just a recluse who valued his privacy. She emphasized the vehicle, a van perfect for a burglar, a shooting range with lots of spent ammo, and a barn for hiding items like a motorcycle.
“But Sheriff, you should have seen the look in his eyes when I made a move toward the barn. I thought Otis there was gonna take his leg off. It was a good thing I had a tight hold on him,” the deputy explained, trying to recreate the look Lester had given her.
Lupo had a hard time not laughing at the antics of the junior officer, but kept it to a smile only. “Okay, bottom line is this, is there enough evidence that we could get the judge to issue a search warrant? Are there any witnesses that put him, or his vehicle, at the scene of any of the crimes? As far as we know, is he in possession of any stolen property? Does he have a motorcycle registered in his name or at that address? Is this Lester a perp with a prior record?
To each of the questions, Natalie sadly had to answer, “no”, or at best, “I don’t know.”
“It sounds to me like you’ve got a bunch of work to do then. Find out the answers to all of those questions and we can go from there, but hitting up the judge now for a warrant, will be a waste of time for us, and an embarrassment for the department.”
“Yes sir, I get your point, I just thought… you know…I had this feeling that he was our guy. You’ve had it before, right in the pit of your stomach, that you just know,” she expressed with all the energy of her soul.
“Don’t get me wrong deputy. I think you’ve done some damn fine work this morning, may break this whole investigation wide open, but there’s some homework that needs to be done before we can go any further. Got that?” he said, pulling at Otis’ collar and lifting his head to his lap so he could give him some attention.
“Yeah, I better do some checking and I’ll keep you posted. Guess I’ll start with a background check on him and his vehicle.” She whistled and Otis begrudgingly left the Sheriff and joined her at the door. “Come on boy, we’ve got some work to do.”
Angelo called after her, “Natalie, don’t get discouraged. Your instincts are good always listen to them. It could save your life someday.”
“Thanks Sheriff, I will.”
The balance of the young deputy’s Sunday was spent submitting data to the computer system, filling out activity reports of the morning, and trying to put some notes together for the unwanted, and unsolicited, presentation before Mrs. Wild’s class tomorrow. She tried to be detailed but succinct, nothing she hated more than filling out forms and sitting in front of the computer. She’d joined the Sheriff’s Office to be on the line, out with the public doing ‘real’ police work, at least she had Otis and did get out much more than the other officers. The voice message she’d received while speaking with Mr. Cummings was all but incoherent. She knew it was the old farmer she’d seen on the tractor earlier in the day but the message did not come through. She had tried a number of times to phone him back but was unsuccessful. Tomorrow after her presentation, she’d run out that way and see if she could track him down. She hoped by then maybe they’d have a better idea who Lester really was and if he was a viable suspect.
The day of rest for Blanche Delaney had been anything but that; the frantic ride to the hospital following the shooting had been harrowing. She now sat in the General Hospital’s waiting room, there had been no word on Jasper’s condition since they arrived. He was taken immediately to surgery and that’s the last she saw of him or the doctors. Police at the scene had already questioned her, but she knew another round would be coming her way, when she saw a runty sized officer walk through the doors, as if he were looking for something. He looked to be about sixteen but she knew that could not be the case, fair complexion, narrow eyes and face with a poor excuse of a mustache under his nose. His uniform fit well and looked like it had been pressed more than once to give it almost sheen at the creases. Blanche watched him, trying not to make eye contact, but she knew she’d been made when he walked through the sea of people and came to stand directly in front of her.
“Ms. Delaney?” he said.
“Yes, I’ve already given a statement and answered a number of questions,” she said, with a pre-emptive strike against the inquisitor.
“I understand that, but we wanted to clarify a few things for our report before we can have you sign off on your statement. Would you mind coming with me? There’s an administrative office where we can have a few minutes of privacy,” the young officer said, pointing the way.
Blanche stood, moved past the officer in the direction he had indicated and asked, “How did you know it was me you were looking for? There are a lot of people in this waiting room.”
“Oh, the officer that you gave the statement to last night described you to me and said you had big…uh, big blue eyes. Knew it was you right away.”
“My, you must have remarkable vision to have spotted my eye color from clear across the room. No wonder you're a police officer,” she said, giving him a knowing grin.
They stepped through the door of the administrative conference room just behind the admittance desk and the officer closed the door behind them. The room itself was cold and uninviting; the long, rectangular table that took up most of the space had nothing on it but fingerprints from a previous meeting. The walls were bare, save for a picture of the hospital taken from an aerial view, and an abstract painting occupying most of one wall at the head of the table. Blanche looked at it trying to identify what it was, and what it had to do with health care, nothing came to her mind.
They sat in the two chairs closest to the door, the cherub of an officer laid the clipboard on the table between them and asked some questions, some new, some old.
“It’s our understanding that you weren’t able to get a good look at the assailant, is that correct?”
“Yes, I told the other officer, that was so interested in my eyes, that I noted a man with a hoodie go into the bathroom but that was about it. I don’t even remember seeing him come out or leave the diner.”
“That’s fine; a few of the other customers were able to give us a bit more than that. Could you tell what nationality or race he was?”
“I want to say Caucasian but I could be wrong. Pretty sure he wasn’t black, but from the angle I saw him the hoodie blocked most of his face, and he had the ball cap and the shades, so I just can’t be certain. It’s been a very long night.”
“I understand, we appreciate your willingness to talk with us again. When the firecrackers starting going off do you remember seeing this guy again? Even as you exited the diner do you remember him being in the parking lot?” he said, trying to remain professional.
“No, all I remember was Jasper practically carrying me out of the place, then him pushing me toward the truck. I turned just as the last bang sounded. I thought it was another blast coming from inside the diner, but thinking back, it was much louder than the others. I mean, it just wasn’t registering to me, the noise, the shouts, and all the confusion, everybody thought we were under attack and were being shot at.”
“Yes, it must have been very traumatic for you and the others. When did you first notice that Jasper was down?”
“I ran to the truck and looked back to see why he wasn’t with me and it seemed like it was almost in slow motion. I heard the final loud clap and I saw Jasper get knocked forward, and then went down on his knees, then onto his chest. I wasn’t sure what had happened to him, just didn’t seem real, you know. I’ve never seen anything like it, these things don’t just happen to normal people.”
“Our point exactly, Ms. Delaney. Now, I hope that you’re not offended, but I need to address a line of questioning that may make you uncomfortable,” he said, not willing to make eye contact with the librarian.
“What do you mean, ‘uncomfortable’?” she asked.
“How long have you known Mr. Jackson?” the patrolman asked.
“Who? Oh, you mean Jasper. I’d say about a month. Met him just after I moved here from Arizona.”
“I see, and what is the nature of your relationship? Were you intimate?” he asked, lifting his eyes to meet hers.
“And what do you mean by, ‘I see’? We were not sleeping together, if that’s what you’re after. He’s a nice guy that has helped me out of a couple of jams and we are friends. Are people not allowed to just be friends anymore?” she said, with indignation rising in her voice.
“No. I mean yes. Certainly it’s okay to just be friends, believe me I don’t enjoy asking these questions, any more than you do answering them. It’s just my job.”
“Okay, well let’s get through them then,” she said, backing off a bit.
