Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (20 page)

Chapter 22

Gordon stood, rooted, as Titch’s words sank in. Another person’s bones. Another body. His stomach flipped. “You’re sure?” he asked, more to say something than because he thought Asel would have made a mistake.

“Yes, Sir. It was another arm. Another right arm.”

Gordon forced a sharp laugh. “I guess we’d have heard about someone gone missing who happened to have two right arms.”

Titch’s lip curved up on one side. “My thoughts exactly.”

Had that been the tipping point for calling in the county? Was that what triggered Colfax’s call? The detective hadn’t said anything about multiple murders, or multiple anything. Hell, finding another body might give credence to the mayor’s assertion that these were somehow bones from a family plot.

But then they’d be older, wouldn’t they? The timeline didn’t fit. But what if Asel’s estimate that they were between thirty and forty years in the ground was way off? Maybe the lab tests would be more definitive.

“Anyway,” Titch went on, “Asel said to let you know. He grabbed that bone and would have done a code three back to County if his van had lights and sirens.”

Titch went on his way and Gordon climbed into his car. He was exhausted, his head throbbed, and he’d done all he could for one day. Halfway home, his cell buzzed with an incoming text. He ignored it for about thirty seconds before curiosity had him pulling over.

Seeing Megan’s name made his heart skitter. His immediate thoughts were of Rose. He opened the message, squinting and adjusting the phone to try to read it. Again he thought that maybe he needed to buy a pair of readers. There must be a way to enlarge the font, but he couldn’t see the damn screen prompts to do it. He flipped the dome light on and managed to read enough of the message to know it wasn’t about Rose. Of course not. If it was serious, Megan would have called, not texted. It could wait until he got home. Maybe even until he’d had a hot shower and a stiff drink. Or until morning.

By the time he unlocked his front door and hit the liquor cabinet for a shot of his good single malt, it was almost ten-thirty. He took the drink into the bedroom and set it on the night table while he luxuriated in a long, steamy shower to drain the stress away. Between that and the booze, he hoped for a peaceful night, because he had a feeling stuff was going to hit the fan in the morning.

A towel hitched around his hips, he plugged his phone into the charger. He thought about Megan’s text again, but tamped back any guilt for not attending to it immediately. Texts weren’t urgent. He repeated that, almost like a mantra, as he crawled into bed, finished his whisky and turned off the light.

* * * * *

Well before six the next morning, Gordon trekked through the woods near the Kretzers’ house, finding the two officers currently on guard duty. “Anything unusual last night?” he asked.

“Quiet as a graveyard,” one of them said. The other snorted. Gordon winced.

He strolled over to the largest of the three holes, but since Asel had taken the bones to the lab, it was nothing but a hole. What would the CSR team find when they showed up? He itched to grab a shovel and see for himself, but that was an itch that would have to go unscratched. “As you were.” He took a quick look at the other two holes, but they looked the same as the first one.

At the station, he stopped at Dispatch. Irv sat at the desk, his head lolled back, emitting sounds somewhere between snoring and snorting. Gordon cleared his throat. “Quiet night, Irv?”

Irv jerked awake. He blinked and looked around the room, as if he wasn’t sure where he was. “Chief Hepler.” He scratched his head. “Hardly any radio traffic. Mostly phone calls. They’re all logged in, Sir, per procedure.”

Gordon could only hope Irv wouldn’t have slept through the shrill ringing of the phone. He’d have to check with the front desk to see if any had rolled over. He’d go through the logs and grab the records of anything that had come over the tip line. His eyes burned at the thought. “Carry on.”

“You got it, Chief. I mean,
Yes
, Sir.”

He’d have to talk to Connie again.

After collecting the reports, he dropped the stack of paper onto his desk. Minutes later, he stood at the front of the briefing room, only slightly less apprehensive than the night before. He repeated his talk, stressing extra diligence now that evidence pointed to at least one other body. He fielded questions, none of which were anything he hadn’t already said to the night shift.

Fortified with a fresh cup of coffee—or as close to fresh as it ever got at the station—Gordon went to his office to face the paperwork.

First, the night reports. The mayor’s loudest whines were about manpower usage, and Gordon always countered with how his men were keeping Mapleton safe. He flipped to the first report. Nothing unusual. Quiet night, even for a Monday. He worked through the stack, stopping at one report. Drunk and disorderly at Finnegan’s. Fred Easterbrook? What was he doing in town? Normally, he was content to be drunk at his own place, and if he got disorderly up there, nobody noticed—other than Mrs. Blanchard, who called it in if he got out of hand.

According to Jost’s report, Mick Finnegan had arranged for a ride home for Fred when the man had become aggressive, ranting about not allowing anyone on his property. The report was sketchier than the ones he normally got from Jost. Was there more? It was still soon enough after end of shift that Gordon didn’t think he’d be dragging Jost out of bed. He was going to have Dispatch call Jost back in until he remembered Irv was still on duty. Connie wouldn’t be in for another two hours. Neither would Laurie. He pulled up his spreadsheet with staff contact information and made the call.

“Is there a problem, Sir?” Jost asked. Apprehension filled his voice.

“No, nothing like that. I wanted a few more details. Did you get the feeling that Mr. Easterbrook might have been referring to the buried bones?”

“To be honest, Sir, I can’t be sure what Mr. Easterbrook was talking about. He’d clearly had far too much to drink. His words were slurred, and he was rambling.”

“Anything in particular you remember?”

“Yes, Sir. He said his land was his, and nobody could put anything there but him.”

Gordon recalled Fred saying the same thing to him. “What else?”

“Nothing coherent. Stuff like, ‘No call to use my land. I showed him. All gone now.’ I got the impression someone had used his land for something. But I don’t know what he meant by ‘all gone now.’ He said that several times. Then he started flailing at everyone, and stumbling into things. That’s when Mick sent him home.”

“Thanks. That’s a help. I’ll let you go.”

He disconnected, mulling over Fred’s words.
All gone now.
If it was related to Fred’s other statement, that someone had used his land, and was gone now, did that mean Fred had killed someone for trespassing? Carrying that kind of a secret might explain Fred’s going over the edge. Had his wife left him because she couldn’t live with a killer?

He reminded himself to wait for the evidence before jumping to conclusions. Maybe the damn bones were simply part of a family plot, and Crazy Freddy was just Crazy Freddy.

*****

Gordon needed more coffee. And something to eat. The hasty bowl of cereal he’d scarfed at oh-dark-thirty was long gone. His thoughts drifted to Daily Bread. And Angie. No, even if he had time, he didn’t need the distraction. He went to his desk and found a protein bar stuck in the back of a drawer. Afraid to check the expiration date, he unwrapped it and crammed half of it into his mouth.

“Chief, you got a second?” Solomon poked his head into Gordon’s office.

Gordon motioned him in, trying to swallow what tasted like compressed sawdust and peanut shells. He picked up his coffee mug to wash down the congealing mass, but it was empty. He raised the mug in Solomon’s direction. Solomon nodded, took the mug, and left.

He came back a moment later with a steamy mug and set it on the desk, then lowered himself into the visitor’s chair. “Can you tell me what they found?”

At the briefing, Gordon had left out the specifics about what kind of bones they’d found, but he trusted Solomon to keep his mouth shut. “Another right arm. So far. The CSR team is due some time this morning, and their criminalists will be in charge of the scene.”

“Any chance you can swing it so I get assigned to something that lets me hang around? I’d love to learn more about the way they work.”

“I doubt it’s much different from what you and Asel did. They have more manpower and better equipment, that’s all.” At Solomon’s resigned expression, Gordon relented. “But since you were working the scene, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t brief them when they arrive.”

Solomon thanked him, and Gordon went back to his paper. A rap on the door presented a welcome, but unneeded disruption. “Come.”

Laurie came in carrying a thin stack of papers and a file folder. The stack, she put in his inbox, then set the file folder in front of him. “I dug for the corporation—Roger, Suben and Clark—that sold the Kretzers their land. It was dissolved twenty years ago. The agent on record was a Roger Ignatius. The records should be archived, but I couldn’t find them on the Secretary of State’s website. If you want, I can try to find out more about him and the corporation, but it’ll take time.”

Hell, the bones had been in the ground over thirty years. What was a little more time? “Not a first priority, but yes, see what you can find out about the corporation. I’ll tackle Roger Ignatius.”

“On it, Chief.”

Roger Ignatius, it turned out after some digging through databases, was in an assisted living center outside of Denver. Laurie returned with a batch of tip sheets. She set them on his desk, her lips tight.

“Got something?” Gordon asked. “I’m guessing it’s not good.”

“The mayor called. He wants to talk to you.”

Gordon bit back the expletive. “He give any details?”

“Not a word. Wants to see you at your earliest convenience.”

“That’s one notch better than a ‘forthwith’. Think he’ll buy that my earliest convenience is a week from next Tuesday?”

A smile flitted across Laurie’s face. “You want me to try it?”

Gordon knew she would, had he asked. “Let’s try for one o’clock. If that’s not soon enough, maybe I can get a free lunch out of him.”

“Did I ever tell you I like the way you think?”

He chuckled. “Not nearly often enough.”

Seconds later, Colfax barged into the office. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” He dangled a white paper bag exuding the enticing aroma of cinnamon.

Gordon gave an exasperated head shake. “Come in. You remember Laurie, don’t you?”

Colfax tipped his head in her direction. “Most definitely.” He extended a hand. “If you ever get sick of this guy, give me a call. County could use someone like you.”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “Unlikely, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

Ever the diplomat. “Thanks, Laurie,” Gordon said. “And you can tell the mayor that I’m tied up in an important meeting with Detective Colfax, trying to figure out how to save Mapleton some money, which is why I can’t drop everything and run to his office. Not in those words, of course.”

Colfax’s gaze lingered on Laurie’s exit. Gordon shook his head again as Colfax plopped into the visitor’s chair. “I wouldn’t be glad to see you except you postponed my audience with the mayor.”

“And I brought food.” Colfax set the bag on the desk. “The cute little blonde says hello, by the way. You still hooked up? Because if you’re not—”

Gordon pushed images of Colfax’s flirting with Angie out of his mind. “Shut the hell up and tell me what you’ve got.”

“Cinnamon rolls. I thought you were a good cop, but if you can’t deduce that—”

“The case, Colfax. Cut to the chase. I’m busy here.” But Gordon took the time to reach into the bag and snag a roll. “I know you didn’t come all the way to Mapleton to bring me cinnamon rolls.”

Colfax grabbed the second roll and stuffed a chunk into his mouth. He chewed—agonizingly slowly—swallowed, wiped his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “Nope. Thought I’d fill you in on the case of the missing bones—or is it the case of the found bones?” He nodded in the direction of Gordon’s mug. “Need a refill? I’m going to hit the head, then the coffee machine, and then we can talk.”

Gordon grunted. “How about you hit the head first, then come back for my cup. Not that I don’t trust you—”

Colfax laughed. “Damn, I’ve missed working with you. We made a great team on the Bedford case, didn’t we?”

“That we did.”

While Colfax was gone, Gordon reviewed the last few night reports. Damn. A break-in? He rubbed his eyes and studied the officer’s report. Broken window. He grabbed the last of the reports. Four more attempted break-ins, all the same. Were they in fact attempted break-ins, or nothing more than kids driving by throwing rocks? Seemed strange that none of them showed any evidence of someone actually getting into a house. Interrupted before they could get inside and take anything?

And why hadn’t Irv mentioned this?
Quiet night, my ass.

Seething, Gordon grabbed the reports and stormed toward Dispatch, passing Colfax on the way. “Be right back,” Gordon said. “Have to deal with some personnel issues first.”

He regrouped before opening the door. Connie would be on duty, and none of this had anything to do with her.

Connie looked up as he entered. “Chief?”

“Did you check Irv’s transmissions? The higher-stress ones?”

“Yes. Everything looked straightforward. Is there a problem?”

“I’m not sure. I came in this morning and had to wake Irv.” Connie’s eyes went round, but he put up a hand to keep her from interrupting. “When I asked him about the night, he said everything had been quiet. Which made sense, given I requested minimal radio contact. But when I was looking over the night reports, I see five broken windows. All over town. Looks more like malicious mischief than breaking and entering, but why wouldn’t Irv have mentioned it?”

Connie frowned. “Let me pull the transmissions.”