Code 61 - Donald Harstad [55]
“Then … ” she said, not missing a beat, “you'd better return the call of the county attorney. He called about thirty minutes ago, wanting to know how it went last night.”
I winced. I'd forgotten about him.
“And call Lamar before you go up.”
“Any word,” asked Hester, “from the guys up there?”
“About every thirty minutes all night long,” said Sally. “They finished the search of their assigned rooms in less than an hour. Bored out of their minds the rest of the night.”
I called Harry over in Wisconsin first. I knew what was coming.
“Houseman, you rotten son of a bitch,” said Harry, laughing. “Where did you find this fuckin' Chester dude, and thanks for sending him to me, you bastard.”
“Anytime, Harry. What are friends for?”
“Right. Anyway, you turn up anything new for me, other than a dickhead vampire hunter?”
I took a breath. “Well, yeah, we did.”
“Really?” Suddenly, he was all business.
“Yep.” I told him about Toby, and the vampire business from last night.
“You gotta be shittin' me, Carl…. ”
“Nope.”
There was a silence. Then, “Care to meet with me and Mr. Chester today?”
“I'll make the time, for sure,” I said. “When?”
“Dunno yet. Let me shake the motels for the little bugger, and I'll get back to ya.”
Hester was doing the call to the Walworth County Sheriff's Department and the Wisconsin BCA, so I did the county attorney and Lamar. Sally went home to get some well-earned rest. Borman washed up the coffee cups and pot. I honestly think he expected Sally to do it, until it seemed to dawn on him that he who contributed least got the crap job. That was okay. He'd contribute soon enough, I was certain. He still wouldn't be able to get Sally to do the cleanup, of course.
“Are you really serious about this vampire stuff, Carl?” Borman seemed so sincere sometimes it was almost painful.
“Yes. And your lips are sealed. Right?”
“Oh, sure. Right.”
“One slip on this can cost a job. I'm serious.”
He seemed to listen well. I hoped so. I got on the phone again.
Mike Dittman, the county attorney, was a little surprised that we'd bothered a district court judge in the wee hours of the morning, but was even more startled that we'd started the search and then gone to bed. I reassured him that we had people doing stuff on the property all night.
“Are you sure we can do that?” He was asking me.
“Yep. Judge agreed we could, said you'd probably be able to find the applicable citations before the suppression hearing.” Judge Winterman had a fine sense of humor. Well, I thought so, anyway.
Lamar just wanted me to know that he'd told his sister that it was not a suicide.
“That's fine, Lamar.”
“You know what she said?”
That had to be rhetorical, but I answered anyway. “No … ”
“She said, 'I bet it was that Finn bitch.' Just like that.”
“No shit?” Our girl Huck? Hard to believe.
“That's what she said. Anything to it?”
“Not as far as I know, Lamar, but I'll sure as hell check.”
“Oh, Carl … you just might want to think about a statement for the press. We can't expect them to stay dumb forever.”
Not even on a Sunday.
My plate, as they say, was filling up. And we hadn't even gotten back to the Mansion yet.
Hester had disappointing news. Anything regarding the incident in Walworth County was in their confidential records section, and wouldn't be available until tomorrow. Wisconsin BCA's weekend answering service was a State Radio dispatcher, who had no access to records, either. He offered to contact an agent, and have one go into their records section, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to find one with the proper credentials to get to their records on a Sunday.
“For 'credentials,' substitute keys,” said Hester. “We wouldn't be able to get them, either, unless it was really urgent. I told him to try, but not to call out the director, or anything.”
We met the lab crew as they pulled in the department's parking lot. Specialist Christopher