Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [64]
‘‘What happened, Melissa? Are you all right?’’
‘‘We’re fine. Do you know that that old son of a bitch shot at us?’’
We were bundling both of them off toward the tent, and out of sight of the main buildings. ‘‘Who, Melissa? Who shot at you?’’
‘‘That crazy goddamned Herman!’’
‘‘Herman?’’ I asked.
‘‘Damned right he did!’’
‘‘Why?’’
‘‘Because I wanted to leave. Because him and his whole goddamned family want to die instead of surrender, and that was supposed to include me and Susie!’’ We were near the tent now, and I could see her very clearly. She was a pretty girl, with long brown hair. She looked up at me, outraged and breathless. ‘‘Can you believe that shit?’’
‘‘Yeah, I’m afraid I can,’’ I said. We started in the tent.
‘‘Mark,’’ said Hester to a trooper, ‘‘get me a couple of women EMTs in here, will you?’’
Hester thinks of everything.
With Melissa and her child certified by the EMTs, we had a nice chat. It turned out that Herman, his wife, Nola, and his son William (the one I’d spoken with, and Melissa’s husband) were in the house. Melissa told us that they were all in agreement that Herman had done nothing wrong and was simply defending his property against intrusion when he had shot both officers. We were the ones, according to them, who were acting illegally, and were the ones who would have to back off. Melissa had been the one to bring up the possibility that we might not agree.
‘‘All I said, Mr. Houseman, was that maybe we’d better just think about this a little.’’
‘‘Sure.’’
‘‘And I said, ‘What if they start shooting?’ And they said, ‘Then we shoot back.’ And I said, ‘But what if we get shot?’ That’s when they said that we could all die for our cause.’’
‘‘That must have been pretty scary,’’ said Hester.
Melissa nodded. ‘‘Oh, yeah. Really.’’
‘‘So what did you do?’’ asked Hester.
‘‘Well,’’ said Melissa, getting huffy again, ‘‘I just said bullshit, and nobody’s gonna kill my baby or me over this. Even if it is murder you’re wanted for.’’
‘‘They admit it’s murder?’’ I asked, surprised.
‘‘Well, sure they do, Mr. Houseman.’’
‘‘That kind of surprises me, Melissa. I thought they said they were acting in defense of their property.’’
‘‘Well, on that one, I think so. But not the other one.’’
‘‘Other one?’’
‘‘You know, the ones up in the park in June.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘The ones in the park, Mr. Houseman. The officer and the dope dealer. The ones you came to arrest them for today.’’ Melissa looked at me as if I were senile.
‘‘They did those?’’ I leaned forward and put my hand on her forearm. ‘‘Herman killed those men in the park?’’
‘‘Not Herman, but he knew about it. But, but . . .’’ Her lip started to quiver. ‘‘But Bill was there, and he saw it, and he never shot but once, and he never hit anybody,’’ and the flood began. I think she began to realize right about then that we hadn’t known about that at all.
While Melissa cried, I went outside and thought about a cigarette.
Al Hummel approached the tent. ‘‘What’s up, Carl?’’
‘‘You’re not gonna believe this one, Al.’’
After a long interview with Melissa, what we had was this:
On June 18th, the day of the shooting in the park, Melissa Stritch’s husband, Bill, was taking part in a militia exercise in the park area with several other individuals. Herman, while part of the leadership of this particular militia, wasn’t with them. Herman had, however, assisted in the planning for the exercise. The group had been in the park for at least a day prior to the shootings. Bill had called Melissa that morning, saying that they’d had to call off the maneuvers, but didn’t say why. He was calling from Herman’s place, and had spent the afternoon there. He had cautioned her to say nothing to the police.