Fire And Lies: The El & Em Detective Series

by Pamela Cowan

  Too late. Turning away, she stepped quickly back outside and onto the deck. For a moment the day seemed to shimmer. She took a slow deep breath through her nose, then blew it out through her mouth quickly. She repeated the relaxation technique three more times. The dizziness passed.

  “You don’t have to come back in,” Leo told her. He was pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

  “I’m okay,” she assured him. Stealing herself, she stepped back into the room, careful to avoid the pool of dried blood. It was the reddish-brown color of old liver. Skin, tissue and brain matter were splattered on the floor and walls. Worst was the exposed bone. What remained of the back of the skull reminded her of a shattered china cup.

  Emma turned and ran outside, across the deck and down the stairs. Bile rose in her throat. She leaned forward, hand on the fender of her car for support, and threw up.

  The retching went on until her stomach was empty, and then some. When the dry heaves finally stopped, she straightened slowly, one arm cradling her aching ribs. She expected to see Leo nearby offering support and was ridiculously grateful that he’d left her alone.

  Near the corner of the house was a hose attached to a faucet. She stumbled to it and turned it on, washed her mouth out, gulped some of the water, which tasted like old rubber and heaven. Finally, she cupped her hands under the water, splashed her face and felt better.

  As she came around the corner of the house she saw Leo was sitting on the top step of the deck. She walked over and joined him.

  As she sat down, Leo said, “Cops are on the way.”

  She nodded.

  “Shotgun, close and personal would be my guess.”

  “Mine too,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment.

  “You okay? Pretty brutal in there.”

  “Probably just something I ate,” she said, in a miserably failed attempt to cover up her reaction.

  He didn’t bother to reply.

  They heard the sirens long before the police arrived. Leo even had time to get up and kick gravel over the mess Emma had made in the driveway. She realized that once again he was trying to protect her. An investigator who couldn’t handle seeing a dead body would probably not get a lot of respect from the folks in blue.

  But maybe she was wrong, still overanalyzing. Her thoughts were a little unfocused. It hadn’t been like seeing a dead body on television or even in anatomy class. This was different. The trauma of seeing the dead man was not something she could shake off. Someday she’d have to deal with it, talk to her therapist. For now, all she could do was stand beside Leo and wait for the police.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Monday, September 10

  Emma and Leo were still sitting on the steps of the front deck when they heard tires on gravel and stood up. In the distance they could make out an SUV painted the tell-tale black and white of a police car. It pulled in, the sheriff’s department emblem identifying it, partly obscured by a cloud of dust that swirled a bit before settling.

  A deputy, wearing a gray on gray uniform got out, gave them a grim stare, and asked, “You the ones who called 911?”

  It sounded like an accusation, and for a moment Emma was taken aback. She started to answer, then noticed the deputy, who had given her the barest glance, had all his attention focused on Leo.

  “Yes,” Leo told him, curtly.

  “You say you found a body?”

  This time Emma answered. “That’s right. In the house. We haven’t touched anything but the front door.”

  “Anyone else here?”

  “No,” she told him, shaking her head. She looked at his name badge. “No, Deputy Leblanc, we’re alone.”

  “Then let’s start with you showing me some identification.”

  “I’m a private investigator,” Emma told him. “My name is Emma Richland, and this is Leo Vargus who is helping me today.” She indicated Leo. “My identification is in my car, along with my concealed weapons permit.”

  “Do you have a gun on you right now?”

  “I do,” she said, “In a holster at my back.”

  “Me too,” said Leo, “Shoulder holster, left side. I have a permit as well, in my wallet.

  “Okay, I need you to put your guns on the deck and take a seat in the back of my car. I need to get the scene locked down.”

  Emma exchanged looks with Leo, who shrugged and said, “Sure thing.”

  Carefully taking their weapons out, they placed them on the deck, then walked to the SUV, climbed into the back seat and shut the door. Effectively locking themselves in.

  As Emma watched Leblanc’s retreating figure through the holes in the wire mesh barrier between the front and back seats she said, “Well, this is not what I expected.”

  “Teach us to call the cops,” Leo teased. “Don’t you know no good deed—”

  “I know. Believe me, I know. What’s funny is that I work for the Sheriff's Office now and then and I know a lot of the deputies. It would have been nice if one of them had been dispatched. Pretty sure we wouldn’t be locked in the backseat of a police car right now. Just my luck.”

  “Our luck, said Leo. “Lot of the local cops shoot at the range. He’s not one I’ve met before either.”

  “Okay, our luck,” said Emma. “Let’s plan to stay out of Vegas.”

  “Agreed.” Leo settled back in his seat but after a few moments shifted and then moved again. Emma could tell it wasn’t just the stiff seats and the mingled scent of new deodorizer and old vomit that were making him uncomfortable. He looked outside, staring at nothing of note. In profile he was every bit as good looking. His brow was a bit square and his nose had a bump as if it had been broken and healed a little funny. There was a thin scar from the left corner of his lip to his jaw and at least one of his ears had been pierced.

  In noticing his imperfections, Emma couldn’t help but note the rest. She would have to be careful. There was no denying her attraction to him and she wondered if that was such a good thing. El didn’t seem to think so. Now that he had stopped fidgeting, his dark eyes locked somewhere in the middle distance, she felt as if she were sitting beside something coiled and waiting. Something like a cat about to pounce on a mouse, or a lion on a gazelle. What would it be like, she wondered, to be with him.

  Motion caught her eye and she looked up to see Deputy Leblanc leave the house and return to the car. He opened the door and said to her, “I’ll still need to see your ID but first I have some questions.” He took a small notebook from his pocket, and slid a pen from a holder inside. “Do you know the deceased?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Emma. “I came here to speak with a man named Dodge Keller, who lives at this address. Whether or not that’s him,” she said, gesturing toward the house, “I don’t know. I’ve never met him.”

  “What were you going to speak to him about?” he asked.

  Emma explained that he held the policy on a warehouse that had recently burned down. “I was hired by the insurance company to look into it,” she told him. “They want to know if it was arson.”

  “You were investigating. Trying to prove he burned it down?”

  “Or that he didn’t. In any case I thought he might have some information that could prove useful. When we got out here the front door was open. When we looked inside, we saw the body and called 911. You got here fast.”

  “I’m stationed out here and get all the calls for this area,” he explained. Looking past her at Leo he said, “Could you give me your driver’s license, your gun permit and your phone number?”

  Leo recited his driver’s license number while reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. Leblanc jotted down the information, glanced at Leo’s cards and returned them.

  Then, he said to Emma, “Would you mind getting your identification for me now?”

  She nodded and climbed out of the car. Happy to be free. Leblanc shut the door behind her, leaving Leo inside, then escorted her to her car to get her purse. The slow process of making sur
e they were who they said they were, made the fact that there was a dead body in the house just a few steps away, seem surreal.

  Emma’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sirens as more cars arrived. First another sheriff’s car with two deputies who got out and immediately began to unroll yellow tape under Deputy Leblanc’s direction. A few moments later the medical examiner’s van arrived quickly followed by a plain white car with two detectives from Blue Spruce, the county seat and the town closest to Hollis, which didn’t have its own police force.

  After introductions, one of the detectives took Leo toward the barn and the other asked Emma to follow him to the far side of the house to answer a few questions. After he learned Emma was a private investigator he said, with a degree or arrogance that immediately made her angry, “Well, you won’t be investigating this.”

  His thick brows were pulled together and his cheeks were bright red, as if he’d just chugged several shots of liquor or his blood pressure was going through the roof. “This is an active crime scene and investigation. Professionals in law enforcement will take over from here. PI’s aren’t allowed to pursue a parallel investigation, so you might as well bill the hours you got. You won’t be getting any more.”

  Thoughts of sharing information with him were immediately torn away. She’d actually had a weak moment when she’d considered mentioning the key fob. Only a tiny moment though. She fully realized that doing so would expose her sister’s friend and probably get him and El in trouble. Using the resources of the FBI for side work was definitely a no-no. She’d keep that to herself. In fact, thanks to his attitude, she’d keep everything to herself.

  She was not going to put up with being talked down too, treated as if she were some incompetent amateur. To hell with him. From that moment she decided, if anyone were going to solve this crime, it would be her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Monday, September 10

  After several more questions, most of them directed to Leo, which she thought was a not too subtle demonstration or rampant sexism, they were finally allowed to leave.

  There was little conversation between them on the drive back. Both were tired and subdued. Once she dropped Leo off at VR Tactical she headed to her office. She had decided not to tell Leo, or El that she planned to look into the murder of Dodge Keller. El would have a fit. She’d insist on being involved and Emma didn’t need or want her or Leo’s help.

  Gathering her thoughts, she hung up her coat, and ignoring the late hour, started a pot of coffee. Then she sank into her desk chair and grabbed a pen and notepad. What did she know about the murder? The probable name of the victim. Dodge Keller. She wrote it down. Then she noted how she thought he’d been killed, a shotgun blast to the face. That seemed personal, as if someone wanted to erase the man. So maybe someone he’d ticked off?

  Emma put the end of the pen between her teeth. What kind of work did Dodge do? According to Gwen he owned a warehouse and planned to rent it. Did he own other rentals? She wrote down the question. That shouldn’t be too hard to find out, a call to the county tax assessors. First though, she’d simply Google his name. It was amazing what one could find by just a single online search.

  The scent of fresh brewed coffee intruded on her thinking and she got up and poured a cup, added sugar and a couple packets of powdered half and half. About to take a sip she realized the pen was still clenched between her teeth. An old habit. She put it on the desk, took a sip of coffee and made a face. Why didn’t coffee ever taste as good as it smelled?

  She took the cup to her desk, sank back down into her ergonomically cozy chair and turned on her computer. In the search area of her browser she typed, Dodge Keller, Hollis, Eulalona County, Oregon.

  No Facebook or Wikipedia page appeared, which was good. It meant the name was unique enough that there weren’t a lot of them. Winnowing through a list of John Smith’s would have been tough. Scrolling on she found a reference to John Keller, a hitman in a series by writer Lawrence Block. She should have put more constraints around her search. Maybe on the next round. Ah, the romantic life of a PI.

  Scrolling through several more pages she saw Dodge Keller - Hollis CC. When she clicked she found herself on the official page of the Hollis Community College Cougars. The page was a player profile, complete with photo.

  Emma stared at the photo of Dodge as a young man. He had skin that looked tan but not especially dark, brown eyes, short dark brown hair. He stared straight into the camera with an amused smile on his face. The only remarkable thing about him was the width of his shoulders.

  Emma read his profile. Dodge Keller, Height: 6 foot, Weight: 220, Hometown: Muddy Creek, OR, High School: Thornbeck High, Hollis, Position: Offensive Tackle.

  Though Emma wasn’t a fan of either playing or watching football, she knew enough to realize that a tackle would have to be both large and fast. She added a note to her list.

  Backing out of that page, she continued scrolling until she came to an article from the local Hollis Gazette. In a police log the name Dodge Keller was highlighted. The entry read: Dodge Keller was arrested on a previous warrant related to the distribution of drugs. He was uncooperative and elected to fight the officer. Police deployed pepper spray as well as a Taser and took Mr. Keller into custody.

  Emma noted the arrest then typed ‘arrest and Dodge Keller’ in the search bar and was rewarded with an additional article showing an arrest for possession and distribution of oxycontin. Keller was sentenced to a year in prison and a fine of $1,000. He was nineteen.

  So, the same kid who played football sold oxy on the side and ended up going to prison, got out and kept doing the same thing. Not the best testimony to the efficacy of the criminal justice system. Not a big shock either, but still a little sad. Emma added more notes. She wondered, since he’d been arrested a couple of times, if the police knew him.

  Grabbing her cell phone she checked the time, then thumbed through her list of contacts. When she reached John Stiles, a desk sergeant with the Sheriff’s Department, she pressed the call button. John was working nights and should be there now. He’d been the first deputy she’d worked with and was the one who contacted her when they needed someone to serve papers. The phone rang only once before he answered.

  “Sheriff’s office. Stiles here.”

  “Hey John, it’s Emma Richland, how are you?”

  “Great, just great. How you been? It’s been awhile.”

  “It has.”

  “Keeping busy, huh?” he asked.

  “Very,” she told him.

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Well, it means I can eat and keep the heat on.”

  John chuckled, his voice hoarse from years of smoking. “According to the weather guesser that’s a dang good thing. We got snow in our future. They’re saying an early winter.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” Emma begged.

  “Sorry, no way to stop it. So, what can I do for you? Pretty sure you didn’t call for a weather update.”

  “Nope. I’ve been working on an arson investigation and somehow it’s tied to that murder out on the rez today. You hear about it yet?”

  “We did.”

  He said nothing else and Emma could sense him listening, waiting for her to tell him more. She smiled at the realization that both of them were playing the same game. Be quiet and wait for the other person to fill the silence. She would go first.

  “The possible victim, Dodge Keller, was the owner of the warehouse where the arson took place. I was out there trying to talk to him and found the body. I’m the one that called 911.”

  “No kidding. Have you shared that information, about the arson?” John asked, as expected, a little less friendly and a little more cop.

  “Of course,” Emma reassured him. “I told the responding officers. I’m calling because I’m hoping you might have heard how the investigation is going.”

  “Well hell, Emma. The body was only discovered this morning? What sort of miracle are y
ou hoping for?”

  “You never know. You guys have a pretty good reputation.”

  “Still, the ink’s not even dry on the incident report.

  “No, I get that. Look, Okay, it’s not just idle curiosity. I saw the body and it was, well it was disturbing.”

  There was silence across the line and then, in a gentler voice, John said, “I can imagine. Look all I can tell you is that it’s early days, but the buzz around here is that he was likely killed on Sunday morning. The detectives are out there interviewing anyone they can think of.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like anyone who may have seen or heard something.”

  “You mean anyone in town?”

  “I mean anyone seen near the crime scene.”

  “But it was way out in the boonies, out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Then they’ll look for anyone who was driving or biking or walking in that general area.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work.”

  “It is. It takes time. Lots of time.”

  “So, not less than a day,” she asked.

  “Nope. Not less than a day,” he agreed, and she could hear his mood lighten.

  “But if, after more than a day, you get some information . . . “ She let the question trail off, wondering if the occasional latte and cookie she delivered to his office was about to pay off.

  “I guess I was one of the first to get your freshly printed business cards,” he said.

  “I remember that. It was a big occasion.”

  “Fine,” he said, giving in. “You’ll know what I know.”

  “When you know it?”

  “More or less. But you should understand, it’s probably not going to be a hell of a lot.”

  “I’ll take what I can get,” she said. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”