I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. My heart thumped forcefully to the beat of personal agenda, personal agenda, personal agenda.
Jesse stirred. “What time is it?”
“I... just had a weird dream.” I drank in a long breath, trying to quiet the thumping.
“You’re okay.” He rubbed my back and yawned.
“No, Jesse. I saw Deputy Colter in my dream. He was weighing meat.”
Jesse yawned. “You have weird dreams, Christine. Go back to sleep.”
Of course, I couldn’t. Instead, I lay there for an hour replaying the dream.
“It looks like an accident.” That’s what he said. But that’s not how it appeared to everyone else. The media version blended innuendo and lies, focusing on supposed illegal activity on
Baxter’s part. The official version from the sheriff’s department hadn’t been finalized yet. Deputy Colter hung onto a version all his own, that it had been an accident. That didn’t fly since they found the patrol car. Why did Deputy Colter insist on sticking to the accident story? What was he trying to cover up?
None of it made sense. Truth isn’t subjective to different perspectives. How could anyone believe there could be more than one Truth?
Constance Boyd’s appointment to interview Baxter’s parents was set for Monday morning. They agreed to meet at the Callahan’s house for the interview since they had planned to visit with Ed and Zora Jane anyway. Zora Jane invited Jesse and me as well.
At exactly ten o’clock, the shiny black Cadillac drove into the Callahan’s driveway. The chauffeur opened the back door and out stepped Miss Boyd dressed in an expensive looking green pantsuit. Zora Jane greeted her wearing a pair of orange paisley pants with an orange velour top. The shoes were orange, of course. She reminded me of an orange Popsicle.
Thankfully Miss Boyd’s broadcast would be in living color.
“How nice to see you again, Miss Boyd.” Zora Jane gestured toward the house with a flourish. “Won’t you come in?”
“How gracious of you to make your home available for this interview.” Constance Boyd flashed her perfect teeth. The studious assistant and cameraman bustled into the house without smiling.
Ida and Ted Dunn, Baxter’s parents, sat stiffly on the sofa. Ed and Jesse lounged in the two green recliners. Other chairs
formed a semi-circle facing the sofa. Constance Boyd settled into the prominent overstuffed chenille chair, with the assistant and cameraman on either side of her, sitting on dining chairs.
To protect her? From us?
Perhaps.
Zora Jane made introductions. I plopped onto one of the dining chairs and Zora Jane sat beside me.
Constance Boyd smiled at the Dunns. “I appreciate your coming all this way for our interview today.”
“Have you been here all weekend, Miss Boyd?” Ted asked.
“I have,” she said in a conversational tone. “It’s a lovely area. We’ve enjoyed our stay very much.”
I couldn’t resist. “Have you gotten what you came for?”
She turned her brown eyes to study me a moment. “Everyone has been most cooperative.”
Ed got right to the heart of the matter. “We’re concerned about your motives. What you told my wife seems to be different from the type of interviews you’re conducting in town.”
I agreed with a passionate nod.
Constance Boyd raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “My motives?” She fluttered a hand as if such a gesture could dismiss all doubts. “Please don’t worry. In a small town, rumors are certain to abound. We merely checked a few things we’d heard to see if a shred of truth could be found.”
I leaned toward her. “And did you find a shred of truth?”
Her perfect smile froze. “I fear we’ve gotten off on a wrong note. I came today to hear a bit more background on Baxter’s early life. Please don’t dwell on idle gossip. I assure you, after all these years in the business, I know what to use and what not to use in a story.” She bared her white teeth. Her expression put me in mind of a cobra hypnotizing his prey just before the kill.
Zora Jane cleared her throat. “Let’s begin with prayer then.” Without waiting for permission, she closed her eyes. “Lord, thank you for Miss Boyd and her interest in our Baxter. Please direct her ways. Help her discern truth from rumor and lies.”
In the silence that followed, I squirmed in my seat. Jesse adjusted his chair. Ed coughed a little ahem.
I peeked at Miss Boyd. She frowned at first, creating furrows in her unlined brow. She started to speak, then thought better of it and gave a simple nod to her cameraman.
The cameraman set up his video equipment, adjusting it to the Dunns’ position on the sofa. Mrs. Dunn still sat too low, so he gave her a pillow to sit on.
Constance blinked at us. “I must ask the rest of you to step outside while I conduct this interview.” The assistant directed us with gestures.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Constance perch in perfect posture on a chair opposite the Dunns, smoothing the front of her dress and checking her makeup in preparation for the interview. While we craned our necks to watch, Rebecca closed the French doors.
Ed looked concerned. “We should’ve stayed in there to run interference.”
Jesse gave his back a light pat. “Oh, they’ll be okay. Ted and Ida have level heads.”
“We should’ve stopped this interview all together,” I said. “She’s going to misquote everyone when she puts the story together. We won’t even recognize what we actually said by the time she gets finished with it.”
They all frowned at me.
“I think we should—” Zora Jane started.
Right then I couldn’t bear the notion of praying for Constance Boyd. “Don’t say it!”
Jesse playfully shielded his face with his hands.
Ed shook his bald head and chuckled softly.
“Well, I’m going to.” Zora Jane knelt beside one of the chaise lounges on the deck and closed her eyes.
With both men’s attention while we waited, I used the time to share information I’d gathered, leaving out any reference to Mary Wilson and the biker bar. I didn’t want a scolding.
After a few minutes, Zora Jane finished praying and joined us. We had a lot of catching up to do. Most importantly, I wanted them to understand how insanely convoluted this case had become. What in the world could be happening in our quiet little community?
Chapter Eight
The next week, while Dr. Adams fitted Jesse with his new hearing aid, I alternated between sitting and pacing in the small waiting room. Jesse had decided to purchase only one aid to begin with, reasoning that his adjustment time would be cut in half that way. He expected to struggle and his apprehension had rubbed off on me.
Would he ever be able to hear again? Were we spending all this money for something that wouldn’t help him?
When I returned to my seat, I picked up a Hollywood magazine, which seemed to be the most literary of the available selections, and paged through without comprehending a single word on a single page.
Jesse lived in a world of distorted and muffled sound as if his ears were permanently plugged. At times, he heard clanging that no one else heard. It must be awful. What if I couldn’t hear music? I thought of my grandchildren’s beautiful laughter. Cats purring. What if I never heard birds singing again? Or water bubbling down the waterfall into our pond?
Dr. Adams opened the waiting room door. “Christine? Come on back, please.”
Jesse sat in a tidy office lined with bookshelves full of medical books. He turned and smiled when I entered. “Go ahead. Ask me something.”
I mouthed, “Can you hear me?”
“Very funny,” he said. “Really now. Give it a try.” He acted like a six year old on his first trip to Disneyland.
“Can you hear me now?” I repeated out loud.
“That’s not much of a test,” he said. “I can always hear you when you look right at me. Go stand over ther
e with your back to me and try it.”
I complied. “Can you hear me now?”
He laughed in triumph. “Sounds like a cell phone commercial.”
I faced him. “Oh, Jesse! Can you really hear?”
“There’s a whistle when you talk, but I can make out the words okay.”
Dr. Adams retreated to her desk where she jotted a few notes in Jesse’s file. “The device will take some getting used to. We may still have some adjusting to do. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to come back. It usually takes a little tweaking before we get everything in proper alignment so you get maximum benefit.”
“What?” Jesse asked.
Dr. Adams frowned in concern until she saw the amusement in Jesse’s face.
Jesse grinned. “Hey, thanks a million. This is quite encouraging.”
When we settled into the car again, Jesse turned to me. “Now that I can hear, I can help with this investigation you’re spearheading.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “You missed a lot of pertinent information when you interviewed this Mary Wilson.”
My pride took a hit while I buckled my seat belt. Conscience too. I really should tell Jesse about how I found Mary. Maybe some other time. “Like what?”
“Like how about the name of the wacko boyfriend, the one Baxter asked about. And how about a description of the wacko boyfriend.”
Oh, nuts! Didn’t even think of that.
Jesse started the engine. “Where was Mary when Baxter couldn’t find her for two years? And how about the black van with the stolen license plates? Did you ask about that? Maybe she knows who it belongs to.”
“You’re so smart!” Never hurts to stroke the male ego. “Gotta admit, I never thought of any of those questions.”
Jesse beamed as if he’d been awarded first prize at the spelling bee. He sang while we drove northwest toward Rough and Ready.
I wanna know for sure that you’ll be my girl.
Come on baby let the good times roll.
Get along home, Cindy, Cindy, Get along home Cindy Lou.
Tell me that you care. Tell me that you’ll always be there.
I spent a lifetime looking for the right one …
Not knowing one complete song never stopped Jesse from singing. He knew plenty of snippets to compose a medley. When he started to serenade, I never tried to join in because he might move on to a completely different song at any moment when he ran out of words and I never knew what tune he would use next.
Hearing him sing, I relaxed, sighing in contentment. Ever since his hearing started to fail, he’d been grumpier than usual and hadn’t been singing much. How pleasant to have him back to normal, well, at least normal for Jesse.
After winding around curvy roads for more than fifteen minutes, we arrived at Mary’s. The house appeared the same as before, unadorned and commonplace.
Jesse parked on the dirt driveway beside the house. “Let’s ask for God’s help first.”
I bestowed a wide grin on him. Nothing makes me quite as happy as when he takes his rightful spiritual leadership role.
Jesse put his hand on my knee and prayed. “Lord, thank you for better hearing. Please give us the right questions to ask Mary today. Help her be cooperative and unafraid.”
I finished the prayer. “And help us get to the truth about what really happened to Baxter that night.”
“I could hear you with my eyes closed.” Jesse smiled his delight. His radiant smile always dazzled me. As usual, I got lost staring at it, but he soon turned away to inspect the house. “Sure is quiet out here.”
“Yeah.” Climbing out of the Jeep, I took in the neglected scene. The wind blew a lonely howl in the tops of the trees. Knowing a little about Mary’s life, the sound seemed a perfect background. “Quiet and sad.”
Jesse pointed to the rusty vehicle. “Do you think that’s her car?”
“Don’t know. Does it look drivable?”
Exploring the possibility, Jesse peeked in the driver side window and shrugged. “There’s a lot of dust on the seat. Doesn’t look like anyone’s driven it for a while.”
He knocked on the door. We waited at least a minute and then I knocked again.
Jesse frowned. “Maybe she’s not here.”
“Give her time. She’s probably sleeping off a hangover.”
Just then, I heard muffled footsteps. The door slowly opened. On the other side of the screen, Mary blinked at the streaming sunlight.
“Hi.” I gave a wide grin. “Remember me? I came out last week to talk with you about Deputy Dunn.”
She kept batting her eyes without saying a word.
How far gone was she today?
“This is my husband, Jesse Sterling.” I nodded toward him.
Mary blinked a few seconds longer, probably dazzled by his smile. Then she heaved a sigh so long and deep that her shoulders raised and lowered. “I told you what I know about the cop.”
“I know,” I said as encouragingly as possible. “I appreciate that very much. But we need to ask a couple of other things. Won’t take long.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged one shoulder lazily and pushed the screen door, stepping back to let us through. We followed while she padded toward the same living area where I sat on my last visit.
“Shove that stuff off and grab a seat if you want.” She curled up in the big chair and picked at a tuft of stuffing that stuck out through a jagged rip in the upholstery.
I moved aside a mound of clothing and settled next to it on the sofa. Jesse pushed a few items onto the already littered floor so he could sit beside me.
My gaze traveled in a semi-circle around the room. “Do you live alone?”
“Me and a couple cats.”
All of a sudden I wondered a lot of things about Mary that I hadn’t considered before. “Have you lived out here a long time?”
She shook her head. “Not long.”
Jesse asked, “Is that your car out front?”
Mary glanced in the general direction of the vehicle, although she couldn’t see it through the wall. “It’s registered to the old man. He let me use it.”
Jesse raised his eyebrows. “Does it run?”
“Not very often.” Mary tugged her drooping sweatshirt over her bare shoulder. “I don’t know how to fix it and mechanics cost money.”
I nodded. “How do you make ends meet? Do you have a job?”
As Mary probed the chair, a clump of stuffing popped out of the arm. She looked surprised and stuffed it back inside with one finger. “I get some help from the state and then I waitress down at the Owl. Part-time.”
Jesse arched one eyebrow. Did he judge her? I knew how he felt about young healthy people receiving welfare.
When she shrugged, the oversized sweatshirt fell off her shoulder again.
“Did you say ‘waitress’? Do they serve food there?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jesse shoot me a questioning glance.
Her listless eyes turned toward me. “Not food. I just serve drinks sometimes when they get really slammed. They pay me under the table.”
Oh, sure. Waitresses serve drinks as well as food. “Oh.” But she didn’t look old enough to serve drinks in a bar.
Jesse cleared his throat. “Let’s see if we got this right. You haven’t been here long, but you were living here with a boyfriend the first time you met Deputy Dunn. Right?”
A single nod conveyed her answer.
“Deputy Dunn came to arrest you and your boyfriend.”
“Well, me really, cause the old man wasn’t here when the
cops came. Who did you say you work for?” Brows knit in a frown, she looked at me, then Jesse.
Maybe she would clam up if she thought too much about who we were. “We’re not working for anyone.” When I get nervous, I babble. “We’re friends of Deputy Dunn’s family. A bunch of rumors and lies are circulating about him. Maybe you’ve heard them. The story is all over the news. We’re d
isgusted with the current investigation. What’s being reported gets further from the truth every day. We just want to give the sheriff’s department a reason to start down a different road.”
“How do you know what’s being said isn’t true?”
The fat gray cat wandered into the room again and jumped into her lap. It purred so loudly I could hear the sound from where I sat. While Mary absentmindedly scratched its ears, she cocked her head as if she couldn’t imagine a cop who wasn’t dirty.
“Baxter couldn’t possibly be involved with drugs. We saw him with his family. We saw him at church. He wasn’t the kind of person who’d get into the drug scene.” How could I convince her? “Baxter was a Christian. Do you know what that is?”
Mary wiggled her head slightly, side to side. “Never had much use for religion.”
“It’s not religion, it’s a relationship. Religion is what people make up, trying to reach God. Being a Christian is about connecting to God through Jesus Christ.” I paused, amazed at the words pouring out of my mouth. Zora Jane must be rubbing off on me.
“He was a fine, upstanding man with high standards and morals,” I continued. “Christians live by God’s standards. Baxter worked hard to be like Jesus. He cared about the community, about health and safety. He wasn’t the kind of man they’re talking about on the news.”
Jesse nodded. “Also, Baxter wasn’t on the Drug Task Force. So, why do you think he came with the other officers when you got arrested?”
Eyes lowered, she stroked the cat. “Now that you mention it, he didn’t seem like part of the team. Two other cops did the arresting. Dunn just stood there, asking questions about the old man.” She stopped stroking and regarded me as if she’d just realized something. “Actually, that’s all he ever talked about, the old man.”
I nodded. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
She straightened in the chair. “Ex-boyfriend. Frank de la Peña.” She whispered his name as if it were a secret she’d promised not to tell. Fear flashed into her eyes. “Most people call him Kingfisher.”
“Why?” Jesse asked.
“Kingfishers are birds. Big heads, colorful. They’re murder on fish because they have these huge, strong bills, see? That’s Frankie. He’s little, but smart. Big head, colorful personality, but you don’t want to cross him. He’s strong and…” Mary shivered involuntarily and shrank back into her chair.
The Dunn Deal Page 8