by Daheim, Mary
Bill and Lori were behind the counter. They both looked anxious. Before I could speak, Bill said they hadn’t heard from the sheriff since he’d gone into the courthouse.
“Why,” Mitch asked, “would anybody hold the county extension agent hostage? Is the 4H Club in revolt?”
Bill lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “No idea. Eleanor told us that Ramsey was late getting to work. Her office is right by the county extension agent and she swears nobody went in there after the main door was opened at eight.”
“What about the back way by the freight elevator?” I asked.
“They hadn’t unlocked it yet,” Bill replied. “They aren’t expecting any deliveries this morning so they don’t unlock that door until somebody goes outside to smoke.”
My fear for Rosemary hadn’t quite been quelled. I asked the deputy if she’d come to work.
“I suppose so,” he replied, looking puzzled. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“Just curious,” I said, realizing Milo had kept Rosemary’s scare to himself until she filed a complaint. “Is the courthouse really sealed off?”
Bill nodded, his fair skin flushing slightly. “Crazy, huh? At least nobody’s phoned in a bomb threat.”
Lori stared at her coworker. “Don’t say things like that! I’m already a wreck with Grandma’s funeral tomorrow. My poor dad feels lost with both his parents gone.”
I kept from saying Myron Cobb should be able to cope by now, being in his seventies. I didn’t speak at all as Spence made his entrance.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “the doughty Deputy Blatt, the lovely Lori, and half the staff of the Advocate are already here. No wonder I sense news. Is it true that Mayor Baugh is being held hostage by Jack Blackwell?”
That had never occurred to me. I gaped at Bill. “Has Black Jack been released?” I asked.
Bill nodded again. “About half an hour ago. He’s still fit to spit.”
Spence looked annoyed. “Blackwell was arrested? What for? Is this tied in to what happened at RestHaven?”
I leaned closer to Mitch. “Stick around,” I whispered. “I’m heading for the courthouse.”
My reporter seemed puzzled. “But—”
I kept going. If there was danger to the sheriff, I had to be there. My mind was racing as I crossed Second and waited for traffic on Front. Inspiration struck when I saw Leo coming out of the Clemans Building. He saw me and waited on the corner.
“I just got Doukas Realty to take out—” he began.
“Never mind. Call the courthouse and tell them there’s a priority FedEx delivery out back.”
“Emma…” Leo began, but apparently realized I was not only sane, but serious.
“Okay.” He took out his cell. “Mine is not to reason why…. Hello? Urgent FedEx at the rear entrance,” he said and immediately disconnected.
“Thanks!” I called over my shoulder as I crossed Second and headed straight for the rear of the courthouse. To my dismay, Medics Del Amundson and Vic Thorstensen were standing by their vehicle. I tried to ignore them, but Del called to me.
“Hey, Emma, you can’t go in there!”
The door was opened by the bailiff, Gus Tolberg. He was about the last person I wanted to see. “What the hell…?” he uttered in confusion.
“The sheriff!” I shouted, somehow managing to edge past Gus.
He came after me just as I entered the freight elevator and poked the second-floor button. “Do you want to get arrested?” Gus demanded, barely getting his burly body inside before the door closed on him.
I glared at Gus. “If the sheriff arrests me, he’ll have to get his own dinner tonight,” I declared. “In case you’ve forgotten, you were one of the witnesses at our wedding here last February.”
Gus simmered down, but he still looked grumpy. He always did. “Oh, yeah, along with Ms. Bourgette as the other witness.”
“Is she here today?” I asked just before the elevator stopped on the second floor.
“Haven’t seen her.” He remained in place and pushed the button for the main floor. “I have to go back to court. If Dodge doesn’t bust you, I hope he tells you you’re a real pain in the butt.”
“He often does,” I mumbled, starting through the delivery area.
I was about to turn the corner into the hallway when a voice called out. “Stop! Who goes there?”
“Your wife,” I shouted. “Don’t shoot me.”
“Christ!” Milo, who had his hand on his weapon, looked as if he was tempted to kick, if not shoot, me. “How the hell…Damnit, Emma, why can’t you stay put?”
“I’m on the job,” I replied innocently. “I heard you were making news at the courthouse.”
“The last thing I need is to worry about you,” he growled, leading the way down the hall. “Go into Rosie’s office. She’s not here yet. Which is good, under the circumstances.”
“Which are?” I inquired.
The sheriff, whose hand finally fell away from the King Cobra Magnum, yanked open the prosecutor’s door. “Never mind,” he said in a low, adamant tone. “Get in there. Now.”
I knew what that glint in his hazel eyes meant. I scooted through the door. Milo closed it behind me. I wondered if he’d locked it. After I recovered from being intimidated, it occurred to me that I might as well have stayed in my own office instead of being stuck in Rosemary’s. I tested the knob. It moved.
“Knock it off!” I heard my husband yell.
I looked around, noticing that the room looked exactly as I’d seen it the previous night. If Rosemary hadn’t yet filed an official complaint against Des, it probably hadn’t been processed. I didn’t dare touch anything. Milo might bust me for tampering with evidence.
To hell with it, I thought, and opened the door an inch. “Who’s in there with Ramsey?” I whispered.
My husband shot me a disgusted look. “He won’t say.”
“It’s got to be Des,” I asserted. “I’ll bet he never left last night.”
“Maybe.” Milo seemed to relax slightly.
“Any demands?” I asked.
He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the door across the hall.
I remained standing on watch. About all I could see was the sheriff’s broad back, but that was a comfort. After a couple of minutes, he shifted from one foot to the other. I knew his patience was running out. Maybe he’d sent out for tear gas. It couldn’t be any worse than the coffee they served at his headquarters. To my dismay, I began to giggle.
“What the…?” Milo glanced back at me. “Pipe down!” he hissed between clenched teeth.
Suddenly sounds erupted from across the hall. I heard someone let out an agonized cry. A couple of thudding noises followed. The sheriff’s hand had automatically gone back to his weapon. An ominous silence enveloped the hallway. I had to force myself to stay rooted to the floor.
Just beyond Milo, the door to the county extension office opened. A ghostly faced Dean Ramsey leaned against the frame. “Call the medics,” he said in a ragged voice. “I just stabbed someone.” Dean passed out at the sheriff’s feet.
—
As usual, I didn’t have a camera. But I could call Mitch and tell him to come to the courthouse. “If you can’t get in,” I said hurriedly, “go to the back and get a shot of the ambulance taking away a wounded man. Don’t ask for details. I can’t talk.” To prove it, I rang off.
Milo was still on his cell, apparently having already called in the emergency crew and now was talking to one of his deputies. I still didn’t dare leave Rosemary’s office, especially with Dean lying halfway into the hall. Then I heard the medics before I saw them.
“Never mind this one,” the sheriff told Del and Vic. “Check out the guy in the office who’s been stabbed.”
Del glanced at me. “Hi, again, Emma,” he said, before disappearing with the gurney. Somehow, the longtime medic could remain cheerful under even the grimmest of circumstances. I supposed that’s how he survived the harrowing nature of his job
.
The sheriff was out of sight, having gone into the county extension office. I threw caution to the wind and went into the hall, where Dean was coming to. “Emma?” he whimpered, looking disoriented.
“Yes,” I said, helping Dean sit up. “We have to get out of the way. Can you stand?”
He seemed bewildered. “I don’t know.” Dean stared at the open door to his office. “Dang. Now I’m going to jail.”
“Why?” I asked stupidly.
He gestured at his office. “I stabbed that man with my Boy Scout knife. Besides, I…” He paused as Del and Vic wheeled Des Ellerbee out into the hall.
“He’s moving,” I said, “so he’s not dead.” I shut up as Dwight Gould and Bill Blatt came down the hall from the regular elevators. The sheriff obviously was waiting for them at the scene of whatever crime may or may not have been committed. Both deputies nodded at me as they passed by. If they were surprised by my presence, they didn’t show it.
Dean seemed oblivious to Dwight and Bill’s arrival. His eyes had widened. “The guy won’t die? I got him in the ribs.”
“That’s not necessarily fatal,” I asserted. “Do you know who he was?”
“I do now,” Dean replied in a miserable tone. “He finally told me his name. What did I ever do to him?”
I didn’t know how to respond. “Did you two talk much?”
“He talked. He sounded kind of crazy. Who is he? Besides Des Whoever? He jabbered about movies and logging and all kinds of stuff. How’d he get into my office in the first place? He was hiding under the desk when I got to work.”
“Did he seem to know you?”
The question obviously puzzled Dean. “Well, he knew I was the county extension agent.”
That wasn’t what I’d meant. “Then I assume he didn’t know you from somewhere else.”
Dean looked flabbergasted. “Heck, no. Isn’t he from California?”
“That’s what he told me,” I replied. “Maybe he is. He may be Aaron Conley’s brother.”
Dean’s face sagged. “What?”
“Aaron wasn’t really Aaron,” I said quietly. “That was his name as a musician. He was probably Ellerbee’s brother and I think Des killed the man we knew as Aaron.”
“Oh, no!” Dean cried, covering his face with his hands just as Milo stepped out into the hall and looked down at me.
“Does Ramsey need medical help?” he asked.
“He’s really upset,” I replied. “There’s something I have to tell you about who killed Aaron or Wes or whatever his name—”
Dean scrambled around me to grab the sheriff’s pants leg. “Des didn’t kill Aaron, Sheriff! I did! I never meant to! Go ahead, arrest me. I can’t take it anymore.”
—
It’s unusual for the sheriff and me to be speechless at the same time. But we both stared at Dean and then at each other. “Dean,” the sheriff finally said in his laconic manner, “I think you could use a look-see from the medics.”
Dean kept protesting, but Milo told Dwight to have the medics return after they dumped off Ellerbee in the ER. “You and Jack keep an eye on Ramsey,” he continued. “I have to interrogate another witness.”
Jack poked his head out from around the other side of Dean’s office door. “Who is it?” He saw I was still crouched on the floor by Dean. “Oh. Right. The Little Woman.”
Milo hauled me to my feet as the deputies came into the hall. I glared at Jack instead of Dwight for a change. The sheriff then pulled me into Dean’s office. To my surprise, he slammed the door behind us.
“Take a seat,” he growled, going around Dean’s desk to sit in his office chair. “What in hell is up with Ramsey?”
“Ask him,” I retorted. “Did you hear his so-called confession?”
“Yeah.” Milo sat back and lighted a cigarette. “You want one?”
“Yes, but you’ll have to bust both of us for smoking in the federal courthouse.”
“Good. I don’t know about you, but I could use a little peace and quiet about now.” He lighted a cigarette and handed it to me. “We can use Ramsey’s coffee mug for an ashtray. Okay, unload, you little pain in the ass.”
“I don’t know any more than you do. Really. I figured Des killed Wes, but that’d mean he was up here several years ago. In fact, he told me he’d been in the area before, but claimed he didn’t know about Alpine until he read the cabin ad.”
My husband rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t question Ellerbee in the ER or talk to Ramsey until he calms down. He may be in shock. He may be crazy. Why would Dean kill Conley?”
“If he’s telling the truth,” I said slowly, trying to reconstruct the distraught man’s spate of words, “it may’ve been an accident. I suppose they met somewhere, maybe at the cabin. They had Crystal in common.”
“Or they got into it over her,” Milo murmured. “Even dead, Crystal could cause problems.” He paused. “How come you first fingered Des?”
“Even if Des told me he didn’t know about Alpine, I suspected he’d been here when his brother was living at the cabin. Someone must know if the place has been vacant for all these years. It certainly hasn’t changed much since Crystal died. I guessed Des came up here a few years after the murder and the brothers quarreled. Aaron ended up dead and a panicky Des buried him at the dump site.”
“Emma’s wacky theories survive.” The sheriff stared at the ceiling. “Go on. This might start making sense.”
“Fine. I’m getting to the revised part.”
“Revisionist history. Why not?” Milo was still staring at the ceiling.
“If Dean’s not crazy and really killed Aaron, that scenario still plays. Des wouldn’t know his brother was dead. He shows up at some point, can’t find him, steals his credit cards, and takes off. We should’ve checked into Des’s background.”
Milo nodded slowly and finally looked at me. “He may be wanted in several states as Aaron Conley, not as Desmond Ellerbee. I’ll check that out. Somebody should have him on a surveillance camera.” He paused, listening. “I think the medics are back. Let’s stay here and make out.”
“Milo…”
“I’m kidding,” he said. “I’ve got to go to the hospital and check on both patients. Maybe one of them will be lucid. And no, you can’t come with me.” He put out his cigarette in the mug and stood up. “I’d ask how you got in the building, but I really don’t want to know.”
I’d let my cigarette burn down so far that it had gone out on its own. “You’re not mad at me?” I asked, pulling at his short-sleeved regulation shirt.
“Hey,” Milo said, putting his hand over mine, “if you can’t stay mad at me, how the hell can I stay mad at you? But move that hand before it touches my brawny arm, okay? I’ve got work to do.”
I found Mitch out in the hall with the deputies. Apparently the courthouse had been reopened. “I got good outside shots of the medics leaving and reloading. The deputies have been filling me in,” he added with a touch of reproach.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I honestly couldn’t talk. I was trying to help Dean Ramsey. He was the second one headed for the hospital.”
“Mullins told me,” Mitch said. “This is your story, I assume.”
“This story is such a mess that we’ll both work on it,” I assured him. “Are you going back to the office?”
Mitch checked his watch. “I can’t. I’ve got a date at ten-thirty with the Bartons. The ethnic series, with their Irish and Greek backgrounds.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.” I walked away, feeling as if I was departing from a Greek tragedy with comic Irish overtones. There really are times in life when you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
TWENTY-THREE
Naturally, Vida pounced on me when I returned to the office. “How could I miss all the excitement? Alison had no idea where you’d gone. Nor could I reach Billy. I called Lori, but she’s such a sad sack lately, and insisted she didn’t know what was happening at the courthouse.
”
I summed up what had occurred as if I were writing the lead paragraph. If I could remember what I said, maybe I could use it in print.
“How very odd,” Vida murmured, adjusting the cork hat. “My, I’d almost forgotten how much trouble Crystal caused in the first place. I never met her after she moved back to this area. I feel remiss. How soon do you want to leave for Kay’s? I already fetched my casserole. As I recall, it has pork, sweet pickles, potato puffs, and…I forget. Very hearty.”
I avoided wincing. “I can’t visit Kay,” I said. “At least not before lunch. I have to get this story online.”
“That’s fine,” Vida responded. “The casserole hasn’t yet thawed, though it will in this weather. Just as well, if Kay wants it for supper.”
Sometimes it’s better to say nothing at all, especially about Vida’s cooking. “By the way,” I inquired, “has Mitch asked for help with his ethnic roots series?”
“He mentioned it yesterday,” Vida replied. “I told him the Doukas family that lived near the old Camp Two site had moved some years ago to Cle Elum. I don’t recall why they did such a thing. The family still owns Doukas Realty.”
Unable to provide a reason for what Vida no doubt considered irrational behavior, I went into my office. I had to hedge about what had gone down at the courthouse. No one yet had been charged with a crime. The only hard news out of the sheriff’s office was Kay’s charge against Blackwell. I wouldn’t go online with that, despite my threat to make Black Jack’s abuses public. I’d wait for our next edition, as I always did when an official complaint was lodged.
I was still mulling when I saw Spence come into the newsroom, pausing to make his obeisance to Vida. A few moments later, he was in my office, sitting down in a visitor chair.