“Close enough to a vampire for my tastes,” I said. “Don't they read about blood-borne pathogens?”
Hester grinned. “When you smoked, Houseman, did you read any of the literature about lung cancer and heart disease?”
“None of your business,” I said. I smiled. “Yeah. I didn't read much of it, anyway.”
“Can't run, can't hide, Houseman.”
We got to the nitty-gritty. “Speaking of running,” I asked her, “why do you think he was really running out in the woods tonight?”
Hester smiled. “ 'Sa matter, you don't believe that he was running to warn a vampire that there were cops on his trail?”
“Nope. I don't, you don't, and he doesn't.”
“I can't tell, yet,” said Hester slowly. “He wasn't just running to get away. To avoid the entire event, I mean.”
“Yeah. You're right.” I looked at her. “Distraction? Are these people that good?”
She tilted her chair back on its rear legs and stared at the ceiling. “What would you say Toby's main character trait was?”
I thought for a second. “Know-it-all?”
She chuckled. “No, deeper than that, though you're right, that's a big chunk of it. I'd say 'eager to please' summed him up. Wouldn't you?”
“Well, sure,” I said. “Now that you mention it. The know-it-all comes from him just sort of falling all over himself to let you know he'd like another dog biscuit.”
“Exactly,” said Hester. “Exactly. So, he was running to please somebody. To do what somebody wanted him to do… or what he thought they'd want him to do.” Her chair came back level, and she pursed her lips. “Who would benefit from his running like that? Huck? I don't think so. We gotta find out who, Houseman. 'Who' would make the 'why' a lot easier.”
“Easy in theory,” I said. “It's in the finding out that we get to the hard part, here.”
“I'll keep at him,” she smiled. “I'll find out.”
There was no doubt in my mind.
“I hate to get all legal,” I said, “but can you think of any reason not to let Toby take off? I mean, he's talked, and there's no pending action.”
“No, not really. I think he'll stick now, and he's probably over being so scared. Especially when he can stay away from that house tonight.”
We called Magistrate Benson, who sleepily agreed to release Toby on his own recognizance. The night shift could let him out, and give him a ride to Freiberg. I walked back to the cells, and told Toby. He did seem pleased.
Before I left, Sally was given the assignment of coming up with everything possible concerning both Peel and Hunley. She was scheduled to start her dispatch shift at 04:00. She'd assured us that the vampire-induced adrenaline rush was guaranteed to keep her alert through the rest of the night.
I got home at 03:36. Sue had left a note telling me that there was some chow mein in the refrigerator. I put it in the microwave, and discovered while eating it that I should have left it in at least a minute longer. The edges were cold, the center a bit cooler. Too tired to wait any longer, I ate it anyway, with a slice of bread.
ELEVEN
Sunday, October 8, 2000
08:12
I walked in the office door with a full four hours' sleep, and went directly to Dispatch. Borman was already there, looking fresh and ready to go. Ah, youth.
“Morning,” he said.
“You look fresh. Get enough sleep?”
“You betcha. More than enough.” He looked awfully happy, and well he should have. This was an opportunity for him to be one up on just about the whole department, on a big case. The pecking order in most cop shops depends a lot on who's been deemed to have a “need to know” and who hasn't. Ours was no different.
“Get anything for us?” I asked Sally.
“Some, but not a lot,” she said. She got up from her seat at the main console, and Elaine Boyce slid into her chair. Sally scooped up a bunch of papers and notes, and the three of us went to the kitchen, Borman in the lead.
The jail kitchen is right next to our dispatch center. It's our home away from home. We contract with a nursing home to provide meals for our prisoners, so the kitchen is pretty much ours to use as we need. It's just about ten yards of countertop and cabinets, with a stove, sink, refrigerator, coffeepot, and a long church basement-type table, with collapsible chrome legs, and a worn linoleum top, straight from 1950. Surrounded by steel folding chairs, with “NCSD” in black stencil on their backs. Nation County Sheriff's Department.
Sally sat and began spreading out her papers. “Get me a cup of coffee?”
“Sure.” I glanced inquiringly at Borman, and he nodded. I went to the full pot, and poured three cups.
“Make that four?” Hester's voice.
“You bet. Still take milk?”
“No, just black,” she said. “Morning, Sally.”
“Hi, Hester. I don't have much.”
“Right,” said Hester, referring to all the paper.
I sat three cups around the table, and pulled up a chair. “So… ”
“First off,” said Sally, “don't forget to call Harry over in Conception County, Carl. He called at 07:12, and says he really wants to talk to you.” She handed me that note. “Now, how about a fast background on the younger set at the Mansion? They were easy, since we know all of 'em.”
“Go for it,” I said, raising my coffee cup.
“First one is Toby Gottschalk. Son of Robert and Gwen, raised on a farm about five miles out of Freiberg. We have one beer ticket on him at age sixteen. Two moving violations, both for failure to have control at property damage accidents. Nothing major at all.”
“Go on,” said Hester.
“The next one,” said Sally, “is Melissa Corey. A bit different. She has a juvenile record I can't access, but I seem to remember that it was over simple possession, wasn't it, Carl?”
It rang a bell. “Oh, shit, sure I remember,” I said, kind of embarrassed. “She and her older sister had some weed up in their room and their mother called us, didn't she?”
“You got it,” said Sally. “Her mom is divorced, two times, maybe three, with a last name of Warrington, and Melissa's sister has a last name of Burgess, after the mom's first husband.”
“Anything else on her?” asked Hester.
“Not much. Went to school at the U of Iowa, according to Betty.” Betty was another dispatcher. “Betty also says that Melissa's a whole lot brighter than her mom.”
“Okay. Good,” I said.
“Kevin Stemmer has nothing but two moving violations, both for speeding, both under ten mph over the limit.” Sally smiled. “Mike gave him both tickets, and says that he tried to talk his way out of both of them. Took one to court, and lost his ass. Otherwise, nada. No sense of adventure.”
“Or smart enough not to get caught,” said Hester.
“True,” said Sally. “Now for Holly Finn, or Huck. I was in on an arrest involving her; they had me for a matron. I think you were on vacation, Carl. Back in '97?”
“I dunno,” I said. “I know I took vacation that year… I think.”
Sally laughed. “Trust me. Anyway, it was for assault.”
“No shit?” I was truly surprised.
“Yeah. Remember Quentin Pascoe, the guy who sexually abused that four-year-old here in Maitland?”
“Yeah,” I said. There was no way I'd ever forget Quentin Pascoe.
“Well, when he was out on bond, he must have said some lowlife thing in the Fast amp; Easy one night. Our girl Huck was in there, heard him, went over to the bar, and knocked him on his ass.”
“I never heard that,” I said. “Good for her. You guys busted her, huh?”
“We sort of had to,” said Sally. “She got him with a chair.”
“Even better,” I said. “Intelligent people tend to use tools.” My estimation of Huck went up several notches.
“Other than that, she went to school at U of Wisconsin, Madison. Was a music teacher for a year, I'm told. Then quit, and went on the boat.”
“Probably more money,” said Hester.
“Hanna Prien,” said Sally, “has absolutely no record whatsoever. Born, raised, and remains in Freiberg. Betty says that she was a bright kid, but no gumption at all. She went to school with Betty's daughter for a while.”