Hanover exchanged a look of concern with his men. His blue eyes shot to the broken glass on the door.
“Let me ask you a question, Helm,” Cork ventured, speaking quietly, as if for the benefit of the men of the brigade. “Were you thinking of killing me?”
“I’m still thinking of it,” Helm said.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Why? If you were me.”
“Those men out there, for one thing. Witnesses. Loose ends. Unless you intend to kill a lot of innocent people, too.”
“Sometimes innocent people have to die,” Hanover said.
“There’s no reason to kill me. Or them. Especially if it’s true you didn’t kill the judge.”
“I wouldn’t have minded killing him, but I didn’t.”
“What I’m saying is that on paper you’ve committed no crime. The partnership agreement seems valid enough. So do the equipment leases. It looks like the judge took care of taxes and anything else that might have brought GameTech under too much scrutiny. So far everything’s legal. Except for the military hardware hanging on the hips of your honor guard there.”
Lamarck and Peterson automatically glanced down at their weapons.
“Why don’t you call it a day, Helm,” Cork suggested.
Hanover’s mouth was thin and tight, as if a razor had been drawn across his face in a bloodless cut. “We’ll lose GameTech. You’ll see to that.”
“You were going to lose it anyway. The judge’s untimely death did that, not me. Too many people looking too closely at things. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been somebody else. Cut your losses, Helm. This isn’t Lexington and Concord yet.”
From the hallway came the snap of a stepladder locking into place, followed by the scrape of its aluminum legs on tile. “Get Luther on the walkietalkie, tell him we’ll be down here a while. We’ll let him know when we hit the junction.”
“What’re we gonna do?” Lamarck asked.
“Leave now, Helm. There’ll be other battles for the brigade,” Cork offered judiciously.
Peterson said, “We gotta do something, Helm.”
Hanover’s eyes were frozen on Cork. His bare scalp glistened. Finally he nodded, once. “Another day, O’Connor.” He settled the black stocking cap on his head and moved from the desk limping toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”
When the men had gone, Cork gathered the documents from the desk. As he took a last look at the GameTech office, he noticed an indentation in the carpeting next to the file cabinet. He knelt and looked at it carefully. It was just the right size and shape for the cabinet that had held the files Wally Schanno burned.
Wally and Arletta Schanno lived just outside Aurora in a nice one-story rambler painted blue with gray shutters on the windows. The back of the lot ran along the east side of a small pond surrounded by red pines. In the front yard stood a couple of crab apple trees that were beautiful in the spring when the branches were full of blossoms. Arletta Schanno was famous in Tamarack County for her crab apple jelly.
Arletta answered the door, greeting Cork with a warm smile. “Sheriff O’Connor. What a nice surprise. Won’t you come in?”
“Thanks, Arletta.” Cork stepped in, tugging off his heavy gloves. “Is your husband home?”
“In here, Cork.” Schanno’s voice came from the living room.
“Let me take your coat,” Arletta said. “And could I offer you coffee?”
“Thanks, no,” Cork replied.
He handed her his coat and she hung it carefully in the closet of the entryway.
“Come on in, Cork,” Schanno called to him.
Cork walked to the living room. It was a pleasant room with a flowered sofa and matching love seat and a big leather easy chair, where Schanno sat in a robe with his bandaged leg up on an ottoman. A glass-topped coffee table was situated between the sofa and love seat, a small white vase full of silk daisies in the center and several issues of Smithsonian magazine fanned out carefully beside it. Proudly displayed on the mantel above a pale brick fireplace were framed high-school graduation photographs of the Schannos’ two daughters. Between the photos sat a beautiful old Seth Thomas clock. A decorated Christmas tree-a big Scotch pine-took up one corner of the room. A large console occupied another, but the television in it was off. Schanno took off his glasses and closed a book on his lap. Cork saw he’d been reading from the Bible. Revised Standard Version.
“Taking good care of him?” Cork asked Arletta, who’d followed him in.
“He’s difficult.” She smiled and shook her head hopelessly. “Could I offer you coffee?”
“You already did,” Schanno reminded her gently.
For a moment a look of distress and then sadness came over Arletta’s pretty face.
“That’s a nice tree you have there,” Cork put in quickly.
She brightened immediately. “The girls like them big. Do you have children, Sheriff?”
“Three,” Cork replied. She’d taught two of them, Jenny and Annie, when they passed through her third grade class at Aurora Elementary. He’d sat in conferences with Arletta many times.
“Then you know. Christmas is such an important time for children.”
“I wonder if I could speak with your husband alone, Arletta.”
“Why, certainly. I’ve got things to do myself.” She started away, but turned back suddenly. “May I get you a cup of coffee or anything before I go?”
“No thank you,” Cork said.
Arletta left, humming softly to herself.
“Have a seat,” Schanno said.
Cork sat on the flowered sofa.
“This a friendly visit or official?” Schanno asked.
“They told me at the department that you were home, nursing that leg,” Cork said. “I’ve got to have some answers, Wally.”
Schanno settled back. “Sounds official.”
Cork leaned toward him. “Tell me about GameTech.”
“GameTech?” Schanno gave him a blank look.
“You heard me. GameTech.”
Schanno shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“What is GameTech?”
Arletta passed in the hallway, heading from the kitchen toward the back of the house. She was singing softly in a fine voice, “Sleigh bells ring, are you listening…”
“Just a company I do some security consulting for.”
“Security consulting? What exactly does that involve?”
Schanno gave him a hard, impatient look. “What the hell do you think it involves?”
“Building security?” Cork offered. “Personnel checks. That kind of thing?”
“Yes, that kind of thing.”
“Who hired you?”
“What’s all this about, Cork?”
“Who hired you, Wally?” Cork pressed him.
“How do you know about GameTech?” Schanno countered angrily.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m not going to play games with you.”
“Not a game, Wally. People are dead.” Cork kept his voice low because of Arletta, but there was an explosive tension in his words. “You’re a security consultant for GameTech. Stu Grantham, head of the board of supervisors, is a real estate consultant. Mark Hawras, the BIA man out of this district, is consultant on Indian affairs. And Sigurd Nelson, of all people, is a personnel consultant. I could go on. It’s a long list. If you were me, what would you think? Wally, did you burn those files to cover your ass, or maybe to cover somebody else’s?”
Schanno’s long hands gripped the arms of his chair, making deep indentations in the leather. “There was nothing in those files that had to do with GameTech. I give you my word.”
