody else expected that, either.
TEN
Saturday, October 7, 2000
21:19
We had to get him, and we'd be one hell of a lot better off if we got him soon. I headed out the door and just hollered “Stay here” to Sally as I passed. I didn't want any more people splitting on us. By the time I got out the door, there was nothing to see but the blackness surrounding the small area lit by the light from the Mansion's windows. Black ground, black grass, black trees, and a black sky speckled with stars. I thought I heard some movement off to my left, but since I didn't have a flashlight with me, I'd never know what it was. Then silence. Shit.
I could