Frustration mounted on both sides of the counter.
“Really, I must insist. If you tell Sheriff Halvorson that I am here, I am sure he will want to speak with me.”
“Listen, Mrs.—”
“Mrs. Fletcher! What on earth are you doing here?” Sheriff Halvorson was loud enough to grab the attention of everyone in the room.
I twirled around and he was right behind me, along with two uniformed deputies and a man dressed in a blue seersucker suit. Then, as if we were at a community social, Sheriff Halvorson introduced me.
“Gentlemen, this is J. B. Fletcher, world-famous mystery author, probably come to give me a few lessons in crime solving.” His laugh was tinged with sarcasm.
Sheriff Halvorson’s fanfare was intended as blatant ridicule. The deputies smiled uneasily, but the man in the suit stepped forward, hand extended. “How do you do, Ms. Fletcher? I am Arnold Bailey, president of the local merchants’ association. Sheriff Zeke here should of told me we have a celebrity in town. I would of asked you to join our weekly meeting. Maybe next week? Our membership would be interested to hear what you have to say. You could give them pointers about how to prevent shoplifting, or the best anti-burglary measures for a shop owner to follow. Something like that.”
“Oh, gracious no, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much help. I write mystery fiction, not true crime. My work is based on imagination and lots of research.”
Sheriff Halvorson gloated as he stepped in to close the conversation. “Exactly right, Mrs. Fletcher. Law enforcement is best left to the professionals. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I promised to show Arnold the patrol area maps.”
“Just a minute, Sheriff. I’ve come to discuss Willis Nickens. Surely you have a moment. After all, the man is dead. Doesn’t that deserve some attention?”
All eyes were on him now. Even his deputies waited for his reply. In response to the stricken look on the sheriff’s face, I had to force myself not to shout, Check and mate.
He tapped a deputy on the shoulder. “Billy, please take Arnold to the map room. I’ll be right with you, but first I need a moment with Mrs. Fletcher.” He turned on his heel and walked quickly, as if daring me to keep up, which I certainly did. We went down a long hallway, and when he opened a door I expected that it would be to his office, but I was mistaken. One barred window sat high on the wall opposite the door, and a camera was mounted near the ceiling. An interview room. A table and three chairs occupied the center of the room, but he did not invite me to sit down.
“Okay, Mrs. Fletcher, what is so urgent?” The sheriff crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly.
“Well, Dolores—that is, Mrs. Nickens—is anxious to arrange for her husband’s funeral, and she hasn’t even seen his remains yet.”
“Anxious, is she? We’re awaiting the coroner’s report, and may provide more information to her when we receive it.”
I was surprised that he’d said “may provide” instead of “will provide.” Didn’t Dolores have a right to know what happened to her husband?
“As to viewing,” he continued, “we thought we would spare her the chore of identifying the body since you, as a family friend, were able to do so.”
“But, Sheriff, Dolores wants to see Willis. I thought perhaps she and I could go to wherever he is being kept and—”
“Okay, okay, I will arrange for you to visit this afternoon.”
Remembering that Dolores likely was still locked in her room with a bottle of sherry, I suggested tomorrow morning might be a better choice and was relieved when Sheriff Halvorson said he was sure it could be arranged.
“Deputy Lascomb will be in touch. If there is nothing else, Mrs. Fletcher . . .”
“Well, I know it’s a long shot, given that it was in the pond for hours, but I did wonder if your technicians found any traces of DNA or other matter on the white river rock that inexplicably appeared in the pond near Willis’s body.”
“Mrs. Fletcher, rocks don’t ‘inexplicably’ appear or disappear. This isn’t one of your novels. This is my investigation of a suspicious death.”
As soon as he said “suspicious” I was sure he wanted to bite his tongue.
I pressed for the advantage. “So you agree that it’s likely Willis was murdered.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. Any death, unless certified by a physician, is technically suspicious until I have a coroner’s report that tells me otherwise. Now, I’ve given you more time than I can spare.” He opened the door, led me back to the lobby, and said a curt “Good-bye.”
Elton was leaning on the bumper of the Escalade when I walked out the front door.
“You must be a mind reader. I hadn’t even taken my cell out of my purse to call you, yet here you are,” I said as he opened the passenger-side door and helped me get seated.
He waited to answer until he’d rounded the front of the car and slid into his seat. “I thought you were in there a longish time, so I decided to come and wait here in case you came out a-runnin’ and we needed to make a quick getaway!” He chortled at his own joke.
I laughed along, which helped release the tension from my brief conversation with Sheriff Halvorson. Our ride home was uneventful until we reached the koi pond. I asked Elton to stop the car so I could look closely at the scene, something I supposed I should have done earlier. An oval was chalked on the ground where I’d last seen the cigar butt. Good. The forensic team will examine it. The koi were gone. Not one brightly colored fish remained in the pond. Had they been removed for their own safety, out of fear of contamination? Or could they contain evidence? I wondered if the forensic team had a fish expert on
