Keeping the Peace (13 page)

Susan was on her feet. “Put your head down between your knees, Tiffany. Right now,” she said, and Tiffany obeyed.

John waited.

After a couple of minutes, she raised her head slowly.

“Are you all right now?” John asked.

Tiffany nodded, took a deep breath, and as far as she was able, tried to compose herself. “You can go ahead and ask me questions, sir,” she said in her small voice. “I’m okay.”

Susan sat down slowly in her chair, but continued to eye the girl warily.

“Why don’t I just let you do the talking?” said John. “You tell me what happened this evening. Start with when Gabriel Strand and Bruce Blake came into the tavern.”

The girl took another deep breath, but her voice was steady. She stared at the floor, as if she could recall things better by concentrating on the grain of the old wood. “Okay, okay,” she said. “Well, I was the cocktail waitress. That means I was the waitress in the tavern, not working in the dining room. There’s usually only one of us that works in there. I serve the drinks. Sometimes I make them, too, if Bill is busy doing something else. I also get the tavern food for anyone who wants it. There’s a tavern menu, you see. Not like the dinner menu; simpler food, like hamburgers and stuff. And some Tex-Mex stuff, too. And calamari. Fried.”

John picked at his cuff to hide his impatience, but he decided to let the girl ramble a little. It might settle her down.

“Well, I had heard that Gabriel Strand was in town,” she continued. “We heard from some fans who were gossiping in the lobby. They’d been talking to that policeman of yours, Tim Cully, I think, and he had said that Gabriel Strand was staying at the inn. A lot of people came into the tavern at first, and they were asking me questions, but I hadn’t seen anybody, so I just said, ‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him,’ and it was true. Then, later in the afternoon, I think it might have been about six o’clock or so, in they come.”

“Who?”

“Gabriel Strand. And…and Bruce Baker. I thought the rest of Ragged Rainbow would be in, too, but it was only them. They’re the only ones here, I guess. That’s what I heard. Anyway, I was excited, but I tried to be cool, you know, and not be such a fangirl. So I was just doing my job. My shift was supposed to be over at six thirty, when Annette would be coming in. I went over and said, ‘Can I get you guys something?’ And Bruce Baker, he says, ‘Do you know who this is?’ And I said, ‘Yes, you’re Gabriel Strand, but I don’t know who you are,’ meaning Bruce Baker. At the time, too, they were the only ones in the room. I brought them two beers—I mean, one each. Then Annette came in, and she said, ‘I’m on now. Did you cash out?’ I said no, I hadn’t. She told me the weather was bad and to just go along, that she’d do it, so I said thanks.

“That’s when Bruce Baker says to me, ‘Hey, sit down here with us for a minute.’ Well, to be perfectly honest, me and my boyfriend haven’t been getting along at all, and I didn’t want to go home right then because I never know what mood he’s going to be in, you know? And then, how often do you get to sit down with Gabriel Strand? So, of course I said yes. Then Bruce Baker switched his drink to margaritas, and he orders me one, too. Gabriel was still nursing his beer, but me and Bruce kept drinking the margaritas. He just kept ordering them. Then, Gabriel said he had to go see somebody, and I said, ‘You can’t go anywhere tonight.’ He said he had to go see the police chief’s wife, so I thought it was important, and anyway, I was having a good time, so I said I’d give him a ride. But Bruce said, ‘You’re too drunk to drive,’ so I said for Gabriel to just take my car. I gave him the keys and told him how to get to your house.” Here, the girl stopped and fidgeted with her fingers.

John and Susan exchanged looks, but the girl remained calm.

“Then what?” Giamo finally prodded her.

The waitress rubbed her eyes. “Well, I was pretty drunk, and then I was getting mad at my boyfriend.” She stopped talking.

John prompted, “Tiffany?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”

“Just finish the story, then you can get some sleep.”

“I’m afraid to go home.”

John rubbed his face in quiet exasperation, but Susan said, “You can sleep here in the downstairs room, Tiffany.”

The girl seemed relieved. She went on with her story. “Well, I was pretty drunk, like I said. Then Bruce started getting pretty friendly. Finally, he said would I like to see Gabriel Strand’s room and maybe get a band T-shirt. There was a box in there, I guess. I said, sure I would. He took me by the hand and led me up to the room. It was right across the hall from Bruce’s room. Then Bruce said, ‘That’s weird.’ I asked what he was talking about, and he said the door was open. I said he musta forgot to close it tight. Sometimes the doors stick. Then, oh, wow. Then, it was bad, Mr. Giamo.” Now big tears rolled down her face.

John cleared his throat and urged her sympathetically. “Go on, Tiffany,” he said softly. “You have to tell just what you saw.”

Tiffany gulped and wiped her eyes. “I didn’t see much, I can tell you that. Bruce opened the door. The room was all dark, of course. He went in, and there was a kind of pop or something. Like just a pop. And then I heard a crash. I—I guess that was Bruce falling.”

“Don’t think about that, Tiffany,” instructed the chief. “Just say what you saw.”

“Okay, well, I heard a crash, and just as I was going to, oh, wow, I was going to walk right in there. Just as I was going to walk in there to see what had happened, I heard a voice. I think it said, ‘Now you’ve got what you deserve, Strand.’ Then someone ran out. I was just standing there. It was, like, pitch black. Whoever it was pushed me back into the wall. Hard. Then they ran down the hall.” Tiffany sighed again. Her hands were shaking. “I—I went in to ask Bruce what happened. I saw him lying on the floor. I ran out. I didn’t even know he’d been shot. I just thought there was a fight or something. I ran to get Bill.”

John looked up at Susan. “That’s right,” she corroborated the girl’s story. “She came to get Bill.”

“Well,” said John, “this has been very important to the investigation, Tiffany. Thank you. When you heard the person speak, are you sure they used Strand’s name?”

“Oh, yes.” Tiffany nodded emphatically.

“Could you identify the person?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It was so dark. I didn’t even see a face. I don’t even know if it was a man or a woman. The voice was kind of a high-pitched whisper. I can’t explain it. Everything happened so fast. I’m sorry. I can’t be sure of anything. The emergency red exit lights were on, that’s all. I know that.”

“Do you know what the person was wearing?”

Tiffany shook her head. “Can I go, please? I don’t feel very good.”

“Go ahead. I’ll probably have to speak to you again in the next couple of days.”

He waited as the girl murmured a hasty “okay” and hurried from the room.

The chief pulled at his nose. “Sounds like someone meant to kill Strand.”

Susan said, “Sounds like it was over a girl.”

John looked absently out the window where the first light of morning revealed snow up to the window sills. “Or it
was
a girl,” he mused.

Bill Noyes came into the room just then. He looked like a giant scrawny heron, bundled in a snow machine suit with his long pointy nose sticking out from under a knit ski hat. He said, “There’s almost three feet of snow out there. This would be good for business if this thing hadn’t happened last night. Is there any way to keep this quiet, John?”

The chief was beginning to feel tired. He shrugged. “You certainly don’t have to tell everybody there was a murder. Apparently most of the people were downstairs in front of the fire anyway and the gunshot wasn’t loud, but don’t forget the Waterbury team is on the way. They’ll have to do their investigation and get the body out.”

“I’ll make them use the fire escape,” said Noyes. “That way, they won’t disturb breakfast.”

Susan stood. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to get into the kitchen. Bill, you’d better arrange for clean-up after Waterbury leaves. Call if you need anything more, John.”

John smiled in acknowledgment. Bill was still pacing, wringing his hands. John gave thanks for Susan’s level head. He heaved himself to his feet. “I’ve got to get back to the station,” he said to Noyes. “I’m sure Joe and Steve are still there with Strand. I’ve got to put together some sort of plan and make sure Strand’s out of danger. See you later, Bill.”

“Yeah, okay, Chief.”

Chapter Ten

J
OHN
W
ALKED
O
UT
O
F
T
HE
O
FFICE
and stepped onto the front porch. The world was completely silent and white. Despite a body lying upstairs in a pool of blood and everything else that had happened over the last twenty-four hours, despite his being bone tired and not yet finished with the business at hand, John could not help but be lifted by the beauty that surrounded him. He slogged his way to the Suburban. Bits of drifting, floating ice crystals hit him in the face. The cold sting was fresh and pleasant. It was these times that he, not a religious man, was assured once again that higher powers did exist and the follies of men were just that.

Still, he lived in this particular plane and had responsibilities. One person had purposely caused the death of another, and folly or no folly, it was his duty to see justice done and to restore the order demanded by the society in which he lived. He gave his characteristic short, sharp sigh and started up the Suburban. The plows had been down the main streets not two hours before so the road was clear to the police station. He glanced at his watch. It was six fifteen. Cully’s cruiser, Bernard’s state car, and Becky’s little SUV were all parked there. Then John noticed his son Michael’s car was there, too.

Puzzled, he entered the building. When he opened the door to the police offices, Becky was standing there, steaming coffee cup extended. He took it gratefully.

The telephone on Becky’s desk rang, and she answered it. When she hung up, she said, “Waterbury’s there. Are you going back?”

John shook his head and sipped his coffee. “No. She’ll call me later. I’ll write the preliminary report, and then I’m going home for a hot shower. I’ll be back around noon.”

He turned around to go into his office. Steve Bruno, Joe Bernard, and Tim Cully stood in the doorway. Beyond them, inside his office, he could see Gabriel Strand sitting slouched in the hard wooden chair. And beside him, sitting in John’s own chair and holding the musician’s hand, was his wife. His surprise must have been obvious because he noticed the three uniformed men shift on their feet uncomfortably.

He cleared his throat and addressed the men. “We can’t do anything more about this situation until Waterbury gets done. I have to review evidence and proceed with the investigation. I’ll start that this afternoon. In the meantime, Cully, you run the roads. Everybody’s still digging out, and there’s no school, so people will still be trying to run into each other with vehicles. Joe, you go back and just make sure everything’s copacetic at the inn. Stay with the Waterbury team until they get what they need. Then come back here to do your report. Steve, you stay here with Becky. You’ve had a long couple of days. Call Jason and tell him to come in to relieve you at noon. Then you go home. I don’t want to see you for twenty-four hours.”

The men nodded and grunted, confirming their understanding, and moved off in their own directions. John went into his office and closed the door behind him.

“John.” Melanie let go of Gabriel’s hand and stood up. “This is awful, John.”

He tried not to sound exasperated as he answered her. “Melanie, what are you doing here? The roads are still bad. This is police business.”

“It’s my fault, Chief,” Gabriel said. “I called Melanie. I didn’t know what to do. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

Of course he called Melanie
, thought John, but he said, “Melanie, let’s just go home. I’ll follow you in the Suburban. Strand, you come with me.”

Melanie nodded and led the way out of the office.

Once in the car, with the heater on and headed toward home, John glanced over at his companion. Strand had been silent the whole time, and now he stared straight ahead. His face was pale, and there were blue shadows under his eyes.

John said, “The girl, Tiffany Carroll, who was with Bruce Blake said the person who murdered Blake thought he was you.”

Strand looked genuinely surprised. “Why do you say that?”

“Because according to the girl, the person said, ‘Now you’ve got what you deserve, Strand.’ Something like that.”

Gabriel shook his head slowly back and forth, then buried his face in his hands.

“Is there anyone you know who would want you dead?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s probably some deranged fan.”

“Hmm. Maybe. You didn’t have a conflict over anyone with a girl?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend right now.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have girls on the road. I’m not stupid. Even I know about groupies.”