The Secrets of Ethan Falls

by J. W. Lucas

  “His Sheriff” His County? Who the hell does this guy think he is? From what I’ve heard, some of the locals describe the Sheriff as a pig and a son of a bitch.” I said.

  “Well, Donnelly certainly came off to me as an arrogant S.O.B himself.” Damian said.” He went off about having to deal with enough interference in his job without the Feds. He said he got an anonymous letter in the mail that accuses of the Sheriff’s Department of sham arrests, seizures of cars and trucks without following through with the paperwork, no accountability for the dope and money that they’re seizing and even drug dealing themselves.”

  I sat there shaking my head. What the hell had I gotten into here,

  Damian continued, “He said he was outraged that the writer said he also sent the letter to the Governor, Attorney General, and the US Attorney up there. He was livid. He said it was political muckraking, trying to derail his political career. He said he had made his first public statement that he had formed an exploratory committee for a run at the Governor’s office and received the letter three days later.”

  “Boss wait a minute. How did he know what Dan Petrone and I had talked about? We were in a private office, and Dan didn’t have anything good to say about the Sheriff or the Executive.” I believed him when he said there’s no love lost between him and the Exec, and if you were there, you would have too.”

  “Beats the hell out of me. You don’t think the place is bugged, do you?” he asked.

  “It better not be” I answered, trying to contain my growing anger.

  He continued. “Well, at any rate, he went on that the letter was three pages long and accuses the cops of protecting some fringe militia types, supplying them with money, automatic weapons, vehicles, training.”

  “You’ll be interested in this part. He told me that the letter said that the Peterson girl, the singer you told me about, was murdered because she stumbled across some information that someone in the Sheriff’s

  Department was giving drugs to a couple of teenage Middle East refugees she was working with. Apparently, she was a volunteer with some church group helping these families and was going to go to the State Police with her information.”

  I sat in stunned silence. “Daryl, you still there?”

  “Yeah Boss....yeah, I’m here, sorry.”

  “I have one more thing for you. Are you sitting down?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He said that about two weeks ago Judge Moran visited him and said he had been requested by the Attorney General to look into the accusations in the letter He said they argued after he told the Judge that this was a classic case of the State intruding on the sovereign rights of his County and was in retribution for his announcement that he was considering a run for Governor.”

  “Sovereign rights of his County? Is this guy out of his mind?” asked.

  “I didn’t debate the legal issues with him,” the Boss continued, “but he started in with a campaign speech and I cut him short. I asked him to explain what the problems were with the girl’s murder case, that perhaps we could offer some Federal assistance.”

  “With all due respect Boss, are you out of your mind?”

  “He went ballistic! He went on and on that this was a personal attack on him and his Sheriff, and that his rights were being violated by the writer. I told him if he wanted to make a formal civil rights violation complaint that I could connect him with the proper authorities.”

  “You are a brave soul, Sir,” I said with a laugh.

  “He said the Feds can’t even control the flood of foreign terrorists and drug dealers coming into our country, why would he believe that we would help a true patriot like himself.”

  “True patriot? How in Hell can someone like this get elected to office?”

  “Money and television can work wonders, Daryl.”

  “You know Boss, he told you that he and the Judge argued, and that could go to motive.”

  “Well, I’m sure you know that’s a stretch. People argue every day. I don’t know how the Judge left it with him, hopefully, he can recover enough for you to interview him and find that out.”

  “Did Donnelly say anything else?”

  “He did. I told him that I would love to see the letter he got, for future reference, I told him, in case the writer was a terrorist, that it might be helpful in identifying him.”

  “Clever,” I said, acknowledging the ploy.

  “Well, that was the right button to push. He said he would mail me a copy, and I asked if I could have someone pick it up in person instead. I said it would be you. We didn’t want to run the risk that someone opposed to his political aspirations might be monitoring his mail, I told him. And he bought it.”

  “That’s brilliant! Play into his paranoia” I said in admiration.

  “Daryl, I need a favor from you, I need to know more and want to run this by the bosses at Justice in Washington. You can help me. Meet with Donnelly and get a copy of the letter. I suggested that to him and he said he would enjoy meeting you face to face.”

  I thought for a few seconds. “Done! Did you tell him to be careful what he wished for?”

  “No, I thought I’d leave that to you,” he said with a laugh.

  “Okay, I’ll do it. When and where?”

  The Boss told me that Donnelly owned an office building in North Bellington, and he had his County office there. He gave me the address and said Donnelly would receive me between ten and noon.

  “Boss, did he really say, he would receive me?”

  “Indeed. he did my friend! Good luck and be careful.”

  I went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. I stared at myself in the mirror and said out loud “You look like hell.” I grabbed a towel and heard my cell ring and vibrate on the desk. I picked it up and saw it was Lindsey.

  “Hey, my friend! What are you up to?” Her voice sounded cheerful, a welcome difference from a few hours ago.

  “Not much. I’m in my room getting cleaned up. How’s the Judge?”

  “He seems to be getting stronger by the hour. He’s talking more, but he still drops off to sleep now and then. The nurse says it the medicines. They’re trying to keep him sedated so that he doesn’t move around on the bed.”

  “That’s great news. Every little step is a step in the right direction.”

  “Hey! What are you doing for dinner?”

  “I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I was talking with one of the nurses and told her where I was staying. She said they have a great dining room at the hotel and suggested that I give it a try. You up for a dinner date?”

  “Sure, love to. What time are you thinking?”

  “How about seven-thirty? I want to go back to the room and change. My clothes smell antiseptic. Ugh!”

  “OK, seven-thirty in the lobby, see you then, Bye.”

  Speaking of clothes, I looked at my shirt draped over a chair and saw it wasn’t too wrinkled. It would pass muster for dinner. I had only brought a few changes when I went to Stillwater and only planned to stay for three or four days. I’d have to find a store tomorrow morning and pick up some things to get me through the rest of the week.

  I jumped into the shower, got dressed and a little while later went down to the lobby to wait for Lindsey. I took a seat in a comfortable wing back. I was watching the comings and goings in the lobby and thought Mandy was right.

  It looked like they had a full house. It was a mix of business types, older couples, and a few families with kids. I sensed the familiar fragrance of perfume and heard a voice whisper, “Are you lost little boy, or are you stalking me?” It was Mandy, leaning over close to my ear, her breasts pressed against my shoulder. My fate was inevitable. She had my undivided attention.

  “Oh, Hi! Neither. The husband of the couple I’m visiting had some surgery and will be in the hospital for a few days. I’m having dinner with his wife in your dining room. I heard it’s very good.”

  “It is.
Try the chicken Francese, it’s out of this world.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “After dinner stop by for a drink. I’d love to meet her.”

  “We might do that, what are you up to?”

  “Paperwork, ordering inventory. I can’t always be laughs and giggles behind the bar.”

  I saw Lindsey step out of the elevator and I waved to acknowledge

  her. Mandy looked up at her, stood up and smiled. She whispered, “Bye! See you later” and headed back to the lounge.

  “Who’s your friend?” Lindsey asked looking toward the lounge.

  “That’s Mandy, my new personal bartender,” I proclaimed.

  “That is one beautiful young woman my friend. Does she know who you are?”

  “She knows I’m a lawyer, that’s it. Hungry?”

  “Starved! Let’s eat,” she answered as she linked her arm around mine.

  The dining room was crowded, but we were shown to a table for two along the wall. A minute later our waiter arrived, filled the water glasses, placed our menus and asked if we wished to order a drink, sliding a wine menu in front of Lindsey.

  She selected the house Chardonnay, and I ordered a VO and coke. A few minutes later he returned with our drinks and said he’d give us a few minutes to select our orders.

  Lindsey raised her glass, as did I, and we sipped our respective aperitifs. “Ummmm. That’s nice.” She settled on the grilled salmon marsala and I followed Mandy’s suggestion for the Francese. Our waiter returned, took our order, and cleared away the menus.

  “Lindsey, it’s so nice to see you more relaxed. You’ve had a rough go of it.”

  “It’s been a nightmare, but this afternoon Forrest whispered I love you to me, and as funny as it sounds, I felt peaceful again. He has a fight ahead of him, but in my heart, I’m sure he knows he’s not alone.”

  “He’s a very lucky man,” I told her, as I thought to myself I should be so lucky.

  “I told him that I had called you and that you’re here. He said, good girl! Have you thought any more about what the doctor told us? I’m scared thinking that there are two people out there that wanted Forrest dead,” she said.

  I thought for a moment before I answered. I didn’t want to scare Lindsey more than she was, but I also wanted to offer some encouragement that I’d find the answers we were looking for.

  “I had a phone call today, a colleague, my former boss in Boston, and we think that there must be some link between the Judge and the Peterson girl’s case.” I purposely avoided the use of the word “murder,” and thankfully I didn’t sense that what I said had altered her optimistic mood.

  “I appreciate all that you’re doing, but I know that there is someone out there that can shed some light on what happened. I really want to know what was bothering Forrest the last couple of weeks, but now’s not the right time. I’m hoping that in a day or two you can speak with him directly. He has the answers, I know it.”

  We sipped on our drinks, and a short while later the waiter and a busboy appeared with our meals. We both sampled our choices and agreed they were excellent. Lindsey’s order came with a crisp summer salad; I had selected the linguini with marinara sauce side.

  I made a mental note not to spill anything on my last semi-clean dress shirt. I joked with Lindsey about my laundry concerns; she suggested that I visit the Mall in the morning. I pulled out my notebook and wrote down the directions she gave me.

  “So, Daryl, tell me about your personal bartender. Any wedding plans yet?”

  I laughed and gave her the short version of my two visits to the bar. She smiled and said, “Seriously, is there anyone special in your life?”

  “No, no one serious.” I told her that I had dated a few great ladies over the years, but careers, discussions about having kids, where we would want to live, and things like that just didn’t jell with any of them. I’d been flying solo for the past two years, and I really didn’t want to get into my personal life. Besides, Google seemed to have that market cornered.

  She raised her glass and held it there, striking a pensive look. “You have a lot at stake now in your life. My wish is that you find a wonderful person who can be your lover and companion for all of time. That’s what I found in Forrest.” She raised the glass in a toast and I nodded my gratitude for her wishes.

  The waiter returned and offered dessert menus which we both declined. We sat for a few minutes, and he returned with the check and placed it in front of me. Lindsey reached for it, but I intercepted her.

  “I’ve got this Lindsey.”

  “No, I insist, you’ve done so much already,” she protested.

  “No! Am I not your lawyer?” She looked at me and I saw the

  Smile start to form, “then it is my professional opinion that I take care of the check.”

  “Thank you very much, kind Sir!”

  I paid with cash as I had withdrawn quite a bit from the bank before my trip up North. I have a great credit card, but I try to minimize putting my no-limit account number out into the cyber-world. The waiter came, took the cash and thanked us for visiting. We sat at the table for about ten minutes enjoying some idle conversation

  “Well?” Lindsey said.

  “Well, what?”

  “Aren’t you going to invite me to the bar for an after-dinner drink?

  “If you’d like.”

  “You think I’d miss out on a chance to check out your personal bartender up close and personal? Not on your life Counselor!” as she jumped to her feet. “Let’s go, Buster,” crossing the dining room with the broadest grin I’d seen on her yet.

  The lounge was busy, but there were a few small tables open and we took one across the room in front of a window. Our waitress came over promptly; it was Tammy from the night before.

  “Oh! Hi again!” she said looking at me with a broad smile and wide eyes. She turned to Lindsey and asked, “What can I get you?”

  Lindsey ordered another Chardonnay. Turning to me Tammy asked, “Light beer on tap?”

  “No, I think I’d like a VO and Coke.”

  “OK, I’ll be right back,” she said as she scurried off.

  Lindsey leaned over to me and said quietly, “Hi again? Looks like you’ve been a busy boy! Building a harem, are you?”

  I offered a weak laugh and looked up at the bar.

  Mandy was busy but had help in the form of a very large clean-cut young guy. I guessed he was a college student, and this was his spending money gig. I gathered from the four young coed types sitting across the bar from him that he was very popular with the ladies. There were a lot of laughs coming from that end of the bar.

  Mandy seemed to have her own audience. Six guys were at her end, including the three from last night.

  Tammy brought our drinks; Lindsey and I toasted and drank without talking. I hoped that this wasn’t the calm before a storm. She looked at me, smiled, and said with a laugh, “Relax, I won’t embarrass you.”

  About ten minutes later I saw Mandy walking across the room toward our table. She approached, looked at me and said, “Hi Again!” Offering her hand to Lindsey she said cheerfully, “Hi, I’m Mandy.”

  “Hi! I’m Lindsey,” as she returned a polite handshake.

  “Did you folks enjoy your dinners?”

  “Excellent,” Lindsey answered.

  Turning to me she smiled and asked, “Did you try the chicken francese?”

  “I did, it was great. Thanks for recommending it. You seem very busy tonight,” I commented, looking at her section of the bar.

  “We are, the boys in blue are in town again,” she said with a frown, motioning with her head. “Just what I needed, those creeps.”

  I saw that the oldest of the three from last night had turned on his stool and was looking straight at us. I saw a badge and a gun under his windbreaker and he didn’t seem to be trying to conceal them.

  “I’d better get back to work.” Turning to Lindsey, “It was very nice me
eting you, enjoy your evening.”

  She turned to me, lingered with her smile, and said, “Enjoy!”

  I watched her cross the room to the bar, walking in front of Pistol Pete. He didn’t take his eyes off our table.

  I’ve prosecuted cases where the hardcore defendant tried to intimidate me with their stare. I learned not to back down but rather challenge their bravado with equal fixation. After about twenty seconds he swiveled his stool and returned to the task of intoxicating himself.

  “Is everything alright?” Lindsey asked.

  “Yeah, just a guy at the bar seemed to be very interested in us.”

  ‘The older guy at the end. Brown windbreaker?” she asked without turning around.

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “Savage.”

  “What?”

  “Mark Savage. He’s an Abbot Deputy. I saw him when we walked in.”

  “Do you know him?” I asked, amazed that she knew who I was referring to.

  “Sure do. I represented his wife in a domestic violence case against him. He agreed to anger management counseling, and she dropped the charges. He got suspended from work until he completed the program. He’s lucky he still has his job. She divorced him about a year ago and moved away. I didn’t represent her in that. She said he was terribly abusive and his drinking had left him impotent for the last few years.”

  “Should I be concerned for you?” I asked,

  “No,” she said draining her glass, “he’s afraid of me. When you’re finished, I think we should leave.”

  In a few minutes, I finished my drink, got Tammy’s attention and gave her a twenty for our drinks.

  We walked past Deputy Savage on the way out, but he avoided our passage. I managed a quick wink to Mandy, and she smiled back. We didn’t talk until we got into the elevator.

  “She’s a beautiful girl. I sense something special about her.”

  “Who?”

  “Mandy. She’s very taken by you. I could see it in her smile, in her eyes. Woman’s intuition.”