Steven Havill - Statute of Limitations

“Some. About Janet’s background, stuff like that. Eddie’s run through it with him again. There just ain’t nothin’ there. Just that she didn’t like Mike’s mother very much. Some friction here.” He shrugged. “But Irene Cruz is over in Lordsburg- was over in Lordsburg all day. So that don’t much matter.”

Estelle looked at the sheriff for a long time, mind churning.

“You’re gettin’ together with Bill today, then?” Torrez asked.

“Yes. I don’t know what he was thinking, if he’s the one who leaked that information. Maybe he thinks he can flush the attacker out, force him to try again.”

“That’s like grabbing a stock fence during a lightning storm,” Torrez said. “It ain’t too bright.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Estelle said.

“When you do, you might remind him that he ain’t sheriff anymore, either,” Torrez said, and Estelle was surprised by the sudden gentleness in his tone. “Anything that goes to the newspapers about what we do goes through your office. No other way.”

“I think he’s well aware of that,” Estelle said. “But he gets kind of stubborn about certain things. And as I said, he might have had good reason.”

“Yeah, well,” Torrez said philosophically. “I guess I can understand that. It’s his skull that got cracked.”

With both hands raised to shoulder level, Bill Gastner backed away from his front door.

“I’ll go peacefully,” he said.

“It may come to that, Padrino ,” Estelle replied, and she stepped into the dark warmth of the former sheriff’s home as he moved to one side. The heat was turned up unusually high, contrary to Gastner’s habit of liking his house about the same ambient temperature as a cave. “Did you see the Sunday paper this morning?”

“No…but by the tone of your voice, and the fact that you’re back to visit my humble abode, I imagine that you did. And probably our good sheriff, too.”

“Ah, yes,” she said. She looked him up and down affectionately. Other than being dressed as if he might be called to go out in a blizzard, with heavy corduroy trousers, Wellington boots, and weighty flannel shirt, he appeared ruddy-cheeked and healthy. “How are you doing? You look great.”

“Oh, I’m fine. My noggin still hurts, but then again, it hurt earlier today, too. And still will at dinner tonight.” He flashed a bright smile and closed the door deliberately, pushing it against the jamb until the latch clicked. “But the newspaper? Chalk it up to senility,” he said, and turned to gesture down the hallway. “Come on in. I was just in the process of doing nothing and thinking great thoughts.” He paused halfway down the foyer. “You in a hurry? Are we going somewhere?”

“I wish that we were.”

“Well,” Gastner said philosophically, “I know exactly how dead-end streets feel.” His eyebrows lifted as he accepted the newspaper clipping from Estelle. He smoothed it out on the counter, and took his time finding his glasses and settling them on his nose. After a minute, he tapped the copy. “I was afraid he’d take that.” He straightened up, leaving the clipping on the counter. “Willis-that kid from the newspaper? He called me at the hospital. I’ll give him this-he’s resourceful.”

Gastner regarded the ceiling, hand stroking his chin. “As I remember, it was late…some odd hour when I wasn’t expecting to have to think. How he got past the hospital switchboard, I didn’t think to ask. Reporters have their own bag of tricks, I suppose….He proved that at the motel, didn’t he? I didn’t bring his Joseph scam up again, and maybe that’s what he was fishing for-to see if we were going to do anything about that.”

He shrugged. “What the hell. Anyway, he asked me something about Janet Tripp, and I recall mumbling something about this particular crime hitting us hard, since she was the fiancée of one of the deputies.” He grimaced with embarrassment. “I remember thinking that I shouldn’t have said that in the first place, but that maybe I could claim that as off the record, for a number of reasons. But I don’t remember if I actually said so or not.” He regarded the clipping again. “Obviously, I said something. ”

“It probably wouldn’t have made any difference,” Estelle said.

“Maybe not. Now the other…” He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m a little more paranoid than before. I don’t turn my back on dark corners anymore, sweetheart. I can tell you that. I must be a fast study. It only takes one wallop on the head to make me pay attention.” He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets. “That reporter caught me at an odd, fuzzy moment, I guess. Maybe I thought the bastard who bent that rebar over my head would like to try again.”

He stepped over to the coffee maker, which was obviously loaded and primed. He glanced into the basket to remind himself of what he’d already done, then flipped the power switch.

“It’s an ego thing, I think. Psychologists would have a field day explaining why my common sense and usual good-natured restraint slipped so badly. But the second time somebody tries to crack my skull, I’ll be ready. That’s a little childish, I admit. But that was my thinking. And if nothing else, him making a second try might give you something else to go on.”

“I’ll pass on that, sir,” Estelle said. “We don’t need that kind of help. Your head, or anybody else’s. You know what you’d say if you were in my shoes. Or Bobby’s.”

He toyed with the newspaper clipping absently, folding it this way and that without reading it again. “Bobby was a little pissed, eh? I assume that in part is the reason for this second delightful visit.” He grinned and beetled his brows. “‘Tell ’im he ain’t sheriff no more,’” he said, sounding remarkably like Robert Torrez. “Did he say something like that?”

“Pretty close, Padrino. ”

“Angry, huh?”

“Briefly. But this too shall pass, as my mother likes to say. Maybe it was good for him. It gave him something else to think about. Between you and Leona Spears, he hasn’t had much time to dwell on his blood clots.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t put me in company with the Crazy Lady,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “I would have liked to have seen Bobby’s face when he heard about that.”

“I assume then that you heard?”

“Oh, sure. In fact, I could rub Roberto’s face in it a little by telling him that I saw it coming quite a while ago. Not long after we lost Kevin, in fact. Somebody realized that maybe Leona might fit right in, working with the rest of the nut cases. Our sheriff got a little bent, did he?” He laughed again.

“ Apoplético might be an accurate description, Padrino. BP maybe 300 over 250.”

“I bet. And he’s back at his desk? That’s dumb.”

“Yes. Just for a while, though. Gayle’s staying close. I think that right now he’s with Mike. There’s a memorial service for Janet planned for Wednesday at two. At the VFW. Bobby is helping set that up.”

“I had forgotten that.”

“Forgotten that?”

“That Janet was in the service. Army, wasn’t it.” It was a statement, not a question. Estelle nodded, watching Gastner’s face. His eyes had that distant look as he focused on memories here and there, associations that connected who knew how many souls, names, and dates. “I need to stop by and see how he’s doing. Both of ’em, in fact.”

“You should, sir. I know that Bobby doesn’t like standing in the corner, feeling useless.”

“Can’t fault him for that. Did someone get ahold of Janet’s sister, by the way?”

“Mike did. I have her name and address as well.”