The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [45]
“We arrested Fred and his two cousins that night. Remember?”
I did now.
“Yep. I did the interviews of all three of ’em.”
“Okay …” I said.
“I got the notes right here … Fred got into it with some grubby dudes from Dubuque, remember. And both his cousins jumped in to rescue him. And I got statements from the three of them. And all three say that they … just a sec … that they will ‘give my life’ for the other two. In each of the three statements, same thing.”
“Exactly?” I asked. Strange.
“Exactly the same phrase.”
“Damn …” I jotted the phrase down. “You remember how close together they were when they wrote the statements?”
“Well, they were in the same room …”
“Did they communicate with each other?”
“Well, yeah, they did …” He sounded disappointed.
“Great!”
“What?”
“That’s at least as good, I think,” I said. “Chummy, even talk it over and decide they will stick together through and through kind of stuff. Remember if they were sober?”
“I’ve got the PBT stuff here,” he said. A PBT was a preliminary breath test, designed for use on the highway as a precursor to arresting for DWI and doing a real test on an Intoxilyzer. The PBT wasn’t admissible in court, but was used a lot to give the officer a ballpark idea of the state of the subject. “All three of them were over point one oh, but not by too much.”
“Fine.”
“Fred’s girlfriend bailed all three of ’em out, that night.”
“Cool. You remember anything else they might of said?”
“No, sorry, I was kinda busy.” He was apologetic, like he should have known that they were going to end up in a murder case or something. New officers are like that. Well, the good ones are, anyway.
“That’s all right,” I said. “No problem. This is good.” I was having a bit of trouble getting the ballpoint pen to write, and grabbed a pencil. “What was the girlfriend’s name?”
“Just a sec,” he said, and I could hear paper being shuffled in the background. “Ah … Donna Sue Rahll.”
“Get a DL on her, will you?”
“Will do.”
“Thanks. This is good.”
I normally hated to be called at home, but I loved it when it was something I could use. I didn’t know Donna Sue Rahll, but the last name rang a very faint bell.
I joined Sue in the living room.
“Did I hear you say Rahll?” she asked.
“Yeah. Know anybody by that name?”
“Well, John Rahll is the man who runs the Maitland Economic Development Center.”
“Oh, sure … tall man?”
“Yes.”
“Any kids?” One of the many benefits to being married to a teacher.
“Oh, a girl who graduated a while ago. Becky, maybe,” said Sue, absently, as she shuffled through some tests she’d brought home to grade.
“Or, how about Donna?”
“That’s right, Donna.”
So. Tomorrow’s schedule was shaping up.
“You know where Donna might be, these days?”
She looked up. I usually didn’t pursue her information so far. It was an agreement we had. You don’t have to tell me about school stuff, I don’t have to tell you about cop stuff.
“Last I knew, she was working at the Maitland Library. She had a year of school, dropped out. Came home. I think she might live with her parents.”
“Okay. Thanks. That’s plenty.”
“So, now I get to ask a question?”
“Uh, maybe.” I grinned.
“They said in school that you were flying in helicopters today, looking for another body. True?”
“Yes, I was in a helicopter today. It was really, really cool. But, no, we aren’t looking for any more bodies.”
“Thanks,” she said, and went back to her papers.
Rumors can plague an investigation. Especially in a town like Maitland and a county like Nation. One of the seldom appreciated effects is that it retards the flow of information. Somebody has a truly important bit, but they hear through the grapevine that something else entirely is really important. They dismiss what they know, and begin to rely on what they hear. Consequently, they don’t tell you their information, because it doesn’t seem important. In our case, for example, the third body bit might convince someone that a snowmobile sighting they had on the night in question might