Archer Mayor - Chat

"I'll look into it, Leo, and I'll take care of Mom. Just get better, okay? I'll be back in a bit and give you an update."

Now, in the stillness of his mother's room, Joe thought of the deeper meaning behind Leo's parting words. In Leo's world, there were really only four areas to which he paid any attention-Mom, the butcher shop, his short-term girlfriends, and cars. The barn their father had once filled with farming equipment, livestock, and hay now housed a mismatched, dust-covered, much tinkered-with collection of automotive relics. Leo never worked on the Subaru he used to chauffeur their mother-she'd made it very clear that she wanted a professional doing that-but Joe trusted his brother's mechanical instincts and knowledge. If Leo thought the car had somehow been the root cause of this accident, Joe was ready to believe him.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

"VBI Dispatch."

He recognized the woman's voice. It was that kind of state, where people joked about there being only a few dozen residents, grand total. It was more like six hundred thousand really, but that still made it the second least populous state in the country. The number inside the law enforcement community was even more minute by comparison.

"Hey, Gloria. It's Joe."

Her voice instantly slipped into maternal mode. "Oh, my God. I just heard about your family. I am so sorry. How're they doing?"

He wasn't surprised. Vermont was a small town in some ways, spread thinly across a hilly map. It didn't take long for everyone to know your business. Fortunately, that was one of the aspects of living here that he cherished. He had no wife, no children, not even a significant other at the moment. The fact that virtual strangers-even a disembodied voice on the phone-knew his life's latest news actually came as a comfort.

"They're hanging in there, thanks. I'm at the hospital now. Actually, I was wondering if you could do me a big favor in connection with that."

"Anything at all."

"Could you find out who was working the car crash that banged them up? I'd love to talk to him or her."

Gloria couldn't keep the keenness from her voice. "You suspect something?"

Joe made an effort to laugh easily. "Whoa. You need to cut back on the cop shows, Gloria. I just want to find out who's on the job."

She laughed in return, but he could almost hear her cataloging his request for future in-house gossiping. "It's the company I keep, Joe. You guys have made me paranoid. I don't even watch cop shows anymore. Give me about five minutes and I'll call you back."

Joe made sure the phone was set to vibrate, and returned it to his belt. He went back to gazing at his mother's pale profile, propped on a white pillow, uncomfortably reminiscent of a carved tomb lid in a medieval church.

She was certainly deserving of a monument of some sort, he thought, though a much more upbeat one. In all his experience, he'd never known a person with more considerate sanity. Just as he'd always looked to his quieter, utterly dependable father for his own reliability, so he blessed his mother for whatever sagacity he could claim. She'd always been thoughtful, patient, and encouraging, though never shy to speak her mind. She had taught her boys to do as little harm as possible, to be considerate of the less fortunate, to be slow to judge, and to maintain a sense of humor. She'd been the only girl in a family of a dozen kids, where the mother had finally died in childbirth, so she'd had good practice. Still, Joe had sometimes wondered how she would have fared with two daughters.

In any case, he'd lucked out, and he knew that his brother felt the same way. It was going to be a huge threshold to cross when they lost this woman.

The cell phone began vibrating at his belt, and he yanked it free to answer.

"Gunther."

"Joe, it's Gloria. The Windsor County sheriff's got your case. A Deputy Rob Barrows is investigating. If you have a pen, I've got his cell number."

Joe pulled out a black notepad and scribbled down the number she gave him, thankful that he was where cell coverage was better than most places. As with many things technological, Vermont tended to lag toward the back of the innovation herd.

"Thanks, Gloria. You're a peach."

"You just take care of that family," she said, hanging up.

Joe dialed the number she'd given him.

"Barrows." The voice sounded young but confident.

"Deputy, my name is Joe Gunther. We've never met, but-"

"I've heard about you, Agent Gunther. This is a real pleasure. Sorry about the circumstances, though. How's your brother and mom?"

Joe was happy not to have to break the ice, go into a whole song and dance about who and what he was, or, worse, ingratiate himself with someone who had a beef against the VBI.

"They're in good hands," he answered vaguely, becoming aware of how often he was going to have to respond to that inquiry. "I was wondering if you'd figured out what happened yet."

Perhaps instinctively, Barrows came back with "What did your brother say?"

Joe was pleased by the reaction. It made him feel he might be talking with someone who truly understood his job.

"Not much, given the shape he's in, but he said it was the car, not the road, and I'll give the man his due-he does know cars."

Barrows didn't argue. "The road looked good to me. They weren't on much of a curve, and I didn't find any signs of ice or snow on the surface-road crew had done a good job. Course, I was there after the fact. What did he say about the car?"

"Just that, nothing more."

Joe could almost hear the other man thinking. Generally in an accident like this, with no death resulting and no involvement by anyone else, the physical aspects of the vehicle examination were pretty much limited to the condition of the tire treads. It didn't make sense to go looking beyond driver error, and it cost a lot more money.

"Could you do me a favor?" Joe therefore asked, to help the man reach a less hasty conclusion.

"What's that?"

"Could you keep the car where no one can mess with it until I get someone to check it out?"

Barrows hesitated before asking in turn, "I don't want to step on anyone's toes here, sir, but are you not telling me something?"

"Absolutely not," Joe reassured him. "I have no reason to think this wasn't just what it looks like. But given what you and I do for a living, wouldn't you be curious?"

"I see your point," Barrows conceded. "I'll give it a closer look myself-I know cars, too. And I'll make sure it's kept under lock and key."

"Thanks, Deputy. I owe you one. I'll see you a little later."

"That would be my pleasure."

Joe snapped the phone shut and was putting it away when it vibrated in his hand.

"Hello?"

Gail Zigman's voice was tight with concern. "Joe, I just heard. How are they?"

Joe was startled by his reaction. After something like twenty years, he and Gail were no longer a couple, and hadn't been for over a year by now. But whether it was his own present vulnerability or simply the preexisting pattern that any couple establishes after so much time together, he was caught between feeling genuine relief and a sense that this was one conversation he just didn't have the stamina to maintain. One reminder at a time of the price of loss seemed ample.

"Hi," he muttered stupidly.

"Are they all right?" she repeated.

"They're alive," he finally managed. "Leo looks the worse for wear, but he's conscious. Mom is just asleep."

"Asleep?"

"That's what I call it. They're not saying 'coma' yet, but that's probably just for me. Maybe it's a kind of twilight until things become clear."

There was a long pause, followed by "My God, Joe. I am so sorry."

"Me, too."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Not yet. All Leo told me was that it was the car, so maybe the brakes went out, or something in the steering. I'll look into that later."