“Anyway, I told Katie to put the photos in an envelope and leave them for you at the desk at the Red Lion. And as for the garbage. .”
I had been so tied up with the crime scene investigation that I had somehow assumed that my garbage- sorting detail had gotten lost in the shuffle. Not so.
“I had one of my friends empty the garbage cans in question into a pair of tarps. He’s taken them to one of those self-storage unit places just off the freeway down in Tumwater.” He started to dictate the name and address.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Let me write this down.”
Once I had pen in hand, he gave me the information.
“Go in, ask to speak to the manager on duty. That’ll be Rebekah Ming.” It was an unusual name, and he had to spell it out for me. “Show her your ID, tell her Ross sent you,” he continued. “She’ll give you the key.”
“Great,” I said. “That’s exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of my day.” I didn’t say “sorting garbage” aloud because Dr. Mowat was right there, listening to every word.
“Right,” Ross said cheerfully. “That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”
“Not enough,” I grumbled. “Maybe it’s time I asked for a raise.”
“Just be sure you get to the storage unit before five,” Ross said. “That’s when Rebekah goes off duty, and she’s my guy, if you will. She also knows about what’s being dropped off there. When you finish going through the stuff, she’d like you to drag everything that’s left out to their Dumpsters and get rid of it. With it being summer and all, they don’t want that stuff left inside overnight attracting vermin.”
“Yes,” I said. “I understand. I’ll get right on it first thing this afternoon.”
I also understood all too well that it was going to be a dirty, smelly job.
Mel waited until I ended the call. “Okay,” she said for Dr. Mowat’s benefit and again without mentioning the word “garbage.” “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can interview members of the family.”
The situation on the ground floor of the governor’s mansion had changed remarkably in the length of time- close to two hours-since Mel and I had gone upstairs. Time flies when you’re having fun. Earlier, except for a couple of cop cars and Dr. Mowat’s van, the driveway had been empty. Now it was packed with people-media people-with a full contingent of reporters equipped with camera crews and microphones. Mel’s Cayman was stuck right in the middle of a traffic jam of media vans. The only way we were going to extract her vehicle was by using a winch and a crane.
Captain Hoyt of the Washington State Patrol met us at the bottom of the stairs. “The reporters are waiting for a statement,” she said, nodding toward the crowd milling outside. “Are you going to do the press conference or should I?”
“Go ahead,” I said. “By all means.”
Besides, I knew Ross Connors would have my head if I put my mug in front of a television camera.
Captain Hoyt turned to Mel as if for verification.
“Please,” Mel said. “We need to talk to the family.”
“All right,” Captain Hoyt said dubiously. “But don’t say I didn’t give you first dibs.”
Mel and I let her go with cheery good wishes. Once Captain Hoyt has a few bad media experiences to her credit, she might see giving a press conference in the same kind of light Mel and I do-which is right up there with going to the dentist for a root canal.
I looked toward the study. Inside I counted at least four visitors in the room in addition to Marsha Longmire. That count made for two more occupants than the room could comfortably hold. Mel and I were standing there trying to decide what to do when Gerry Willis appeared in the doorway of the dining room, two rooms away. He was still using the walker, but he looked somewhat better. Like the governor, he seemed to have gathered his resources, composed himself, and put on his “company” face. He motioned for us to come to him. I think he was still tired from his long trip up and down the stairs.
“We were hoping to conduct some family interviews,” I ventured.
“Marsha is busy with some of her big donors, Zoe’s still sleeping, and Giselle is at her dad’s place,” Gerry said. “That leaves only me. Come have some lunch.”
Mel and I had missed breakfast, and we had both missed lunch. The last food that had passed my lips had been the peach cobbler and ice cream at Julie and Todd Hatcher’s place the night before. As hungry as I was right then, even one of Marsha Longmire’s unadulterated tuna sandwiches would have been welcome. Once I caught sight of the chow laid out buffet style on the dining room table, however, I realized that it was Tuesday. A miracle had occurred. The governor’s cook was back from her day off, and she had whipped up a spread that would have done most church potlucks proud.
“We expect people will start stopping by once word gets out,” Gerry said. “Help yourselves.”
And so we did. I picked up a small china plate from a stack on the buffet along with a tiny cloth napkin. Yesterday’s sandwiches had been served on paper napkins. Today was different-real dishes and real napkins. The cook evidently made the food and washed the dishes.
I loaded my plate with a couple of deviled eggs, some slices of ham and cheese, some grapes from a tray heaped high with fruit, and a freshly baked biscuit still hot from the oven. On a sideboard sat a coffee urn flanked by rows of china cups and saucers. There were also rows of glassware clustered around pitchers filled with various kinds of fruit juices and iced tea. Apparently an army of friends was expected rather than just a few, but at that point Mel, Gerry, and I were the only people in the dining room.
We hadn’t attempted to interview Gerry upstairs in Josh’s room. For one thing, the CSI techs had been there. For another, the poor man had been too overcome with emotion. It seemed likely that this would be one of our last chances to see him alone. Once crowds of well-wishers descended on the governor’s mansion, that wouldn’t be possible. I set my loaded plate on one corner of the dining room table. Then I sat down and pulled out my notebook. As soon as I did so, Mel reached in her purse. I didn’t have to ask. I knew she was switching on her powerful cassette recorder.
“What can you tell us about Josh’s state of mind last night?” I asked.
“Nothing, really,” Gerry said. “I’ve been going over and over it all day long, wondering if there was something out of kilter that I should have noticed, but there wasn’t. He went out for a run late in the afternoon.”
“By himself?” I asked.
“I wasn’t in any condition to go with him.”
“But no one else went along?”
“He came by my room and asked if it was okay. I admit going for a run seemed a little out of character for Josh, but Marsha was too busy with other things by then for me to ask her about it and at least he asked permission. I told him fine as long as he was back in time for dinner. He was.”
“Other than his going for a jog, did anything else strike you as unusual?” Mel asked.
“Other than the obvious? No. Josh knew he was in trouble for sneaking out the night before, so maybe he was a little quieter than usual-contrite.”
“What happened next?” Mel asked.
“Nobody felt like cooking, so we ordered a pizza and had it delivered. When the pizza got here, Zoe went upstairs and told Josh it was time for dinner. He told her he wasn’t hungry and didn’t want any. I started to go upstairs to talk to him, but Marsha went instead. She told him when things get tough, families are supposed to stick together. She also told him that he couldn’t hide out in his room forever and that he needed to come down and eat with the rest of us.
“So he did. He came to the table and ate a couple of pieces of pizza. Pepperoni is his favorite.” Gerry paused, squeezed his eyes shut, and said, “Pepperoni
“He didn’t seem angry or upset?” Mel asked.
Gerry shook his head. “Not really. As I said already, he was subdued.”
“Tell us about the watch he was wearing,” Mel urged. “You seemed surprised to see it today.”
“I was. As I told you earlier, as far as I knew, the watch had been missing for weeks. At least that’s what Josh told me. He must have had it all along and just stopped wearing it.”
