I didn’t mean to be uncooperative, but surely he could read the transcripts of yesterday’s interview. “I already told that to Detective Rogers.”
“Very well. Mary Wilson consorted with drug dealers. What is your part in that?”
Sitting straight and prim as a spinster schoolteacher, I stared him squarely in the eyes. “I had no part in that. I have never used drugs, don’t know anything about drugs, and certainly wouldn’t know where to purchase them. In other words, Deputy Colter, you will not be able to find one tiny bit of proof that I ever had anything to do with drugs.”
He held my gaze, a triumphant smirk spreading over his face. “We already have.”
In that instant, his words deflated my haughty bravado. “What?”
“Your 2003 Jeep Grand Cherokee is currently parked on department property. At such a time, it is subject to search according to our discretion. Acting on an anonymous tip, we searched your vehicle this afternoon and recovered a stash of methamphetamine from the back seat.”
A sudden roar pulsed in my ears. I shook my head to clear my hearing. What kind of nightmare was I living? “What?” Certainly I hadn’t heard him correctly.
With the maniacal grin of a mad scientist, he rocked back in his chair. “Now. Tell me about your part in this crime.”
I thought I might be sick. “I… haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” I raised my leaden body to a stand so that I towered above him in case he questioned my authority to make this request. “However, I have nothing else to say without my attorney present.”
As soon as I made that statement, the young deputy and Colter collected the recorder and exited the room without another word. I waited impatiently, pacing and fidgeting.
Two hours passed. During that time, I rapped on the door several times, but no one came. Even though I couldn’t see anyone, I called out, “This is ridiculous! I’m being detained and you haven’t told me why. That’s got to be unconstitutional.”
I checked my watch again. It didn’t seem to be working. I shook it, then looked once more. Time dragged on.
Close to three hours after Colter left, the door flew open. In bustled a tall portly man stuffed in a black pinstripe suit followed by Deputy Colter gloating down his large nose.
The man extended his hand. “I’m your attorney, Jeff Goldburgh. Sorry to keep you waiting so long. I’ve been in court all day.”
I shook his hand. A firm handshake denoted confidence. Confidence is a good characteristic for an attorney.
He banged a few folders onto the table and gestured for me to return to my uncomfortable metal seat. Beneath his serious expression, Mr. Goldburgh’s brown eyes glowed with intelligence. “So, Mrs. Sterling. Do you know how the methamphetamine got into your vehicle?”
My neck felt stiff when I shook my head. “I have no idea what this is all about.”
Colter pointed a finger into my face. “We’ve got you now, Mrs. Sterling.”
Without taking his eyes off me, Mr. Goldburgh said, “Please excuse us for a moment, Deputy Colter. I’d like to confer with my client.”
Colter strutted out, throwing back an ugly face just before he slammed the door.
Mr. Goldburgh searched my eyes. “You’re quite pale. Are you feeling okay?”
“I just want to go home.”
“Do you know anything that could explain these accusations?”
My headache increased when I shook my head.
“Well, let’s see if we can get you out of here then.”
He collected his folders, tapped the table with them, and hurried out the door.
Through the opaque glass window in the door, I watched shadowy shapes of Colter and Mr. Goldburgh. Judging by the arm gestures, they appeared to be engaged in an animated discussion. Soon after, the door opened and they reentered the room, Mr. Goldburgh first with Deputy Colter behind.
Colter bristled. “I’ll be seeing you again soon. Don’t leave town.”
Mr. Goldburgh looked serious, but congenial. “It appears that they found evidence in your vehicle. However, you are not being arrested at this time.” He gestured at the door. “You’re free to leave. Please come to my office tomorrow morning at ten to discuss a strategy.”
Without further discussion, Mr. Goldburgh guided me to the lobby where Jesse still waited. He left without even introducing himself to Jesse.
Bewildered, flabbergasted, speechless, I watched the door bang shut after Mr. Goldburgh left the station. The world seemed to be running in slow motion. This must be a bad dream. Maybe I should pinch myself.
“What is it?” Jesse threw a protective arm around my shoulders. “You’ve been in there for hours. What took you so long?”
“That’s the attorney. He… I…” All sensation of reality drained away. Blackness closed in on me and I felt myself falling again.
Jesse grabbed me, shaking my shoulders. “The attorney. What’s he doing here? What did he say?”
I blinked hard trying to focus on Jesse’s dear familiar face. “Colter… drugs… in the Jeep.”
Jesse frowned and turned his good ear toward me. “It sounded like you said, ‘Drugs in the Jeep.’”
My head weighed a ton. With great effort, I nodded.
“What drugs? What Jeep?”
I finally focused on his eyes. They looked so concerned. “Ours, Jesse. He said they found methamphetamine in our Jeep.”
“Impossible.” Jesse shook his head. “There are no drugs in our Jeep.”
I swayed and Jesse steadied me. If this wasn’t a nightmare, when would someone explain what was going on?
Jeff Goldburgh’s office took up the second floor of a two-story building on Main Street in the old Victorian section of downtown Grass Valley. With trepidation, I climbed the steps with Jesse right behind me, our shoes clacking on the marble in time with my throbbing headache. We found his name and title, Jeff Goldburgh, Attorney at Law, painted on his office door in impressive gold lettering. The door opened to a miniscule waiting area. The middle-aged receptionist sported a bun on top of her head that looked like a cinnamon roll. She glanced up from her computer desk to greet us.
“We’re here to see Mr. Goldburgh.” Jesse’s voice shook a tad.
Cinnamon Roll removed her reading glasses. “May I give him your name?”
Jesse cleared his throat. “We’re the Sterlings.”
“I’ll tell him you’re here.” She glided around her desk and hurried into the office behind her.
I sat on the edge of one of the two overstuffed chairs in the waiting area. Jesse paced. In a minute, the receptionist returned with Mr. Goldburgh directly behind her.
“Please come in,” he said with a welcoming gesture, shaking our hands when we passed by. Why couldn’t I feel as calm as he acted? Let’s hope our confidence in this man would prove well placed. Zora Jane had highly recommended him.
Jesse and I entered his bookcase-lined office and lowered our bodies stiffly into the two chairs he indicated.
Mr. Goldburgh seemed to sense my nervous state. “This must be a frightening time for both of you.” He seated his corpulent body into an imposing black leather chair behind his oversized oak desk.
Jesse glanced at me, signaling that I should speak.
I gulped. “That’s putting it mildly. I’m certainly way out of my comfort zone.”
Mr. Goldburgh adjusted his spectacles and leafed through a pile of papers from a folder on his desk. “Well, let’s see if we can get this over with before it goes any further.”
I liked that idea a lot.
After reading several sections, he glanced up and removed his glasses. “The evidence against you is insubstantial and inconclusive.”
I nodded dully. A slight consolation, but I’d rather not be here at all.
“Do you own a black fringed purse, Mrs. Sterling?”
Of all the questions I expected him to ask, that one would never have made it to the list. “Black fringed?”
“Do you know
why a black fringed purse would be in your vehicle?”
Baffled, I shook my head, looking at Jesse for assistance.
Jesse leaned toward Mr. Goldburgh. “What’s this about?”
“The drugs removed from your Jeep were concealed in a black fringed purse found under the back seat on the driver’s side. Any idea how they got there?”
I laughed nervously. “We never sit in the back seat. Molly does sometimes. That’s our dog. But she doesn’t have a—”
Mr. Goldburgh’s eyes met mine. He smiled. “Of course not.”
“Mary,” Jesse said, the light bulb above his head lighting up. “She sat in the back seat.”
“Oh, my!” I suddenly remembered. “Mary Wilson carried a black purse with fringe on it.” Hope trickled into my heart and I turned to Mr. Goldburgh for affirmation. “Well that explains it, doesn’t it? The purse belonged to Mary.”
He slipped his glasses off and rocked in his big chair, looking thoughtful. “When was Mary Wilson in the back seat?”
“The night before she died. That’s when we took her out to the mill. She brought her purse that night. I remember she took it off the hook beside the front door at her house when we were leaving.”
Mr. Goldburgh placed his glasses back on and consulted the paperwork again. “From the contents of the purse, I’d say it wouldn’t be difficult to establish that this purse belonged to Miss Wilson. Red lipstick, black eye pencil, and eyeliner. Black finger nail polish. That’s not likely the type of makeup you use, Mrs. Sterling, unless you have an alter ego.” He peered over his glasses and smiled as if he’d made a joke. “We could have the lipstick tested for DNA.” He nodded agreement with himself. “There’s no substance to this evidence. It’s really just a nuisance.”
That sounded promising. “I’m off the hook then?”
“Well, actually no. The drugs are still a problem because they were found in your vehicle. It’s a significant amount of methamphetamine. You can still be charged with possession of a controlled substance.” He leafed through a few more papers. “Did you know Mary used drugs?”
I shook my head. “Actually I rather thought she didn’t. Her former boyfriend does. They have a drug lab out at the mill. But I thought she condemned his drug use.” I glanced at Jesse for confirmation.
Jesse nodded. “I think alcohol was her drug of choice.”
Mr. Goldburgh rustled a few more pages. “The autopsy didn’t note drugs in her system.” He gazed at us. “Perhaps she possessed the drugs with intent to sell.”
That would surprise me but this entire affair was a puzzle. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
He closed the file and rocked a moment longer. “It seems strangely convenient that Mary’s purse showed up packed with drugs at precisely the time you were being questioned at the sheriff’s office.”
Jesse leaned toward him. “I assure you, Mr. Goldburgh, we have no idea how those drugs got into our car unless Mary left them there.”
He removed his glasses and chewed one end before speaking again. “My guess would be that someone planted them.”
What an incredible idea! “Who would do a thing like that?” I stared into Jesse’s eyes, seeing my bewilderment mirrored there.
Mr. Goldburgh watched our faces. “Probably someone from the sheriff’s office. Is there anyone there who might want to get you out of the way?”
Colter came to mind. But why? What could make him risk his job and reputation to frame me?
Chapter Eighteen
Thursday morning another news story proclaimed my guilt in scathing terms. Above the article, a second picture that was taken when I left the sheriff’s office made my face look scary enough to frighten small children. Why didn’t I notice someone taking it? Not that I would have posed so they could get a better shot. But good grief! How do news photographers manage to snap the worst possible angles? I winced while I read the incriminating article. Even if they didn’t manage to convict me of murder, association and innuendo would forever sully my good reputation within Nevada County.
The media crowd outside our gate grew in number and strength; a few hearty news people ran alongside any vehicle that drove in or out of our driveway. I hid in the house whenever possible. Ed and Zora Jane brought groceries and casseroles along with encouraging words. For once I had no appetite, but it comforted me to know that my friends believed in my innocence and were praying for truth and justice.
At Mr. Goldburgh’s suggestion, Jesse and I both submitted to drug testing which, of course, showed no drugs in our systems. We invited a crew of detectives to our house and
watched them search with drug-detection dogs through every inch of our property. They made a huge mess that took hours to clean up, but didn’t find a whiff of drugs or a single piece of drug paraphernalia.
Mr. Goldburgh also suggested I volunteer for a lie detector test, but Ed advised against it since such tests were often inconclusive. An inconclusive result might cast undue suspicion. Besides, lie detector results couldn’t be considered evidence in court.
“I know this is a huge pain in the heinie,” Ed said on Friday when they visited to encourage us. “But it’ll pass, I promise. They’ve got nothing on you. They would’ve already arrested you if they have what they say they have. Trust me. This Colter fellow’s trying to scare you off. Nothing more.”
“But why?” I asked incredulously. What possible threat could I be to Deputy Colter?
Ed scratched his bald head. “I hate to say it. It feels like ratting on one of my own. However, from what you’ve told me, the conclusion I keep coming back to is…” He studied each of us in turn. “He’s got to be involved. If he is, maybe you’re getting close to something he doesn’t want you to find.”
A dirty cop? I’d never considered that. Could Colter be involved? For what reason? Puzzling things I’d wondered about clunked into place. Did Colter’s agenda involve illegal activity?
After Ed and Zora Jane left, I stayed outside, rocking in the redwood slide. Our cats, Hoppy and his nearly identical brother, Roy, came to sit in my lap as if sensing my need for comfort. If Molly had been there, she would have been sitting at my feet where I could feel her hot breath against my leg. I could’ve buried my head in her soft fur and smelled her wonderful aroma. I missed her fiercely.
Caught up in the insanity of having to defend myself, I’d put finding Molly on the back burner. The Molly-sized hole in
our house and my heart grew more depressing each day. One morning, I mentioned that to Jesse. “She has been gone over a week. We need to contact Detective Rogers. See what they found out at the compound.”
Jesse shook his head. “Zora Jane and Ed already told us everything Rogers can divulge. He won’t be able to share more until he’s made an arrest. Maybe not even then if there’s going to be a trial someday.”
“Let’s try, at least. If he says no, we’ll know we have to take our questions somewhere else.” I recited the phone number of the Nevada County Sheriff’s Office which I still remembered after numerous calls during last year’s Lila Payne investigation.
Jesse placed the call.
I paced, waiting for the dispatcher to pick up.
“Hello. I’d like to make an appointment with Detective Rogers.” Jesse stared at me and shook his head. “When will he be in?” He raised his eyebrows. “Okay. We’ll try back then.”
After he hung up, Jesse turned to me. “He won’t be in until tomorrow.”
A stifling sense of urgency billowed around me like a hot air balloon. Not only did media people constantly surround us, but Jesse also hovered over me day and night as if he feared I might shatter under the pressure of these false allegations. I needed to get away from the house so I could look for the entrance to the mineshaft. How could I shake Jesse for a few hours? No more lies or cover-ups. Maybe I’d try the direct approach.
“Jesse, my darling.” Stabbing with my fork, I picked at the salad Jesse had prepared. “You’re so good to me. I’m j
ust about smothered to death with all the wonderful attention you lavish on me. I know how concerned you are and I do appreciate you so much.”
He glanced up from his plate. “But—”
“I need to get away by myself for a few hours.”
He stopped chewing, his fork suspended in air. Worry crept into his eyes.
“Not for long.” I patted his hand. “Just a couple hours.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I just need a little space, that’s all.” I bent toward him so I could rub his cheek. “I’ve been under a lot of strain lately. I feel kind of cooped up. Maybe it’s cabin fever.”
He wasn’t buying it. His hand closed protectively over mine. “Okay. What’s up?”
“Can’t I just have a little time by myself without something being up?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Sure. But I know you. You have something in mind. You’re not planning to get in more trouble, are you?”
“Really, Jesse. Don’t you think I’ve got enough trouble without going out to find more?”
His dubious look remained but I persisted, so he saw me off with a sigh and sadness in his eyes. He even allowed me to drive his Ford dualie since the Jeep had been impounded. A twinge of guilt condemned me while I sped past the media crowds, but I squashed it down before I could dwell on it.
I had to find Molly no matter what.
A sign announcing the entrance to the historic Empire Mine, part of California’s state park system, stuck out through the trees. I hoped to find information at the Empire about the location of other mines in the area, particularly the Star Mine, which had been a smaller operation to begin with. Its wooden and tin buildings had long since collapsed leaving little to create
a state park around. The Empire Mine, on the other hand, was the oldest, largest, and richest gold mine in California history, operating from 1850 all the way up to 1956. An enormous quantity of gold had been mined out of the 367 miles of underground shafts and tunnels during its operation. Experts estimated that the total extracted comprised only about twenty percent of the total gold in the region. The mine closed when mining costs became prohibitive, leaving the remaining gold untouched. The shafts and tunnels were abandoned; most of them had caved in or been flooded with water.
The Dunn Deal Page 16