Again, the governor declined to comment. The look on his face was…what? The governor then surprised Tony by asking what he thought of the Wells case.
“Well,” Tony began, “I’m not sure what to say. I thought there was a strong case on both sides. But I, uh, I guess what I would say is that I was surprised the jury came back with two guilty verdicts so quickly. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no specific reason,” Roskins had replied. “Lisa’s dad told me you covered it and even mentioned you were bothered by the verdict. Your mention of Nelson just reminded me of it, since that clearly is his most publicized win in the courtroom. I have to admit I tend to agree with you. As an old defense lawyer, I was baffled by some of the unanswered questions raised by the testimony. Of course I also learned during my twenty years at bar that juries rarely get to see all the facts in a case. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised if that happened here.”
Tony didn’t know what to say. There was an uncomfortable lull in the conversation. Then, as Roskins rose to excuse himself, he said, “Lisa’s dad also told me that despite your misgivings, you did a great job of giving fair coverage to both the prosecution and the defense. Good for you, Tony. You may end up being the one reporter I don’t have to dread hearing from.” The governor chuckled once again at his own joke, shook Tony’s hand, kissed Lisa on the cheek, and disappeared out the door with his entourage in tow.
***
Later, as Tony stretched out in the king-sized bed, he found himself bothered by the governor’s comments, especially the references to the Wells case. Other facts? What did he mean by that?
One cardinal rule in Ben’s newsroom was that you never wrote an article that asked a question it didn’t answer. Geez, Ben and I both must be losing our touch, because there were unanswered questions all over the Wells case. Some, such as the fundamental question of whether Wells was dumb enough to hand over the murder weapon or whether someone else had used it were unanswerable unless Wells decided to confess or, by some miracle, a second suspect was arrested.
However, one nagging question could at least be asked of the person who created it. Francie, Tony thought, someone needs to ask you why you testified against your brother.
At that point, Lisa rolled over and pressed her bare breasts against his back. All thoughts of trials and witnesses melted away as a lovely, pale arm reached over and pulled him tightly to her. Once again, he was dumbfounded at Lisa’s obvious affection for him. Was there another woman on the planet who would have risked her lifelong relationship with the highest elected official in the state in order to help him get a story? One so beautiful, so smart, so much fun to be with? Tony tried to think of a flaw, any flaw. There’s that one small birthmark on her side, just at the bottom of her ribcage, he thought, smiling. And she can’t sing a note. But that’s about it.
He lay awake a long time thinking seriously about all the things he loved about Lisa. Then, just as he drifted off to sleep, he finally admitted to himself, yes, I am in love with her.
Chapter 15
The drive to Viscount took less than thirty minutes on a good day. Today was just such a day. The earlier December snows had been cleared from the roads long ago and the dry pavement allowed Tony to push the SUV a little faster than might be appreciated by a state trooper, should he have the misfortune to encounter one.
However, the chances were low, and Tony took advantage of the beautiful weather to ignore the highway and take the winding county blacktop through the Raccoon River valley. Not only did Tony appreciate the minimal traffic, he enjoyed getting off the main roads and pushing the limits of the tighter and more numerous turns of the county road. He was driving, and he loved it.
Tony was wearing khaki pants and a ski vest over a black sweater with an Iowa Hawkeye logo on the left breast. He had on snow boots and his winter coat was lying in the back seat if he needed it. No tie today. He wasn’t sure he would even find his subject and, if he did, he had no idea if she would talk to him. Tony guessed, in any case, if he did find her he had a better chance of getting her to talk to a guy in a ski vest than a guy in a tie.
Tony had done his homework. He got her address from the official court records and he located the property on Google Earth as well as on his GPS system. He knew Francie Wells lived in a modest two-bedroom bungalow across the alley from the laundromat. Her house, in effect, formed the border between the tiny business district of Viscount and the few streets of residences to the east.
Viscount was a town of about 1,500 according to the most recent census. Tony called it a “three town.” It had three churches and three bars. In many Iowa towns, the two things were found in equal numbers. A town might have more bars than churches, but he rarely found it the other way around.
Tony had timed his trip to arrive in Viscount in the late afternoon. He knew Francie worked as a clerk for the town, meaning she probably spent her days doing everything from processing payments for water bills, to calculating payroll checks for city employees, to preparing agendas for city council meetings.
City hall consisted of four offices and a meeting room built within the big steel building that also housed the town’s two fire trucks – a traditional pumper and a smaller, four-wheel drive fast-response vehicle used for carrying volunteer EMTs or firefighters to traffic accidents and anything else not requiring 1,500 gallons of water.
Tony parked a block away and walked to the city hall/fire department building. Not wanting to approach Francie in front of others, he didn’t go in, but walked past as casually as he could. Glancing in the two large windows in the front of the building, Tony could see that the city manager’s office and the clerk’s office were in the front. The offices were modest, with modular furniture, a few steel file cabinets, and a computer and telephone on each desk. It looked like the front door opened right into the clerk’s space, which meant Francie Wells was most likely cold all winter and hot all summer.
Tony was pleased to note that Francie was there behind her desk. It was after 4 p.m. and the daylight was waning thanks to a winter sun low in the southern sky. The good news was that the office lights painted the activities inside on the windows as if they were movie screens. Similarly, Tony knew, it meant the two women inside couldn’t see him, or at least not very well.
Harvey’s Grill and Bowling Alley was right across the street, so Tony headed there to wait for the workday to end. When Tony stepped inside, he noticed no one was eating and no one was bowling. About a half-dozen men and two women sat on tall stools at the bar, sipping various brands of beer and chatting as a pair of TVs behind the bar showed out-of-season sports reruns with the sound muted.
He chose the stool closest to the glass front doors so he could see the front of the building across the street, and ordered a diet soda from the heavyset man behind the bar. When it arrived, Tony asked, “You got anything to snack on here, nachos or something?”
The bartender didn’t have to move his feet. He reached under the bar and pulled out a cardboard box filled with assorted candy bars, packs of peanuts, packaged pretzels, and other assorted off-the-shelf fare. “Sorry, pal. This is it,” the man said. He had a gravelly voice, and his mouth sagged as if used to having a cigarette hanging from it.
“How about later?” Tony inquired, assuming he would be hungry if he spent a couple of hours or more in Viscount.
“Nah. We only cook one night a week here now. We do a steak fry on Friday nights.”
“Except during Lent,” the older of the two women at the other end of the bar hollered without looking up from her beer. “Then it’s a fish fry.”
The bartender sneered and said, “That’s right, Diane. And if this young man wants to sit here until March, he can have fish on Friday night.”
“Up yours,” Diane said, eyes still straight ahead.
“Not in your lifetime,” the man growled under his breath, rolling his eyes as he returned to his regulars.
Tony didn’t risk a response and simply pulled a couple of choco
late bars out of the box, wondering how long he would have to wait and just how he would go about talking to Francie before she shut herself inside her house. Once there, she would have the option of simply ignoring his knocks on the door.
With just the first bite of chocolate in his mouth, the lights in City Hall clicked off and three people came out – the two women and an older man Tony assumed was the mayor. Francie was last. She turned to lock the deadbolt with her key. Tony chewed fast, not wanting to be so obvious as to run out the door with a mouth full of Snickers. He swallowed and was about to call for the check when he noticed Francie coming straight toward him. More to the point, straight toward Harvey’s not-so-much-bowling-alley-or-grill.
As she came through the door, the bartender croaked a greeting and asked what she wanted to order. She asked for hot chocolate with a shot of Jack Daniels and then plopped down in a booth at the far end of the room, near the arched opening leading to the bowling lanes. She probably could smell the rental shoes from over there. He wondered about her choice of table but thought it fortuitous. He could approach her there, out of earshot of the others, and she would at least have to say yes or no to him. He decided to finish the candy bar first and took another bite as he received his second big surprise.
Deputy Sheriff Denny Peters slipped off one of the bar stools to his right and walked over to Francie’s booth. Without a word, he slid in next to her, sitting close and speaking quietly.
Tony hadn’t recognized the deputy out of uniform, and he was pretty sure the deputy hadn’t recognized him. So he shifted positions on the stool, pretending to watch the TVs, but observing the couple in the booth. It didn’t take long to surmise that was what they were – a couple. Tony could only speculate, of course, but Francie clearly was glad to see Peters. The dramatic differences in their heights caused the deputy to tower over her, but he pulled her so close they could have shared his parka.
Tony suddenly wished he knew a lot more about Peters. He knew many deputy sheriffs were former military who sought the work because they liked the prestige and authority, mostly the authority, that came with a badge and a gun. However, Tony doubted Peters was the hothead type. He was middle-aged and had been a deputy a long time. If he was trouble, surely Tony would have heard about it by now.
Still, if Peters was married and he felt threatened by being seen by the press then…what? Tony asked himself. Really, what’s he going to do? Beat me up in front of a room full of people? So Tony called for his check, added a far too big tip, and left the money on the counter. He then climbed off the bar stool and walked over to the booth where the deputy and the witness were cuddled together.
“Excuse me,” Tony said with as light and friendly a tone as he could muster.
“What?” Deputy Peters swung around, ready to tell whoever it was to get lost. The deputy’s words froze in his throat as he recognized the young reporter standing in front of him.
“I’m Tony Harrington from the Orney Town Crier. I wrote the local news coverage of the Wells trial and, Ms. Wells, I was hoping I could have a few minutes of your time, you know, to ask you about the experience.”
“Francie has nothing to say, do you Francie?” The deputy placed his arm around her as if to protect her from the paparazzi.
“Thank you, Deputy,” Tony said, confirming for the man that Tony knew who he was. “I’d like to ask Francie, if you don’t mind.”
Francie Wells almost buried her face in the folds of Peters’ parka as she replied, “Denny’s right. I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“I understand,” Tony said sympathetically. “It must have been a very difficult time for you. I thought maybe, now that it’s over, you’d just like to share a little more background with people. You know, help everyone know you and your brother a little better.”
Now the deputy stood up. A full five inches taller than Tony, he moved close and looked down into Tony’s face. This, Tony knew, was his “intimidating cop” move, designed to scare perpetrators, witnesses, and potential troublemakers. The thing is, Tony thought wryly as he took two steps back, it’s working.
“Okay, okay, officer. I’m going. Here’s my card in case she changes her mind.” As he pulled his business card from his pocket and held it out, Peters just stared at it, not moving a muscle. Tony finally set it on the table next to him, turned on his heels, and headed for the door.
As he climbed into his SUV and started the engine, Tony was tempted to race out of town for home. However, he knew from experience that now, after a news subject had been spooked, was the time to wait and see what happened next. Sure enough, he hadn’t been in his car thirty seconds when Deputy Peters rushed out the door of Harvey’s and jumped in his cruiser. However, he didn’t start the car. As he sat in the dark vehicle Tony could see the tiny flicker of light and then the glow against the side of the deputy’s face.
Well, well, Tony thought. Denny Peters has rushed outside to the privacy of his car to make an urgent cell phone call. I wonder what that’s about? He waited for Peters to go back inside before he turned on his lights and put the SUV in gear. He was careful not to go past Harvey’s as he drove out of town.
He thought about the encounter all the way home, exploring it from every angle. It wasn’t lost on him that he had gone to Viscount to find answers, and all he had found were more questions.
Chapter 16
Tony had not intended to forego his interview of Francie. As a result of the encounter in Viscount, Tony was eager to ask her about her relationship with Peters in addition to the basic questions about her relationship with her brother. However, over the next several days, his attempts to call her at home went unanswered, and his one attempt to call her at work ended in an abrupt slam down of the city clerk’s reception phone. Tony came away rubbing his ear and resigning himself to the obvious fact he would have to approach her again in person and uninvited.
However, the time somehow slipped by him as he engaged in other projects at work. As the time passed, it became easier and easier to push his questions for Francie to the back burner. Suddenly it was ten weeks later. Tony realized how much time had passed when he came out of Willie’s after lunch one day and saw melted snow running in the gutters of First Avenue on the north side of the square. The sight stopped him in his tracks and Doug nearly ran into his back. “What the h…?” Doug stopped himself.
“Spring is here,” Tony said simply, staring down at the wet concrete.
“Well, maybe not quite,” Doug replied, gesturing at the seven-foot-high pile of snow on the town square. The city fathers always piled a good amount of snow on the square’s playground as part of the street clearing efforts in the winter. It had begun as a practical matter. Where better to pile snow than an unused park? But over the years it had become a local attraction for kids of all ages. Games such as “King of the Mountain,” dares regarding who could burrow the deepest tunnel fort, and bets on who could make the most flips in a dive off the top were commonplace. Many laughs, plenty of tears, and a few bruises emerged from that pile of snow every year, but the people of Orney still flocked to their manmade mountain.
Tony smiled as he acknowledged Doug’s point that it wasn’t exactly sunbathing weather. “Still,” he said, “look at the running water. It’s supposed to get up to forty degrees today. We may not lose Mount Orney over there, but I bet we lose most of what’s on the ground.”
“It’s only March, so don’t get your hopes up,” Doug said. “We both know Mother Nature isn’t finished beating us up yet. Don’t get me wrong. It’s fine by me if winter ends early. I’m tired of drying my sneakers every night.”
“You know, Doug, there’s a new invention you should try called ‘boots.’ You’d like it. You just slip these vinyl things over your shoes and you can walk anywhere without ruining the leather or, in your case, the canvas or plastic or whatever is in those things you wear on your feet.”
“Yeah, yeah, smartass. I suppose you mean boots like the ones you’re we
aring?”
Tony, of course, was in his street shoes. He rarely wore boots once the sidewalks and streets were cleared of snow. He was contemplating his next smart remark when Doug brought him back to the point.
“So what’s your obsession with spring this year? I’ve never known you to be one of the winter-haters.”
“No, that’s not the point at all,” Tony replied. “The changing of the seasons just wacked me upside of the head, as our friend Willie would say. It reminded me of how much time has passed since I went to Viscount to talk to Francie. I really have to find the time to get back there and camp in front of her house until she’ll talk to me.”
“Maybe not,” Doug looked over Tony’s shoulder and across the square. “Isn’t that her coming out of O’Neill’s?”
Tony spun around and peered through the trees to the opposite row of storefronts. O’Neill’s was an office supply store in the center of the block. Tony couldn’t swear to it, but he was pretty sure Doug was right. Walking to his left along the block was a woman who looked very much like Francie Wells.
Tony zipped up his jacket. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later,” he said, turning to go.
“You want me to come along?” Doug asked.
“Well, you have as much right to interview her as I do,” Tony said over his shoulder. “But I’d rather go alone if you don’t mind. You can always read my brilliant article to your listeners in the morning…like always.”
“Yeah, well up yours too, Mr. Kent. Don’t get your cape wet in the melting snow.” By now, Doug was nearly shouting at Tony’s disappearing back. Tony heard him and turned just long enough to flash his middle finger, then took off in a jog.
***
Tony moved quickly, but not quickly enough. He turned the corner just in time to see Francie Wells climb into a late model red Toyota Avalon parked at a meter on the next block. She wasted no time in starting the car and pulling away from the curb. Tony stared as the car drove past him, but Francie didn’t seem to notice him. Tony watched to see which way she went from the intersection. She turned south in the general direction of the highway. As soon as he was sure of her direction, Tony took off at a full run. His SUV was just down the alley in the Town Crier’s back lot. He hopped in, turned the key with his right hand while grabbing the seat belt with his left, and spun the tires as he turned down the alley.
Burying the Lede Page 13
