Joe, on the other hand, was genuinely happy. This was one case he definitely wanted to control. He didn't give a damn who collected the credit later-or the blame. And he had to admire Letourneau's pragmatism.
"How'd you find out who she was?" he asked, moving on.
This time, Paul was allowed to answer. "Her car. At daybreak, it was all by itself in the lot across the river." He pointed off into the distance, and Joe could see a hole in the sea of cars on the opposite slope, ringed by more yellow tape and filled by a single vehicle guarded by another trooper.
"We ran the plate, had a photo ID e-mailed to the command vehicle, and matched it to her. Then we broke in. Didn't find anything of interest, but with your old case, maybe you'll think different."
"I'll take a look later," Joe told him. "What else?"
"We've tried figuring out when she got here yesterday and who she might've met with. Her photo's being circulated all over the fair right now, mostly among the vendors and staff. So far, no luck beyond a fried-dough guy who says he noticed someone like her around the bingo barn last night, but he couldn't be sure, since the woman he saw had a cowboy hat. He thought the shirt matched, though-bright red."
"The Ferris wheel operator remembers a cowboy hat, too," Letourneau added, "but he couldn't swear to the shirt or even to it being a woman. He just focused on the hat because he was afraid it might blow off and he'd get the blame. Said it had happened before."
"You ask lost-and-found for the hat?" Gunther asked.
In the ensuing awkward silence, both men revealed not having thought of that. "I'll check it out," Paul said softly.
"What about her family or friends?" Joe continued. "Any luck there?"
Letourneau was clearly happier with that. "We've got people chasing it down. So far, just a mother near Brattleboro, in a nursing home. Last I heard, no one had talked to her."
"And friends?"
"I had someone check her place in Townshend. Looks like she lived alone, kind of in the sticks. A rental house on some out-of-stater's property. Looks like a custodial deal, maybe, where she got a discount for keeping an eye out in general. We've asked the Connecticut State Police to contact the owners and have them call us."
Joe nodded. It certainly looked like the basics were being covered. "Did you get anything out of her house? Bank records, letters, a diary?"
Letourneau pursed his lips before answering. "Not enough manpower. I just have a trooper sitting on it till we can get an investigator there."
Gunther immediately thought of Kunkle, who, despite his impatient personality, had a paradoxical affinity for painstaking house searches. "I'll get someone up there."
He glanced around. "I saw the crime lab van. Have they figured out how it happened?"
"They have a theory," Paul Spraiger confirmed. "Not much to go on, though, what with thousands of people walking all over the place. Because of where she ended up, they think she may have been corralled out here. At night it's pretty dark, even this close to the bridge. Since she was parked on the other side, it's possible she was heading back to her car when she was cut off."
The radio on Letourneau's belt chattered briefly. He pulled it out and exchanged a few words, finally replacing it and telling them, "They found a couple of more witnesses who maybe saw her. They're at the command post."
The three of them picked up Sam on the way back to the VSP's mobile office. Standing outside it, looking slightly nervous, were two men, one dressed in a fair official's dark blue vest.
A uniformed officer made the introductions to his boss, ignoring the rest of them. "Hi, Lieutenant, this is Rick Manelli. Operates a bow-and-arrow booth near the National Guard display inside the oval. And this is Fran Dupont, who sort of backs up security."
"I'm a roamer," Dupont clarified, shaking hands all around. "We do a bit of everything, wherever we're needed."
Gunther started with him. "And you saw something we might be interested in?"
Dupont didn't look that confident. "Maybe. It didn't have anything to do with the lady you're looking for, though. I don't know about her."
"That's okay. What did you see?"
"Four guys. They were jumping the fence separating the track from the midway area, between the bingo hall and the grandstand."
"That's unusual?"
Dupont shrugged. "No. Happens all the time. Sometimes even when the races are on. Back in the seventies, some woman, high on pot, just walked right out there to wave at the guy in the starting truck. He faces backwards, see, so he can know when all the horses are lined up, and then he operates the fence on the back of the truck and swings it in so they can really open up. It's really kind of neat to watch. Anyhow, this woman just walked out…"
Joe had silently placed his hand on the man's forearm, stopping him cold.
"Sorry," Dupont resumed. "Anyhow, they weren't like that-they were serious. Plus, it's not like it's a good shortcut or anything. Takes some effort to climb, you know?"
"What do you think they were doing?"
Dupont finally got to the point. "Chasing someone. I could tell. It was real obvious. They were pretty mad and pushing each other to climb the fence faster. I yelled at them but they just ignored me. It didn't really matter 'cause nothing was going on and they moved off fast. Ran, in fact."
"Did you see who they were chasing?"
"No, sir, I didn't."
"I did, maybe," Rick Manelli spoke up, sounding left out.
Joe ignored him temporarily by asking Dupont, "Can you describe the men?"
That seemed to stump him. "Describe them? You mean, what they looked like?"
"Sure. You could start there."
He shrugged. "I don't know. Regular."
"Any of them have a beard or no hair at all or anything distinctive?" Letourneau asked.
Dupont looked confused. "Like a bald man? I don't think any of them was bald. 'Course, one of them mighta had a hat."
"What kind of hat?"
"I don't know. What kind are you looking for?"
"What did you see, Mr. Manelli?" Joe asked, turning to the other man.
Manelli's eyes were bright with eagerness. "That woman you been asking about. I saw her run by. She looked bad. Scared. And she threw her hat away. That's why I remember her. I couldn't figure that out. Nice cowboy hat."
"You have it?"
"Nope. Gave it to lost-and-found."
There was a telling stillness among several of the police officers.
"Did you see anyone following her?" Joe asked quickly.
But Manelli was very clear about that. "Nope. I looked, too, because that happens sometimes-women being hassled. I try to look out for stuff like that. Don't like it."
"But there was no one?"
"Nobody I saw, like I said. That doesn't mean he wasn't there. See, after she ditched the hat, the woman stopped running and tried to walk normal, like she was pretending. So maybe the guy did the same and I didn't notice."
"Anything else?" Joe asked both of them.
They looked at each other and remained silent. Joe thanked them, and Letourneau made sure they could be located later if needed.
The four of them were watching the two men walk away when Joe suddenly asked, "People take a lot of pictures when they're here?"
"I guess," Letourneau replied.
"It may be a stretch, but I wonder if we couldn't get some of the folks who were hanging around here last night to help us out. Circulate it in the papers and on the radio that we're looking for any and all photographs taken at the fair on Friday night that have any crowd shots whatsoever, even if they're in the background."
Nick Letourneau grunted softly. "Good idea. I can get that going."
Joe eyed the command post. "And if it's all right, I'd like to make a phone call and get somebody started on Hannah Shriver's house. If we're lucky, she may still have something to tell us."