5 From the Grounds Up

by Sandra Balzo

  'Whoa.' I came off the porch as I had earlier. I landed the same way, too, and by the time I got to my feet, they were already snapping the shackles on Sarah.

  'What are you arresting her for?' I demanded, trailing them. 'Forgetting to set her parking brake?'

  Heckleman turned, his hand resting lightly on the butt of his gun in its holster. 'Funny.'

  My relationship with Pavlik had taught me a few things. Like when to back off.

  I held up both hands. 'I'm sorry. Just trying to understand why you're detaining my friend.' I'd learned some cop words, too.

  'We're "detaining" her,' Heckleman sounded like he was making fun of my vocabulary, 'on suspicion of drug possession.'

  Oh.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was Cops, come to life in our own town of Brookhills.

  Heckleman opened the squad car's rear door and put his hand on the top of Sarah's head to ease her into the backseat.

  Through the driver's side window I could see what looked like a ticket book--the kind for traffic citations, not police raffles--on the passenger seat and, on top of that, a radar gun. Apparently Heckleman had been lying in ambush for speeders when our call reached headquarters. An empty McDonald's coffee cup and balled-up Egg McMuffin wrapper lay on the floor in front of the seat, alongside a covered kettle that I suspected was used as a porta-potty.

  'Don't be ridiculous,' Sarah was squawking. 'I can't leave my car. Look at it.' She tried to gesture toward the Firebird, but her hands were cuffed behind her back.

  'Look at it?' Brady hitched his thumbs in his belt and rocked forward on his toes. 'Oh, believe me, we'll look at it. With a fine-tooth comb.'

  Heckleman ignored the mangled metaphor, but not the sentiment. 'Like hell you will,' he said, straightening up. 'Don't touch that car, Brady. Understand? Crime Scene is coming out.'

  Brady's face reddened, but he kept on rocking. 'Sure, sure. Heckleman. We'll do our job and the techies will do theirs. We know the drill.'

  'I swear, if you so much as--'

  '—touch my car,' Sarah took over from inside the squad. 'I'll have your badge.'

  'He's a firefighter,' I pointed out.

  'Then I'll have his hose.' Sarah looked like she meant it.

  Brady, however, seemed uncertain. 'My hose?'

  'You heard me,' Sarah snarled. 'Sleep with one eye open.'

  Shades of Lorena Bobbitt. 'Shut up before they add threatening an officer to the charges,' I hissed.

  'But he's not a cop. You said so. Is there a law against threatening firefighters?'

  Before I could make up something up, she broke into tears. 'I need you to help me, Maggy.'

  'Of course.' I went to pat Sarah's shoulder, but pulled back as Heckleman moved toward us. 'Tell me what I can do.'

  'Please,' she managed between sobs, 'call Mario.'

  Sarah's attorney, presumably. 'Which firm is he with?'

  'He's on his own.' She swung her legs out of the squad as Heckleman started to close the door.

  'OK, then how will I find him? What's his last name?'

  The officer stuffed Sarah's feet back in and tried again.

  'Look in the Yellow Pages,' she managed before the door slammed shut between us.

  'Under "attorneys"?' I yelled at the closed window. How many pages of lawyers' listings would I have to wade through if Sarah couldn't tell me the guy's last name?

  As Heckleman circled around to the driver's side and started the car, Sarah shook her head emphatically. 'What the hell are you talking about?' came through clearly, albeit muffled.

  It was as the squad began to pull away, though, that I nearly missed Sarah's Kingston's touching final words to me:

  'I said Mario, you idiot. He's my mechanic.'

  As far as I was concerned, finding St.Mario of the Oil Stain could wait. Getting the car-owner out of the slammer was a whole lot more important to me than getting the car itself repaired.

  The first thing I did was alert Ronny and Tien to what was going on.

  'I don't understand," Ronny said, stepping to the door of the depot to look out. 'What did they find?'

  'I don't know.' I pointed at Brady and the other firefighter, who were talking to a guy with an auto club logo on his shirt. Something told me the American Automobile Association's Basic Coverage wasn't going to cover this. 'But I'll bet they do.'

  Ronny nodded. 'Maybe you should go ask them.'

  I started moving toward the klatch, but Brady lifted his head. His look wasn't exactly welcoming.

  I retreated. 'Maybe you should go talk to them, Ronny. You know, man-to-man?'

  He nodded, folding down the collar on his shirt. Thank God the green polyester pants had been yesterday's muse. 'I'm on it.'

  As Ronny crossed to the other men, Tien asked, 'Think they'll tell him anything?'

  'Probably not, but I've grown tired of rejection. Let somebody else share the dream.'

  As we watched, Ronny exchanged a few words with Brady before the other man stuck his hand out to shake. Then the firefighter must have introduced Ronny to his younger co-worker because the two of them also shook and, finally, the AAA man joined in.

  'What? No secret male rituals?' Tien asked in a stage whisper. 'No primal screams?'

  I snickered and Brady threw me the dirty look.

  Not one to be a tattler, I simply slewed my eyes toward Tien.

  Brady didn't take the hint, turning back to the group. The four men spoke, one or the other of them gesturing toward various parts of Sarah's car. When the AAA man descended the steps to look at the rear, Ronny took the opportunity to point to the driver's side.

  Another exchange and, when the fourth man rejoined the group, Ronny shook hands all around and returned to us.

  Except he passed by and continued on into the depot.

  'Where's he going?' Tien asked.

  'Shh. It's his cover. We'll wait a couple of minutes and then go in.'

  I counted to five in my head. 'Oh, hell, let's go.'

  We found Ronny behind the ticket counter waiting for us.

  'So what did you say?' Tien asked. 'Did they tell you anything?'

  Ronny puffed out his chest. 'Well, first I introduced myself.'

  'As Sarah's cousin?' This from me.

  'Of course not. I told them I was the contractor and was concerned about the stability of the building and how soon I could start repairs.'

  'Brilliant,' Tien breathed.

  Ronny blushed. 'Not really.'

  'Really,' I confirmed. 'Now, what did they say?'

  'About what they found?'

  'That, too. But first, when can you begin work?' OK, so it was a little self-centered of me. But I was certain Sarah would concur when I bailed her out.

  'They said if the Firebird was towed away later this afternoon, the building inspector could check the depot out as soon as tomorrow. I have to pull permits anyway, so I'll run over and see him this afternoon. Take the bull by the horns.' Ronny was looking mighty pleased with himself.

  'Why are they waiting to remove it?' I hooked my finger toward the window, where we could see the big AAA wrecker with a winch on it. Who needed Mario anyway? 'The tow-truck is here, why don't they do it right now?'

  'They have to examine the Firebird.' Ronny nodded to a van that was pulling up in front. The vehicle was unmarked, but I recognized it as the county crime scene investigators' wheels.

  'Oh, God. Not the sheriff's office,' I said as a man climbed out of the van on the driver's side. I remembered him as one of the people who responded to Kornell's train wreck. A photographer popped out from the passenger's side.

  Oh well, one way or the other, Pavlik was going to hear about this. 'Examining it for what? What did they find? And where?'

  'The "where",' Ronny said, milking it, 'is the driver's seat. Oh, and I think the gas pedal.' He put his index finger to his chin and tapped like he was trying to remember.

  'And the "what"?' I was getting impatient. I could see flashes of lig
ht as the county photographer took photos on the shady porch.

  'The "what"?' Ronny repeated.

  I glared at him. 'Don't play with me.'

  He flushed and snuck a peek to see if Tien was listening.

  She had been, but now she gazed off at the ceiling, walls--anything but us. In a second, she'd start whistling.

  Could there be something brewing between these two? I looked from Ronny to Tien and back again. 'Give.'

  Ronny cleared his throat and, as Tien turned to him, puffed out his chest. 'Oh, you mean what did they find?'

  Before I could smack him upside the head, he moved hastily on. 'Cocaine.'

  'What?' I knew we were dangerously close to a 'Who's on first' moment, but I honestly couldn't believe it.

  'Cocaine. You know: Coke. Snow. Nose . . . umm, nose . . .'

  'Candy,' Tien supplied.

  We both looked at her.

  This time she blushed. 'I do watch TV.'

  'Law & Order.' Ronny positively glowed. 'I love that show. Watch each episode, over and over.'

  'Me, too,' Tien said, moving a little closer. 'I know it's not real life, but . . .' She trailed off.

  'No, but Pavlik tells me it's very accurate as far as . . .' I caught myself. 'Enough television talk. Are you serious? They found cocaine in Sarah's car?'

  Ronny shrugged. 'That's what they told me. Of course, until they get it to the county lab, they can't be sure.'

  The county--I should have guessed. Our cops were outfitted to ticket out-of-town speeders and direct traffic after church, not bust a drug ring.

  'Listen,' I said, digging out my car keys, 'I'm going to see what I can do for Sarah. Would you,' I pointed at Ronny, 'take care of things here?'

  'Of course.' He pulled on his collar. 'You can count on me.'

  'I know I can.' I glanced around. 'Is there a rear exit? I'm parked in the lot.'

  Good thing. If I'd parked on the street in front, Sarah's car would have T-boned mine. Of course, then the porch might have been saved.

  'Use the boarding platform door.' Ronny hooked a thumb around the corner of the ticket counter.

  I took his advice and exited at the back corner of the building. I was not only close to my car, but also had avoided the men on the porch.

  That didn't stop Brady, though, from glaring at me as I pulled past him in the Escape.

  'I can't understand why that man doesn't like me,' I said to Pavlik after I'd filled him in. I was sitting in the guest chair in the sheriff's office, my handbag next to his brass nameplate. 'Sarah was the one who threatened to lop off his weenie.'

  'Brady doesn't like you because Heckleman doesn't,' Pavlik said mildly.

  'Heckleman? The cop who arrested Sarah?'

  'Yup.' Pavlik steepled his fingers. 'They're . . . tight.'

  'Are you saying they're gay?' I asked bluntly. 'Because if they are, it's no one's—'

  'I know, I know. But they're not. And you are the proud mother of a gay son.' Pavlik cracked a grin. 'Rightfully. Eric's a good kid.'

  Pavlik and Eric are . . . well, tight.

  'So what did you mean,' I said, ashamed of myself, 'about Heckleman and Brady. They're friends?'

  'More mentor and mentee,' Pavlik said. 'Brady wants to move into law enforcement. He haunted me for a while after I arrived in Brookhills. Now he's turned his attention from the county sheriff's department to town police force. Hangs around any cop who'll let him.'

  Pavlik shrugged. 'I think Heckleman realizes now that he shouldn't have encouraged the guy, but he doesn't see how to shake him.'

  'Why would he want to go from fire department to law enforcement?'

  'The Brookhills Fire Department is volunteer. The guys don't work full-time and are paid peanuts in comparison to the risks.'

  'What's the "volunteer" part, if they're paid?'

  'It's different in each town or city. In Brookhills they have salaried firefighters and supplement the force with guys,' he looked at me, 'and gals, who have other jobs. They're paid, but only for the hours they work.'

  'And they don't have benefits, I'll wager.'

  'Not health insurance, disability. Nothing.'

  I could see why Brady would want to change professions. And why he might follow Heckleman's lead. The guy was sucking up. However, what I didn't get: 'So what does Heckleman have against me?'

  Understand, I'm the kind of person who needs to be liked. Even by people I detest.

  'Nothing,' Pavlik said. 'Heckleman doesn't like anyone.'

  I'd make it my mission to change that. If I ever ran into him again.

  Which made me wonder whether I'd ever see Sarah again.

  After leaving the depot, I'd called Pavlik. He said Sarah would likely be brought to the building we were sitting in. The Brookhills Police Department was so tiny they used the county's jail and booking facilities.

  I gestured toward the phone on his desk. 'Can you call and see what's happening?'

  Pavlik shook his head. 'I confirmed that Sarah is in the building and I asked to be kept up to date. I can't interfere, even if she is a friend. Especially if she's a friend.'

  'This is ridiculous,' I said, repeating what I'd told Pavlik earlier. 'Sarah does not do cocaine.'

  'I'm sure you're right. If so, the drug test will confirm that.'

  Pavlik didn't seem to notice the inconsistency. If he was so 'sure,' why the 'if'?

  'You can't blame the officers for suspecting, though,' Pavlik continued. 'According to Heckleman, Sarah's nose was red and she was sniffing. Classic symptoms of recently snorting cocaine.'

  'Or of crying,' I said, exasperated. 'You know how much Sarah loved that car. The woman was sobbing like someone had killed her dog.'

  'Sarah Kingston?' Pavlik looked surprised. 'Crying?'

  'You'd believe Sarah did drugs before you believed she was capable of crying?'

  Pavlik cocked his head. 'Well, yeah. Pretty much. You?'

  Maybe if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.

  I didn't answer the question. 'Sarah's nose was running because she cried. First, Courtney and Sam left her and now it's the Firebird.'

  As I said that, I realized that everything Sarah loved was indeed gone. Though I hoped she liked me. Sort of.

  'I'd forgotten about the kids,' Pavlik said, leaning back in his chair. 'How's it going?'

  'Sam and Courtney were in touch every day,' I said. 'Until you put Sarah in the slammer. Now, what happens to them?'

  'I didn't put Sarah in jail,' Pavlik reminded me. 'She'll be tested for drugs. If the results come back clean, they'll likely let her out.'

  'Likely?'

  'Probably.' Pavlik looked uncomfortable. 'It depends on what they find in the car.'

  'But if Sarah doesn't use cocaine—'

  'It doesn't mean she doesn't sell it.'

  'A dealer?' I couldn't believe my ears. 'You think Sarah's a pusher?'

  He held up his hands. 'Again, I don't think anything. The car is being checked. If they find the substance is cocaine, then they'll check for amounts. If it's more than simple possession, I'm afraid—'

  This time, I interrupted. 'Wait a second. You don't even know if it is cocaine?'

  'Like I said, I don't—'

  'I know, I know, you don't know anything. Yet. Including that there actually was a drug in the car? That's ridiculous.'

  I warmed into my rant: 'How can you arrest someone for being caught with something, when you don't even know what that "something" is?'

  A character trait of Pavlik: the crazier I get, the calmer he is. Until we reach his boiling point. Then he blows. I feared I was edging close to the top of his thermometer now.

  His eyes became a stormy gray. 'I assume that the officers detained her on suspicion of possessing a controlled substance.'

  'Heckleman made fun of me when I said "detained",' I muttered. More proof he didn't like me. 'So what if that "controlled substance" turns out to be baking soda, or baby powder, or, or . . .'

  I stoppe
d.

  Then took a deep breath and let the piece fall perfectly into the puzzle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pavlik gave me an odd look. 'So we'll apologize and release her. You have to understand what's at stake with all the drugs on the streets. Sure, mistakes are made, but we can't—'

  'Wait, wait.' I waved my hands for him to stop.

  He did.

  I said, 'Flour.'

  Pavlik seemed confused. 'Flower? The kind you plant?'

  'No, the kind you bake with.' I leaned forward. 'Art Jenada is the caterer across from the train station. He was making biscuits when I rousted him for help after Sarah's car crashed into the depot.'

  'And?'

  'I know Jenada had flour on his hands when he was nosing around the car, because when I shook hands with him afterwards, I got it all over me.'

  'At least your jeans.' Pavlik pointed to where I'd wiped my palms. 'I was wondering where that came from.'

  Guess I should be grateful that I wasn't being drug-tested.

  'Anyway,' I continued, 'I think he got flour in the car when he was looking at it.'

  'But on the seat?'

  'Sure, if he leaned in.'

  Pavlik looked doubtful now, but almost immediately his phone rang. He picked up.

  The sheriff listened for a while and pulled a pad toward him. Said, 'uh-unh,' 'uh-huh,' and a couple of two-syllable sounds that could have been either positive or negative. He jotted down a few words, then asked the person on the other side of the conversation to repeat something. Which he wrote on a corner of the page.

  Finally he hung up. 'Sarah is being released.'

  I nearly leapt from my chair. 'See? I told you she wasn't a druggie.'

  'And you were absolutely right,' Pavlik said. 'Sarah tested negative for cocaine and any other illegal substance.'

  I thought the sheriff was tempted to say more. Instead, though, he slid my handbag toward me. 'You might want to meet her. She should be downstairs in a couple of minutes.'

  'Sounds good.'

  When Pavlik came around the desk, I flung my arm around his neck and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Want to come over for dinner tonight?'

  He hesitated. 'Maybe you should have dinner with Sarah. As you say, she's having a rough time.'