I decided I needed sustenance and woke up the family for breakfast. I decided on quantity over quality and took the boys to the buffet line at the food court, while Jean took a book with her to the dining room – with a wide smile on her face.
So I got about four eggs scrambled, with hash browns, seven rashers of bacon, four sausage patties and four sausage links, a thick slice of ham, a waffle, two pancakes, biscuits and gravy, and some fruit – to make it a healthy breakfast. The boys plowed through their own version of a healthy breakfast that consisted of a lot of stuff that needed a whole lot of syrup. Then the three of us headed to the children’s pavilion.
I signed the boys in and then the three of us sat at a table in the indoor part of the pavilion and played card games – mostly Uno, which to me was just a fancier version of the old Crazy 8 we used to play as kids. I was down three games (we’d only played three – Johnny Mac won one and Early won the other two) when Mike came in with Janna and Lyssa. I was glad to see him. I stood up, surprised my knees still worked after sitting for so long on the kiddy chair at the kiddy table. Mike said Lyssa had spent the night as her mother was still upset and needed some alone time. I knew that Rose had come by rather late last night to get Jacob, and I had helped her carry the boy back to their cabin. One of the girls took my seat, the other the fourth unoccupied seat, and they proceeded to wipe the boys’ butts with their gamesmanship (or would that be gameswomanship – I try to stay current, but sometimes it’s hard), while Mike and I stepped out into the food court, grabbed some coffee and took a table.
‘So what the hell’s going on, Milt?’ Mike asked.
I shook my head. ‘You got me,’ I said. ‘I don’t get it. Somebody kills Josh, then kills Lance? Why? And why use two different methods of murder?’
‘Damn, I hadn’t thought about that!’ Mike said. ‘But you’re right! They did! I mean, Josh was strangled, right?’ I nodded. ‘And then Lance was poisoned. That’s not common, right? To use two different forms of murder like that? Right?’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘That’s not the norm.’
‘So does that mean there are two killers?’ Mike asked.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t see how that’s possible. On a ship this size? How could there be? They’ve got to be connected.’
‘You think Esther did it?’ he said, his body language saying I only had to agree for him to pounce on the idea.
I shrugged. ‘She had the opportunity, but why would she do it? They seemed to be getting on fine—’
‘No, now, did you hear her?’ Mike said. ‘She got kinda loud with old Crystal when she thought Crystal was flirting with him.’
‘Crystal was flirting with him,’ I said. ‘And in that case, wouldn’t she try to poison Crystal, not Lance?’
‘I guess,’ Mike said, slightly dejected.
I stood up. ‘You can stay with the kids?’ I asked. ‘I’ve got to go talk to Heinrich.’
‘Yeah, I’ve got this shift,’ he said, and I headed down to security.
Milt – Day Seven
Either Heinrich washed his uniform a lot, or he had a bunch of those navy uniforms he wore, because the one he had on today was so bright I needed shades when I walked into his office.
He stood and shook my hand as I approached his desk. ‘Sheriff, glad you could join us again today.’
‘My pleasure,’ I said. ‘Did you ever get back word on our Lance’s fingerprints?’
He turned the top piece of paper on his desk around so that I could see. Front and center was our Lance’s smiling face staring back at me. It said: ‘WANTED: Joseph Mooreland Kinder, aka Ken Mooreland, aka Joe Moore, aka Jose Mendicino, aka Lando Josephs; for the crime(s) of embezzlement, three counts; extortion, three counts; assault and battery, two counts; attempted murder, one count. Wanted for questioning in: Harris County, Texas; Montgomery County, Maryland; Queens County, New York; Marin County, California.’
‘Esther doesn’t know how lucky she is,’ I said.
‘Yes, it appears someone did her a favor,’ Heinrich said, a bit of something in his voice.
‘And you’re saying?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘I’m just wondering why someone would do Ms Monte such a huge favor.’
‘Well, to be fair, I kinda doubt this had anything to do with Esther.’
‘I would never before have considered you naïve, Sheriff Kovak,’ he said.
Kinda pissed me off. ‘I don’t consider myself naïve either, Chief Heinrich,’ I said.
‘No? Let me see: First she didn’t do it, then she’s a virgin—’
‘Hey now!’ I said, standing up. ‘I never said that – I didn’t even imply that! For Christ’s sake, the woman has a nine-year-old child! All I said was I wasn’t sure if they’d done the nasty yet. And I’m still not sure. Unless you’ve asked her, Chief? What did you say? “Oh, Ms Monte, by the way, were you doing the horizontal mambo with the dead guy?’’’
‘No, Sheriff,’ he said, standing up himself, ‘I said, and I quote, “Were you and Mr Turner intimate?” to which she replied, “Yes, we were.”’
‘Well, OK then,’ I said, sitting back down.
‘Yes,’ Heinrich said, taking his seat back.
So we sat there not staring at each other.
‘So what am I being naïve about this time?’ I asked him.
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe I’m just being too aggressive. I was implying that Ms Monte killed Kinder herself.’
‘Kinder? Oh, Lance. Right.’ I shrugged back. ‘I just don’t see it,’ I said. We were quiet for a moment. Finally, I sighed a big one. ‘You think we’re at each other’s throats because neither of us has any idea who killed Josh Weaver or Lance Turner, and we don’t even know if they were killed by the same guy or not?’
‘Has to be the same guy,’ Heinrich said, looking desperate.
‘Then why two methods of murder?’ Damn, I kept harping on that. Why was I harping on that? Did it mean something? If so, what the hell did it mean?
Heinrich shook his head. ‘Convenience?’ he offered.
‘How so?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘All he/she had when he/she killed Josh was his/her own hands, but when it came time to kill Lance, he/she had somehow gotten his/her hands on the poison.’
I swear to God I’d never heard a person actually talk like that – the whole his-slash-her business. But I just said, ‘How? Where? Did you check with your clinic? Do they keep cyanide in stock?’ I asked.
‘Yes and no. Yes I checked with them, and no they don’t keep cyanide on hand.’
‘So what are the uses for cyanide, other than killing somebody?’ I asked.
Heinrich shrugged. ‘I remember in the past, when the drug Laetrile was being used as a cancer cure, it came out that the same ingredients in cyanide were also used in Laetrile.’
I nodded. ‘Yeah. That sounds familiar. And I remember when I was a kid I used to love to eat peach pits, and my father made me stop, said they’d poison me. That’s cyanide, right?’
‘I believe it is in the pits of many fruits, peaches and apricots, and others.’
‘So why would someone have cyanide on-board ship?’
He shook his head. ‘This I do not know.’
‘So now, should we tell Esther Monte who Lance really was?’ I asked, since I was thinking we should.
Heinrich shook his head. ‘I would rather hold off on that for now,’ he said. ‘Until I’m more sure that Ms Monte is not somehow involved in this man’s death.’
My turn to shake my head. Pushing myself up, I said, ‘I’ll bet you ten bucks she’s not.’
He stood up and held out his hand; I took it to shake. He grinned. ‘I accept your bet,’ he said. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t serious, but by the grin on his face, I think he might have already figured that out.
TEN
Meanwhile, Back In Prophesy County
Emmett called Dalton to come to Darby Hunt’s former residence an
d allowed him the pleasure of getting the old biddy into his squad car. Emmett followed Dalton to the station.
‘Put her in the interrogation room,’ he told Dalton. ‘And make sure she’s secured – as many restraints as appears necessary.’ This was a formidable woman, and he didn’t want her breaking through her restraints and going for his jugular.
‘Yes, sir,’ Dalton said as he helped the old lady navigate with her walker and her cuffed-together wrists. At this point, Emmett didn’t care how bad it looked; the woman was a menace.
He went to his office and sat down at his – Milt’s – desk and called Holly on the intercom. ‘We got anything harder than coffee around here?’ he asked.
‘No, but I can put some chocolate in your coffee – double the caffeine?’ she suggested.
‘Sounds better than nothing,’ Emmett said and disconnected. Then sat there dreading the interview to come. She wouldn’t tell him squat, he knew that. Even if she knew who killed Darby, she wouldn’t tell him. There had to be a way to play her. He envied Milt that skill – that innate knowledge he had on how to play a person to get the right information. Emmett had never been good at that. As police chief of Longbranch, he’d left that kind of stuff to his staff. He’d gotten the job of police chief straight out of the academy. He’d been an MP in the army, gone to the academy and was the oldest graduate of his class. Those two things had led the desperate city council of Longbranch, who’d been without a chief for nearly a year, to recruit him. He’d remained police chief for twenty-something years. Until all hell broke loose.
So, no, he didn’t have that skill. That skill of playing a perp, of getting the information needed by a few key questions dropped in the right spots. Unfortunately, neither did Dalton, who was the only deputy in the office at the moment. Nita didn’t come in until the late shift, and Anthony was out in the west part of the county trying to figure out why anyone in Oklahoma would want to rustle sheep.
Holly came in with his doctored coffee and he took a sip. Hum, he thought, not bad. He drank the rest of it, sighed so deep his toes tingled, and stood up. Time to face the beast, he thought.
The Prophesy County Sheriff’s Department interrogation room was next to the break room, across the bullpen from the wing where his and Milt’s offices were located. He crossed in front of the bullpen, where he got a hearty salute from Holly, to the hall that led to the cells, and straight to the interrogation room.
Elizabeth Hunt was sitting in a straight-back chair, her walker between the chair and the table, leaning her head on the padded arm of her walker.
‘Ma’am,’ Emmett said as he walked in.
No response.
‘Ma’am?’ he said a little louder.
Still no response.
Oh, shit, Emmett thought. She’s up and died on me.
‘Ma’am?’ He tried again, this time touching her arm.
She reared back like a bucking bronco and shouted, ‘Don’t you touch me!’
Emmett went around the table to sit opposite her. ‘Miz Hunt, we need to talk,’ he said.
‘I ain’t talking to the likes of you!’ she spat out. ‘You killed my boy!’
‘No, ma’am, I didn’t kill your boy. We don’t know who did, but we’re trying to find out—’
‘Bullshit! You killed him! I saw you! You did it!’ she shouted.
Uh oh, Emmett thought. Maybe she’s not playing with a full deck. ‘Miz Hunt, do you know what day it is?’ he asked.
She glared at him. ‘What’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?’
‘Just answer, please, ma’am.’
‘What was the question?’
‘What day is it?’
‘The day after you shot my boy! That’s what goddam day it is, you asshole!’ She touched her nose. ‘You trying to kill me, too?’ she shouted. ‘Where’s my oxygen?’
‘Ma’am? You’re on oxygen?’ Emmett asked.
‘Goddamit! I can’t breathe! Where’s my oxygen?’ she shouted, her breathing getting more agitated.
Emmett ran to the door and opened it, calling to Holly, ‘We got any oxygen around here?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Holly said, jumping up from her seat. ‘You need an ambulance?’
‘Yeah, do that now.’ Turning, he called, ‘Dalton!’
Dalton high-tailed it to where Emmett stood in the doorway. ‘Can you get back in Miz Hunt’s house?’
‘Yes, sir. Door’s still open, I reckon.’
‘Go in, look for any oxygen equipment and bring it back here, got it? And move!’
‘Yes, sir!’ Dalton said, and jogged off to the exit and his squad car.
Dalton had barely gotten out of the parking lot before the ambulance pulled in. Holly was in the room with Mrs Hunt so Emmett ran outside to show them in.
When they got back into the interrogation room, Holly had the old lady breathing more calmly, although she was still wheezing a bit. The paramedics got her on oxygen and started their business.
‘We need to explain to these boys that she ain’t going to the hospital!’ Emmett told Holly.
She nodded. ‘I’ll handle it,’ she said. And Emmett knew she could. Even dressed as she was – hair in two small ponytails on the top of her head, each ponytail a different color with one red and one blue, full gothic make-up, a Grateful Dead T-shirt tied in a knot at her waist and black leggings under a pink tutu – the girl commanded respect as well as attention. And then there was the whole lust factor. The paramedics would listen to her for one of those three reasons, and Emmett didn’t really care which one.
Johnny Mac – Day Seven
Johnny Mac was really impressed with Janna, as though he hadn’t already been impressed enough. She was beating the snot out of Early in Uno. Every time she threw down a draw two card in front of him she laughed, and Johnny Mac couldn’t help beaming at her. He failed to notice the unhappy looks coming his way from Early.
When the second game Janna won was over, Lyssa, who hadn’t been paying that much attention, said, ‘I want to go see my mom.’ Her voice was dejected.
Early said, ‘I was real sorry to hear about Mr Turner. He seemed like a nice enough guy.’
Lyssa shrugged. ‘He was OK, I guess. And yeah, it’s sad. But I’m worried about my mom. I really want to see her.’
‘Then why don’t you?’ Johnny Mac said.
Lyssa looked at Janna, who said, ‘My mom said Lyssa needed to stay away for a little while. But if it was my mom, I’d want to go see her, too.’
Johnny Mac looked out the glass walls of the children’s pavilion at Mr Tulia, Janna’s father, drinking coffee and working at what looked to Johnny Mac like a crossword puzzle. And he had an idea.
‘Janna, why don’t you go keep your dad busy, while Early and I sneak Lyssa to her mom’s cabin?’ Johnny Mac said.
Janna grinned. ‘I’d rather be the one sneaking her in, but as he’s my dad, I guess I’m the one to keep him busy. And I know just what to do! Watch for this signal,’ she said, pulling at her earlobe. ‘When you see me do that, haul butt!’
Milt – Day Seven
So, OK, I wasn’t going to mention to Esther Monte that Lance wasn’t who he said he was, or tell her who he actually was, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t interview her again. By this time, she should be somewhat calmed down, I thought. So I knocked on her cabin door.
She opened it, still in her nightgown, with a robe hastily thrown on but not tied, the flimsy material showing a little more of Esther Monte than my wife would have preferred. Her hair was sticking out in several directions, mascara was smeared on her face, globs of stuff at the inside corners of her eyes, and that white stuff that cakes on your lips when you drool during sleep – all around her mouth. Being a manly man, I didn’t gag.
‘Sorry if I woke you, Esther,’ I said.
‘What?’ She shook her head. ‘I guess.’ She turned and walked into her cabin. I followed. ‘Rose gave me a sleeping pill last night, or early this morning. I think
it was more for her benefit than mine.’ She smiled weakly. ‘She’s a good woman, that Rose. Barely knows me and yet she stayed up with me half the night.’
‘Yeah, she seems like a real nice woman,’ I said. ‘Want me to get you something to drink? Some coffee?’
‘Oh, God, yes!’ she said. She handed me the phone. ‘Order some, please. And some toast. I’m hungry but I can’t see myself getting dressed enough to go to the dining room for breakfast.’
I called the room service number on her phone, ordered a coffee and a glass of sweet iced tea, and toast. When they questioned the existence of sweet tea, I simply said, ‘Iced tea and several packets of sugar, please.’
Yankees and foreigners know nothing about sweet tea, one of the wonders of the modern world. For those of you who remain uninformed, sweet tea is when you put the sugar in the tea pitcher while the tea is still hot from steeping, stir it till the cows come home, then serve it over ice. It’s a kind of sweet you can’t get just pouring sugar into a glass of already iced tea.
While we waited, I asked her, ‘Are you feeling better this morning?’
She sighed heavily. ‘I guess,’ she said. ‘I still can’t believe he’s dead.’ She looked up at me with large, dark brown eyes swimming in tears, and said, ‘Why? What did he ever do to anyone? He was nice to everybody! He was even nice to Rose’s in-laws, for Christ’s sake! And he treated all the kids like they were his own! He adored Lyssa. I really thought – I mean, I thought—’ She gulped back a sob. ‘I thought I’d finally met the one!’ And she burst into tears and fell face-first onto my last clean shirt. To my shame, all I could do was think about the mascara and eye-boogers and the mouth gunk.
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