Focus on the nose, she ordered herself.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said to everyone in the room, his voice deep and smooth.
The guy had to be into sales or something. Always trying to make a grand entrance.
“I had to get a few associates working with clients before I could come. But I’m ready to give the full report whenever you’re ready.” Rod’s sleeves had cufflinks—cufflinks for pity’s sake—and his shoes were a deep, rich-looking sort of leather. The real kind. Not the stuff Maria’s couch was made out of.
A full report of what? Maria was feeling more and more like this entire town didn’t realize she was the chief of police—not Pete Richins or Rod Thorton. She’d been there yesterday … for most of it. She’d been the one to do the investigation. She knew what was going on, and, except for the coroner’s initial findings, she was prepared to brief the city council about the situation.
“We’re still hashing a few things out,” said Councilman Darwin. “Go ahead and take a seat. We’ll be ready in minute.”
The only open seat was, of course, to the left of Maria. She gave an obligatory smile and scooted her chair over to indicate there was plenty of room for him. At least there would have been enough room if he didn’t have such broad shoulders.
Maria shook her head. The nose! Focus on his nose!
And then, for good measure, she lifted the cinnamon-filled tissue to her face, getting ready to orchestrate another cold-like symptom to corroborate the story she would soon tell the two men about her unfortunate severe reaction yesterday to some medicine she’d been taking.
However, without warning, her body produced a sneeze all on its own right when her nose was an inch away from the spoonful of brown powder.
“A-choo!” It was the most violent sneeze yet, and it created an explosion of cinnamon. Spice flew into her eyes, onto her cheeks, and into her open mouth. Of course, with cinnamon now lining her nasal cavities, she could do nothing but sneeze. Clear snot began to drip onto her upper lip.
“A-choo. A-choo. A-choo.”
“C-can I help you?” asked Rod, whose eyes darted back and forth between her face and a box of Kleenex in the middle of the conference table.
“I …” Maria couldn’t even get a complete sentence out. “… home remedy … didn’t mean to…” Here she was, in the middle of a meeting with the entire city government, and she was a dripping, snotty, snorting, sneezing mess. She was supposed to be in charge of a murder investigation—not giving a demo on the nasal cleansing attribute of cinnamon.
Frantically, Maria wiped her face, smearing the brown powder everywhere. She grabbed another tissue from her backpack and blew her nose. Brown goo came out. Disgusting, but at least she could now breathe.
“Excuse me,” she said, standing up. “I’m having a bit of an issue.” Maria started out the door but then turned around, pointing at Rod. “Don’t start your report until I’m back. This is a police investigation and I need to be present.” She looked down at her light colored police uniform and grimaced. Brown polka dots were scattered over the front. She looked and smelled like an oatmeal raisin cookie.
So much for gaining respect.
*
Rod’s report was thorough, well organized, and it completely left out everything about Maria losing it in the cave. As Rod briefly described the mayor’s deceased body, several of the city employees turned pale. The mayor’s admin in the corner whimpered a little.
“Search and Rescue did an excellent job,” said Maria once the report was done. She had to be honest. And there were two members of Search and Rescue in the room. Rod and Tara. “I have never worked with such an impressive group.”
“And to think our leader is also the best lawyer in Southern Utah,” added Tara. She sent a lipstick-lined smile Rod’s direction. He took the obvious flirt in stride. The front of his cheeks reddened just slightly as he maintained a nonchalant smile.
Maria had to admit, Rod was quite the actor. He knew how to play the game. Pretending to be humble was always a win-win. The woman who initiated the flirt thought it was cute, and so did all of the woman watching his bashfulness.
Maria rolled her eyes and then glanced at the fourth finger on Rod’s left hand. No ring. Not married? Hmmm. Or perhaps he didn’t like to wear rings for other reasons.
Maria looked up to see Rod watching her check out his ring finger.
Perfect. Not!
“I’d like to mention that the coroner said she’d never seen such good pictures from a photography report of the body.” Pete’s shoulders were square and pushed back. “Search and Rescue did a great job finding him, but our new chief of police knew what she was doing when she examined the body. I’m sure she’d like us to finish up here quickly, so she and I can get back to our investigation as soon as possible.”
The compliment shocked Maria for a moment. It was, perhaps, the nicest thing anyone had said to her in a long, long time. She bit her lower lip and looked at Pete. He smiled.
“Thanks, Officer Richins. Your part was also invaluable.” Turning to the others in the room, Maria added, “We did find several suspicious pieces of evidence that we’re going to be following up on immediately. We’ll keep you abreast of the investigation as much as we can. Of course, at this point most everything is confidential. But we’re going to work fast and smart. And when we catch the person, there will be no getting off on technicalities.”
Rod put his papers back into the leather bag he’d brought with him and stood up, “I’m glad to know we’ve got someone on top of it who knows what she’s doing.” He then excused himself, citing work as his reason to leave. Tara did likewise.
Maria motioned to Pete it was time they headed out as well. She’d have to interview the mayor’s admin later. There were other matters more pressing. Ever since finding the note hidden behind the mayor’s cell phone case, Maria had two questions she needed answered right away: What was Senator Cal Emerson’s relationship with the mayor and who else knew about it?
Freddie claimed he’d located a four-centuries-old maguey-paper map in a monastery and had actually traced it. Unexplained, was a still-red bullet scar along one grimey cheek. But he had a map, all right.
—The Saturday Evening Post. “Anybody’s Gold Mine,” by Maurine Whipple, October 1949, pages 24, 102-108.
Chapter 9
“PETE,” SAID MARIA AS they walked out the door of the city council room, “it’s the craziest thing. I couldn’t understand why I went berserk yesterday until I got home and realized I was having a pretty intense reaction to some medicine I was taking. I’ve been on an antibiotic for a sinus infection, and I didn’t realize it can cause neurological symptoms if you take it in conjunction with high doses of ibuprofen, which I just happened to be doing. It was completely unintentional, of course. Absolutely just came out of the blue, and I wasn’t sure what was happening until it was too late. So the entire episode was just a medicine mishap that really doesn’t reflect me or what I’m typically like on the job, and I just wanted you to know that so you didn’t think I was going to be wigging out on you like that all the time.”
Maria hadn’t taken a single breath during the entire explanation. Sure, it’d been a little forced, but now it was over with and they could move on.
“Oh,” Pete said, shrugging his shoulders. “I thought you were having a little claustrophobia. That’s all.”
Maria stared back. Her mind churned. True, claustrophobia would have been a much more logical explanation. But even so, claustrophobia showed a sign of weakness. Maria was on a mission to show she had none. Weak was a four-letter word.
“But,” he questioned, “you’re saying you actually have some sort of … neurology… I mean neurological problem?”
Maria gulped. “No. No. I didn’t mean that at all. There’s no neurological problem. It was just a bad reaction to medicine. That’s it. I’m totally fine. Completely sane.”
Pete smiled, relieved. “Oh, that’s good. For a seco
nd I thought you were trying to tell me you were going crazy. And here I’d thought you just didn’t like small spaces.”
Desperately trying to look as chill as possible, Maria slapped his arm. It came off like an effeminate flirting move, not like someone trying to reinforce the point that nothing was wrong. Not the effect she wanted. It was time to cut her losses and move on.
After realizing what a mess her “disaster recovery” plan had been with Pete, she decided to skip the whole conversation with Rod. Maybe he thought she was just a “little claustrophobic” too.
Besides that, he was bumping shoulders with Tara as the two walked out the front glass doors of the city building. He didn’t look too interested in Maria’s problems, which was all the better as far as she was concerned.
*
After a brief discussion with Pete, Maria decided they would meet up in exactly one hour, at which point they would hold a press conference and then hike out to the crime scene. Since yesterday had been cut … short, Maria wanted to make sure she hadn’t overlooked anything. Besides that, there was a deputy from the Sheriff’s office on guard right now, and they needed to relieve him.
Maria wondered if maybe she should have her government-issued psychiatrist call in a prescription for Xanax to the local pharmacy, but she decided against it. As much as they weren’t supposed to, pharmacists talked. And even if they didn’t, when she picked up the prescription half of the people in the pharmacy would hear everything the pharmacist said anyway. There was too much of a chance word would get out that the chief of police was popping anti-anxiety meds.
No, Maria would have to do her abdominal breathing and other relaxation techniques. Besides, today there wouldn’t be a dead body nearby. She’d be just fine.
On the way to the library, Maria made several calls to subpoena Mayor Hayward’s cell phone and financial records. She also called an engineer who did contract work for the police force. She’d need him to help reconstruct the scene of the murder to determine the angle of the gun and things of that nature.
Ms. Tuttle was the librarian in town, an old friend of Maria’s grandparents. Maria knew her from when she was a child. Ms. Tuttle was a brilliant researcher. In fact, when Maria had been at college and hadn’t been able to find certain information for her senior project, she would call Ms. Tuttle. The woman had come through for her with shining colors.
Maria needed to do a little cramming about the current state of Utah’s government. She didn’t even know if Emerson was a Republican or Democrat. She would make a fool of herself if she talked to someone right now. She was sure Ms. Tuttle could track down the most unbiased information available about Cal Emerson. Maria didn’t have the time to do the research herself. Not when she had so many other people to interview about the case.
As Maria walked into the library, Ms. Tuttle’s face, full of wrinkles and sun spots, lit up. “Maria!”
“Ms. Tuttle!” Maria headed straight to her, giving her a warm embrace.
“Nonsense. No more of this Ms. Tuttle. Call me Sue.” She patted Maria’s cheek. “Oh my, how much you look like your grandmother. Beautiful woman. I miss her.”
Unexpectedly, a lump formed in Maria’s throat. She missed her too. Since arriving in Kanab, she hadn’t had much time to think about anything else besides the everyday details of moving and starting a new job. And trying to avoid the ghosts in the town cemetery.
Maria’s lower lip quivered as she spoke. “It’s so good to see you, Sue. You and Beth Hill are the reasons I came back to this little town, you know.”
Pulling her in closely, Sue said, “I’m so glad you did. Best news I’d had in a while. And I know Beth is excited to see you. Have you visited her yet?”
Discouraged, Maria shook her head. “I haven’t had time. I made an appointment for her to trim my hair next Monday, though. We’re going to catch up then.”
Beth Hill was one of Maria’s best friends from childhood. She was one of those people who pulled you in and never let you go, even if you lived hundreds of miles away from each other for most of the year.
After high school, Maria had gone to an expensive college while Beth attended beauty school in a nearby town. After college, Maria worked for the police force in Pittsburgh and then traveled the globe working for the CIA. Beth returned to Kanab, got married, and had three kids. But things like that didn’t matter to Beth. People were just people to her.
Sue took a long look at Maria, her face turning more serious, and asked, “Are you here about the mayor?”
Of course Sue would know why she’d come. Nothing got past her. Nodding, Maria explained she was looking for information about a certain government official. “I’d like to appoint you as a temporary police investigator for the next few weeks. That means I could share confidential information with you. You’ll be held to the same standards as others on the force. No disclosure of information dealing with the case until things are made public.”
Sue’s eyes gleamed. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. Would you be willing?”
“Heavens, yes. I’ve got plenty of help during the summer at the library. I’m all yours.”
“Oh, one more thing,” said Maria, “I don’t have much of a budget so—”
“Who needs money?” interrupted Sue. “I’m going to catch a murderer. That’s all the payment I need.”
Honestly, Maria wondered if there were better people anywhere in the world.
*
Maria adjusted the portable podium in the press room at the police station. On a normal day, the press room was actually the break room, with a fridge in one corner and a table along one side with an automatic coffee maker, packets of sugar and non-calorie sweeteners, as well as a pot of hot cocoa and creamer.
For the press conference today, however, the food had been removed and ten or so folding chairs had been crammed into the space along with a less-than-official wooden podium on wheels. At least it would give Maria some separation from the journalists.
“Nancy?” Maria called out to the police station office manager in the other room. “Thanks for setting it all up. Do you think we’ll have enough chairs?”
Nancy walked in, holding up a white piece of paper with the words “Kanab Police Department” printed on it. Using clear tape, she attached it to the front of the podium. “Well, let’s see. Sherrie Mercer, a reporter from the only newspaper in town, will come. We don’t have a local television station. Though if it’s big news Elliot Corbet from EFNY comes over. I think a few more will show up since it’s the mayor.” Her voice broke.
Nancy had been near tears all morning. Maria could tell she was a sensitive woman, even though she’d told Maria in all confidence that she’d always thought the mayor was up to no good. This comment had surprised Maria. Nancy had been the first person to say something like that. But Maria had learned it was sometimes the “everyday” people who knew more than those who claimed to be best buddies of the deceased. She made a mental note to have a tete-a-tete with Nancy when the station calmed down.
Twenty minutes later the press conference had begun. Nancy had pretty much called it. The journalist from Kanab was there as well as the TV reporter. In addition, the story had drawn in a few media correspondents from several neighboring cities as well as two representatives from other law enforcement agencies—making a grand total of eleven people. They had to grab a chair from the hallway to accommodate everyone.
The simplicity of it brought a smile to Maria’s face, which she quickly forced away. She was used to government debriefings one hundred, even two hundred times this large. She reminded herself it didn’t matter how large the audience. She needed to sound informed, concerned, intelligent, invested, and confident. All of which she truly was, except for the confident bit. But she could fake that. She’d been doing it for the last eight months, ever since the CIA rescue operation successfully retrieved her from the Tehran prison and brought her home. A day she would never forget for several reasons.
<
br /> A heaviness settled inside her chest. It always did when she thought about the moment she was rescued. Looking around, she told herself to clear her mind. Pete had welcomed everyone and made the initial introductions. He’d only been in law enforcement for one year. A while back he’d gotten tired of his school bus driver career and returned to school to become a cop. Maria wondered if he’d been a little disappointed that he hadn’t been made chief instead of her. So far he’d been nothing but nice. Almost too nice.
“We’re going to turn the time over to Kanab Police Chief Branson for her comments about the case, and then she will take questions for fifteen minutes. At that point, we are going to end the press conference.” Even though Nancy looked a bit mousy, she had a good public presence.
The room was silent as Maria stood in front of the group. Everyone looked at her expectantly. Maria grounded herself and began presenting the public facts of the investigation. She almost sounded like her old self. Everyone in the room sat up taller in their chairs, like her voice commanded attention.
With the investigation so newly underway, there wasn’t much Maria could share with the press except for the cause, manner, and time of death as well as the general location of the crime. She tried to be as vague as possible on that point since she wanted to avoid people hiking in the canyons looking for the cave. The last thing the police or Search and Rescue wanted was fifty ill-prepared, dehydrated, curious onlookers getting themselves lost in the wilderness.
The media questions went smoothly. Sherrie Mercer, from the local Kanab paper, had the most questions, focusing on motive and suspects. Maria had learned long ago how to say, “No comment,” with a heaping plateful of authority. But Sherrie was determined and kept pressing the point.
At the end of the press conference, Sherrie stayed after and introduced herself to Maria.
“Chief Branson,” she said, “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. I cover the crime beat as well as just about everything in this town. I’d like to get to know you a little better. Obviously this isn’t a good time, but when things settle down I’d love to do a human interest piece on your background and why we’re so lucky to get such a top notch investigator.”
Robbed of Soul: Legends of Treasure Book 1 Page 6
