P Deutermann - Nightwalkers

"This guy said you killed his wife," she said. "Have you killed any women or anyone's wife in your career or afterward?"

"One," I said. I then explained what had happened up on Spider Mountain, when one of the Creigh women had pointed and fired a. 357 at me. She was, however, not anyone's wife, nor would she ever be.

"So it's possible that he doesn't mean that literally?"

"Explain, please."

"It's possible that he means you destroyed his wife in some other way. Like putting her in prison for a life sentence."

We hadn't thought of that. As I'd told Carol, I'd had Horace trying to build something on that under the assumption that it involved a dead woman. The detective had a good point.

"Yes, that's possible," I said. "Or she committed suicide because I put him away for a long jolt. Horace Stackpole here's been digging along those lines in the records down in Manceford County."

"You were head of the Manceford County MCAT, right?" she asked. "So it was a team effort to take the assholes off the street. Any individual make a big deal about that being personal?"

"I've been searching for just that, Detective," Horace said. "In theory, that should narrow the search field considerably, but sometimes the boss is the guy they focus on."

"Plus," I said, "we're looking for someone other than just your average B and E guy or corner pusher. He's killed two people so far, mostly for becoming loose ends."

"What was your MOS in the Corps?" one of the other detectives asked.

"Sniper."

"Any possibles there?"

"None living," I said. The detectives smiled at that.

"You seem to attract a lot of trouble, Mr. Richter," Captain Hapsburg said. "Why should we be helping you here?"

She had a strong accent, and the "here" came out more like "hier." The sheriff intervened.

"Because we're working a homicide, Hildy," he said. "You know, like murder? Helping Lieutenant Richter is incidental to catching a bad guy."

The lady detective had several more questions, but none that produced any sort of clarifying moments. Captain Hildy went back to taking notes, but clearly she still disapproved of the entire proceeding.

"Okay," Sheriff Walker said. "Here's my plan. We're gonna work the victim in the shooting out at Glory's End. Pull the string on her and everyone she knew, the bikers, the meth world, her dog-training thing, like that. With any luck someone will say, hey, yes, I remember a guy she trained for who bought two dogs and here's his license plate number."

Chuckles all around. As if.

"Sergeant Stackpole, sounds like you still have a reliable pipe into Manceford County. Keep at it. I can call Sheriff Baggett if you ever need some top cover."

"We're good," Horace said.

"Mr. Richter, I'd appreciate it if you would spend as much time as possible at the plantation, with whatever support your guys can give you. I'd like to develop how this guy got there and got away, and whether or not he has a base of operations out there on Glory's End somewhere."

"Right," I said. "Detective Sergeant Bell here is our electronics wizard. He's going to wire the house for video. If you're amenable, he'll get together with your people and arrange secure comms for us. Now that we're all retired and working private, we have access to some fairly spiffy toys in that department."

"Absolutely," he said, "and we'll give you the code for our jungle drum system, and also the secret smoke signals."

Ooops, I thought, there I go, stepping on toes again, but the sheriff was smiling. I decided to stop talking before I got in any deeper.

The meeting broke up, the detectives talking to my guys, the sheriff and I discussing possibilities out at Glory's End, and the shepherds sitting now at the end of the table, unashamedly pointing the two remaining doughnuts on the plate.

"How are you and the Lee ladies getting on?" Sheriff Walker asked.

I almost blinked when he asked that. I was still digesting the unexpected meeting with Valeria the night before. I told him we were doing fine, so far. He asked if he needed to drop by and explain what all the ruckus had been about across the road. I told him that I'd done that, and that their reaction had been to encourage me to shoot the bastard the first chance I got.

"Yeah," he said. "That's sounds like Hester, anyway. I would never go creeping around that house at night. She reputedly can shoot the ear off a squirrel at a hundred yards."

I asked him about his Major Crimes boss.

"Hildy?" he said. "She's okay, most of the time. She disapproves of civilians, and I think she wouldn't be entirely averse to bringing back elements of the secret police to our business. You should see her do an interview."

"I think she doesn't like me."

"Hildy doesn't like anybody," he said. "Even me. She was here when I got here, and she has the admin situation in her own personal vise. That's valuable, but it makes us all somewhat dependent."

"You let her go operational?"

"Not if I can help it," he said with a laugh. "She's good people, just a little bit too serious most of the time."

I wanted to ask him how he knew about Hester's ability with a rifle, but at that moment a deputy came in and told the sheriff that the homicide victim's husband was out front.

"Husband?" the sheriff asked.

"Says he is," the deputy replied. "There's five of 'em. Bikers. Said they rode up from Charlotte. Uglier'n stumps, every one of 'em."

"Bikers," mumbled the sheriff. "I hate bikers."

"Except when they give me shit while they're on their bikes and I'm in a cruiser," Tony said. "Then I can give them a physics lesson. That can be real fun."

"These here aren't posers, you know, lawyers and doctors?" the deputy said. "Front desk told the 'husband' he could stay; sent the rest outside to keep their hogs company. They started up with him, and he had to send for Willard."

"Willard?" I asked.

"Willard is our uppity manager," the sheriff said. "Okay, I'll go talk to this guy. Deputy Smithy here will take you out the back way. Make sure my D's have all your numbers, and we'll get up with you as soon as we have something."

I thanked him for all his help and said we'd be over at Glory's End for the rest of the day. As we left, he noticed that the mutts were still pointing the doughnuts.

"Oh, for God's sake," he said and tipped the plate in their direction. Two audible snaps and then they joined the parade to the back door. The sheriff was now a designated softie, and they would always remember that.

As we went down the hall, we passed, or rather stepped aside for, a huge, round-faced, glary-eyed black man in a straining khaki uniform. He was six something tall, the same wide, and he had to lean slightly back as he walked so as to counterbalance his sumo-sized paunch. His fingers were curled in a grab-it-and-hurt-it posture, and his arms hung out at his sides like two Smithfield hams. He walked like a Hollywood robot, one leg followed by the other, and the walls literally shook as he went by. Even the shepherds were cowed.

"Willard?" I muttered as we headed for the back door.

"Willard," the deputy said. "Specializes in anger management."

Uppity manager, I thought. Got it.

I thought about Carol as we drove back to Glory's End, followed by a fleeting image of Valeria, excuse me all to hell, Ms. Valeria of the moonlight, as we drove past the entrance to Laurel Grove and headed up the driveway to my new home. I had to force myself not to look up that long drive just before we turned in. I did glance in my rearview mirror and saw Tony grinning. I tried to ignore him. Where was Willard when I needed him?

Just for the hell of it, I'd left Horace back at the sheriff's office, ostensibly to visit with his old friend, and perhaps get us some information on the suddenly bereft "husband." We were in an anomalous position with the local gendarmerie. As retired cops, there would be a certain amount of professional courtesy. On the other hand, we were technically outsiders in a homicide that had happened on Sheriff Walker's patch. I didn't have to tell my guys how to behave, but we were operating on split objectives. Walker and his crew had themselves a homicide. This guy had said he was going to kill me. Their efforts would not necessarily prevent my problem from happening, so I certainly wasn't going to sit around and wait for the long but legally shackled arm of the law to do its thing, sympathetic as it might be.