about.
And now two of their fathers were here.
Rusty introduced the two men to Gerald Hofstetter and Ray Richmond, then Dan Brewster came directly to the point.
“We’re concerned about what happened to the Langstrom boy.”
Ray Richmond’s brows rose a fraction of an inch. “We were just talking about that ourselves. Tragic — absolutely tragic.”
“We’re certainly not here to argue that,” Dan Brewster assured him. “The question is, does anyone know how he died?” He scanned the three men, then decided to lay his cards on the table. “Frankly, my wife is terrified, and wants to pack up the family and go home.” He gave the sheriff, the mayor, and the newspaper publisher time to glance at one another, and he read their expressions perfectly. “The last thing this town needs is a panic. So the question is simple. Is there any reason to panic, or not?”
Rusty shot Hofstetter a warning glance, then turned his attention to the visitors. “What evidence we have so far points to an accident,” he said carefully. “We’ll know more when we get the coroner’s report.”
“And until then,” the mayor said, “we’re not engaging in any speculation.”
“That strikes me as eminently political,” Dan said, softening the slight sarcasm of his words with a grin. “Maybe you should come down and run for mayor of Chicago — we could use some discretion down there.” As Richmond visibly relaxed, he went on, “So, behind closed doors, does anyone have any idea how the boy lost an arm?”
Ruston’s expression tightened, and the mayor said nothing. The newspaperman, though, leaned back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question,” Hofstetter said, ignoring the look the mayor shot him and fixing his gaze on Ruston.
“And I wish I had an answer for it,” the sheriff said. “The body’d been in the water too long for me to even guess. If he’d been waterskiing, I’d say that was a possibility, but if he’d been skiing, he never would have been missing. Beyond that, I just don’t know — it takes a lot to rip off an arm. A bear could do it, or a mountain lion.”
“And until we hear from the coroner, let’s not waste our time guessing,” Ray Richmond cut in, heading the sheriff off before he could bring up the possibility of a wolf pack and scare everyone off before July had even started. As Ruston subsided into silence, the mayor turned to Dan Brewster and Kevin Sparks. “I wish we knew exactly what happened to Ellis,” he went on. “We have accidental deaths all too often, what with the water sports in the summer and snowmobiles in the winter, and I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this one soon. Right, Rusty?” As the sheriff nodded, Richmond extended his hand to Dan and shot Hofstetter an unmistakable look. “Pleasure meeting you folks, and I hope the rest of your summer is less eventful than it’s been so far.”
With Hofstetter preceding him, Richmond made his exit, certain that Ruston would say nothing that might upset either of the summer people.
Two minutes later Dan and Kevin were back on the street, and as Ruston watched them go, he was certain of only one thing.
Whatever it was that those kids hadn’t told him, they hadn’t told their parents, either.
But what was it they were hiding?
And how was he going to find out?
Chapter 23
THE ATMOSPHERE OF grief hanging over Carol Langstrom’s small house on Beech Street was almost palpable as Rusty Ruston climbed the three steps to the front door and rang the bell. He waited a few seconds and was about to press it again when he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Easing it open, he leaned in, saw a knot of people in the small living room that opened off the tiny foyer, and stepped inside.
Leaving the door exactly as far open as when he’d arrived, he glanced down the hall toward the back of the house, saw three familiar faces among the half-dozen women who had managed to pack themselves into the tiny kitchen, and decided Carol was more likely to be at the center of the group in the living room than trying to make order out of the milling throng in the kitchen. He took off his hat as he stepped through the archway, glanced around for someplace to put it, and wasn’t surprised to see that every flat surface in the room was already filled with an array of casseroles, salads, cakes, and pies, as well as platters filled with cheese and crackers, cookies, muffins, and half a dozen varieties of pickles and olives. It seemed as if every woman in town had responded to Ellis’s death by heading directly to the kitchen.
Carol Langstrom herself sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, a box of tissues next to a teacup on the coffee table in front of her. Next to her was a woman who looked familiar, though Rusty couldn’t immediately identify her. Carol appeared to have aged ten years in the past two days, yet she managed a wan smile when she saw him.
He dropped into a squat so his eyes were level with hers, and took her hand in his. It felt cold and clammy, and all the strength seemed to have drained out of it. “How are you holding up, Carol?” he asked.
Her gaze fixed on him for a moment, then wandered over all the women whose soft murmurings had slowly fallen silent as they realized the sheriff had arrived. They were now looking at him, one or two even edging closer to make certain they could hear whatever he might have to say. “I had no idea I even knew this many people,” Carol said, her voice breaking. “Let alone that they were such good friends.”
“That’s because
Carol’s eyes glistened with fresh tears.
“I’ve spoken with the coroner,” Rusty went on, dropping his voice in the hope that only Carol would be able to hear him, but knowing it was futile. “He’s going to do the autopsy this weekend.”
“Autopsy?” Carol parroted the word as if it had no meaning to her at all.
“Whenever there’s an unattended death, the state requires an autopsy,” Rusty explained.
Carol stared at him a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was flat and the words were not a question but a statement. “So you’ll find out that my baby was murdered.” There was a pause, and then she added. “Will you find out who killed him?”
Ruston chose his next words carefully. “At this point I don’t know what the report will show, Carol. We’ll have to wait and see. But I have every reason to believe that Dr. Bicks will be able to tell us exactly what happened. We’re doing everything we can until we know the exact cause of death.”
Carol took a deep breath, seemed to come to some kind of a decision, and finally let the breath out in a long sigh. “Can I bury him?” she asked, a sob breaking her voice. “I should do it on Monday.” She took another ragged breath, and her eyes beseeched Ruston. “Can I bury my baby on Monday? Please?”
Rusty nodded, and spoke more to the woman seated next to Carol than to Carol herself. “Tell the funeral home to call the coroner’s office. I’m pretty sure they’ll be able to—” He hesitated, then forced himself to finish the sentence. “—pick him up tomorrow, late in the afternoon.”
The woman nodded, then held out her hand. “I’m Ashley Sparks,” she said. Ruston’s eyes widened, and Ashley explained. “I met Carol years ago — actually, I think I was one of her first customers.”
Carol reached over and took Ashley’s hand, squeezing it affectionately. “The very first.” She turned to Ruston, dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex. “I still have her check framed on the wall over my desk. And I should have all the rest of them up there, too — I think she single-handedly kept me in business that first summer.” For the first time since Ruston had arrived, a genuine smile finally curled the corners of Carol Langstrom’s mouth. “I’d buy something one day, and Ashley would come in the next morning and buy it from me.” She squeezed Ashley’s hand again. “The morning I opened, I didn’t even have enough cash left for food for our dinner, and even though a lot of people came in that day, Ashley was the only one who actually bought.”
“That’s not true,” Ashley interrupted. “I remember a little Spode figurine that Sandy Banks bought—”
“That was so badly damaged that I could only charge three dollars for it,” Carol shot back.
“You should have charged twenty-five, which I told you at the time. You were selling everything so cheap I felt like I was robbing you. Why do you think I kept coming back? I recognized a sucker when I saw one!”
