I gave her what I hoped was my warmest smile. “I am afraid I don’t have nearly the proper qualifications to be a deputy, much as I admire all of you who fill that role.”
She returned my smile and asked, “How can I help you today?”
“First off, I want to thank you. The koi are back in their pond, and when I last saw Mrs. Nickens she was sitting by the pond enjoying their antics. Such a relief for her to have one normal thing at a time like this.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help. Now, if there is nothing else . . .” She held up a pile of folders as an indication that she was anxious to get back to work.
“Actually, I am also looking for Deputy Lascomb. Is he in by any chance?”
Remington glanced at her computer screen. “Sorry, ma’am. Lascomb is on patrol. He won’t be back until the end of shift, and that’s hours from now.”
I sighed. “Oh, that is a disappointment. I was hoping to get all my thank-yous done in one trip.” A small white lie, but I hoped it sounded sincere. “I guess there is no point in waiting . . .”
“No, ma’am. If you want to leave a message, I can see that Lascomb gets it.”
“That’s just not the same, though, is it? Thank-yous should be said in person.” I tried to look hopeful. “Perhaps if I knew where he was on patrol, I could find him.”
“Mrs. Fletcher, really, you know I can’t . . .” Remington looked as if she was hoping I would disappear, and when I didn’t she said, “Okay, but you came across him totally by chance. You never even saw me today.”
“Cross my heart.”
She hit a couple of computer keys and said, “You’re in luck. He responded to a car accident on Shop Road, in the state Department of Motor Vehicles office parking lot. That’s quite a place to have a car accident, isn’t it? Anyway, looks like a fender bender, no injuries, but he should be filling out paperwork on-site for another twenty minutes or so.”
I thanked her profusely and ran out the door.
Elton knew exactly where the Department of Motor Vehicles was located. As soon as we’d pulled into the parking lot I saw the turret lights of a Sheriff’s Department car at the left side of the building. Now all I needed was a few words from the normally taciturn Deputy Lascomb.
Chapter Thirty
Elton parked two rows away and I walked to the accident scene, careful to stay out of the deputy’s line of vision. There were very few onlookers but I managed to stand behind two of them, a middle-aged man and woman, until they decided watching the accident site was even more boring than renewing the woman’s driver’s license—or at least that’s what I got from a snippet of their conversation. When they walked away I moved behind a tree.
Within a few minutes the deputy appeared to be finishing his duties. He handed papers to the drivers of the involved cars and held back what little traffic there was until they each drove safely away.
When Deputy Lascomb headed for his cruiser, I stepped out from behind the tree and called his name.
He was laughing when he turned toward me. “There you are, Miz Fletcher. For a while I thought we were playing a game of ‘now you see me, now you don’t.’ I would have been disappointed if you went about your business without saying hello. Are you here to register a car? Get a South Carolina driver’s license?”
“I must confess, as a resident of Maine, I don’t even know where the Maine Department of Motor Vehicles office is, so my answer to both those questions is no.”
His eyes became a shade more guarded, even as he took one more try. “Are you lost?”
“Good heavens, no. My driver”—I waved vaguely in the exact opposite direction from where Elton was waiting for me—“had to pick up some papers for his supervisor. I was so tired of being cooped up in Manning Hall that I decided to come along.”
He crossed his arms and remained silent, a posture of his that I’d seen before.
“And then I had the good fortune to see you and thought I would watch you in action.”
“How’d I do?” he asked, and I wasn’t sure he was joking.
“Just as you’ve been in all of our interactions, you were courteous and professional with those drivers, particularly the woman who seemed so upset.”
His shoulders relaxed. “That is very kind of you to say, ma’am. Now, I’d best be getting back to patrol.”
“Well, I do have one question.”
“I’ve told you before, Miz Fletcher—questions and answers are above my pay grade.”
I nodded. “You have mentioned that but this question has nothing to do with Willis Nickens’s murder.”
The guarded look vanished from his eyes. “I get it. You are wondering about the softball game. We won six to three. I hit two doubles.”
I was effusive in my congratulations, and slipped my actual question in at the very end.
“You’re incorrigible, Miz Fletcher, and extremely persistent. Still, I get your point. It has nothing to do with the actual murder, so I guess there’s no harm in answering.”
And he told me exactly what I wanted to know. We spoke for a few more minutes, until he got a call on his radio. He thrust his business card at me and raced off to respond.
My brain was so busy bouncing ideas around that I barely noticed when Elton drove us through the gate to Manning Hall. When he parked the car by the veranda, he said, “Are you okay, ma’am? Not like you to be so quiet on the ride home.”
“Elton, I am perfectly fine. I do have a lot on my mind. By any chance are you able to stay past the dinner hour tonight in case
