by Dave Daren
“Course, we’ll know more about what Watkins was up to when we get the fingerprints back,” Harris added.
He turned to look at me again and the threatening stare was back. I wondered if he’d seen me take off after Watkins’ truck the night before, and more importantly, if he knew Lila was in the truck. But it was time to shift the focus, and bring the discussion around to the other reasons I was supposed to be there. After all, I didn’t want to seem too interested in the fate of Ken Watkins.
“Sounds like you’ve got a full plate,” I commented. “So I understand why you don’t want to talk to me. I wasn’t sure who else to go to, though.”
“And what is it you want to talk about, Mr. Morgan?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair.
“Mr. Baker made some… suggestions on how to insure that the deal is done on time,” I said. “Suggestions that I relayed to my client. But now that Mr. Baker is dead, I’m not sure who to deliver my client’s response to.”
The Sheriff grinned, then quickly replaced it with a stern scowl.
“Mr. Baker didn’t have a second in command at the office,” Harris replied. “Just a couple of file clerks. I don’t think either of them is qualified to help you, Mr. Morgan, or would even know about these suggestions.”
I sighed inwardly as the Sheriff made it clear that he wanted to make this as painful as possible. We could spend hours dancing around the topic of an appropriate bribe, time I didn’t have if I wanted to hand the murderer to the Sheriff so I could close this deal and get back to New York.
“So who would be the appropriate official?” I asked politely.
The Sheriff ran a hand over his jaw and I noticed that he’d missed a couple of patches when he shaved that morning. I wondered if he’d even gotten any sleep, but I doubted he would appreciate any concern on my part.
“I guess that would be me,” the Sheriff finally said, and I knew then that he had decided to take control of Hup’s gang, at least for the moment.
“Well, as Mr. Baker suggested, my client agrees that joining the local hunt club is an excellent way to meet other local business owners,” I said. “And he understands that there might be a one time fee involved in processing the documents. Annual taxes are also acceptable, as long as they fall within the guidelines promulgated by the state.”
The Sheriff digested that for several moments, and then he leaned forward, placed his arms on the desk, and nodded.
“I’m sure we could work with all of those,” the Sheriff said. “But we still have one problem.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Hup is still dead and I still need to arrest his killer,” the Sheriff said in a quiet voice.
I stared back, then slowly leaned forward as well.
“Then may I suggest that you start looking at some of the people who were closer to Hup,” I said. “It should be clear by now that I didn’t kill Hup, nor did some mystery man from New York City.”
We were only a few inches from each other and I could smell the aftershave the Sheriff had used that morning. It was woodsy and manly, and I wondered what he thought of my Sunny Day shower gel.
“Riiiight,” the Sheriff drawled.
He smiled, and eased back in his chair.
“I’m serious,” I added. “This is not something you can pin on me.”
“Because if I do, your client will take their business elsewhere,” the Sheriff suggested.
“Because I didn’t do it,” I said in a frustrated voice.
“That’s right,” the Sheriff agreed. “You’ve got that convenient alibi.”
I huffed and leaned back in my own chair.
“Fine, if you’re happy with leaving the murder open, then I won’t waste any more time on it,” I declared. “I’ll call my client, tell him we’re leaving this town and never coming back. And you can tell your nephew how you killed his chance to get a job without having to move to Ohio.”
The Sheriff’s face hardened even more, which I wouldn’t have thought was possible. He wasn’t the only one that was frustrated, though, and I couldn’t believe he was still clinging to his theory that Anthony had sent someone to kill Hup.
“I guess you think I set the fire as well,” I mused. “And what was the reason for doing that?”
The Sheriff growled and swatted a fly away from his head.
“You tell me,” the Sheriff replied. “Maybe you wanted to get rid of the girl before she could take back her story.”
“That seems like an incredibly dumb and reckless way to accomplish that goal,” I laughed. “And as far as I can tell, only the outside of the building was damaged.”
“So you wanted to scare her,” the Sheriff suggested, though I could tell by his expression that even he didn’t believe that.
We sat in silence for several moments, and then it was my turn to sigh.
“Look, I don’t know how to prove to you that I didn’t kill Hup unless I solve the crime myself and haul the killer in here,” I said. “And I’m guessing that whatever paperwork you or one of the clerks needs to sign won’t get signed unless you’ve got Hup’s killer locked up in your jail.”
“That’s about it,” the Sheriff agreed.
“Don’t you find it at all odd that you’ve suddenly got a murder, an arson, and a hit and run?” I demanded. “They’ve got to be connected.”
“Only common link is your arrival,” the Sheriff pointed out.
I rubbed my head as Lila had the night before and counted to ten.
“The only common link is that the deal was fine until you and Hup heard the name Febbo and someone told you why that was important,” I replied. “So why don’t you tell me who gave you that information?”
“We already had this discussion,” Harris replied. “I can’t tell you because it’s--”
“Part of an ongoing investigation,” I finished. “Right, I got it. But you were happy to tell me about the paint from the hit and run.”
Harris scowled and tapped angrily on the desk.
“I was testing you,” he insisted.
“The only white car I’ve driven around here is currently at Billy’s having paint removed,” I pointed out. “Are you suggesting that I snuck over to the shop last night, hopped in the Chevy, and drove around until I saw Watkins by the side of the road and hit him?”
“Someone was with him,” the Sheriff said.
“What?” I asked.
“The passenger door was open,” the Sheriff replied. “And his gun had been fired.”
“Jeez,” I murmured as I flashed back on the scene. “Did he shoot at the car?”
“At his passenger would be my guess,” the Sheriff said.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” the Sheriff replied. “Only body up there was Ken. We put out a call to hospitals, but no one came in with gunshot wounds last night or any of the usual signs of hitting an airbag after a collision.”
We stared at each other, and though the Sheriff still looked mean as hell, I could tell that was all he had. The driver of the other car hadn’t reported anything, and the Sheriff didn’t seem to know that Lila had been the passenger. There was always a chance that Harris would ask for our DNA or fingerprints to compare to what was found at the scene, but that would be a legal battle I would happily leave to Belle, at least until I determined who had killed Hup.
“I might have something that would help,” I finally said.
“Is that so?” the Sheriff asked in a tired voice.
“Lila saw Eliot Crenshaw meeting with your deputy,” I replied.
The Sheriff mulled that over for a moment, and though he maintained his steely stare, I saw the flicker of surprise when I made my announcement.
“What do you mean they had a meeting?” the Sheriff demanded.
“In the woods, behind the commune,” I explained. “Lila had gone looking for Eliot, and she followed his trail to the meeting. She said it was very intense, whatever they were discussing.”
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“But she doesn’t know what they said,” the Sheriff clarified.
I shrugged and decided not to mention what she had heard.
“Maybe that’s why the deputy was on the road last night,” I mused. “Maybe he was doing something for Crenshaw.”
The Sheriff snorted and even managed a chuckle or two, but his speculative look was a sure indication that he was wondering what Crenshaw and Watkins had been discussing.
“Don’t know what those two would be doing together,” Harris replied. “Ken probably just ran into him during his patrol.”
“So he stopped to chat?” I asked in disbelief.
“We like to know the people we serve,” the Sheriff snapped.
“Uh-huh,” I replied.
“If you don’t have anything else, Mr. Morgan….” Harris hinted.
“There is one more thing,” I said. “Something I found in Bam’s mine.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Bam,” he said.
“But I think it might be interesting to you as well,” I said. “It looks like someone was using the mine as a meeting place.”
“Kids are out there all the time,” Harris replied. “Carl’s not much good at keeping the place secure. But I’m sure you figured that out.”
“The kids aren’t the only ones out there,” I said. “I found a microphone out there.”
“A...what?” the Sheriff asked in disbelief.
“A microphone,” I said. “A small one, like the feds use. Very high-tech.”
Harris looked towards the window behind me, and I could tell that he was putting a few pieces together.
“So, have you had any feds in the area?” I asked. “Or maybe they were onto Hup? Is that the investigation you can’t tell me about?”
The Sheriff’s hazel eyes slowly turned back to me and he snarled as he looked me over.
“Nice try, Mr. Morgan,” he said. “But I’m still not telling you anything about the investigation.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, and then I glanced towards the wall clock behind Watkins’ old desk.
“I have some paperwork I need to complete for this deal,” I sighed. “And I still need a tax stamp from the property assessor. So, I guess I’ll just be heading over to the government office.”
“I can save you the trouble,” Harris said. “I went to pick up the file Hup had on the deal this morning. Figured I should familiarize myself with it in case your boy decided to make a deal. It wasn’t there.”
I stared at the Sheriff for a moment as I tried to make sense of what he had said.
“What do you mean it wasn’t there?” I asked.
“The file’s missing,” the Sheriff said. “And without that file, I’m afraid the girls won’t be able to finish the deal. So, if you still want to buy Mr. Bluefeld’s property, Mr. Morgan, I’m afraid you’ve got another mystery you need to solve before you go sticking your nose into my business.”
I gaped at Harris, who only smiled in return. I couldn’t decide if the Sheriff had taken the file himself and destroyed it, or if some phantom third party had indeed broken into Hup’s office and removed the paperwork. Either way, I needed to get my hands on the documents and get those pages, along with the contract, signed and on the books soon or the Febbos would be out a substantial amount of money, and all during my first big outing away from New York. I was really starting to wish I’d gone to Italy instead.
Chapter 13
Despite Harris’ suggestion, I paid a visit to the Appraiser’s office anyway. It took up a good chunk of the second floor, with large tables for reviewing the plat books and a counter with room for at least ten clerks. The two women, one about my age and one closer to Belle’s age, looked lost in all that space, and I wondered why the office hadn’t been moved somewhere smaller. But Hup had probably viewed the size of the office as a reflection of his authority, and so the two clerks sat in the huge room with very little to do.
The two women both glanced up from their conversation when I walked through the door and the younger woman covered her mouth with her fist as I approached the counter. The older woman managed to smile, but she shared a terrified glance with her partner before she turned to face me.
“How may we help you today?” the older woman drawled in a pleasant voice.
“I came to check on some paperwork,” I said. “My company is planning to close on some property, and I wanted to make sure that everything was in order. I understand that there were some official documents that had to be filed along with the contract and that Mr. Baker had started the process.”
The two women shared another quick glance, and then the younger woman, a blonde with pretty brown eyes, slipped from her spot and hurried towards a door marked ‘Private’.
“Um, you’re Mr. Morgan,” the older woman said with a strained smile. “Yes, we’ve been working on that sale. We received the reports from the geologist and the chemistry lab.”
“Good, good,” I said with a friendly smile.
“The thing is,” the older woman began, then stopped as she tried to find a way to say what she wanted to say. “The thing is, we don’t have the file.”
“Did you just say you don’t have the file?” I asked.
The clerk glanced towards the door as her cohort reappeared. The younger woman shook her head as she hurried back to her post, and then both women looked at me.
“The Sheriff came by this morning to see it,” the older woman explained.
“Is that usual?” I asked.
The two women exchanged another inscrutable look, and then the older woman turned back to me.
“Sometimes,” she said with a shrug, as if that was immaterial. “But see, when he went to get the file, it wasn’t there.”
“Wasn’t where?” I asked as I let my anger seep into my voice.
“In the files,” the younger woman offered.
“Or, well, anywhere in the office,” the older woman added. “We looked everywhere.”
“Are you telling me someone broke in here and stole the file?” I demanded. “Why didn’t someone notify me?”
The two women looked abashed and the younger one even studied her hands for a moment.
“Well, since the Sheriff knew, we figured he would tell you,” the older woman said defensively.
“But you have copies, right?” I pressed. “You can get everything back in order.”
“We have some copies,” the older woman conceded. “But we need originals for some of the documents.”
The younger woman nodded in agreement although she still refused to meet my gaze.
“This is unbelievable,” I declared. “Didn’t you notice that someone had broken in?”
“No one broke in,” the older clerk said quickly. “We don’t lock up when we leave.”
“You don’t lock up,” I murmured.
“Well, the building is locked at night,” the older clerk explained. “And we don’t have anything that anyone would want to steal.”
“Except the file for the sale of the mine,” I added.
The clerks both looked morose at that, and it was hard to stay angry at the pair. They weren’t a part of whatever was taking place now, even if they did know what Hup was up to when it came to collecting taxes.
“How long will it take to replace everything?” I asked with a sigh.
“Um, well,” the older clerk hesitated.
“We need to have a new property appraiser,” the younger woman spoke up. “Without the appraiser’s signature, it’s not official.”
“Can’t one of you sign?” I asked.
The women both shook their heads.
“The rules are quite clear on that,” the older woman replied.
“But there must have been other times when there wasn’t an appraiser,” I pointed out. “What did they do then?”
“Hold an election,” the younger woman suggested with a glance towards her fellow clerk.
“So everything just stops until the
next appraiser is elected?” I asked in disbelief.
“‘Fraid so,” the older clerk said with a sympathetic look.
“Cripes,” I muttered.
The Sheriff hadn’t been exaggerating when he said I had more important things to worry about than bringing in Hup’s killer. Without Hup’s file, the land deal couldn’t be completed, which meant I had to figure out who had broken into the government building and stolen the file.
“I don’t suppose there are security cameras around here?” I asked.
“Um, no,” the younger clerk sighed. “It’s not like anyone’s broken into the building before.”
“If I get the file back, would it have everything we need to finish the deal?” I pressed.
The two clerks nodded vigorously.
“Hup had everything signed and ready,” the older clerk replied.
Hup must have been feeling pretty confident that he could strike a deal with the Febbos. Or maybe he’d signed everything before his partnership with Bam had disintegrated. Either way, the paperwork was done, and all I had to do was find it. If the thief hadn’t destroyed it already. But if that had been the goal, why not just destroy the file here? Or even toss it on the conflagration at the Inn? I had to figure it was to use as leverage in ‘negotiations’, but I had no idea who I was negotiating with anymore.
“Right,” I announced. “I have a file to find.”
The clerks looked suitably impressed as I strode towards the door, and I could hear their excited whispers as I stepped back into the hall. I thought about giving them a jaunty smile, but I felt like I was running out of time and I needed to spend every second finding the file. So I left without another word and took the stairs to the first floor two at a time.
Back outside, I stopped for a moment and tried to decide what I to do next. What I needed was some idea of who might have that file, and though the Sheriff was the obvious answer, I felt confident that he had been as miffed by its disappearance as I was. Besides, he wanted to make the deal with the Febbos so even if he had the file, he would have produced it. And there was still the mystery of the microphone in the mine. The Sheriff had been surprised by that, which meant he wasn’t as in the loop on the investigation as he thought.