Reservations for Murder - Tim Myers [44]
Not exactly a reliable source at the moment, Alex thought to himself. Before he could voice his suspicions that Craig Monroe might have had something a little more active to do with his wife’s current condition, the sheriff said, “Alex, I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. Drop this, you hear me? If you want something to do, I’ll try to find it for you, but leave this one alone.”
Alex decided to change tactics. “Have you had any luck solving Jefferson Lee’s murder?”
“I’m close to an arrest; that’s all I’ll say.” The smug look on the sheriff’s face was too much for Alex. “I’ll grant you this, you were right about the postcard. I’m almost positive it was connected to the murder.”
“Come on, Sheriff, you’ve got to tell me more than that. Who do you think did it?”
“You’ll find out when the rest of Elkton Falls does, Alex. I’m not about to say anything and have my suspect get wind of it before I can make my arrest.” He held up his hands. “Not that I don’t trust you, but these walls have ears, if you know what I mean.”
Alex suddenly remembered the blacksmith’s bag in his truck. “Sheriff, I’ve got Jefferson Lee’s things from the inn. I was going to run them by your office, but you can get them now, if you’d like.”
“I’ve already been through all of it, Alex.” The sheriff scratched his chin, then said, “Tell you what. It couldn’t hurt to check them out again, so why don’t we walk out together, and I’ll have another look. Who knows, there might be something that will help my case.”
After the sheriff had gone through Jefferson’s bag outside, he said, “I just don’t get it, Alex. His house is the same way. You can barely find a personal thing in the whole place. I mean it was creepy. There were no photographs, no collections on display, the man barely made a dent in his own home. I just can’t imagine living like that.”
“So, what happens now?”
“I’ll take this bag over to his house.” The sheriff suddenly had a thought. “Hey, you have a few minutes to spare?”
Alex knew he shouldn’t impose on Mor any more than he had to, but he was intrigued enough to ask, “What did you have in mind?”
“I thought I’d give you a gander at the man’s house and see what you thought yourself. Strictly unofficial, if you follow me.”
“Let’s go,” Alex said eagerly. Maybe he could find something the sheriff and his team had missed.
For once Armstrong hadn’t exaggerated. Jefferson Lee had barely made an impression on his living space. It seemed as if the entire set of furnishings had been ordered from one catalogue, perfectly matched and coordinated. All the proper shades of color and tone blended together until there wasn’t the slightest personal touch or originality in the whole place. Alex wondered if the man’s workshop was the same as the house, and he started to ask the sheriff if he could peek inside the outbuilding as well, when a sudden squawk came from the sheriff’s beeper.
Armstrong checked the number, then called his dispatcher on Jefferson’s telephone.
“Yeah, you just paged me. What’s up?”
There was a pause, then he said, “I’ll be right there.”
“What happened?” Alex asked as the sheriff hung up the phone.
“There’s a wreck out on Highway 127. Some joker with a Jet Ski on his trailer was headed for the lake, and it slipped off the back end. Smacked right into a hearse, and now nobody can get through. I need to head out there pronto. Listen Alex, I hate to do this to you, but can you get back to the hospital on your own? It’s a good four miles out of my way, and they need me out there right now.”
“I’ll be fine,” Alex said. “Do you want me to lock up when I’m done here?”
Armstrong looked as if he’d assumed Alex would leave with him, but he was obviously in too big a hurry to stand there and debate the fact with him.
“Just pull the door shut when you’re done, and don’t let anybody else in, okay?”
Alex agreed, and as the sheriff headed for the door, he added, “Alex, if you find anything, you call my office right away, you