The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [42]
“I’ll call him right now,” said Cletus.
“Well, I hope to hell you will,” said Davies. “It’s cold out here.”
While we waited, I showed Davies around. He was especially interested in the shed where I’d found the two bodies.
“No point in wading through the snow,” he said. “Just reassure me that you could see a track leading to the shed from the house.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“You get photos of it?”
“It was pretty faint. I sure hope so.”
“Me too.” He looked over the garage. “Impressive. Not the ‘poor’ farmer, is he?”
“Hardly. Smart, and a hell of a worker. That, and a little luck, you can make it.”
“Yeah.” He cupped his hands, and blew into them, to warm his face. “Let’s go bug Cletus. I’m getting cold.”
This time, Cletus invited us in. “He says to cooperate with you.”
“You got a good attorney,” said Davies. “They are so rare these days. So,” he said to me, “where did the dirty deed happen?”
I showed him. We spent all of five minutes examining the living room, the basement steps, and looking out the basement door. I was brief to the point of terse, not wanting to give anything away. Davies was even more controlled, just making little humming sounds once in a while. He took no notes.
There were at least two other people in the house. One was a sixty-year-old farmer I knew, but whose name I couldn’t remember. I did know he was the owner of the ugly pickup in the yard, now that I saw him. The other man was about forty or so, and one of the people we’d seen here earlier today.
Cletus stayed right with us during the whole inspection. When we’d finished, Davies turned to him, abruptly.
“So, what do you think happened?”
“Huh?”
“You. What do you think about this?”
“I’m just wondering,” said Cletus, “why the Iowa AG is involved in this.”
“It’s what you pay us to do,” said Davies. “You have no ideas, huh?”
“Why would you want to know what I think?”
Frankly, I was sort of asking myself the same question.
“Thought you could help us with what you thought they might be after.” Davies paused. “And if you had any thoughts on who could have been here when they arrived.”
“Beats me,” said Cletus.
“You own any snowmobiles?” asked Davies.
“Nope. Not anymore, gave one to Harvey Grossman. Junked the rest.”
“You just gave it to him? Just like that?”
“No use for the things anymore. He needs them to do chores.”
We headed toward the door. “If you find anything unusual that we missed,” I said, following routine, “let us know, would you?”
“You people sure do try,” said Cletus. Once again, there was a sarcastic ring to his voice that bothered me. Like he was trying for innuendo, and missing his target. He was sure missing if I was his target, anyway.
We opened the door.
“My attorney said to cooperate, but not to say anything.” Cletus shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to earn your keep without me doin’ your work for you.” He paused a second, but couldn’t resist. “But, like I said before, there was nobody home.”
“You have any thoughts, check with your attorney, and then give us a call,” said Davies.
“What about the black helicopter?”
I looked at the speaker, the forty-year-old I didn’t recognize. “What?”
“We saw it,” he said, with an air of accusation and defiance. “Who was flying it?”
“I don’t know his name,” I said, “but I was in it. I waved. Did you see me?”
Silence.
“Thanks again,” said Davies, and we trudged across the yard to my car.
As soon as we got in the car, Davies started to laugh. “‘We saw it,’” he mimicked. He looked at me. “Houseman, you smart ass. You actually waved?”
“Yeah. They were outside, right under us, looking up. Just a reaction, I guess.”
“How high were you?”
“Oh, thousand feet, more or less.”
“An Army-green Huey?”
I nodded.
“Black