“For now. Thanks for the coffee.” Robert picked up his hat, pulled it down over his brow, slid his thumb and forefinger around the edge, and walked to the door. Dee leaned against it, the top of her fitted dress barely covered her tinted nipples. Robert smiled as reached in his pocket. She parted her lips and smiled back. It froze when he snapped open his police ID in front of her eyes.
“Dee, honey, when are you going to learn to read the fuzz?” Dawson laughed from behind him. “Detective, we’re even now.”
“For now,” Robert returned.
Chapter 8
It still worried Robert that when he talked to Arnie about the missing gun report, the man became evasive. He’d promise to speak to Janeway, but he never called Robert about it. Robert decided to make a trip to The Dalles Police Department the next morning and confront Janeway.
It was the first of February and one of those days when the sun shone in the Gorge. It wouldn’t be too long before the warm sun stayed out longer and little buds would burst on the trees. Robert hoped he could close the case by spring.
He parked on the side street and walked through the front door of The Dalles Police Department.
“What can I do for you, sir?” the young woman at the desk asked, and Robert pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to show his badge.
“I’d like to speak to Janeway.”
“Just a minute.” She dialed a few numbers and spoke softly into the receiver. “He’s with someone right now. If you would care to have a seat, I’ve let him know you’re waiting.”
Robert sat on the wooden bench. There wasn’t much in the way of reading material. He stared at the walls for a while. After twenty minutes passed, he stood and approached the desk.
“Could you check and see if Janeway will be ready to see me soon?”
“Oh, yes, just a minute.” She dialed again, then finally spoke, “Is Captain Janeway done with his meeting? He’s stepped away? Can you find him? There’s a Portland police detective here waiting from him. Thank you.” She looked apologetic and embarrassed, “I’m sorry, sir; he’s away from his desk for a moment. He might be walking his last appointment out. He should be back soon.”
Robert sat and waited again. His frustration level rose as the minutes passed. He suspected the next time he asked, he’d be told the man was out for the day.
Unfortunately, that was precisely what happened. “You mean he just left?” Robert leaned over the desk almost nose to nose with the young woman. “Tell him I’m making a full report of this to my boss.” He didn’t wait for an answer but stormed out of the door. He got to his car and was opening his door.
“Psst. Hey!” He heard a voice coming from behind a brick planter on the other side of the car.
Robert turned. “You talking to me?” he asked to the phantom voice.
“Yeah. Get in your car and open your passenger window,” the gruff voice ordered.
Robert jumped in and leaned across the seat to roll down the passenger window. Before it was all the way down, a large manila envelope flew in and hit him on the side of the face.
“You didn’t see me or get anything when you came here.” The man walked on by and disappeared from view around the corner. He wore a brown raincoat and a large, flat-brimmed hat. Robert didn’t bother to follow him. There were some things you took on faith. At this point, any information, no matter how it was delivered, was welcome. He gently rubbed his face; it hurt from the edge of the envelope.
After rolling the window back up, he slid the envelope under his seat. As he started to pull away, a uniformed officer ran around the corner and started yelling after him. Robert pretended he didn’t hear and kept driving. Whatever was in the envelope was probably worth more than stopping. If he finished and got out to go back inside, chances of it being there when he got back were slim to none. He’d be back another day.
He drove back into the city, and he parked a couple of rows back from his regular spot. He took a quick look around to determine he wasn’t going to be interrupted; bent open the metal clips of the envelope, and pulled the flap out to expose the contents.
Inside he saw pictures of a gun. Close-ups of the butt showing bits of what could have been dried blood or dirt; they were the same in a black-and-white photo. Another showed the registration number, and the last was a report of the blood type.
Why was this all a secret? Who was giving him the information? What was Janeway hiding?
Playing it safe he called The Dalles police later that day, and this time he was put on hold for twenty minutes. Robert knew none of this was coincidental. He hung up and included the incident minus the delivery of the gun information in his report to the chief.
Later that day, he got a call to go to the chief’s office.
“Robert, stay away from The Dalles Police Department. If there’s anything, you need, send it through me.”
“Sir, I requested over and over again the information about the gun and a car abandoned in The Dalles. I haven’t been given either.”
“They have nothing to do with your case,” Arnie retorted.
“Sir! What do you mean nothing to do with my case?” Robert clenched his fists in his pockets to keep from slamming them on the desk. “The car is registered to John Lutz. Not far away from the car, a gun was found. Those sound like good leads to me.” Robert held his temper in check.
Arnie wiped his brow with a handkerchief, and his hands shook a bit as they moved papers on the desk. “I’ll do what I can and leave it at that.” He dismissed Robert.
Robert didn’t tell Arnie he already had the information. When he went home that night, he took his paperwork and notes with him. He’d built a false wall in his bedroom. It looked like part of the closet and the bathroom, but when the panel was pressed, it opened to reveal a safe. Inside were two hunting rifles and a couple of old pistols. He laid the expandable folder onto the shelf.
His hand slid across the metal box on the shelf next to the folder. He knew every item in the box. Inside was a small jeweler’s box that held Becca’s locket with his and Henry’s picture in it, their wedding certificate, Henry’s and Becca’s death certificates, and her wedding ring. He still wore his.
His hand closed over the handle, but he didn’t lift the box. The shrink he was forced to see by the Police Bureau told him to write a letter to his wife, expressing his feelings to her. He’d done that. It was now a pile of shredded paper inside an envelope with the other remembrances. When the shrink also told him to take off his wedding ring, he’d stood up and left the room. The shrink wouldn’t release him until he did. He did and replaced it a few months later.
Now he looked at it. His marriage wasn’t everything he wanted it to be. His time with Becca had been cut short. He was healing. He slid the ring off his finger and put it in the box. He felt no sorrow, only a sense of relief. The night stretched long as he stared at the ceiling for many an hour before his eyes closed.
The next morning, his pace slowed as he headed to the break room for coffee. In the typing pool, Barbara sat on her chair, her back to him as she talked to the girls. He continued to walk by with slow steps. The woman facing him tapped Barbara, and she turned. Seeing Robert, she stood and grabbed her cup.
“You going to buy me a cup, officer?” she teased as she met him at the break room door.
“Sure, I’ll pay this time.” He put her cup under the spigot and pressed the handle. They both watched the black liquid fill the cup. “I wish someone else would make the coffee,” he whispered.
“You don’t like my coffee?” She stepped back, her hand to her heart, a shocked expression on her face.