M. Sellars: In the bleak midwinter

“I believe it also states, at reasonable times,” he added.

“Hospital visiting hours don’t end until nine, Doctor,” she replied. “It’s only eight.”

“Those are general hours. The psychiatric wing hours end at eight.”

“I was here at seven-fifteen and you kept me waiting,” she countered.

“I’m very busy.”

“I’m sure, as am I.” Constance nodded then tried to relax her posture slightly, making a slightly conciliatory appeal. “Listen, Doctor Poe, I understand your situation, not to mention that it’s Christmas. Believe me, I’ve been away from home since the twenty-second. I’d rather not be here either, but with a little cooperation this can be relatively painless.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, shaking his head. “Visiting hours are still at our discretion.”

“This is official, Doctor.”

“My hands are tied, Special Agent.”

“Okay, then,” Constance huffed as she reached down and retrieved her cell phone from her coat pocket. “Let me see if I can untie them for you. I’ll make a call and get a court order.”

“If you could do that you would have already had a court order in hand,” he rebuked.

She replied, “Do you really want to take that chance?”

He stared at her again, and she held his gaze, thumb hovering over the keypad of the cell. Finally, she keyed in a speed dial code and placed the device up to her ear. After a trio of rings it was answered at the other end.

“Yes, SSA Greene, this is Mandalay… Yes sir, Merry Christmas to you too… Yes, sir… Yes, that’s where I am right now, and it’s actually why I’m calling. I’m very sorry to be bothering you at home, but I’m meeting some resistance from Doctor Poe here at the hospital. Yes, sir… Yes, exactly… Yes, I think we might need to obtain a court order… Yes, sir… Yes, I’ve tried… Yes, sir, I know… All right, just a second…”

She lowered the cell for a moment. “What is your full name, Doctor Poe? The judge is going to want it for the warrant.”

“Wh-wh-why my name?”

“It’s just procedure,” she told him. “We like to have a paper trail in case there are any significant turns in the investigation, you understand.”

Doctor Poe quickly waved his hands and instead of answering said, “Slow down… Just… Let’s back up…”

Constance raised an eyebrow then pushed the phone back up to her ear and said, “I’m sorry, sir, could you hold for another minute? Thanks…”

She lowered the device again and stared questioningly back at the doctor.

He huffed out an exasperated sigh and said, “We don’t even know if Mister Reese is willing to take a visitor.”

“Why don’t you start with asking him?” she said.

He regarded her quietly for a moment before finally huffing again and all but spitting her title as if it were poison to his tongue. “All right, Special Agent Mandalay, we’ll do it your way. You don’t need to get a court order. But if Mister Reese refuses to speak with you, that isn’t my fault.”

“I understand. Thank you,” she replied, then pressed the phone back to her ear. “I’m sorry about that, sir… No, it actually appears that I bothered you for nothing. Doctor Poe has changed his mind. Yes, sir… Yes, sir… I will. You too… And Merry Christmas to your family… Sorry again for bothering you… Goodbye.”

Constance thumbed off the phone and breathed an inner sigh of relief. Given that she’d just carried on a one-sided conversation with her own answering machine at home, she was thankful the doctor hadn’t called her bluff.

“Follow me,” Poe said, turning to lead her toward the door from which he’d entered earlier. “I still want you to understand that this is highly irregular.”

She answered immediately while gathering up her coat, and mimicked his earlier tone of distaste with her title. “That’s okay, Doctor, this is a highly irregular investigation.”

11:43 P.M. – December 25, 2010

Sheriff’s Department

Hulis Township – Northern Missouri

“Either two thousand-seven best director… That make sense to you?” Sheriff Carmichael asked aloud, not looking up from the crossword puzzle on his desk. “Four letters… Starts with C.”

“Coen,” Constance replied, her voice cold and flat. “C-O-E-N. Joel and Ethan. They’re brothers and they shared the award in oh-seven for No Country For Old Men.”

Still not tearing his gaze away from the puzzle, he asked, “Good movie?”

“I liked it.”

“Hmmph,” he grunted, and then muttered to himself as he ticked off the letters in the small boxes. “C… Down… Yeah… It works… Never saw that movie. Guess I should take Kathy out a little more often.”

Constance watched quietly from the doorway as he filled in the blanks, then purposefully scratched through the clue in a column off to the side of the puzzle. He scanned the crossword box while reaching up and absently combing through his mustache with his fingers. After a languid pause, he laid the paper to the side then tossed the stub of a pencil on top of it before rocking back in his chair and locking gazes with her.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in and sit down?” he finally asked.

“I think I’ll just go ahead and stand this time, Sheriff,” she replied.

She was leaning to the side with her shoulder against the doorframe and her coat carefully draped over her arm. Her eyes were hard beneath a creased brow and her lips were a tight, thin line. Other than that, her face was a tired, emotionless mask.

Skip waited a beat, never taking his eyes off her, then drew in a deep breath and exhaled a heavy “Suit yourself, Special Agent.”

“I have to admit,” she said after her own short pause. “I was surprised to see your cruiser parked out front when I passed by. I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation with you until tomorrow.”

“Been waiting,” he grunted. “I was hoping you’d show up.”

Constance cocked her head to the side. “Were you really?”

“Sugar, I could be home in bed right now. Hell, if you were anything like your predecessors, I damn well would be, because none of them ever bothered to stick around this long.”

“How did you know I didn’t just go ahead and leave like the others?”

“I didn’t, for sure…but I had you pegged as different from the day you showed up, so I had my hopes.”

“More of your uncanny powers of observation?”

He shrugged. “Actually, more like a gut feeling on that one. Oh, believe me, I had a moment of self-doubt when I drove by the Greenleaf earlier and saw your car was gone. But I checked with Artie and he said you hadn’t officially checked out, and the desk clerk said you weren’t carrying any bags when you left.”

“Do you have any idea how creepy it is that you people spy on everyone like that?” she asked.

“Small town, Constance. That’s just how it is. Most of the time everybody knows your business and you know theirs. Hard to keep a secret in Hulis, trust me.”

“It almost makes me wonder if there’s a hidden camera in my shower too,” she quipped, sarcasm so heavy in the words it double-underscored the comment.

Skip replied, “Depends. Which room did they put you in?”

She raised an eyebrow and glared, but said nothing.

“Kidding, sugar. I was just kidding.”

“I’m not really in the mood for jokes right now, Skip.”

“Yeah…” he grunted. “I guess you wouldn’t be, would you.”

Thick silence fell between them. The staring contest continued, but unlike the doctor in Mais, Constance didn’t see Carmichael as the type to cave because she made him nervous. She knew better than that. She also had a feeling he was thinking the same thing about her.