‘Yes, Your Honor,’ Reed Dean mumbled.
‘Speak up, sir,’ Judge Tinley said.
‘I’d appreciate if Mr Bassett would speak for me,’ Reed said, almost shouting.
‘And so it will be,’ the judge said. ‘Mayor Bassett, will you proceed?’
Mac rose to stand next to Rogenet. ‘Thank you, Your Honor. Someone in Grand Point asked me if I knew about a pair of murders that occurred here back in June, 1982. I told her I did not. She asked if, in my capacity as mayor, I could look into the case, and report whether there had been any developments in the investigation since 1982.’
‘You are referring to the Betty Jo Dean and Paulus Pribilski homicides, is that correct?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Judge Tinley turned to the court reporter. ‘Let the record reflect that I may have to refer to the sheriff’s files on these homicides before issuing a ruling.’
‘You’ll find nothing, Your Honor,’ Mac said. ‘The files have been decimated.’
‘Decimated, sir?’
‘The information that remains in the sheriff’s files from 1982 is worthless. There’s nothing left.’
‘Is this so, Mr State’s Attorney?’
Powell, surprised, looked at Bales.
Bales, red-faced, stood up. ‘Much of the original material from the investigation has been misplaced, Your Honor.’
Judge Tinley, annoyed, motioned for Mac to continue.
‘I have spent the past week trying to ascertain whether the sheriff’s department has made any progress on the case at all. They have not, Your Honor.’
‘Granting Mr Dean’s petition will do what, exactly?’
‘Subject his sister’s case to a modern forensic examination.’
‘A private investigation can’t be allowed because of the risk it presents,’ State’s Attorney Powell said. ‘Granted, the case has not progressed as everyone hoped, but because it is still unsolved, it is an active investigation. To allow evidence to be transferred to private hands, especially those of someone who is currently facing criminal charges in another county…’
‘This is Mr Dean’s action, and not Mayor Bassett’s, right, Mr Powell?’ the judge asked.
‘Everybody knows who’s behind this action, Your Honor.’
‘You’re suggesting that Mr Dean or Mayor Bassett will corrupt any evidence that arises?’ the judge asked Powell.
Jimmy Bales stifled a laugh.
Judge Tinley frowned, and looked down at Reed Dean. ‘Forgive me, Mr Dean, I meant no pun with my unfortunate choice of that last word.’
He turned back to Powell. ‘What new efforts have you undertaken to investigate these murders?’
Powell touched his necktie, making sure it was perfectly vertical. ‘I’d have to refresh my memory.’
‘Enough of this.’ Judge Tinley checked his watch, a pointed gesture since there was a large clock on the wall. It was ten minutes to twelve. Rogenet had told Mac that Judge Tinley was known for not suffering long hearings. Nor was he known for being late to lunch.
‘One more thing, Your Honor?’ Powell asked hurriedly. ‘The county is concerned about Mayor Bassett’s standing in this matter. He’s been traipsing around town, casting aspersion and innuendo at the offices of the Peering County Democrat, Wiley’s Funeral Home and elsewhere. There’s even a report that he bugged the private dining room of the Willow Tree restaurant.’
Judge Tinley leaned forward. ‘Bugged? He set up microphones to record people eating?’
‘Not merely eating, Your Honor.’
‘What then? Drinking, too?’
Roy Powell turned from the judge’s sarcasm to glare again at Jimmy Bales.
‘More than that, Your Honor,’ Bales said.
‘You have proof, Sheriff?’
‘It’s under investigation, Your Honor.’
‘Like the Dean-Pribilski murders, or more actively?’
‘I suppose more actively,’ Bales, the fool, said.
‘There’s also the burden of cost, Your Honor,’ Powell said. ‘The county’s budget is strained. To incur expense in such an old and perhaps unsolvable case would be an unwelcome burden to the taxpayers of Peering County.’
‘Unsolvable? So you do feel you can learn nothing more?’
‘I meant merely we don’t have the money.’
‘Did not Mayor Bassett, speaking for himself and Mr Dean, assert in their filing that they will bear the cost?’
‘Well, yes.’
The judge again checked his watch. ‘There’s a reason why there’s no statute of limitation on murder,’ he said. ‘We must never give up on such cases.’
He hunched over his desk and wrote for a time. Then he looked up and said to the two lawyers, ‘You may sign this now and pick up copies from the clerk this afternoon. Here’s what it says: “Petitioner Dean’s request is granted. It shall be conducted as a cooperative effort, to be jointly supervised by the Illinois State Police, the Peering County Sheriff’s Department, the Office of the Peering County Coroner and any such other law enforcement authorities as collectively deemed necessary by the foregoing parties. It shall be accomplished within sixteen days. Peering County shall bear the cost of implementing this order. Any matter or material found as a result of the granting of this petition shall be turned over to the forensic laboratories directed by the assigned State of Illinois forensic pathologists. Attorney Rogenet and Reed Dean may be present for any and all proceedings that result from this order. In consideration of the state’s attorney’s concerns, Mayor Bassett is denied access to the resultant proceedings. Attorney Rogenet, Reed Dean and Mayor Bassett shall be privy to the subsequent findings that result from this order.”’
‘Surely… surely not sixteen days, Your Honor,’ Powell stammered.
‘Yes, indeed, Mr State’s Attorney. Enough time has been wasted.’
A clatter came from the back of the courtroom. Everyone turned.
Randall White had slipped into the room. He’d pitched forward in a dead faint, and now lay face down in the aisle.
Jen Jessup rushed to help him.
‘Exhumation is to be effected within two weeks and two days,’ the judge said, standing up. ‘Up she comes, gentlemen.’
FORTY-SIX
Two weeks and two days.
The words of the judge’s order to exhume Betty Jo Dean flew from Grand Point like bullets, striking television and radio stations and print newsrooms as far away as Iowa City, Springfield, Milwaukee and Chicago. Within hours, reporters began calling Reed Dean at home. He referred them all to Mac.
Mac read each the same statement: ‘“The Dean family has suffered three decades of not knowing who killed their beloved Betty Jo. It is hoped a modern forensic examination of her remains will aid the Peering County Sheriff’s Department in renewing their investigation into the murders of Betty Jo and Paulus Pribilski.”’
Jim Rogenet had written the statement, admonishing Mac to not stray from it. ‘Remember what we discussed. Some reporters will recall your indictment and accuse you of using the Dean case to grandstand for publicity on your own behalf. I’ve put in another call to Wainwright, hoping to block what’s sure to be his negative reaction.’
‘Especially if he’s mixed up in what’s been happening to me.’
‘Don’t go beyond the statement.’
When Jen Jessup called, Mac read her the identical words.
‘All right,’ she said, ‘now tell me the rest.’
‘Saying anything more could worsen my chances in Linder County.’
‘I hear Farris Hobbs was pushed in front of that oncoming car.’
‘A lot of people knew Farris drank at the Bird’s Nest.’
‘I also heard you always walked him across the highway.’
‘Not that night.’
When he didn’t say more, she asked, ‘Did you ever get to talk to Clamp Reems?’
‘That’s down the line, after the exhumation.’
‘Ever hear how he got the nickname “Clamp?” It seems that Wilbur, as he was known when he was young, was a hard-drinking, cigar-chomping hellion. One night, he got in a fight at Al’s Rustic Hacienda. Wilbur’s jaw got broken, and they had to wire it so tight there wasn’t room for his beloved cigars.’