It explained why I was cuffed to the bed frame. Plinnit.
“It was no accident. It was no suicide. I was shot.”
“Mind if I record this?” She pulled a bed tray over and set a small recorder on it.
I rattled the cuff chain with my left foot. “Obviously, you can do whatever you please.”
She spoke the date and then the time-5:15 P.M.; I’d lost almost the whole day-named the hospital, and identified a deputy, standing against the wall, as a witness to the proceedings. “Mr. Elstrom has consented to this interview without presence of counsel to represent him,” she said to the recorder. “Right, Mr. Elstrom?”
“Why is this necessary?”
“Lieutenant Plinnit asked that your statement be taken promptly. He said he was worried you’d find another gun and finish the job.”
“How did you find me?”
“One of our locals was driving by at daybreak, and recognized Ralph’s truck parked out in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t find Ralph, but he did hear you, moaning, not far off the road.”
Even through the drugs, I had an inspiration. “I’ll bet you didn’t find the gun.”
“Actually we did, right where you dropped it. We’re testing it now.”
“So you’re arresting me for attempted murder on myself?”
“I’m merely taking a statement, Mr. Elstrom.”
“Then remove the cuff.”
“You’re being held as a courtesy to Lieutenant Plinnit. He said he wants to arrest you. He’ll detail his charges against you when he arrives tomorrow morning.”
“What charges?”
“Suspicion of murder.”
“Who got killed?”
“You can ask the lieutenant.”
“I need to call my attorney.”
Ellie Ball and her deputy left the room.
I called Leo’s cell phone. “Where are you?” I asked when he clicked on. Loud accordion music was playing at his end.
“I just got home from Los Angeles. Ma has the stereo guy over. He’s setting up huge television speakers in the basement. I want to cry.”
“I’m in Hadlow, Minnesota.”
“Doesn’t sound as good as L.A.”
“I’ve been shot, and I am leg-cuffed to a hospital bed.”
“Definitely not as good as L.A., though I hear those movie star types go for cuffs.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re not.”
I gave him a one-minute summary.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“Neither do I, but I’m medicated and in deep shit.”
He said he was on his way back to the airport.
“No surprise, Mr. Elstrom,” Sheriff Ellie Ball said when she came back in. “You had residue on your left hand.”
“I fired no-” I stopped, remembering the touch of someone’s hand as I lay on the ground in the woods. I remembered the explosion.
Someone had fitted my hand to a gun-and fired.
“Son of a bitch,” I said.
“I thought you’d say something like that,” she said. “What were you doing in those woods? Nearest house is a half mile away.”
I’d stumbled far enough from the shack for her not to make the connection. She would, though, when she learned I was in Hadlow tracking Darlene Taylor, and I had no doubt that she’d find that out. Hadlow was a small town.
“I’ll wait for Plinnit,” I said.
She clicked off her recorder and headed for the door.
“By the way, Chief…?” I said. My pain medication was wearing off.
“It’s Sheriff,” she said. “Sheriff Ellie Ball.”
“By the way, Chief. Something you’ve neglected: I’m right-handed.”
My pain meds were in full retreat now, chased away by the hot fire from the hole in my side.
“So what?”
I wanted to scream for a nurse, but first I wanted to scream at the sheriff.
“I want you to ponder how the hell I got gunshot residue on my left hand when I’m right-handed.”
“Oh, I thought of that, Elstrom. I’ll consider it again, and out loud, if you’d like. You had to use your left hand, if your intent was to wound your right side.”
“Where’s the sense in that?”
“To make it look like you didn’t shoot yourself. I’ll tell the nurse you might need a pill,” she said and walked out.
CHAPTER 44.
A riot of color moved next to me, no doubted a cheery nurse in a cheery tunic. I rubbed at my eyes, to see through the fog of drugs they’d used to quiet me for the night.
“Morning, Killer,” Leo said.
His shirt was brighter than the blue of any sky, except in those spots where it was orange, or red, or green, or pink. A riot of color, for sure-and of relief.
“They’ve cuffed me to the bed, Leo.”
“At the direction of Lieutenant Plinnit, who is outside, dying to talk to you.”
“You’ve kept him away?”
“I told him I’m here because John Peet is addressing the Supreme Court.”
“Dressed like that? You, a lawyer?”
“I never used the L word. I merely said I was representing you. As far as the clothes, I implied I practice in Miami.”
“Practice?” I repeated, not understanding because there was still a residue of drugs. “In Miami?”
He stepped back and did part of a dance thrust. “Samba,” he said.
I would have laughed at the nonsense of it, but that would have hurt.
“Anything you want to tell me, before I let Plinnit in?” he said.
“I’ll fill you in later, when we’re away from here.”
He left the side of the bed and came back with Plinnit.
“Killer, Lieutenant Plinnit is here,” Leo announced.
“Your smart-assed tone isn’t helping your client, Mr. Brumsky,” Plinnit said.
“Why the cuffs, Plinnit?” I asked.
“Suspicion of murder.”
“That’s what the sheriff said. Still Robert Norton, the guard? Or are you still flailing away at Andrew Fill?”
He held up a small plastic evidence bag. Inside was a spent bullet. “The sheriff just gave me this. They dug it out of your side. It matches the gun that fell from your hand.”
“Why would I go off and shoot myself in some remote woods?”
“Remorse. You crawled there to die a sorry death, after you shot yourself. And it wasn’t just any old remote woods. Sheriff Ball found blood at a small farm nearby, owned by a woman named Darlene Taylor. We’re hopeful it’s your blood, like we’re hopeful this bullet will match two we recovered from behind the left ear of one George Koros, late of Chicago, Illin-”
“Koros is dead?” I struggled to sit up. A chained left foot and a shot right side brought me down, fast.
“Two shots to the back of his head, as you well know. Cleaning staff found him facedown at his desk.”
“I killed Koros, then came up here to shoot myself?”
Plinnit nodded too happily. “Fits together nicely, doesn’t it?”
“It’s crap.”
“It’s enough to hold you for some time. If you’ve got other thoughts, tell me now.”
“When was Koros killed?”
“The ME hasn’t issued his final report, but it was the day before yesterday. We’ve been looking for you ever since. Your ex-wife said she didn’t know where you were.”
“I was here, in Hadlow.”
“Beyond you possessing the gun we think killed George Koros, we found a credit card statement lying next to his head,” he said, ignoring my alibi. “He’d pulled it off his online account. It shows you’ve been making substantial cash withdrawals against his card.”
“He sent me that card. I used it for traveling cash, to get to Missouri, then up here.”
“To find Sweetie Fairbairn?”
“Yes.”
Plinnit wasn’t taking notes. He knew I didn’t kill George Koros.
“So what have you found?” he asked.