by Jeramy Gates
“You’ve obviously never worked for a pizza joint. They are always understaffed. I mean always. If they need ten workers, they’ll hire six. If they need six, they’ll schedule three. I lost tips every single day at that job because the manager assigned me so many deliveries that I couldn’t possibly get them out on time. If you can do fifteen deliveries an hour and find time to kill someone, you must have a time-traveling DeLorean.”
“What about other boyfriends?” I said. “Or somebody at school who had a crush on her? Was there anyone like that?”
“I suppose. Becky was pretty, so she always had guys interested in her. I had to chase off a few while we were dating. She was a cheerleader, so who knows?”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced back and forth between us. “I guess they didn’t write that down either,” he said. “There were rumors -scandals- happening at the high school. Stories about orgies on the bus, that sort of thing. A couple of cheerleaders got pregnant.”
“Did the police investigate it?” I said.
“How should I know? You don’t think they told me anything, do you?”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Rumors like that get started all the time. It doesn’t mean anything actually happened. I don’t see what it has to do with this case.”
“It depends,” I said. “We’ll talk about it later.” I handed Jimmy our business card. “If there’s anything else you can think of that might help, please call. I promise, we’re on your side. We’re going to find out who did this.”
“It’s a little late for that,” he said. “Do you have any idea what my life has been like for the last few years? The cops spread my name all over the news. They arrested me at my job. They accused me of murder in front of everyone I knew, and put my name in all the papers. I had to come all the way to Fort Bragg just to find somebody who would hire me. Do you really think it matters to me if you’re going to find the real killer now? If you really want justice, go after the cops who railroaded me and ruined my life. Otherwise, just leave me alone.”
Joe and I walked back to the Suburban in silence. As we turned around in the driveway, I got one last glimpse of the tiny trailer up on the hill and started to cry. I suppose it had more to do with my cascading hormones than anything else, but I still couldn’t help it. I felt bad for the kid. I pulled a tissue out of the glove box and dabbed the tears from my eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Joe said.
“Jimmy’s story just got to me, I suppose.”
“He really suckered you, didn’t he? So much for those mysterious super-powers to read people that you have.”
“I read people just fine.”
“So you’re saying Jimmy’s not the killer? Okay, I’ll buy that. But I won’t feel sorry for him when all he’s done for the last few years is feel sorry for himself.”
“And what should he have done?” I said.
“He should have gotten over it. Gone to college, found a better job. He didn’t have to give up on life.”
“How is a kid like that going to pay for college, or find a career?”
“They have programs.”
“I see. With the cops harassing him and the whole community treating him like an outcast, you think Jimmy should have gone looking for handouts to get into college… Somehow, I don’t think you’d approve of that, either.”
“He could have found a better job, at least. Moving to Fort Bragg was the right thing to do. He should have moved even farther away.”
“Seriously? It wasn’t enough to have the entire community turned against him? He should have moved hundreds of miles away from everything and everyone he’d ever known, all because he just happened to know someone who got murdered?”
“You’re simplifying things.”
“No, Joe. You are simplifying things.”
Joe fell silent, and things got quiet long enough for me to wonder if I’d been too hard on him. Thankfully, Joe’s cell phone rang before the silence went on too long. He hung up a minute later and tugged on his goatee as he stared at the road ahead of us.
“That was the Sheriff. He wants to see us first thing in the morning.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. James Pishard filed a complaint against us. He says he wants me arrested and charged with assault.”
Chapter 5
Joe
Tanja and I walked into the sheriff’s department at eight o’clock sharp the next morning. Lucy was manning the front desk, just like she had been every day for the last twenty years. She’s a heavyset woman with short black hair, a broad face, and many wrinkles from smiling. She reminds me of a favorite aunt who always brings cookies when she visits.
Lucy looked at me over the rims of her glasses and whispered, “What did you do, Joe?”
“Not enough,” I said under my breath. Tanja clicked her tongue at me.
“The sheriff is waiting for you in the big conference room,” Lucy said. “With lawyers.”
“Great.”
Tanja and I took the long walk down the hall in silence. I felt like a kid on his way to the principal’s office. The sheriff’s door was open, and the light streamed out into the darkened hallway. One of Diekmann’s cost-cutting measures had been to cut back on the utilities by installing timers on all the lights. It was nice in theory, but with the hallway lights shutting off every five minutes, the overall effect left the place feeling more like a dungeon than an office building. I suppose the mood was appropriate for the occasion.
Diekmann waved us in. I glanced around the room and saw James Pishard sitting at the table with a neck brace, accompanied by two expensive looking lawyer types. The first was a woman with big pearl earrings and a turquoise necklace; the other was a scrawny guy with a bad haircut and thick glasses. In his black suit, the guy looked more like a pallbearer than a lawyer, although I couldn’t picture him lifting anything heavier than a briefcase without hurting himself. The sheriff made introductions as he gestured for us to take a seat.
“This is Sandra Stockton, James Pishard’s legal counsel, and her assistant Ralph. I believe the two of you already know Mr. Pishard.”
I propped my elbows up on the table and cracked my knuckles. “We’ve met,” I said. Tanja glared at me.
“All right. Let’s get started.”
The lawyer spoke up. “Sheriff, Mr. Pishard has already filled out all the proper forms. Why haven’t you arrested this ruffian?”
“Ruffian?” I said. “Who talks like that?”
Tanja elbowed me in the rib cage. Sandra glared at me.
“How would you describe a thug who randomly assaults people he meets?” she said.
“He’s the one who sucker-punched me!”
“Quiet,” Diekmann said. He turned his attention to Sandra. “I’ve looked over the paperwork, but there are still a few issues with your claim.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Such as? This is an obvious case of assault. I really don’t see what might change that.”
“Well, there is the question of who struck first,” said the sheriff. “I know it sounds like playground politics, but if your client struck Joe first, whatever Joe did afterwards was self-defense.”
“It was Pishard,” Tanja said. “He started it.”
“Semantics,” said Sandra. “Besides, you obviously can’t consider the testimony of the assailant’s wife. We’ll let the judge decide.”
“Alleged assailant,” Diekmann corrected her. “Before you start throwing accusations around my department, you’d better get the terminology correct. Which brings me to the second matter: the fact that Joe and Tanja were working for the department at the time of the altercation.”
The lawyer glanced at Pishard. He shrugged, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that this new information altered the situation. Her cut and dry assault case was getting deeper in the mud with each passing second.
“And I have witnesses,” the sheriff continued, “who say Mr. Pishard laid his hands on Tanja bef
ore the fight even began. Two salesmen at the boatyard saw this, and I’m sure the Shepherds will be happy to testify along with them.”
Sandra’s head snapped around and she glared at Pishard. “Is this true?”
“What difference does it make?”
The sheriff leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps you’d like a closer look at the woman your client assaulted. Whom I hasten to add, was in my employ at the time. Stand up, Tanja. Let them take a look at you.”
Tanja beamed as she rose from her chair and turned side to side, proudly displaying her large belly.
“You hit her?” Sandra said to Pishard.
“No, of course not. I just…” he trailed off, realizing he was about to incriminate himself even further.
“He pushed her, and threatened her,” I said. “That’s why I knocked him on his butt.” I glared at Pishard and added, “Which is where you should have stayed.”
“That’s it!” Pishard shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “I’m suing all of you. I’m going to own this whole stinking police department!”
Diekmann rolled his eyes. Very patiently, he said, “Ms. Stockton, I recommend you get your client out of my building before I lock him up.”
She quickly rose out of her chair and grabbed Pishard by the sleeve. He struggled for a moment and then gave up as he realized that Diekmann was serious. I glared at him the entire time, daring him to make a move. At that point, I didn’t care if Diekmann arrested me or not. Our first encounter hadn’t taught Pishard the lesson he still needed to learn, and I was aching to teach it to him.
Tanja put a hand on my arm, trying to calm me. Pishard, Sandra Stockton, and Ralph trickled out into the hallway. I made an effort to unclench my fists.
“Put your hackles down,” Diekmann said quietly. “Joe, I’d like a word in private. Tanja, help yourself to the donuts in the break room.”
“Yes, sir!” she said with a grin.
My shoulders slumped. The sheriff swiveled around in his chair to face me as she closed the door. We were alone, and the look of sheer disappointment on his face made me feel absolutely humiliated.
“Twenty-four hours, Joe. You couldn’t even give me twenty-four hours.”
“He hit me first,” I said. “Besides, he threatened Tanja. What was I supposed to do? I should’ve broken the guy’s neck.”
“Maybe, but even so, it’s pretty obvious that you’re not in control of your emotions.”
I laughed. “What are you talking about? I didn’t kill him, did I? I ended the confrontation. All I did was hit him a couple times.”
“More like eight.”
“Huh?”
“There were witnesses inside the building, Joe. And a camera on the lot, too. You beat on that guy pretty hard.”
I was stunned. I could clearly remember hitting Pishard after he punched me. I remembered tackling him, slamming him down on the boat… My eyes widened. I couldn’t remember anything after that. My next memory was of turning the Suburban around in the parking lot.
“See what I mean?” Diekmann said, as if he’d read my thoughts.
“Bill, it’s not like I-”
“It’s not what you did Joe, it’s what you might have done. Trust me, I served in ‘Nam. I know what it’s like to be walking the streets confused and angry, wondering where you fit in, or if you ever will again. When certain things happen to you, they can change you. Sometimes, you don’t even know it. You think everything’s fine and then you just suddenly snap.”
“I’m not going to go running down the street naked with an assault rifle if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Perhaps not, but there’s only one way to be sure. Do you still have that card?”
I sighed. “At home.”
“Good, use it. Don’t make me tell you again. If I get another complaint against you, I won’t be able to use your services anymore. That’s the last thing I want to happen with that baby coming. You need to get your head straight, and do it now.”
I nodded.
“Am I understood?” he added.
“Yes. I’ll make the call.”
“Good. Now get to work.”
I found Tanja chatting Lucy up over coffee and donuts at the front desk. I was temped to grab one for myself, but after my talk with the sheriff, I didn’t feel much like eating. I just wanted out of there. Tanja saw my look and said goodbye to Lucy. We didn’t speak until we were in the car.
“So what did Diekmann want?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure? You seem upset.”
“Of course I am. I can’t believe the nerve of Pishard, trying to file charges against me. I halfway wish he had, just because I’d love to see him stand in front of a judge with that story.”
“Let it go, Joe. I’m sure his lawyer is telling him right now what an idiot he is. Let’s focus on our work. We still have a case to solve.”
“Fine. Where are we going?”
“The dairy is just across town. Let’s go take a look at the crime scene.”
“The crime scene? From five years ago?”
“I just want to look around, see if the owner will talk to us. He might have some important information. Based on what we’ve learned so far, we can’t rely on any of the notes in this case. We just have to pretend we’re starting from scratch.”
“Is that your way of saying Sequoia cops are lousy at their jobs?”
“Not at all. I’m sure they’re wonderful at writing speeding tickets.”
I glared at her, and she laughed.
The dairy was three miles south of town, on a single lane road that hadn’t been paved in at least twenty years. The ditch along the edge of the road had eroded the soil under the pavement, so the asphalt was crumbling and falling away in big chunks. Judging by the rusted old muffler and tire chunks laying on the embankment, the place had caused its share of accidents. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter any oncoming traffic.
I turned into a wide gravel lot in front of an old converted house with peeling paint and a sign hanging over the door that said “Office.” There were several more buildings scattered across the property, including a large corral with a tin roof. Strangely absent from the dairy were any cows.
The office door was open. When Tanja and I stepped out of the Suburban, a woman dressed in overalls and hip waders came walking out. She had masculine features: broad shoulders, beady close-set eyes, and gray hair that she’d pulled back in a tail. If I’d seen her from behind, I might have mistaken her for a man.
“Can I help you?” the woman said in a husky chain-smoker voice.
“We’re looking for the owner,” Tanja said.
“You’re looking at her. Shelly Smith’s the name.” She extended a calloused hand. “At least for another twenty-four hours.”
“Are you selling the place?” I said.
“Sold it already. As of tomorrow, this is all going to be converted to vineyards.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tanja said.
“Oh, it don’t mean much to me. This place always was more work than it was worth. I tried to keep it for my father. He wanted it to stay in the family, but he died fifteen years ago. I’ve been running the place myself ever since. Up until that girl died here, anyway. After that, the health inspectors shut me down. Gave me a mile of red tape to sort through. I couldn’t afford to keep feeding the cattle so I had to sell ‘em off. After that, it was just a matter of time.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to Alaska,” the woman said with a grin. “One of them big corporations bought me out, all eighty acres. Five million dollars. Kapow!”
“Congrats,” I said, laughing. “Sounds like you won the lotto.”
Shelly nodded, quite proud of herself. “You better believe it. Not that it wasn’t a good deal for them, too. You won’t find a more fertile piece of land in a hundred miles. In a few years, they’ll be growing grapes the size of basketballs.”
�
��About that girl,” Tanja said. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
“You reporters?”
“No, we’re investigators working with the Sequoia Sheriff’s Department. We’re hoping to find new information on the case.”
“Follow me,” said Shelly.
She led us across the lot and inside one of the large outbuildings. Upon entering, I instantly recognized it as the scene of the murder. The milk vat where the victim had been found was still sitting there, just a few feet from the doorway. According to Shelly’s story, the place hadn’t been used since that night. I believed it. Cobwebs covered all the machinery and a layer of dust covered the floor.
“This is it,” she said. “We found her here at four a.m. that morning.”
“That’s early,” I said. “Did you find the body?”
“No, Dennis got here first. We were just getting ready to pump.”
“Pump?” said Tanja.
“Yeah, to pump the milk. See, the cows know by habit to walk up to the pumping machines twice a day, first at sunrise, then at sunset. All we have to do is hook up to their udders and turn on the machines.”
“And who is Dennis?” Tanja said.
“He used to be my assistant. He’d come out here early in the morning to get the machinery prepped. That’s when he found her.”
“We don’t have anything about him on file,” said Tanja. “Do you have any contact information for Dennis?”
“I’ll give you what I have. Not sure it’s any good, though. I had to let him go years ago. No telling where he is now.”
“Anything you have will help.”
“One thing you should know about Dennis. He’s sort of slow, if you take my meaning. Handicapped, I mean … he can work just fine and even handle light machinery, but you can’t give him more than one job to do at a time, or he’ll sure as the world screw everything up.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Tanja. “So what happened when Dennis found the body?”
“Oh, he let out a scream that darn near curdled my blood. I thought he’d chopped off his hand or something. I was still in bed when he came running out of the milk room, waving his hands and hollering about some girl. I followed him back inside and saw what he was talking about, so I sent him to the office to call 911.”
