4 - Stranger Room: Ike Schwartz Mystery 4

by Frederick Ramsay

  The two men stood and headed for the door. As they stepped out into the front office, Ike said, “Oh, there is one last thing. The coroner said there was slight bruising on your daughter’s back. It could have been made by a hand. Four small marks and a larger, less defined one below, like fingers and the heel of a hand.”

  Lydell blanched. “She must have hit the newel post.”

  “Yes, that’s probably it. Thank you for your patience.”

  Winslow stopped dead in his tracks. “The newel post is as big and round as a bowling ball. It wouldn’t make bruises like that.”

  “No? I’m sure there’s an explanation. We’ll find it.” Ike sat in his chair and swiveled around so that his back was to the two men. Interview ended.

  Chapter 37

  Ike slouched back in his oak swivel chair and put his feet on his desk, in the only clear spot left on it. He pulled the phone toward him and tapped the hand set with his index finger while he contemplated which number he would dial first. He picked up and called Ruth. Agnes answered and put him through.

  “Ike? Is that you?”

  “I am tempted to make what you would term a smart-ass answer but I will refrain. It is I. I tried to call yesterday but you were tied up in meetings. Any news on the merger front?”

  “I’ve managed to get them in a holding pattern while I wait for the U.S. Cavalry to arrive.”

  “In the person of…”

  “Can’t say just yet, but we live in hope. What have you been up to? I just realized, I have been so caught up with meetings and strategy sessions, I have no idea what’s going on in your corner of the world. I heard about something happening at the State Park. Was that you?”

  “My people, not me. Listen, I could use some help if you can tear yourself away from your meetings, duties, and obligations.”

  “You want my help?”

  “I need a listener. You are good at that. How about dinner?”

  “Dinner is good. Where?”

  “Your choice.”

  “Take me to that restaurant up in the mountains…what’s its name?”

  “Le Chateau.”

  “That’s the place. Pick me up at six. Anything else I can help you with, Sheriff? And please don’t reach for the obvious lascivious remark.”

  “Right. Do you know a numismatist?”

  “You’ve been at your word builder again, haven’t you?”

  “Actually, that one I knew. I had a roommate at college who obsessed over coins.”

  “It’s none of my business, but what do you need a numismatician for?”

  “Is that a word?”

  “It is now.”

  “I have some coins taken in evidence. I need a rough idea what they are worth.”

  “Evidence? What, not the business at the park? What did happen out there anyway?”

  “Nothing to do with the park. I have a murder on my hands—a very difficult murder. The coins may or may not have something to do with it. Now, who is your resident numismatician? Are you sure it’s a word. I’m going to look it up.”

  “Your friend, Leon Weitz. He collects coins. He can help. Six o’clock. What kind of murder?”

  “Tell you at dinner.”

  ***

  Ties were not Ike’s favorite item of apparel but Le Chateau had a dress code that could not be negotiated. He’d seen a state senator refused a table for wearing a bolo with his pinstripe suit. Ike always wondered if it was the bolo alone or the combination that got him the heave-ho. If the senator had worn cowboy boots, a Stetson, and linen suit might he have been seated? Ike wasn’t in the mood to take chances so he’d dug out one of the three ties he owned and put it on. Karl’s call came in the middle of his second attempt at a Windsor knot.

  “I’m reinstated, Ike.”

  “I hope you are not surprised.”

  “I am, a little. I told you about the old boy network and—”

  “It wasn’t true.”

  “No, actually it was, but not like I thought. My old boss got what I told you he would, early retirement and a slap on the wrist. Then they turned around and put a letter of commendation in his file for his years of service or some kind of crap like that.”

  “And that affects you how?”

  “No way, I guess, but it still frosts my—”

  “You’ll get over it. Now you have choices to make.”

  “What kind of choices? Are you going to ask me to stay on as a deputy?”

  “Lots of choices. That’s just one.”

  “You are offering me a job. I didn’t think you would, not after the talk we had.”

  “The talk was about you as a person, not you as a cop, and…rats.” Ike’s knot turned into a huge snarl of rep fabric. “Do you know how to tie a Windsor knot?”

  “Not over the phone, I don’t. What are you doing tying a big knot like that? Stick with a four-in-hand.”

  “FBI send you to fashion school?”

  “Part of the image. So you think I can function as a deputy in Picketsville?”

  “I’ve seen you work, two of your colleagues owe their lives to you, and the folks love you.”

  “By folks, you mean the diner people.”

  “I mean the good people of this town. Don’t keep on being obtuse, Karl. I have this clip-on thing. Maybe I should surrender and wear it.”

  “Trust me, if this is, like, a romantic thing, you don’t want to be guilty of clip-ons. I’m not being obtuse, just…I don’t know…cautious. Growing up black makes you careful about sudden new friendships with white folks.”

  “I’ll do the four-in-hand then. Okay, I understand. You’ll have to wait and see, I guess. Are you interested?” The line went silent. Ike finally pulled the long end of his tie through the knot, discovered that if he kept his jacket closed he would be more or less presentable. “You still there, Karl?”

  “I’m here. This is the thing, Ike. All my life, FBI is what I wanted. It’s my dream. I love working with you and the gang down there. You are as smart and quick as anybody I’ve ever met, in the Bureau or out. But I have my job back here. What I don’t know is whether I have my career back. You know, I made some of these dudes angry and there may be career consequences. I might end up at a desk in Dubuque in charge of lost cats. But I have to find that out. It’s the same problem you pointed out before. If I go with you, I’ll never know what might have been.”

  “You’re right. Take some time. We aren’t going anywhere. You’d always be welcome. Have you told Sam?”

  “Just that I was reinstated. The rest isn’t something I should deal with on the phone.”

  “I’ve gotta go, Karl. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  ***

  It was probably a mistake to put LeBrun in the cell next to his cousin Daryll. George was on the thin edge of methamphetamine withdrawal. He had friends and his cell had a window. It also had bars, a mesh covering, and was easily eight feet off the ground. Whether the window had anything to do with what ensued remains unclear. But somehow he managed to obtain a ten inch spike, lure his cousin over to the bars that separated their cells and drive the spike straight into his heart. Charlie Picket and Billy Sutherlin managed to disarm LeBrun, but in the melee that followed, he suffered another broken bone in his other wrist and a sizable knot on his head. By the time the EMTs arrived, his cousin’s life had ebbed away. Charlie needed an ice pack and Billy had a nasty bruise under his cheek bone. The EMTs glanced at LeBrun’s injuries and handed him an ACE bandage and some gauze, through the bars, and left. He was taken in shackles to the prison ward of the hospital, stitched up, put in a second cast, sedated and returned, still in shackles, to the jail, now with a first degree murder charge added to his list of felonies.

  Chapter 38

  Sam, disconsolate, listened for the sound of Karl pulling into the driveway which they shared with the older couple who occupied the first floor apartment. Her phone lay beside her on the sofa where she’d dropped it after he called. She’d heard all she n
eeded from the tone of his voice. She didn’t want to hear it again, didn’t want to have any uncertainty removed, or have the thin sliver of hope she harbored destroyed. She stood and moved restlessly around the room that served as both a sitting and dining area. The windows were closed against the cool night air. She felt stifled and threw open the one with the cardboard taped across it, where the rock had come through. Fresh air flowed over the sill and puddled on the floor. The television needed dusting. She retrieved a cloth and absently swiped it across the set and the few pieces of furniture in the room. She wracked her brains to come up with an argument that would dissuade Karl from leaving. But she knew him and she knew that nothing she said would make him change his mind.

  There were other options, of course. They could resume their weekend commuter romance, one in DC, one in Picketsville. Or, she could follow him to Washington, give up her job as deputy, and take her chances with the job market in the city. She could…she didn’t want to think about the others. She didn’t want to cry.

  ***

  Ruth stood on the porch that wrapped around the President’s manse. The sun had disappeared behind the college’s main building. She shivered and pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. Ike drove up in an unmarked car. Ruth did not recognize it or him. He tapped the horn and stepped out to open the passenger side door.

  “Whose car are we driving tonight? I appreciate your not wheeling up here in that hideous black and white thing and I’m more than happy not to have to ride in that drafty Jeep of yours, so thank you, but where?”

  “It’s new, it’s the department’s, it’s unmarked, and it’s a perk. I am the sheriff, after all.”

  “So now, instead of that wreck of a black and white cruiser you hide behind the azaleas where only a blind man couldn’t see it, you’ll park this shiny black job with its umpteen antennae sticking up from its roof instead? It won’t fool anybody.”

  “It’s a step in the right direction.”

  “No, it really isn’t, Ike. We need to talk about our arrangements.”

  “We have nearly an hour’s drive to the restaurant. We can talk on the way.”

  Ike helped her in the passenger’s seat, closed the door, and took his place behind the wheel.

  “Don’t you just love that new car smell?” he said, and started the motor.

  “It’s great. Speaking of which, I happen to know you are not hurting for money. Has it ever occurred to you that you might just retire that broken down Jeep of yours and buy a car of your own?”

  “Buy a car?” The idea had never occurred to Ike. When he took the job of sheriff there was no reason to purchase a vehicle. He had his Jeep and otherwise he drove one of the department’s cars. There was no Ruth in his life, no connections to anybody, really, except his family, no need to own and operate a car. “I guess I could do that. How about I get one of those big SUVs like you see TV cops driving around Miami?”

  “Oh that would be a real jump forward. Instead of a black but obvious police car lurking behind my azaleas, you want to park a three ton truck. What color did you have in mind…red?”

  “Ochre, I think…earth colors are so in, don’t you think?”

  “You are skating on thin ice here, Lover. Shape up or I’ll order a meal that will set you back four months’ pay and that’s not including a forty dollar bottle of wine.”

  “I’ll have it done in camo, Shenandoah Valley camouflage. It’ll look like dogwoods and broadleaf evergreens, absolutely invisible.”

  “A fifty dollar bottle of wine.”

  “Betsy Blessing knows a guy with an ’85 Yugo for sale. Will that suit? I can probably get it for what you’re planning to spend on dinner.”

  “You never quit, do you, Bubba.”

  “We both need to lighten up. You’ve been swimming with sharks. I’ve had a double attempted murder…” Ike’s cell phone twirped. “Sorry, always on call, toujours prêt, that’s me…hello, Schwartz.” His face fell.

  “Trouble?”

  Ike snapped the cover shut and grimaced. “Our bad guy, the attempted double murderer, kidnapper, and dope dealer, just stabbed his cousin to death while in our custody. This is not going to play well.”

  “Do you have to go back?” Ike could hear the disappointment in her voice.

  “No, it’s under control. The benefit, if there is one, is we now have an absolute lock on putting this guy away forever. One more off the streets. Two actually. His cousin was no treat either.”

  “That’s cold, Ike.”

  “That’s police work, Ruth. It’s what we do that allows good citizens to sleep at night. Folks sometimes don’t want to hear it. They want to worry about whether a monster on crystal meth is being treated with the proper amount of respect. The fact he nearly killed two of my two cops, sells dope to children in our schools, and just spiked his cousin doesn’t seem to register.”

  “Whoa. I’m your best friend, remember.”

  “Sorry. Make it a fifty dollar bottle of wine.”

  “Let’s just have a nice quiet dinner. We can talk about the state of the world someday when it doesn’t seem so dark.”

  ***

  “It isn’t necessary, you know? You don’t have to go and spend money on a ring. Why not just get a nice wedding band. Someday when we’re rich, we can get a big old diamond, Billy.”

  “You only get hitched up once, Essie. I want to do it right.”

  “Well then, I guess I like that one.” Essie pointed to the one-half carat solitaire on black velvet.

  “You don’t want the one with all them little diamonds around the big one?”

  “How’d it look, Billy? It’s me, Essie. I live in a rented trailer at the mobile home park. I dispatch for the police. You live with your Ma. That ring is over the top for us.”

  “You don’t like it.” Billy looked crestfallen.

  “I love it, Billy. A year ago, a week ago, I would have said, go for it. But that was then, this is now. We need to be, like, practical. Marriage, maybe kids, a real house. Stuff like that. I want a life with you and…well, we got to be sensible now.”

  “You’re not going all serious on me now, are you?”

  Essie gave him her patented wicked smile. “You just wait until I get you home and I’ll show you some serious.”

  ***

  Sam stared past Karl at a picture of roses in a bowl. She looked straight at it but didn’t see it.

  “I know how you feel,” Karl murmured. He sat slumped forward in what might have been the last bean-bag chair in captivity. His hands dangled between his knees. “But you have to understand—”

  “I do understand. That’s the problem. You’ve told me. The Bureau has been your dream since you were a kid. I know. It’s like this job that Ike gave me. It’s the same thing. Look at me. I’m a gawky, nearsighted geek. I don’t qualify, couldn’t pass a physical probably, for a law enforcement job anywhere except here. Doing this has been my dream. I understand, Karl, I do, but…”

  Karl sank deeper in the cushion. There didn’t seem to be any way out of this. He had to go back to the Bureau, and he couldn’t ask her to leave Picketsville. Not and give up her job and certainly not on a maybe, with respect to where their relationship might go.

  “Listen, Sam, I might end up in a dead end, career-wise. That could happen. Like I told Ike, I might have a job, but not a career. I need to find out. Ike said the offer was open-ended. I need some time to find out.”

  Sam shifted her eyes to focus on Karl. Time. A lot could happen in six months or so. She could make things happen. She brightened a little. “We both need some time. When do you go back to DC?”

  “Three weeks.”

  “Then, we still have three weeks. We have work to do and…we’ll see.”

  “You’re okay?”

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  Karl had no answer for her. No, she didn’t have any good choices.

  “Good,” Sam bounced to her feet. “I’m beat. I need a shower
and bed. Tomorrow, first thing, I want to show you what I found out about the Grotz thing.”

  Chapter 39

  Morning in Picketsville, the promise of a new day, a new start, fresh air, clean and crisp, and even discernible over the pervasive cooking aromas emanating from The Crossroads Diner. Ike slipped through its glass doors, popped an antacid, and headed across the street to his office. He’d had his breakfast, no extras, and could start his day. The bus from the county jail would arrive in a few minutes to take LeBrun to a max-security facility—one with an infirmary. They would have done so the day before except for a SNAFU in scheduling. A minor mix-up that cost Daryll Jenkins his life. Essie was back at her desk and everything seemed to be returning to normal. Ike paused to look at his dispatcher. She held her left hand awkwardly in the air. He couldn’t see how she could use the phone that way. Then he saw the ring and smiled.

  “Tell Billy I must pay him too much, Essie. That’s a nice stone.”

  She turned and grinned and wagged her hand at him. He settled in his antique oak chair and shifted through the papers on his desk. The dinner at Le Chateau with Ruth had been pleasant. He’d filled her in on his locked room dilemma. She brought him up to date on the merger business. Neither had much in the way of advice for the other. Time, Toronto, and possible future scenarios, were carefully avoided.

  Karl and Sam burst into the office and stood before him as excited as a pair of kids who’ve just discovered roller-coasters.

  “Ike, you need to hear this.” Karl pushed Sam forward like a shy schoolgirl who had just recited the entire Gettysburg Address without flaw. “Tell him, Sam.”

  “Well…”

  “Go on. Ike, she’s figured it all out.”

  “Not all. Just the why. And it’s circumstantial.”

  “It will hold. People have been put away for less. Tell him.”

  Ike held up both hands. “Whoa. Slow down. What will put who away?”

  Sam took a deep breath. “See, I spent the other morning with Leon Weitz. Did you know he was writing a book about the intelligence activities on both sides of the Civil War?”

  “No, I can’t say that I did. This is about the Grotz business, isn’t it?”