“I guess,” Floyd replied. “I hoped to find something we overlooked in an investigation. He took a sip of coffee and added, “but there’s nothing here I didn’t already know.”
Brenda looked over his shoulder at the microfilm reader. “You thought you’d find a lead in the story about the lutefisk dinner?”
“Nah, I got bored.”
“If you go to the following week, I’ll bet you can find an article with the headcount from the dinner and an accounting of the free-will offering. They probably reported how many pounds of Lutefisk were eaten, too.”
“As odd as it seems, the sheriff’s department doesn’t arrest people for serving lutefisk. That’s more of a crime against humanity than a statutory crime.”
“Hey!” Brenda complained, “I like lutefisk.”
“How can you like something that has the texture of gelatin and the flavor of… Well it doesn’t have any flavor after the lye soak.”
“You put butter or white sauce over it and it tastes like the sauce. What’s not to like about butter?” She asked playfully.
“I don’t know. It just seems like a terrible thing to do to perfectly totally innocent butter.” Floyd paused to take another swallow of coffee. “The coffee is great. I appreciate you bringing me a cup.”
“It’s pretty quiet here weekday mornings. I appreciate getting a break from sorting book returns. What were you looking for?”
“We reopened an old missing person case this week hoping something new would come out, but so far we’ve been spinning our wheels.”
“If you give me the name of the missing person I’ll do a search on some databases to see if there is anything more than The Pioneer reported.”
“I appreciate the help,” Floyd said, “but don’t knock yourself out. I think we’re winding down to the end of this investigation.”
CHAPTER 27
Pam called directory assistance and got the number for Keith Zollner in Cottage Grove, a St. Paul suburb. The phone rang three times and rolled over to an answering machine. She left a message for Jennifer, then picked up the stack of subpoenas from her box. She went to one of the twelve metal desks arranged in open cubicles around the bullpen and pulled over a desk chair with squeaking wheels.
“I guess I’ve got my work cut out for today,” she said to herself, as she sorted the paperwork geographically to plan the route she’d take to serve the papers.
The sheriff walked into the bullpen as Pam was gathering up the sorted stacks of subpoenas. “How’s life?” he asked, sitting in the guest chair next to her desk.
“Things are okay,” Pam said, taken aback by the sheriff’s casual demeanor. He tended to be all business and dealt primarily with the undersheriff, and the sergeants.
“I mentioned the Aaron Roberts case on my weekly radio show,” the sheriff said as he sat in the guest chair next to Pam’s desk. “I know a few people listen because I’ve caught some flak about issues I’ve mentioned, but this Aaron Roberts thing is ancient history and I doubt anything new will arise.”
“You reached someone, because two notes have been left at Floyd’s house.”
“I’m more inclined to think they’re a result of you and Floyd asking questions around town,” the sheriff replied. “On the other hand, both the Duluth News Tribune and the Minneapolis Star Tribune picked up the story after the radio show.
“Maybe it was the newspaper articles,” Pam said, then suddenly blushed. “Not that your radio show doesn’t reach a lot of people.”
The sheriff smiled. “Have you adapted to life in the north woods?”
“Pretty much. I still miss the open farmland at home, but it’s really beautiful here a lot of the year. The fall colors were never as pretty in Blue Earth as they are in some of the maple stands up here.”
“It’s a different life being a cop no matter where you live. You can’t run around getting drunk and doing stupid stuff that makes the newspapers. You’re constantly vigilant, and you look for the seamy side of everyone.”
Pam’s mind raced trying to decide if they were having a friendly discussion or whether she was getting a lecture. “It’s really hard to date here,” she said. “I don’t feel right going to a bar to meet guys, and I’m tempted to run a background check on every guy who says ‘Hello.’”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been with the department for almost three years and Floyd thinks you’re doing a great job. He told me how you stood down Mark Roberts yesterday and probably defused a situation that could’ve been bloody if some macho deputy had played cowboy and tried to take Mark down alone. You used judgment by calling for backup instead of trying to be a hero. You stood your ground until Floyd and Tom arrived. We all think that you’re part of the future of this department, and I was wondering if you felt the same.”
“Wow, I’ve never thought about my distant future,” Pam said, pulling her foot onto the chair and sitting on it, grimacing as she got a shot of pain from her bruised back. “I like the people in the department, and Pine City is a nice enough place to live. I can see myself staying here.”
“Good,” the sheriff said. “It’s really odd that I have no problem talking to the press, but I have a heck of a time talking to my deputies.” He took a cigar from his pocket and put it in his mouth. He rolled it around with his tongue until it was in the corner of his mouth. “What I wanted to say is that I really want you to consider staying with us for a long time. We…I like your work ethic, and you handle yourself well. You’re a good deputy.”
Pam watched the sheriff walk out of the bullpen, thinking she’d had the strangest conversation she could imagine. After a few minutes of thought she felt smug, and then pleased as she picked up the pile of paperwork and headed for the door.
“Mary,” Debbie yelled from the flower arranging bench, “pick up the phone.”
“Hello, this is Mary Jungers.”
“Um…hi, this is Barb. I was thinking about the shower and I decided I didn’t know what to wear. Is this a fancy thing, or can I wear shorts?”
Mary smiled at the sound of Barb’s voice. “You can come in shorts if you’d like. I think everyone will be casual in this hot weather.”
“Should I bring anything?”
“Absolutely not. This is your shower. All you need to do is show up tomorrow.”
“I feel really strange about this,” Barb said in her halting style. “I’m not used to this treatment. You helped me pick out flowers that you and Floyd are buying and tomorrow you’re throwing a party for me. It’s embarrassing.”
Mary was surprised by Barb’s candid talk about her feelings. Floyd had told her about Barb’s lifestyle when she and Sandy Maki first met. Barb had been a lingerie model, an exotic dancer, and a bar waitress who wore skimpy outfits, when she realized it resulted in better tips. The concept of Barb suddenly admitting embarrassment over anything was almost incomprehensible.
“It’ll be fun, trust me. We’re getting together to help you celebrate a new phase of your life and we’re all really happy for you and Sandy. Are you okay with that?”
“I guess so, but it’ll still be strange.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mary said in her most reassuring tone. “We’ll all have a great time.”
“I have to call Floyd, now,” Barb said. “I’m at work and I have a picture to show him.”
“Not another dead body, I hope,” Mary said.
“No, just a better version of the other dead body. The blood is a lot more…”
“Please, don’t tell me anymore,” Mary interrupted. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Barb was dialing the sheriff’s department number from Floyd’s business card when Pam Ryan walked into the store and waved. “Hi, Barb. Have you picked out a wedding dress yet?” Pam was in uniform. Her bullet-proof vest, pressed against the inside of her tan uniform blouse, made it appear that she was wearing a back brace. Her short, blonde hair was damp at her neck and sweat stained her blouse around the edges of the vest.